I’ve been bitter over the last week. No, it extends longer than that. I’ve been bitter at my home church the entire time I’ve been away. Over what, you ask? Well, over anything that I could find wrong with them, of course. I’ve been bitter over the lack of financial support, while they renovated the entire worship center. I’ve been bitter over my pastor insinuating that I was fat while I was on the screen in front of the whole church. I’ve been bitter about the lack of mention or reception of any kind upon my return. I’ve been bitter about everything and everyone.

And you know what? I’m now bitter that nobody’s had the cojones to call me out on it. On all of it. I let every single one of those things slip or show in some way, and not one person has told me to man up about it. Not a single person has looked me in the eye and told me to get over it. Well, there was one. Tonight, I experienced love via a spiritual 2×4, thanks to a pastor and friend picking me up and taking me to a worship concert that almost nobody showed up at. The only important guest showed up though, and He knocked some sense into me while He was there. The Holy Spirit absolutely walloped me tonight. Straight messed me up.

I could not be more thankful for this amazing night. I’m starting to see lessons in each and every situation where I’d held my church responsible for some slight or apparent misdeed. Instead, they were simply following their own direction from the Holy Spirit, as well. I had simply misunderstood each situation by taking the wrong perspective: forgetting for whom and why I was sent.

Let’s go through each case.

Lack of financial support: This helped me to learn how to build my own fundraising base, how to rely on God to provide, and how to “work like it depends on me, while praying like it depends on God.” Furthermore, the caveat of “while they spent the money on x,” will never hold up, so long as any part of what they’re spending it on is reaching people for the Kingdom of God. Without their financial support, I was still able to do what I needed to do. Without them spending it on what they spent it on instead, that wouldn’t have happened and the people it impacted wouldn’t have had the experiences they did.

Pastor Larry calling me a fatty: Even though I had actually already lost some weight, this event helped to inspire me to eat better and start exercising. I’ve lost almost 15 pounds since this incident, and everyone here has remarked upon it, meaning it’s actually a noticeable difference. Furthermore, there is no possible way Pastor Larry could have known what a nerve he was touching, and I’m 100% certain he meant no harm by it. If he ever reads this, I want him to know I entirely have forgiven him. If he doesn’t read this, nobody needs to tell him he hurt my feelings.

Not being welcomed home: This one’s a bit tricky. I’m going to try to draw a conclusion that may be beyond my wits, but I think I’m drawing it correctly. God is using this feeling of unwelcome to illustrate to me that this isn’t “home” anymore. I cannot consider Yakima my home from this point, because it simply isn’t feasible. Most of the friends I’ve made in Yakima are either gone already, soon leaving, or not actually my peers (ie people who I shouldn’t really expect to continue doing life with any longer). Now, there are some who don’t fall into those categories necessarily, but those are the ones I’m sure will use technological advances to maintain relationships, for the most part. However, as long as I cling to where I’ve been, I’ll never fully be where I need to go. Texas and SAGU are supposed to become home. For that to happen, Yakima can’t continue to be home. It’s time to move to the next phase of my life, and that includes leaving this place…possibly forever.

No Call-out: Who exactly was supposed to call me out? I never opened myself up to anyone about this, except for my one accountability person in Mexico, and he simply doesn’t operate that way. He talked me through it in a way to show me that I needed to deal with this bitterness, but he trusts the Holy Spirit to do the work of conviction. I hadn’t stayed close enough with anyone in Yakima for them to do the job. No. This was a moment it had to be that conviction from within. And it came.

So where’d the moment of conviction come from? I went to a worship concert tonight that I was mostly avoiding, due to the bitterness and not wanting to see anyone. However, like a typical hypocrite, I wanted to convey the illusion that I had simply forgotten to arrange a ride, so I was out of luck. At 7:15 I sent out a tweet, that went to facebook of course, saying “Concert starts in 15 minutes and I just realized it. Guess i’m staying in tonight!” Thankfully, Pastor Gary doesn’t put up with that mess. He immediately offered a ride. I had a moment where I almost refused, and then I buckled, realizing that if my pastor was going to leave the concert to come get me, I needed to be there.

During the set, I started out feeling like the whole thing was corporate, disconnected, and dispassionate. Then i realized that it was me. Not the church. Not the band. Not the audience of worshipers. Not the new sound setup. Me. I was disconnected. I was disassociated. I was dispassionate. I had let something come between me and Jesus. As the songs transitioned to talk of the amazing love He has for us, I started praying, rather than simply singing the words without meaning them. Something started to break down.

Finally, during the second to last song (Everything, by Hillsong) I had that moment. I was holding on to so much that I needed to let go of; so much that was coming between me and my purpose. I was whining so much, I couldn’t worship. I had lost sight of my only reason for going on the mission field in the first place: Jesus’ awesome love.

Let’s not forget the love of Christ. He came for us, lived a sinless life in the face of temptation for us, walked into unspeakable torture and embarrassing execution for us, and then rose to give us hope. He is the ultimate expression of hope, triumph, and love. Let’s not get caught up in all the hurts and the slights of this life, lest we forget the real point of life: to love. That love is the expression of our worship. Quit whining. Get back to worshiping.

After spending a year abroad there are literally countless stories and experiences I could relate to anyone interested enough to hear them, however few were as poignant as those I had while traveling in Nepal. I may or may not have had a chance to share much with you about my recent trip through the Himalayas aside from photos, but of all the experiences and stories the trip sent home with me there is one in particular I feel compelled to express.

On the 16th day of the hike we were making our way from a village called Tatopani to another named Ghorepani, a distance of 9.9 miles and elevation gain of 3,756 feet. Traversing along the trail, through river valleys that would make Paul Bunyan proud and beside mountains that invoke a small dizzy spell when your eye attempts to find their peaks, we passed numerous smaller villages. The inhabitants of these villages were ever busy using handheld scythes and hoes to harvest their small patches of terraced farmland, spreading grain to dry on flat areas they were able to claim from the slopes, herding mules which carried regional fruits and resources to neighboring districts, and catering to the occasional tourist who would stroll through awe-stricken at the natural beauty and simplistic lifestyle surrounding him or her.

Though much of the low mountain population have spent the length of their years living in villages just like these, there is a hint that the same may not always be true. Along the trail bounce bright eyed and energetic youngsters dressed in skirts and blouses for the girls, and shirts and ties for the boys. Happily they are making their way to school, playing and laughing. For these students school is no less than one hour’s walk up the same steep slopes foreigners pay thousands of dollars to prove their cardiovascular prowess on. I would occasionally walk to school when I was a child, yet only while watching these children did I appreciate not having to dodge trains of mules trotting down my path, as well as the odiferous presents they so indifferently leave behind. The oil spots and sidewalk cracks I used to hop over seemed to pale in comparison.

About half way up a particularly steep portion of the trail, devoured by winding rock steps, we stopped to take a water break and enjoy the visual fruits of the effort we had just put in. As we sat for a minute to gaze across the valley and note the technique of the nearby woman rhythmically cutting her grain stalks from their roots, two groups of children came to my attention. The first was made up of about 20 or 30 boys and girls rushing up nature’s Stairmaster with plastic chairs hooked through their arms like an additional backpack. Curious why they had chairs, I inquired, at which point our guide explained that today was exam day, and that they took their own chairs in order to make sure everyone had a place to sit. Just so we’re clear, these kids were hiking, not walking, an hour to school, dodging mules and mule feces, and carrying their own chairs so that they could take a test. You can believe my children will someday hear this story on test day.

I almost didn’t notice the second group, this one made up of three girls standing off the trail just to the side of a small teahouse where the mountain had allowed another small flat space to rest. These girls stood and watched the other children passing by them; they were not on their way to school. Instead of neatly folded uniforms they had weather worn clothes, the reds and browns stained by dirt. Their backpacks were replaced by baskets, half as tall as they were and filled with fruit and firewood, which they carried with a sole strap hiding their hairlines. Their demeanor was not one of excitement like the other kids. It was one of fatigue. They were a short distance from their destination, home was just up the hill, but they remained immobile and looked on as the other children elevated toward their scholastic endeavors. Looking in their eyes it was plain to see that they desperately wanted to follow and to attend school that day. Again curious, I asked why they were not included in the procession of students. Our guide politely informed us that there were still those who did not allow their daughters to go to school because they were just that, daughters and not sons. Instead the parents keep them at home to labor in the fields. As I turned my attention back to these three girls a remarkable thing happened. Though he phrased it more delicately than I, our guide’s words hit me with a force I didn’t expect, and although we spoke different languages no words needed to be exchanged in order for me to now understand every ounce of what these girls felt. Their longing gazes brought a sadness over me, and as we strapped on our backpacks to follow the last of the chair toting school kids up the hill my steps turned to autopilot and I became lost to the world.

One of the things I love about hiking is the opportunity for reflection it provides. I find nothing more relaxing or enlightening than walking silently through nature, and as we walked the remaining miles to Ghorepani, I thought. The sadness transformed to anger, (How arbitrary! Can’t they see their daughter’s faces?!) which over a length of time I can’t estimate evolved again into concerned inquisitiveness (Why do these parents think that’s okay? Why do I not? Who or what could do the work in their place?).

Ironically enough, the majority of us learned in school about children who don’t have the opportunity for education. Witnessing it in person, however, brought a different poignancy. It makes me feel profoundly fortunate to live in a place like America where opportunity abounds by comparison, however it also drives me to believe that simply ‘feeling’ fortunate is not enough. As my tread repeatedly left its print on the earth behind me my thoughts gradually clarified. I certainly would not argue that a life farming and laboring cannot find happiness, far from it, but imagine the tremendous obstacles these girls will have to overcome to pursue something different in life if they so choose. If they do want something different, how limited are their choices because of something as uncontrollable as gender? How many like them have little choice but to resign and accept the constraints of a reality they feel they cannot alter?

Have you ever met someone who has an amazing talent or opportunity and throws it down the drain? It makes you a little bit angry, doesn’t it? If you had that talent, or that opportunity, well you would certainly be making the most of it. Wouldn’t you?

Are you?

Opportunities for growth and betterment are literally everywhere, for ourselves, but perhaps even more importantly for others. Consider for a second what you’ve been given. The opportunities you started out with the day you were borne. They may be few or they may be many, but I’d be willing to bet they are more numerous than someone who is not given the right to an education because of their gender, and is thereby forced into a life of labor looking forward to an arranged marriage, which is still very common in Nepal. Regardless of your circumstances, you are more fortunate than someone. Regardless of your circumstances, you have more opportunities than someone. And regardless of your circumstances, you have the ability to prove your worth to everyone. It is the role of the powerful to protect the weak, not control them. It is the role of the fortunate to help the underprivileged, not pity them.

I will never forget the looks on the faces of those three girls. It was pain, it was jealousy, and it was desire. It is all too often moments like these, which pass in only a minute or two, that can strike a chord deep within you or can be forgotten in the buzz of the world around them.

A life spent in contemplation does little benefit without action to support it. Likewise, action without forethought can do more damage than good. I would challenge you who may read this to reflect on your own role; the role of the fortunate, the role of the powerful; and to summon the courage to act on your conclusions. May we all be blessed and strive toward the better we know is out there.

It’s Thanksgiving Day, I’m thousands of miles away from my family or anyone I’ve ever considered family, and I couldn’t follow the traditions that I’ve had since the first Thanksgiving I remember. Football? No watching. No playing. Zilch. I’m good with that. I can deal with that. Apparently, they ended up being pretty lousy games to watch anyway. Solid. Datenut bread? Can’t make it here. Don’t have the stuff. (This is a recipe handed down for generations in my mom’s family that she taught me how to make. She made it every Thanksgiving and Christmas until she died, then I took over each year). Switching into pajamas after dinner? Nope. Shoot, half our people didn’t even want a pause between the two (I continue to be appalled by that idea) and I had to set up for a few other things.

If I’m listing off all this sad stuff that didn’t make me cry, you’d figure I only cried for happy things, right? Well, you’d be wrong. Don’t get me wrong; this day brings to mind so many blessings, both seen and unseen, that I’m brought to tears with overwhelming gratitude for the Jehova Jireh. The Almighty Father truly blesses me every single day, starting with the fact that I, an unworthy sinner, have been plucked from the clutches of death and made righteous in His sight, purified by the propitiation of Christ on the cross. The sacrifice of the Spotless Lamb truly does bring unbridled joy to my heart. However, what broke me today…over and over…over and over again, was another blessing. A blessing broke me? Yes. Let me explain.

Today, God blessed me with ears to hear and eyes to see. Today, God revealed the brokenness of my generation. He revealed the pain it causes Him each time a misguided soul, Christian or not, Catholic or Protestant, young or old, male or female, takes Him and His grace for granted. He revealed how much it pains Him to see each of us turns our back on Him whenever we decide that we can sin and make it up later. He revealed how much it breaks His heart when we are free to roam, free to blaspheme, free to indulge simply because “He’ll forgive me later.”

I’m not sure where Christ laid that out as the way to live. Wait, yes I am. Nowhere. That’s not the Biblical life-model. You know why? Because it stinks. You know why Christ modeled a life and Paul and the other Apostles carefully-sculpted the image of a life lived rightly? Because it brings righteousness. Not self-righteousness. Righteousness.

Do we even know what that is anymore? Honestly, most people don’t even try to figure out what it is. They just figure they’re covered because they mumbled some prayer after some guy who yelled at them about some other guy who did stuff so they’d be cool with some other guy who has a lot of weird names.

Salvation is worked out. Work it out. Work by the sweat of our brow is Biblically-prescribed

How does this strike you?
17To Adam he said, “Because you listened to your wife and ate from the tree about which I commanded you, ‘You must not eat of it,’
“Cursed is the ground because of you;
through painful toil you will eat of it
all the days of your life.
18It will produce thorns and thistles for you,
and you will eat the plants of the field.
19By the sweat of your brow
you will eat your food
until you return to the ground,
since from it you were taken;
for dust you are
and to dust you will return.”    Genesis 3:17-19

Yeah, sounds fun, huh? As soon as Satan entered our lives, so did hard work. Work existed before we had sin (Gen. 2 speaks of working in the Garden of Eden), but God makes a clear difference between the work we originally did in the Garden and the work we are now ascribed today. Because we allowed hurdles into our lives (Seriously Adam, you had to go and fail at being a real man? Thanks dude. Thanks a lot.), we now have the added burden of hard work.  According to Philippians 2:12 (So then, my beloved, just as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your salvation with fear and trembling;) we get to work out our salvation as well. What does that mean? As I read it, I’m pointed back to my original point: salvation is not an event. Rather, it is a process.

This process entails much. Constant failures, learning, stretching, denying one’s flesh (rather, slaying one’s flesh and replacing those desires with the Holy Spirit’s guidance and the will of God), and yes, repentance. What does repentance mean, though? Does it mean remorse? That’s not the Biblical model, so no. Does it mean empty words said to anyone who will listen (perhaps someone who is not an appropriate confidante for such sensitive information)? No, we know that’s not it either. Let’s take a peek at what our actual authority has to say about repentance.

2 Corinthians 7:10- Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death.

Pretty clear, right? This shows repentance is an understand of having done wrong, but in a Godly manner. Let’s keep going, on to one of my favorite books in the whole Bible.

Hebrews 6:4- For it is impossible to keep on restoring to repentance time and again people who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, who have become partners with the Holy Spirit

Okay, that’s pretty heavy stuff, right? Repeated restoration to repentance is impossible for those who have received the Holy Spirit? If someone corrected you with this scripture without referencing it, what’s the likelihood you would even believe that it’s sound logic? I would ask if you would be likely to even think that it’s Biblical, but I don’t want to imply that anyone reading this might, you know, not accept Biblical correction from others. Okay, back to the point. The vast majority of us would usually read this, try to swallow the rapidly-drying and rapidly-growing lump suddenly stuck in their throat, and say “okay, but how does that make sense? Why?” Let’s find out.

Hebrews 6:5-6 – ⁵and have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the age to come, ⁶and then have fallen away, to restore them again to repentance, since they are crucifying once again the Son of God to their own harm and holding him up to contempt.

Now hold on just a gosh darn moment! Are you saying that God, in His infinite wisdom, knew that we would question His why and how, and then decided to (pause for a moment here, it’s a big deal) answer us in the very next verse? Who knew? Who knew we served a God who answers our questions and makes clear His desires and His commands? Did you know this? Why didn’t I know this? How many of you knew this and didn’t tell me? (Okay, so that last one is a whole separate post and probably will be the subject of many a sermon in my lifetime, so I’ll leave it alone for the moment.) Back to the passage. “And the powers of the age to come” is an entirely different doctrinal issue, so I’ll let it alone for the moment. The real meat I’m getting at here is the bit about repeated repentance being equal to repeatedly crucifying the Son of God, as well as “holding him up to contempt.”

Let’s take a peek at the word “contempt.” Dictionary.com describes it thus: “the feeling with which a person regards anything considered mean, vile, or worthless; disdain; scorn.” I’d like to settle on the word “worthless.” The Bible, in Hebrews 6 just said that when we repeatedly subject ourselves to sin, falling away from God, then respond to repentance over and over, that we are treating Christ as worthless. That just doesn’t sound good. I think I’ll try to pass. Oh wait, I don’t have to. It’s impossible.

This would probably be a good time to extend an olive branch called grace. If not to extend it, I’ll at least attempt to explain God’s view on grace. This passage (and the great majority of this post) concerns intentional, habitual, repetitive sin. (The kind of sin where you usually don’t notice it because you’ve grown numb to even remembering that it is a sin. The other option, and the one that makes more sense for this passage, is that they are the sins that afterward we recognize, and maybe even feel sorry for, but that we do nothing to reconcile. When we apologize to God, that does nothing, as the true definition of repentance is not found in remorse. More on that later.) It does not necessarily address incidental, non-habitual sins. (The kind of sins where afterward the reaction is “God, I hate that. Don’t let me do that again. Please forgive me Lord. That’s not my heart and I don’t ever want to do that. Ever.” You know, the sins that aren’t regularly in your life, so you recognize them and actually, well, repent.) God’s grace, accomplished through the sacrifice of His Son, Jesus Christ, covers this last type of sin, because we actually attempt to stay covered under this grace when we repent.

Imagine Jesus is walking next to you. It’s pouring down rain. Jesus has this super-awesome umbrella. When we’re walking with Him, we’re dry. No sweat (pun intended). No worries, right? Super. What happens if we take a rabbit trail? What happens if we suddenly start chasing after someone else or hanging out and walking with them? We become soaking, sopping, miserably wet, of course. To that end, we are living in sin. Absolutely covered in it. Repeated offenses will lead to consistent cold, clammy, angry wetness, which eventually leads to a miserable life, and probably to sickness. Here’s where repentance comes in. Repentance is a reversal of course. Does that mean instant dryness and a peachy-keen life? Of course not. Why not? Because while Jesus kept heading towards the Father because He is always focused on the goal, which is Heaven of course, (yes, He is always chasing after us, so the analogy breaks down) we were headed in the opposite direction. We have to include the economic law of loss here. Every block we were heading in the opposite direction of Jesus, we were actually moving two blocks away from him. Of course, the Lord works differently in each person’s life, but the principle applies. If we’re heading away from Christ for, say, three blocks, we are in effect six blocks away from Him when we have our moment of repentance. Let’s assume that it’s genuine repentance, so we turn and run to him. He’s still moving, so we’ll say we’re moving at twice the pace. We start six blocks away. He moves one block, we move two. Five blocks away. He moves one, we move two. Four blocks away. You get the point. Six blocks’ time for him, and twelve for us. Don’t forget the three other blocks away we were. We spent 15 blocks away from Him for three blocks’ worth of following the other trail. Now we’re back under the umbrella and nice and safe and cozy and dry, right?

Wrong. Here’s the hardest part of repentance. It takes time to dry off after you get under that umbrella. It takes time to heal. (We know that God does miracles today. I have seen it. I have experienced it. He delights in deliverance. However, more often God works through victory and processes of obedience.) Don’t forget all the distractions trying to draw you back into the tempest at every corner, every store window, and all the stumbling blocks trying to trip you up along the way. Just because you repent and run back to Christ doesn’t mean the enemy won’t try to mess with you. Getting dry is one incredible challenge. Staying dry is an entirely different animal.

Speaking of rabbit trails, I seem to have gotten myself lost on one here. I started writing this about the tears I shed today for my generation and ended up preaching for 2000+ words. Shweet.

What I intended to write about all sparked from a conversation this morning after I was asked for my opinion on tattoos. I’d gotten halfway through the sentence where I usually set up my opinion about there being a difference between pre-marriage and post-marriage tattoos when I was cut off and informed that “It doesn’t matter if it’s going to be someone else’s body someday. God will give you someone who will like it or someone who will forgive you for it. We all have pasts, you know?” I was appalled. I was completely at a loss for how someone could disrespect their future spouse in such a way. I still haven’t said anything. Not for fear, but because I know this person well enough at this point to realize that it is something God will teach in His perfect timing, because this person is growing in relationship with God and constantly pushing closer and closer. Soon enough, God will bless this person with the wisdom and prudence necessary to understand the statement uttered.

We all have pasts, yes. God forgives them when we humble ourselves and take refuge under his umbrella of grace. However, we all have futures, as well. We all have futures that we need to keep in mind, that we need to guard, just as we guard our hearts. What respect for the holy covenant of marriage do we hold if we maintain an “I can do that, my future spouse will forgive me for it or God will give me someone who isn’t bothered by it,” outlook? Even more importantly, what respect do we have for Christ if we maintain that attitude towards the holy covenant of faith in the Son of God? I think we pretty clearly covered that earlier in this post, didn’t we?

This is what God showed me today. This is what brought me to tears and indecipherable babble multiple times throughout the day. The enemy has strongholds in each of us, and the stronghold he holds in this young person is clearly one of deception as to the importance of the future, the covenants involved, the eternal consequences of every action, and you know what? It will be torn down. It will be abolished. It will be sanctified by holy fire in the name of Jesus Christ. There will be restoration. There will be healing. There will be Truth. Truth the person, the man, the god, the savior, the messiah. Truth will prevail as He always does and always will.

Hey, whaddya know? I’m crying again. It’s a different cry this time. It’s the cry of victory. A victory not yet felt, but one surely coming. Amen.

We often talk about being made strong in our weaknesses by giving God the opportunity to work through us, but what about becoming stronger in our strengths? So frequently, we pridefully believe that we can do something without God’s blessing or assistance because it falls into one of our so-called strengths. I want to challenge that pride. To arrogantly proceed without seeking God is sin, and we do so every day.

When I came to Mexico, I considered verbal communication to be my biggest strength and gifting (both on a preaching and a relational level). While I have the opportunity to speak in English with my team members and to build them up and encourage them, I can rarely communicate while doing ministry. This is an area of growth for me, as I’m learning that even my biggest strength can be as nothing to simply showing God’s love. Honestly, I can’t even hold a full conversation with an eight year old kid, so I’m learning to allow God to work through me more freely.

The thought I really am trying to convey here is that God deserves your whole heart, rather than just the parts you think you can’t manage on your own. Give up your weaknesses, give up your strengths, watch Him create something wholly new. It’ll blow your socks off.

For those not in the other know, I am now officially in college.
I’ll be taking 5 classes for a total of 12 credit hours. My classes are Strategies for Student Success (aka “How not to flunk out of college”), PE (PE online? ok…), National and State Government (did you really expect me to avoid politics in Texas?), New Testament Theology (I guess since my life depends on an understanding of this, I should try hard), and Authentic Christianity (because without it, my life and all I want to do is worthless).
I’m very excited for all of my classes and to actually get back into academia. This will be very good for me.

Our time here in Waxahachie (pronounced “wok-suh-hat-chee”) has been amazing. We’ve met incredible and gracious professors and staff who genuinely care about our walks with God, rather than just our classroom behavior. They have chapel every day on campus, a daily country to keep in prayer, and they open each class session with prayer. I’ve gained a new hunger for constant prayer, as well as a new perspective and respect for the power of God to answer our prayers. I truly have fallen in love with this campus in the two days I’ve been here; I now know that this is exactly where I’m supposed to get my education.

I’ve also met some amazing teammates. My fellow Engage students are absolute crack-ups. If nothing else, I know I will laugh every day I live with them. We already have inside jokes, a healthy feel for each others’ personalities, and nicknames for almost everyone. As we grow together over the next year, I know I will be building friendships for the rest of my life.

Tomorrow, I fly out to Guadalajara, Mexico. My flight leaves DFW at 6:45pm CST and arrives in GDL (Guadalajara) at 9:20pm CST. I would appreciate and welcome prayers for safe travel and for an easy breeze through customs. I’ll bring more detailed updates soon.

Written 8/20-21/08

V1: You are greater than all of this.

You’re creator of all of this.

You’re the potter of all of us.

PC: We are clay in Your hands.

We are clay in Your hands.

C1: (so) Mold me, Lord.

(so) Mold me, Lord.

Shape me, as only You know how.

C2: (so) Move me, Lord.

(so) Move me, Lord.

Shake me, as only You know how.

C3: (so) Hold me, Lord.

(so) Hold me, Lord.

Love me, as only You know how.

PC \

C123 > [vamp?]

C3 /

Meanwhile, the crowd’s waiting. There they all are, seated and wondering why the spotlight is pointed at the side of the stage but nobody’s coming out. Nobody’s coming out to change their lives. Nobody’s coming out to share this great story, this good news, this amazing message of hope. They’ve waited their entire lives for this one moment: this moment when this person they’ve known for so long, some not so long, but this person who has gone through this routine that includes each and every one of them. I’ve been going through this religious routine that includes study, scripture, prayer, and doing absolutely nothing about it.

Dress rehearsals are over. I know my lines. I’m in the costume of the armor of God. I’m as prepared as I need to be. I have this Holy Spirit filling my heart. I’m ready.

And yet, here I am; standing next to the stage waiting for my cue. How am I so blind? How am I so deaf? How am I so dumb? How, after this miraculous change in my life, after feeling His presence come over me so many times, after witnessing demons and miracles and hearing His voice so many times, how am I still quivering behind the curtain, looking over my lines one last time? Just one more time, then I’ll be ready. They’ll never know what hit ‘em!

So far, the only thing hitting them is the notion that they’ve heard and seen nothing from me. Nothing at all, because I’m too busy getting ready to give them a show. Curtain was months ago, yet here I am, yet again, standing backstage.

This is the depression that’s been plaguing me of late.

And this is the notion that just struck me: there’s a light at the end of this tunnel. I just got the new choir CD for Spring and Summer and I have this song on repeat. I was told to listen to it tonight. I was told by a pastor. I was told by his wife because it might be a good fit for a solo audition. I was told by the Holy Spirit inside of me. I didn’t know what the point was. I didn’t get the message, because I just had it on; I wasn’t listening to it. Then I started my self-examination. I started looking inside and seeing why I feel like I’m not living the life I need to live. I’m miles closer to God and closer to my fulfilling life than I was three years ago, last year, last month; but I’m nowhere near where I need to be. I’m stuck in the middle of a tunnel, dazed, confused, and wondering what’s going to leap out of the dark and hit me next. When I finally took the time to listen to the song, I found that my eyes had opened, my internal compass had righted itself, and I knew which direction to turn. Lo and behold, there’s a light ahead. It’s the light of hope. It’s the light of my destination. It’s my God clarifying and lighting the path before me.

Simultaneously, the darkness lifts. The light isn’t just at the end of the tunnel. It’s in the tunnel. It’s coming from the hope in my heart; the fire rekindled inside of me. It’s still a tunnel, but that makes it so much easier to focus on my destination. No distractions. No offshoots. Straight as an arrow.

I blinked just now, and I just noticed my cue. I’m on. The crowd isn’t going to know what hit ‘em, but they’ll walk away different.

When God told Adam (notice I only say Adam, for Eve was not created until after this instruction was given) they were allowed anything in the Garden of Eden, except the fruit of the Tree of Life (Gen 2:16-17), He gave them more than simply a limitation on their eating habits. He gave them the choice of all other fruits.

When God instructed me not to date for this season of my life, He gave me more than a limitation on possible romantic pursuits. He gave me direction and He gave me discipline.

Why, when He is so adept at giving us what we need by cutting out what we shouldn’t have, by forbidding it, by bluntly and lovingly telling us to avoid it, why are we so quick to limit Him? He whose power is limitless and promises are ever-fruitful, He is the one we choose to put into a box by believing so half-heartedly in His will for our prosperity and salvation. He who sacrificed His one and only son so that we may have eternal life, He is the one we box and try to ship around the world in pamphlet form, hoping that someone will read and understand without the relationship we were sent to build.

Why, when He has no limitations on how much He loves us, how often He’ll pick us up, how drastic and dreadful a situation He will pull us out of in safety and in love, how mortal a wound He may heal; why do we doubt His passion for us by showing none for Him in return? This God of ours is greater than that. He deserves more than we can give, so why in the world do we give so much less than we can? Is it demoralizing to know that we can never live up to what He deserves? I don’t see how it could be; not when we’re saved by the grace of the blood spilled on Calvary. Not when Jesus lived and died for us. How could we not give everything? How could we possibly hold back and still live with ourselves, unashamed?

I’m going to draw the Disney parallel here: Aladdin’s genie had more or less all the power imaginable, with few exceptions. The notable exception concerns love. The genie had no control over a person’s true heart. This is similar to God in that God refuses to force us to love and adore Him. He gives us this choice, and how do we return the favor? We put Him in a crappy, busted up, tinny, tiny old lamp and rub it whenever we want Him to come out and grant one of our three wishes. With God, however, we don’t just get three wishes. If we’re lined up with His plan, we get all the wishes we can spit out.

That’s the key though. IF WE’RE IN LINE WITH HIS PLAN. With the Genie, we’re the master and he’s the slave. With God, He’s the master, and we’re the slave, but we’re bound to freedom. We’re bound to eternal freedom and eternal peace and eternal warm-fuzziness. What’s the genie bound by? Whichever bum picks up the lamp next, until some kind-hearted soul has the decency to set him free as one of their wishes.

Here’s my wish, God. I wish to set you free. I wish not to bind you up in a crappy old lamp. I wish not to bind you within four walls we call a church. I wish not to bind you to the social circles of Jesus-people. I wish to set you free to the world. To take your message to all the peasants and kings; to the markets and the prisons; to the airways and the highways. I long for your presence with me wherever I go, at all times, in all situations, in all conversations, in all the words I speak and the looks I give and the thoughts that traverse my brain. I wish to set you free from the prison we have put you in, so that you may reclaim your Kingdom.

Remember what happened when Aladdin set the genie free?

I’ll sum it up for you: fear, then comfort, then a goal, then trials, then trust, then victory.

I’m at the goal part. I’m looking forward to getting my teeth kicked in over the next few years, building that trust wherever I go, working towards the victory for Him.