Laying on the ground at the foot of the dumpster is a clear glass vase filled with a dozen red roses. Complete with all the greenery and Baby’s Breath, there is a red and black teddy bear lashed to the vase with sheer red ribbon. Tethered to the bear, a shiny helium filled Mylar “Happy Birthday” balloon, dancing in the breeze.

The roses are fresh. New. All that’s missing is the water. In the August heat, sans water they won’t be fresh for long.

People rescue dogs. And birds that get blown from the nest. What do you do when you find fresh roses next to a dumpster, dying of thirst?

I guess it’s their lucky day. I love roses. I used to work for a company that imported long stem roses from Ecuador. If I leave these beauties out here in the dirt, I won’t sleep tonight. So I take them in, re-cut the stems and fill the vase with water. They sit awkwardly on my table, rescued to be sure. Yet in a place they never expected to be.

Oh, that the roses would talk to me. Were they too little too late? Were they not enough? Were they an “I’m sorry I forgot your birthday and that’s why there’s a teddy bear on here, too?” Were they gladly received only to be tossed after a birthday party turned ugly? Or were they given to someone to whom nothing is ever good enough, a gift doomed to futility from the start?

Why on the ground? If one is angry enough to throw away a brand new vase of red roses why not give full vent and smash them in the dumpster? Why lay them on their side for a slow death? If you’re going to throw something away, why not all the way?

However it is, the roses and the teddy bear aren’t where they thought they’d be.

At some point in life, we all find ourselves in a place we never thought we’d be. Maybe we weren’t enough for someone. Maybe an illness steals our ability to physically enjoy our favorite activities. Or a pink slip downsizes us out of a career. Or maybe we derailed ourselves by our own bad choices.

However we ended up by the dumpster, we’re here.

People rescue dogs. And birds that get blown from the nest. And guys like me rescue roses on the ground.

God rescues people.

God rescues people. And it doesn’t matter where He finds us. By the dumpster. Or in the dumpster. Whether someone tossed us aside or we threw ourselves there, God rescues us.

The irony of being rescued from a place we never thought we’d be is that God will take us to places we never thought we’d go.

How wonderful is that?

Thank you, God, for rescuing us.

It’s our lucky day.

“And God showed His great love for us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” – Romans 5:8

Todd A. Thompson – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

“The terms and conditions of a relationship determine the nature of the relationship.”

This is true. For example, think about the employers you’ve had in your life. Managers like to boast about having an “open door” policy. Yet it doesn’t take more than a week or two before you figure out there are two kinds of open door policy. The first one is a manager who invites your feedback, respects your viewpoint and values your contributions to the company.

The second one is a boss whose actions say, “My door is always open for you to come in and see my closed mind.”

The terms and conditions of a relationship determine the nature of the relationship. The manager who seeks out and values the input of the employees creates a relationship environment of team work and free flowing ideas. The boss who doesn’t creates a relationship environment of stunted communication and self-preservation.

The terms and conditions of the relationship determine the nature of the relationship.

When it comes to your relationship with God, whose terms and conditions are you operating by? Yours? Or God’s?

The distinction is crucial.

Some of us are operating by terms and conditions that view God as the divine policeman who waits for us to do something wrong so He can write us up. We live our lives walking on spiritual eggshells, afraid to risk or chance or dream for fear of messing up and incurring God’s wrath.

Some of us are operating from terms and conditions determined by our bad church experiences. People within the church have disappointed us. Or worse, wounded us. Perhaps pastors or leaders have abused our trust by taking liberties with their position. Living by these terms, we approach God with suspicion thinking it only a matter of time before He, too, will disappoint us.

Some of us are operating from terms and conditions imposed on us from our upbringing. Perhaps our parents’ view of God was extreme to one direction or the other. Years later, God to us is either a wholly unapproachable fire and brimstone Diety or our heavenly Fuzzy Buddy. Our terms and conditions have us viewing God as a single facet, ignoring the whole of who He is.

Some of us are operating from terms of guilt and shame. Our sins, we think, are impossibly large and unforgiveable. And should we manage to summon the courage to seek God’s forgiveness for these, we think it best not presume upon Him after that. For to do so would be asking one too many favors. So we live each day at a lonely distance from God, like a stray dog starving for attention, yet afraid to come close.

The terms and conditions of a relationship determine the nature of the relationship. When it comes to your relationship with God, what terms and conditions are you living by? Yours? Or God’s?

The flip side of Dr. Wakefield’s bookmark reads:

“The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindness.” – Psalm 145:8

These are God’s terms and conditions for His relationship with us. God is gracious. He extends to us blessings we don’t deserve. He is compassionate. Which is to say He knows what we’re made of because He made us. And because of that He cares for us as a loving Father cares for his children. How would your relationship with God change if you understood His heart toward you is always gracious and full of compassion?

God is slow to anger. He is not a heavenly hot-head with a hair trigger. How would your relationship with God change if you understood God is patient with you?

God abounds in lovingkindness toward us. Lovingkindness. In Hebrew, the word is “chesed”. It means a “loyal love”. A love that won’t quit on you. A love that is bulldog tenacious. A love that latches on to you and will not let you go. Ever.

According to God’s terms and conditions, His lovingkindness to you is abounding. We don’t use that word often but it’s wonderful in context here.  It means to “exist in large quantities.” So to paraphrase God’s terms and conditions, “God is kind beyond reason, understanding beyond measure, incredibly patient and loves you with overflowing large quantities of tenacious loyal love that will not let you go. Ever.”

When we allow God to define Himself and His relationship to us by His terms and conditions we experience the grace, acceptance, love and freedom He desires for us.

Whose terms and conditions would you rather live with? Yours? Or God’s? You get to choose. I’d choose for you but I can’t. It’s up to you.

So I’ll just encourage you to make your own bookmark. And think about getting it laminated.

That’s what I’m doing.

“The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindness.” – Psalm 145:8

Todd A. Thompson – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

In a sentence…I have allowed my burden to become an idol.

For my readers who don’t know me, four years ago my spouse chose to walk away from our marriage. I didn’t want that. My daughters didn’t want that. We were (and continue to be) left bouncing in the wake of the consequences created by her decisions.

The burdens I’ve been carrying since; burdens of abandonment, betrayal, loneliness, starting life over from scratch without a network in a new state is but a short list of what has dominated my thoughts. Not to mention the constant fear she would again someday pick up and relocate our children again. I have allowed these burdens, by the amount of time spent fretting and obsessing over them, to become an idol. By definition, an idol is something to which time and devotion are paid. I have paid too much time and far too much attention to my burdens of the past four years. They have become idols at the expense of time and attention focusing on God’s sovereignty over my life.

Are my burdens real? Absolutely. I can’t begin to describe the profound loneliness of beginning life over in a place you never wanted to live where you know no one, leaving behind 14 years of deeply invested friendships, ministry, network, jobs and every good thing that feeds your soul. Add to that the burden of single parenting, a job God never intended in His original design of family, cover it all with a daily feeling of being “on the outside looking in” and it’s a small start in communicating what a head-banging process this has been.

My burdens are real. They are heavy. And they may not go away anytime soon. Yet in focusing on them, both knowingly and unknowingly, I have allowed these burdens to become an idol. Like a man examining a stain on his necktie, my vision has become myopic. I’ve become oblivious to the larger environment around me, the environment over which God is fully sovereign. Focusing on my burdens has created in me a spirit of fear. I’ve been waiting and worrying over the next bad thing that could happen instead of acknowledging God and His perfect love that casts out fear. To, even in one’s mind, relegate God in any way as subject to one’s circumstances is sin.

One would think a seminary graduate would have this figured out. But there is a big difference between head knowledge and heart assurance. At some point all of us will experience a life event that forces us to decide whether or not we will “own” our theology. When life is full of everything happy and circumstances are favorable, it’s easy to pay lip service to the goodness of God. When life kicks you in the head and takes away most or all of what you value, the question is unavoidable. Is God still good when life is not?

In the wake of my spouse walking away, my friend Jerry Sittser told me, “In God’s big-picture drama, people who walk out of your life are small players. As painful and horrible as this situation is, there is nothing anyone can do to thwart God’s purposes for your life. Or for the lives of your children.” This is a true statement. Yet in my pain I lost sight of this. God, in my mind, became subject to the decisions of my ex-spouse. Instead of rightly seeing God as in control of His universe (and mine) in the middle of my awful situation I viewed Him as subject to my rotten circumstances instead of sovereign over the details of my life.

Psalm 34 calls us to “magnify the Lord and exalt His name” and that in doing so God will “deliver us from all our fears.” In allowing my burdens to become an idol, I’ve done the opposite. In magnifying my fears I have minimized God. That in itself is grievous. Yet the arrogance of this sin is magnified by the irony that my spirit of fear has been cultivated while surrounded by God’s blessings. I’ve lamented to God the burden of moving to and surviving in a place where I knew no one, while across the room sits a cabinet full of customer files, every one of them a stranger until God brought them into my life. I’ve lamented to God the burden of leaving behind the bonds of an established church family, while the members and friends at Turning Point Church, many of whom don’t even know me that well, have consistently prayed for me and cared for my daughters as if they were their own. I’ve lamented to God my burden of loneliness, and in doing so treated God as if He hasn’t been here for every tear and every sleepless night.

While I’ve been guilty of treating God as though He is subject to my circumstances, true to form God has been incredibly patient and kind with me. He has, in ways big and small, used these same circumstances to remind and encourage me that He transcends everything I can see and imagine. He really does “cause all things to work together for good to those who love Him and are called according to His purpose”. After disappointments in my job, He surprises me with unexpected sales. Or sitting in church, missing all my friends and ministry in Arizona, a hand on my shoulder and a voice saying, “You’ve been on my heart a lot. Let me pray for you.” Or in moments of deeply felt insignificance someone saying, “Thanks for what you said in your sermon. God really used it in my life.” And even in ways far outside the box like a guy named Bob at Sam’s Club in Roswell, New Mexico who offers to pray for me while filling my car at the gas pump.

If I’d spent as much time looking for God in the details as I’ve spent focusing on my fears, how different would my life look?

So there you have it. My confession. And my resolution to stop living from a spirit of fear. God’s arm is not too short to save. There’s nothing that will happen in my life that He’s not already aware of. The fact that I am still here is proof of His provision. He promises to give me a hope and a future. He promises not to quit working on me. And He promises to “restore all the years that the locusts have eaten”. I have no idea how He will do that, but I look forward to seeing it.

In the meantime, my burdens may not get lighter. My situation may not change. It may get worse. But it doesn’t matter because God is on His throne. He loves me. I don’t know why. But He does. And His promises are bigger than my fearful circumstances.

Or as He says, “If I (God) am for you, who can be against you?”

Todd A. Thompson – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

It’s bedtime. Past bedtime, actually. Being a bad Dad or good Dad, depending on your perspective, I had allowed Annie and Emma to finish watching the movie they had started.

Thankfully, my girls don’t fight sleep. Most nights it’s an easy transition from eyes open to eyes shut. In fact, Annie falls asleep faster than anyone I’ve ever known. If we had a “who’s out the fastest” contest between Annie and any light switch in your home, Annie would win every time. She falls asleep so quickly that if I have a question for her I have to ask while she is still vertical. Because a microsecond after her head hits the pillow, whatever it is has to wait till morning.

Emma, the other half of my twin tornadoes, has her own routine to ease into sleeping. She changes it up from night to night, but mostly variations on a theme.

“Daddy, tell me a story.”

“Daddy, I’m thirsty.”

“Daddy, …. ” followed by a pause as she quickly tries to think something up.

On this night they are tucked in. We’ve said our prayers. Annie is out in .047 seconds. Emma is laying on her back, hugging a purple pillow with her left arm. What will it be tonight? A request for a story? A glass of water?

“Daddy, my ice is big again.”

“My ice.”

I’ve been following their thought trails now for going on 10 years. I know them. But I’ve got no clue how to track this one.

“Emma, what are you talking about?”

“Ughhhhh!!! Daddy! Don’t you remember what you told me?”

Remember what? Ice? Huh? Maybe it’s true. Maybe parenting makes us slowly lose our mind so we can’t remember what we’ve said.

“Honey, I love you but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Emma is exasperated now. I’ve seen this look on her face before. It’s the “my point is so obvious that I can’t believe I have to explain this to you because you’re the grown up and you’re supposed to get it” face.

She sits up.

“Daddy, you told me! You said that every day is a new day and that any bad things are in the past. So 12 AM is a new day so my ice is big again! It’s big! You know…thick!”

Click.

Several days before Emma was pushing the limits and I warned her, “Emma Elizabeth, you better knock it off because you’re on thin ice.”

And several days prior to that incident was a discussion following her being disciplined. I had explained to her that what’s done is done, she received her discipline and that Daddy wasn’t angry with her because it was all over.

“It’s in the past, Emma. And every day is a new day.”

Midnight marks the new day. And with the new day, “thick ice” on which to skate.

Emma had connected the dots. I was astounded and humbled in this moment. God is at work in my daughter’s life.

Wow.

The prophet Jeremiah put it this way, “Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope; because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.” (Lamentations 3:21-24)

We are God’s children. And from time to time we all skate on thin ice. Thanks to God’s mercy, His compassion never fails. He shows it to us in many ways, not the least of which is to give us “big ice” at the start of every new day.

Which, as Emma will tell you, starts at 12:00 AM. Or midnight. Whichever you prefer to call it.

Todd A. Thompson – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

Rock piles.

Depending on the lay of the farmer’s land, before planting crops it’s sometimes necessary to harvest rock. The freezing of winter and the thawing of spring brings to the surface of the ground stones that were previously hidden. Some are hand-sized. An easy grab and pitch into a skid loader bucket or onto a flatbed trailer. Others require two hands, a knee bend and a strong back. And on rare occasion, one needs to be pulled out with a tractor and a log chain.

Say the phrase “pick rock” to any Iowa farm kid and they know exactly what you’re talking about.

The reason for picking rock is simple. Come harvest time you don’t want a field stone to go screaming through the internal gears of a John Deere combine that could be traded even up for one of your nicer homes in Scottsdale, Edina, or Lake Forest. So to avoid costly down time and expensive repairs, you walk the field and move the rock to an out of the way place.

My Uncle Ev and Aunt Katherine had a rock pile on their farm. We kids called it “The Mountain”. We played regularly on it. It seemed so big. Go back there now and it’s still there, a memorial to a literal century of hard work and successful farming. When we look at it, we remember.

Joshua 4 is one of my favorite accounts in the Bible. It’s where God rolls back the waters of the Jordan River to allow the people of Israel to walk across on dry ground. God instructs them to build a monument of 12 stones to mark the event. He had a specific reason. “…in the future, when your children ask you, “What do these stones mean?” tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.” -(Joshua 4:6-7)

God knows that His humans have short memories. That’s why He wanted them to set up the 12 stones as a reminder of the miracle He did. That rock pile was for remembering the great work He had done for them.

This Thanksgiving season as I count my blessings, it occurs to me that I’ve done a lot of worrying this year. A lot of asking God why He seems so slow to respond in certain areas of my life. And if I’m honest, no small amount of doubt and anxiety. Wondering sometimes silently and sometimes in full voice, “God, are you gonna take care of me?”

The irony, of course, is that I’ve done my worrying and doubting and whining while sitting squarely on top my rock pile. Those stones of good health, food to eat, a place to live, a car to drive, healthy children, opportunities to earn a living, friends old and new, wonderful parents, a church family, and multiple moments of God’s grace and mercy, dropped into my life at a point of need and always above and beyond what I could ask or imagine.

What audacity. To sit atop my rock pile of blessings, lifetime proof of God’s faithful provision, and wonder if He will come through for me this time?

Perhaps there is more symbolism to the stones than I realize. Could it possibly be God’s inside joke of what a blockhead I can be?

God, please forgive my arrogance of distrusting You while surrounded by your tangible blessings. This Thanksgiving help me to be mindful that You are forever faithful, my Source and my Provider. When I wonder, when I doubt, remind me to look at the rock pile that You’ve built in my life and renew my faith and trust, because You are faithful and true.

Here’s hoping you take a good long look at your rock pile.

Happy Thanksgiving.

“The Lord is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion. The Lord protects the simplehearted; when I was in great need He saved me. Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the Lord has been good to you.” – Psalm 116:5-7

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

I’d be on a plane to Chicago before you could say “deep dish pizza”.

Several years ago I had opportunity to attend a preaching/teaching conference at Willow Creek Church with my friend and pastor Duane Cross. When it was over we had some time before catching our plane back to Phoenix. So we drove downtown to the Art Institute of Chicago. My favorite place in my favorite city. One of the world’s best collections of classic art. Monet, Van Gogh, Rembrandt, and Picasso all under one big roof.

I actually got misty seeing the lion statues that guard the entrance to the museum. Perhaps you have a place you go to that is good for your soul. The Art Institute of Chicago is good for my soul.

Keep in mind that when it comes to art, I can’t draw a straight line if you spot me a ruler. So I’m sure I can’t appreciate the complexity and genius of these masterpieces the way a true artist would. But I go and stand in front of them and am moved by them just the same.

We had limited time. Duane asked me what I most wanted to see. I told him that if all we did was go and stare at Seurat’s “Sunday Afternoon”, it would be worth the trip. It’s my absolute favorite.

Seurat, a mere 25 years old when he painted this defining work, had spent previous years studying theories of light. The painting technique that he employed was based on those theories. Unlike the broader brush strokes of mixed colors that other Impressionist painters used, Seurat developed a new technique called “pointellism”. Or, as he preferred to describe it, “divisionism”.

As to size, it is a huge painting – the canvas stretches 7 feet x 10 feet. This masterpiece took 2 years to complete. From a distance what you see is the picture. The images of the people enjoying their Sunday afternoon on the Sienne River in France. What you don’t see from a distance is that the entire painting is made up of tiny dashes and dots of pure color paint.

For the first year, Seurat painted nothing but horizontal dashes. The dashes are each one detached from the others. Then he added the dots of pure color paint. As you might imagine, this was a tedious and exacting process. The project was so intense that during the two years it took him to paint it, Seurat refused to have lunch with his close friends lest they distract him and break his concentration.

Up close, the dashes and dots look like, well…dashes and dots. Yet as you step back from the painting to a distance, the dashes and dots combine optically in your eye to form the desired image.

For two years, nothing but days and days of dashes and dots.

Dashes and dots.

How could dashes and dots make a picture? It doesn’t make sense that detached horizontal dashes and dots of paint can combine to make a masterpiece.

But they do.

What are the dashes and dots of your life? What of those thousands of detached horizontal lines of seemingly disconnected events? When you step back are they really all that disconnected? When you step back far enough can you see how God has painted them in such a way that they form the picture of your life?

Was it really chance that you took that job in a different city? Was it just coincidence that you met that certain person? Was the career you felt trapped in really a waste of time? Was the serious illness really a stand alone event that led nowhere? Was the tragedy in your life the end of a dream? Or was God preparing you for something bigger?

Standing less than a foot away from Seurat’s “Sunday Afternoon” and staring at the canvas, you think, “No way does this make a picture. It’s just dashes and dots of paint. No rhyme, no reason, no pattern.” And up close, you’d be right. It looks like one big random mess.

Only when you step back does it begin to make sense. 5 feet. 10 feet. 15 feet. 20 feet. And then the random mess becomes a beautiful Sunday afternoon picnic.

Friends, if you’re like me, you might in the middle of a mess that makes no sense. All you see are dashes of dread and dots of pain. You want to make sense of it but you can’t. Not right now. We’re too close to see what God is painting. This close it’s just dashes and dots. The disappointments and heartbreaks, how can these be part of a beautiful picture?

With brush strokes of grace, God the Artist makes sense of our dashes and dots. Let’s remember to step back from time to time to see how He is bringing them together into the beautiful picture that is our life. Because whether we see it or not, He’s doing exactly that.

God promises to continue perfecting the good work that He began in us. Which is to say He will continue dashing and dotting until the masterpiece is complete.

“For we know that all things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to His purpose.” – Romans 8:28

“For I am confident that He (God) who began a good work in you will continue to perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 1:6

“Grandpa, I don’t want to be 4. I want to stay 3.”

“Why is that?”

“Because after you turn 4, then you turn 5.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Because when you turn 5 you go to kindergarten and they make you spell hippopotamus…and I don’t know how!”

We’ve all been there. The unknown. We look ahead. We wonder. We worry. What waits for us? Will we be ready? Are we up to the challenge? Little Nathan was doing the “double jump ahead”; fearing an unknown twice removed from his present moment. We laugh at the story because we’ve done it, too.

President Calvin Coolidge said, “If you see ten troubles coming down the road, you can be sure that nine will run into the ditch before they reach you.” The wisdom being “don’t borrow trouble”. While President Coolidge’s advice is comforting, if you’re like me, instead of being relieved that nine troubles are dead in a ditch, you worry like crazy about the one trouble that will end up making the trip. What will it be? What will it look like? How will it affect me? We “what if?” ourselves into a tizzy.

What if…?

What if…?

What if…?

Allowed to run unchecked, our minds are masterful at creating imaginary crisis. Yet unless we’re terribly neurotic or boringly rich, rarely do we sit around and manufacture crisis out of thin air. Our worry usually stems from genuine present moment troubles. That one trouble that makes it down the road to our door. A chronic health problem. Financial pressure. An unstable job situation. A teenager running away with their desire for independence. A relationship that’s headed for the point of no return. These troubles are all very real.

I’ve been battling worry a lot lately. With due respect to President Coolidge, I have one or two or twenty troubles right now that ignored the ditch and are parked in my driveway. They don’t look like they’re moving on anytime soon. I’d like to say I’ve handled my worries well. But it’s been paralyzing at times.

So what to do?

I’m learning. Slowly, painfully, tearfully, imperfectly. I’m learning what God is trying to teach me about worry.

And trust.

“Todd, here’s the deal…

I told you that I’ll never leave you or forsake you. Others may have promised that and bailed, but I’m not them. I’m Me. I’m God. And I am not a man that I should lie. Simply put, you’re never alone. Ever. You might feel like you are, but you’re not.

Next, you need to understand that I understand your worries and your fears. I know that life is hard. I’ve never sugar coated that. “Many are the afflictions of the righteous” is how I put it in Psalm 34. You’re living in a broken world. Being a Christian doesn’t make you immune from that. Your problems are real. That is not lost on Me.

You need to understand something else. And it may not make sense to you. But everything that happens in your life, good and bad, passes through My sovereign hand. If I allow it, I have a reason for it. That doesn’t mean I cause bad things. It means I work all things, even the bad things, for good in your life. There are no loose ends in your life not connected to my perfect purpose.

You’ve asked me a few times, “Why am I allowing this @#$% to happen?” It’s a fair question. If I love you, why don’t I spare you? You might not like this, either. But there’s more at stake here than your present circumstances. See, I care more about your character than your comfort. I need you to come to grips with your faults, the things you need to change for your good and My glory. I need you to learn to trust Me with the injustices in your life. I need you to go through this. Not around it. The hard stuff, the pain, it’s all part of the process of making you like Jesus. 

And you have no idea how committed I am to that process. Does the phrase, “never stop this side of heaven” ring a bell?

I know heaven seems far away right now. That’s why I need you to believe Me when I say take life one day at a time. Don’t worry about tomorrow. Each day has enough trouble of its own. The things you need, I’ll provide. I promise. It’s about depending on Me every day. That’s why Jesus called it “our daily bread”.  Just do the next thing in front of you and trust me. Don’t waste your time on the “what if’s” about tomorrow. I’m already there. And I’m working in ways you can’t see or understand.

So keep talking to Me. All the time. It’s the best thing you can do. Don’t polish it, don’t edit it. Don’t spiritualize it. Just bring it. The angst. The tears. The passion. The needs. Just bring it. Your worries plus you equals fear. Your worries plus Me equals peace. And my peace passes all understanding.

Whether your circumstances get better or worse…and yes, they could get worse, remember that nothing separates you from My love. Come hell or high water, I love you. I’m for you. Do I need to state the obvious?

If God is for you, who can be against you?

I’m for you.

So keep going.”

- God

When I was a kid, we would spend Christmas with my cousins in Ozona, Texas. My Uncle John was U.S. Border Patrolman there. Ozona, maybe about 3,000 people, is the only town in Crockett County, a county that’s the same size as Delaware.  

Partly because of his line of work, partly because of living in Texas and partly because of personal hobby, my Uncle John had quite a few guns. So did my Dad who collected antique Winchester rifles. So for my cousin Jack and me, getting our first BB guns was a big deal.

But it was an even bigger deal a couple years later when we were about 10 years old. That year our Dads gave us pellet guns for Christmas. Matching Sheridan Blue Streak Air Rifles. To this day it remains one of my favorite Christmas presents. Solid wood stock, sleek shiny black metal barrel, bolt action, single shot, .20 caliber pellet, air pump…I can still feel it in my hands. It was a beauty.

As was often the case during Christmas vacation in Texas, we tagged along with our Dads when they went deer hunting. My uncle was a friend to many of the ranchers in the area and he was often invited to hunt on their private land. On this particular day we were hunting at Beecher’s Ranch; located just west of the middle of nowhere, about two hours from the other side of no place. If you’ve ever been to West Texas you know what I mean. Nothing but cactus and canyons and mesquite scrub.

Jack, his twin sister Kaye, our cousin Becky and I went along in the old station wagon used for hunting trips. After arriving, we stayed around the car while our Dads walked a short canyon they wanted to hunt. It was great fun and even better now that Jack and I were armed with our trusty air rifles.

Understand that Jack and I had gun safety drilled into our heads from the time we could point our fingers and say “bang!”. We grew up around guns and our Dads taught us well. Never point at anything you don’t intend to shoot. Point the gun at the ground while you’re walking. Never put a shell in the chamber until you’re ready to fire. Always keep the safety on until you pull the trigger. Failure to abide by these rules meant the BB guns got put away until we were ready to be diligent. The rules hadn’t changed now that we had upgraded our weaponry.

We were sitting in the station wagon with the doors open laughing and talking. I was in the driver’s seat, my cousin Becky on the passenger side. Jack and Kaye were in the back. My new Sheridan Blue Streak Air Rifle was on my lap. I have no recollection of how or why there was a pellet in the chamber. I have no memory of pumping air into the gun. Selective memory I’m sure, because who else would have done that but me?

All I remember was the distinct sound of the air rifle discharging. Pchoo! I didn’t feel anything at first. Then I saw blood running all over my left hand. Holding it up I looked in shock at my cousin Becky and yelled, “You shot my finger!”

Then it started to hurt.

At that point it was like a Keystone Cops movie. We all ran around the station wagon screaming and bumping into each other. My hand was bleeding, our Dads weren’t anywhere close and we’re in the middle of nowhere. Somehow in the panic one of us remembered seeing a small house, probably used by ranch hands, about a mile back up the road on the other side of the bump gate. So Kaye and I headed that way.

When we got there I went up and knocked. A Mexican gentleman who, in retrospect, would have been someone my Border Patrol uncle would have likely paid a visit to on a work day, answered the door. It became very clear very fast that he didn’t speak any English and I didn’t speak any Spanish. I guess blood translates in any language because he took me inside to the sink so I could wash my wound.

Whatever this shack lacked in amenities it had an ample supply of whiskey bottles. In the middle of my washing the guy firmly took hold of my wrist with one hand and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other hand. He pulled the cork out with his teeth, and with a crazed smile grunted, “Ah? Ah?” while indicating he wanted to demonstrate it’s medicinal properties by disinfecting my still bleeding finger. I suddenly felt like I was in a Pancho Villa movie. And because yelling louder always helps when you don’t know the language, I kept shouting, “BAND-AID! BAND-AID!”

Somehow I got my point across and even more miraculous, he found a bandage for my finger.

Weeks before there was anticipation in hoping for the Christmas gift of a pellet gun and now there was anticipation of having to tell my Dad what happened. I had plenty of time to think about it on the walk back to the car. 

The upside was that it was only a finger. I didn’t shoot my eye out. That’s a good thing because for me to get a new plastic eye would have cost a lot of money.

I dreaded telling him what happened. Even though my cousin Becky did pull the trigger (a fact that I tell my children to curry sympathy), the reality is I broke the rules and put the pellet in the gun. And now I had to tell my Dad.

I thought he would take the gun away. I thought he would scream and yell. I fully expected a good spanking. And a long lecture about gun safety was a foregone conclusion. And I would have deserved all of it.

But he didn’t do any of that. He just asked me what happened and listened. When everything was talked about he said the hole in my finger was probably lesson enough. And that was that.

I was only ten years old but I still remember how I felt in that moment. Dad didn’t turn me over his knee. He didn’t call me a baby who was too young to have a pellet gun. My Dad was treating me, well, almost like a grown up. There were consequences to actions. Disobedience exacts a price. I was free to make decisions. The wisdom, or lack thereof, would determine the outcome. And if I didn’t learn from the hole in my finger, I probably wasn’t going to learn.

Over the years I’ve learned that more often than not, God responds to me in a similar way. Sure, God can discipline hard if He chooses to.  God doesn’t shy away from the truth or the consequences, be they good, bad or ugly. God corrects with truth. But He also corrects us with a loyal love that refuses to let us go, no matter what. And in doing so He nurtures and deepens our relationship. Or as the Apostle Paul put it in Romans 2:4, “Do you not know that it is God’s kindness that leads you to repentance?”

The kindness of God. He doesn’t beat us down or cause us to fearfully cower in the corner. He loves us into submission. All because of His fierce desire for relationship with us.

The cover of the Sports Illustrated from 1975 says, “Cowboys Win A Shocker”. The Minnesota Vikings had the playoff game in the bag. Roger Staubach and the Cowboys were down and time was running out. On a desperation play that came to be known as “The Hail Mary”, Staubach lofted a pass downfield in the direction of Drew Pearson who, with evil intent and malice aforethought, blatantly pushed Vikings’ defensive back Nate Wright into the turf before catching the ball on his hip. He went into the end zone not as the conquering hero who won the game but as a kid caught with both hands in the cookie jar. He knew, as did everyone in the stadium and everyone watching on national television, that he had pushed off. Offensive pass interference. He was looking for the penalty flag.

The flag that never came.

Cowboys win. Vikings get hosed.

The biggest no-call in the history of Vikings football. That Drew Pearson years later admitted he pushed off didn’t make me feel any better.

It’s not fair.

It bothers me to know that my worthy childhood heros like Fran Tarkenton, Alan Page, Jim Marshall, Carl Eller and Bill Brown never won a Super Bowl while a bunch of undeserving Philistines like the Cowboys have won many. It’s not fair! 

Football is just a game. But what do we do when the calls don’t go our way in real life?

What do you do when someone with less tenure, less experience, less education and lower performance gets promoted ahead of you? What do you do when your company down-sizes you out of a job the same week you find out you’re expecting a baby? What do you do when the doctor says the tumor is malignant? What do you do when your character and reputation are tainted and misrepresented by another person? What do you say when you come out of the store to find your car window smashed and your stereo stolen? What do you do when lightening hits and burns your house to the ground?

They say “fair” is where you buy cotton candy. That’s true. I’ve bought it there before. But life? Life certainly isn’t fair.

Maybe our expectations are unrealistic. We live in a fallen world full of broken people. Present company included. Given the systemic corruption of our very nature, is it realistic to expect fairness? To use a farm analogy, expecting justice and fairness from a broken world is like putting a milk bucket under a bull. It just ain’t gonna happen.

Sometimes life isn’t fair and we had nothing to do with it. We were just eating our cotton candy and got blindsided by an injustice. Sometimes life isn’t fair and we had something to do with it and the mess we find ourselves in is our own doing. Regardless, God is very up front about the fact that life post-Eden isn’t fair. He reminds us throughout the Bible that our sin made “fair” the rare exception and not the rule. King David said, “Many are the afflictions of the righteous.” (Psalm 34) Jeremiah was viscerally descriptive in his anguish over the sad circumstances of his life. “He has broken my teeth with gravel and trampled me in the dust.” (Lamentations 3) The assumption of the New Testament writers was that trials and tribulations were to be expected. Even Jesus Himself in His Sermon on the Mount talks about the poor, the oppressed, those who mourn and those who are persecuted falsely. Life is hard and God knows that. 

We can’t change the fact that life isn’t fair. We can be glad that God is bigger than our circumstances. Much as we might not understand it, He may be doing His best work in and through us in the middle of our most painful situations. We’re wasting our time if we try to make life “fair”, then complain when it isn’t. Life’s hard. That’s reality. Whatever our circumstances, we need to align ourselves with what God wants to do to make us more like Jesus. It’s painful and we won’t do it perfectly. Sometimes we submit to God’s hand kicking and screaming. But God is lovingly patient and committed to making us more like His Son. He knows that persevering through hard times is part of that process.

Life is hard. Painfully so. But God is good. He promises never to quit on you. In the middle your “it’s not fair!”, His grace is sufficient.

“For I am confident that He (God) who began a good work in you will continue to perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 1:6

Before there was a universe with galaxies and black holes and white hot stars, there was God.

God filled this nothingness and there was no void, because God is all God needs. He is complete in and of Himself. He is in the best sense of the word completely and rightly self-absorbed in His perfection. Perfectly extreme and perfectly balanced. He is eternal perfection. Satisfied in Himself.

This perfect God, for reasons we may never know and if we could know would not understand, decided to create. He created the heavens. Space beyond our wildest imagination. He created day and night; the blazing sun and the reflective moon. He hung stars in the sky like so many lights on a celestial Christmas tree. He created the earth with layered atmosphere, expansive seas, and dry land. He made vegetation of every type. he made fish to fill the seas and animals to inhabit the dry land. Birds He made to soar and sing. He gave order and boundaries and His creation was a reflection of His perfect and wonderful nature.

Then God created man and woman. “Male and female He created them in His own image.” That’s what the Bible says. He created man and woman with physical bodies and spiritual souls, and He placed eternity in their hearts. A “God space” as someone has described it. A place in our hearts that only He can fill.

God created human beings to have a relationship with Him. A relationship of mutual love and joyful hearts. Not that God needed the company. He wasn’t lonely. Remember, God is all God needs. God created man and woman because He wanted to.

Unique to man and woman, God gave the freedom to choose. He gave them a will. He clearly drew generous loving boundaries of obedience that would maximize the joy and satisfaction of His creation.

Sadly, man and woman made a poor decision and disobeyed. It altered the relationship between human kind and God. It broke God’s heart.

Even if they wanted to; these humans were incapable of fixing the problem they created for themselves. It was up to God. And God doesn’t need to fix anything. He is everything in Himself. Perfection. God didn’t need those people who broke His heart.

He wanted them.

Man and woman’s disobedience, their sin, forced them to leave the beautiful garden they had enjoyed. Still, even though they left their garden, they were still under God’s sovereign umbrella. They could go to the ends of His earth and still they would be under His sovereign umbrella.

God is perfect in every way, including His commitment to His creation. Not one to walk away from a project, God is perfect in His faithfulness to His people. The path for His humans would be radically different than His original design, with lasting difficult consequences for His creation, yet God is sovereign. He will accomplish what He set out to do.

God, in His mercy, remained committed to His creation, including man and woman. He set in place a redemptive plan that would unfold over the course of human history. A plan to redeem that which humankind made a mess of. And in the process, He taught them about love and discipline, about faithfulness and forgiveness, justice and mercy, all the while pleading with His children to find their fulfillment in Him.

Along the way God sent messages to His people. Beautiful messages. Love letters, you might say. Letters scented with the fragrance of a jealous love. “Please return to Me. I’m all you’ll ever need. I love you. I’ll always love you.”

The message was always the same. Though He sent it in different ways. Sometimes He said “I Love You” in billowy cloud. Sometimes in a pillar of fire. Sometimes He dropped food from the sky and turned rocks into fountains of cold clear water. He parted seas and rivers for them and drowned their enemies. He gave and gave and gave, even though they rarely gave back.

God’s heart was broken many times. His lover was very fickle. One moment they pledged with passionate resolve their love to Him forever. The next moment they were flirting with gods who spelled their name with a small “g”. Sometimes they denied Him altogether.

Yet God is also perfect in His persistence. He never quits. It’s as if their stubborn refusals only fueled His love. God was determined to get His message across; “I love you and in Me alone will you find your satisfaction.”

“I love you. I always will. No matter what. There’s nothing you can do to change that. You can run away, but I’ll be looking for you to return. You can sin against Me and break my heart, but I’ll forgive you if you’ll just ask Me to. I don’t want your sacrifice. I don’t want your lousy 10%. I want you. All of you. Because I want all of you to experience all of Me. That your joy might be complete. For I am the great I AM. I am your God.”

That, in paraphrase form, is the Old Testament message of God’s love for us.

God’s message has not changed in thousands of years. He still pleads with His children to put their trust in Him. To find their joy and satisfaction in Him alone. To return to their first love. God is still jealous and forever creative in communicating His heart’s desire.

Friend, the fact is God loves you unconditionally. You can run away if you choose. Wherever you stop you will find Him waiting for you. You can hide. Wherever you hole up you will find Him with you. You can ignore Him, yet He will never stop paying attention to you. 

You are the object of His affection. He loves you with a loyal love that will not let you go.

Ever.

“For God so loved the world, that He gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world should be saved through Him.” – John 3:16-17

There are other players in the Christmas drama that you don’t find in the nativity scene. These are significant, yet lesser known characters. People standing in the shadows of Christmas. The Bible talks about two of them. An elderly man named Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth.

Zechariah was a priest. Elizabeth was a godly woman. Though they were both faithful servants of the Lord, they were advanced in years and unable to have children. To be childless in the Jewish faith was a disgrace. It meant no chance for you to be parents of the promised Messiah.

Imagine what that must have been like for Zechariah and Elizabeth. In our modern technology we know all kinds of reasons for infertility. Back then they didn’t have a clue about blocked Fallopian tubes or endometriosis or low sperm counts. We know from the text that it was Elizabeth that couldn’t have children. But all Zechariah and Elizabeth knew, and all that their neighbors knew, was that they were a couple who had asked God for children for a very long time and didn’t have any.

They lived in the hill country of Judea. A small town. Small towns are a blessing because everyone knows you. Small towns are a curse because everyone knows you. You can bet this couple was a the topic of more than a few dinner table discussions over the decades. “Zach is such a good guy. And a priest, too. I wonder why he and Liz don’t have kids?” It was a burden Zechariah and Elizabeth felt everyday.

As it happened, on the biggest day of Zechariah’s professional life, an angel of the Lord appears with a news bulletin. Elizabeth is going to have a baby. A son named John. He will be great in the eyes of God, one filled by the Holy Spirit. One who will “prepare the way of the Lord.”

To Zechariah, this is too good to be true. Oh, he wants to believe it. But he reminds the angel Gabriel of the obvious. He’s an old man. Elizabeth is an old woman. Gabriel in turn reminds Zechariah of the obvious; this message comes on orders from God Himself. And Gabriel should know because he was standing right there when God said it.

In a round about way, old Zach was asking for a sign. And he got one. A loving rebuke. He would be unable to speak until the baby was born.

Just as the angel had said, Elizabeth became pregnant.

Zechariah and Elizabeth prayed for years to have children. God answered them at a most unexpected time. His answer was more than an answer. It was an invitation to participate in God’s drama.

In your prayers, are you asking God for the desires of your heart? Are you prepared that His answer will be more than an answer? That His answer will include your playing a role in His plan for the world? God loves you more than you can imagine. Whether you realize it or not, God has an appointed role for you in His divine drama.

In spite of the fact that Zechariah doubted the angel’s message, God went ahead with His plan to bless. God is not discouraged by our doubts. He sticks with us and lovingly convinces us that we are of infinite value and significance.

Standing in the shadows of Christmas are ordinary people. People like Zechariah and Elizabeth. And Mary, God’s chosen to be the mother of Jesus. We know by reading Luke 1 that Mary spent three months living with Elizabeth and Zechariah. It takes us but a moment to read the passage. Yet what were those three months like for them?

For three months, one particular house in the hill country of Judea was home to three of the most incredulous people in the history of the world. Zechariah…an elderly priest whose once in a lifetime career moment was one-upped by an angel delivering a sneak preview of a birth announcement that left the holy man literally speechless. Elizabeth…an old woman who has rocked in her chair and read her Bible everyday for decades while gazing down the hall at the nursery she never got to use, but is now placing orders with Babies-R-Us.  Mary…a poor teenage peasant girl but by the favor of God Himself, richer than any palace queen.

How many discussions did they have about angelic visitations? About the miracle of becoming pregnant by a husband on Medicare? Or becoming pregnant completely apart from being intimate with a man? What was it like to try and interpret Zechariah’s sign language?

Three surprised people in the same house for three months. Absorbed in their personal wonder yet unable to escape the Divine momentum pulling them beyond themselves into world changing history. An old woman and a teenage girl sympathizing in one another’s morning sickness. A dumbstruck old man writing furiously on a piece of paper trying desperately to keep up his end of a conversation about the reality of angels.

And at the end of the day, two expectant mothers lying down to sleep, running one hand in a slow circle over their womb, filling the darkness with their silent prayers and questions.

Three of God’s chosen together for three months in a simple Judean home. Thankful they are not alone in their miracles and their visions. Scared about the timing and thrilled about the nearness of their God. Three very humble, unknown, and incredibly significant people.

If those walls could speak, what a story they would tell.
 
What is your story this Christmas? Are you asking God to break through your doubts with His blessings? Are you still waiting for an answer to prayers you’ve prayed for years? Are you prepared for an answer that is more than an answer? Are you prepared for God to use you to accomplish His plan?

God cares. Human obstacles of age and time and circumstance make no difference to Him. Or, in the words of the angel Gabriel, “nothing is impossible with God.” (Luke 1:37)

If you feel this season that you are standing in the shadows of Christmas, remember this…

God has not forgotten you. Joy and gladness await you in His perfect time.

“Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid. The Lord, the Lord, is my strength and my song; He has become my salvation.” – Isaiah 12:2

Standing in the church parking lot, if the wind is right (or wrong, as it were) you get a good whiff of the Holsteins. Growing up an Iowa farm boy, I’ve always smiled at city folks’ olfactory sensitivity. A little scent of cow yard in the breeze and they run to their car as if trying to escape a nuclear cloud. “They’d never make it in the country”, I smile to myself.

A few days ago, walking across the church parking lot, I caught the scent myself. It brought back memories. And it got me thinking.

When I was on the farm everyday working around hogs and cattle, horses, chickens and sheep, I got used to the smells. It’s not that my nose quit working. It’s that the scents of animals, hay barns, feed bins, and manure became normal. So much so that when city friends came to visit and held their noses I didn’t understand what their problem was. After being away from the farm for a few years and going back, I was now the city guy. The aroma of the hog barn was more potent than I remembered it.           

As I stumble along each day, seeking God’s face in my awkward imperfect way, He is faithful to kindly show me more about myself. I am learning that my own fallen nature keeps me from realizing just how fallen I really am. Like the farm kid whose nose has adjusted and no longer experiences the full aroma of manure, my fallen sin nature keeps me from realizing, apart from Christ, how sinful I really am.

It’s taken years being away from the farm to realize how pungent the odor of a cow pie can be. Farm boy or not, there are other things I’d rather lay a nose to. Here in the city I can roll up my window and drive away from the dairy farm to the good smells of restaurants and mall stores. It’s not easy to drive away from my sinful self. Apart from Christ, it’s impossible. Still, somehow I need to get some distance from myself to get God’s perspective on who I really am if I am to become the man He wants me to be.

There’s no easy way to do that. It starts, I think, with time alone with God. Really alone. Time in prayer. Time reading the Bible. Time in honest conversation with God. Time spent doing a ruthless self-inventory to see where I have failed and where I need to grow. My friends who attend Alcoholics Anonymous put it more crassly, though I think more accurately. They call it the “process of owning your own shit.” I like that. Because that’s exactly what it is. It’s not a fun process. It’s a necessary one. I never looked forward to cleaning the hog pens, but it had to be done.

We shy away from it. We bury ourselves in activities and fill our schedules with every imaginable distraction. Anything to keep from “owning it”. Yet something happens when we “own it”. When we own it we are admitting to God that we are broken. When we own it we take a step away from self-delusion and a step toward truth.  To own it means it no longer owns us. When we own it we are living more truthfully. We are able to say, “This is who I am. Good, bad, and ugly, this is who I am. A person in process.” A person God, in His incredible mercy and grace, accepts with unconditional love.

It’s that unconditional, unfailing love that makes the process possible. As the Bible reminds us, “it is God’s kindness that leads us to repentance.” (Romans 2:4) God’s love creates a safe place where we can deal honestly with our stinky stuff. God doesn’t hold His nose at our sin. He loves us into submission. His kindness draws us back to Him.

Yet He doesn’t stop there. He is not content with that. He wants to grow us. To stretch us. Because He is committed to “perfecting the good work that He began in us.” (Philippians 1:6) God loves us too much to allow us to be nose-numb when sniffing the breeze of our life. He wants our senses fully awakened. To smell in our life everything that’s beautiful and everything that stinks. Then to make more room for the beautiful by being honest about everything that stinks. The more we “own” our stinky stuff, the more we experience God’s love and forgiveness. The more we experience God’s love and forgiveness, the more we become the people He wants us to be.

Owning it.

Lots of pain. Lots of tears. It’s not a fun process. It’s a necessary one.

But there’s no better feeling than being honest with God.

“Do you not know? It is God’s kindness that leads you to repentance.” – Romans 2:4

“The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and great in lovingkindness.” – Psalm 145:8 

They say, “What you see is what you get.” Rarely is that true when it comes to people. For most of us, life is like an iceberg. The bulk of what’s there is below the surface. Unseen.

Call it the “X Factor”. Every person has an X Factor. At least one piece of information, a current or past life experience, that is unseen yet has a bearing on who we are and how we act. There is always more to us than meets the eye. Sometimes the more is good. Sometimes the more is bad. Sometimes the more is sad. Sometimes the more is a permanent scar on our heart that, like a bad tattoo, we can’t get rid of.

You may know her as the Mom whose kids attend all the events but she never volunteers to help with anything. And it bothers you. In your opinion, she’s always taking and never giving. What you don’t know is that she has no time to volunteer because she gets no support from her husband and she’s essentially raising the kids by herself.

You may see him as the guy always cracking jokes at the office, the guy who can never seem to be serious about anything. What you don’t know is that his humor is a cover and an escape from a miserable home life where he’s married to a bitter and contentious woman.

You may know her as the classic Type A perfectionist that drives everyone crazy with her unrealistic expectations. What you don’t know is that she grew up never once hearing her Dad say “I love you” and has spent her entire life trying to earn her approval from others by being a high achiever.

You may know him as the workaholic who spends 70 hours a week at his job. What you don’t know is that as the oldest of 5 kids he was thrust into the role of making money for the family as a teenager when his Dad died. He’s spent his whole life in fear that the same thing could happen to him and the only thing he knows to do is to work.

You may know her as a friendly, funny, talented person that everyone loves to be around but no one ever really seems to get to know. What you don’t know is she has struggled her entire life with deep feelings of insecurity and low self-worth. Keeping others at a distance is a defense mechanism that allows her to control how close people get. Because, in her mind, if people really knew her, they wouldn’t like her.

There’s always an X Factor. A story within the story. It’s true for you. It’s true for me. It’s true for everyone. The best reason to extend grace to one another is because we can’t fully know what another person is going through. It doesn’t mean we check our brains at the door when dealing with people. We need to be wise and discerning. Yet since we don’t know what the X Factor is, we would be wise to lead with grace. Because when we lead with grace, we open the door to relationship.

The people you and I live by and work with and drive by and exchange glances with in the store are people just like us. We’re all carrying around the baggage that comes with living in a fallen world. We all have an X Factor that no one knows about that influences who we are and how we interact. And we’re all looking for a safe place to dump all our stuff out on the table and say, “Here it is. I’ve got broken pieces and missing parts and I need someone to help me sort it out and put it together because I can’t do it on my own.” Let’s be the people who extend grace. The people who pull alongside and say, “You’re not alone. You should have seen all the stuff I dumped on the table. Let me help you sort it out.”

We’re all in process. The good news is that God has promised to never stop working on us. When we extend grace, we allow ourselves to be used by God to help one another grow.

Remember the X Factor. Extend grace.

We all need it.

“For I am confident that He (God) who began a good work in you will continue to perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 1:6

We all get lost from time to time. Sometimes it just happens. Sometimes we wander off. Like a sheep that’s had his head down seeing nothing but the grass in front of his nose, when he pulls up to look around realizes nothing is familiar.

Maybe you’re lost right now. Maybe you’re far away from home. The questions are these:

If we are lost, will God come looking for us?

When we come back home, what will we find when we get there?

A study in Luke 15 and God’s relentless love for us.

(Presented to Hope Covenant Church – Chandler, AZ – 7/30/2006)  

Each of us have been shaped by our backgrounds. Some of us grew up in church. Some of us didn’t. Some of us went for awhile but stopped because we had a bad experience or because we didn’t like what we heard. Some of us grew up in a home where God was shoved down our throats and as soon as we were old enough to shove back, we pushed away.

Without exception, all of us, in some form or fashion, define God by our own terms based on our experiences.

We can try to keep God comfortably stashed within the box of our human ideas and traditions. But sooner or later we realize God’s grace can’t be contained by our narrow ideas or even the four walls of a church. In Luke 5:27-39 Jesus breaks the mold of our human ideas of religion and spirituality by offering His friendship and radical grace to a hated IRS agent named Levi.

Sooner or later we all have to face the questions:

Am I going to continue to define God by my experiences? Or will I allow God to define Himself by His own terms?

(Presented to Hope Covenant Church – Chandler, AZ – 7/9/2006 )

It’s dry in the desert. That’s why they call it a desert. On a good year, the Phoenix valley receives only 7″ of rain. This hasn’t been a good year. Until God turned on the faucet last Saturday, it had been 143 days in a row with no rain. The last time water fell from the sky was October 18th. My twins’ birthday. When you’re 5, not seeing something for 143 days can make you forget you ever knew what it was. Annie looked out the window with disbelief and asked, “Daddy, is that rain?”

Rain here is a tease. Sometimes it’s spotty. It might be pouring buckets at your friend’s house a half mile away while you’re washing your car under sunny skies. Rain is especially fickle here during monsoon season. It’s a seasonal weather pattern of hot, moist air that blows up from Mexico during July and August. You see the clouds form in the late afternoon and you think it’s finally going to pour. More often than not, all you get is a dust storm; a wall of wind whipped dirt followed by 12 drops of rain on your windshield. A little mud in your eye as it laughs going away.

Saturday was not a tease. It really rained. The clouds rolled into town, took off their coats and stayed awhile. In a place where the sun shines 330 days a year, a day like this is more than a treat. It’s an event not to be missed. Gray skies. The steady sounds of water dripping off bougainvillea leaves onto the sidewalk. The splash of tires rolling through puddles. The smell of water in the air. The feel of raindrops on your face. The sight of accumulated dust and grime being washed away clean.

I worked the Suns game that Saturday night. Fans came through the doors from the parking garage and the street, coats damp and dripping, no one complaining. When you’ve been dry and dusty for five months, you welcome the shower. Wet rubber soles squeaked on the floor and folks stopped to wipe off their glasses before moving along the concourse. It was easy to see the rain made people happy. It had been 143 days. Now the wait was over. The rain came.

Waiting.

We do a lot of waiting.

In Phoenix, we wait for rain. In Seattle, they wait for sunshine. We all wait in line at the grocery store. Some waiting is expected. No one in their right mind ever goes to the Social Security office or the Department of Motor Vehicles expecting to be in and out in five minutes. Some waiting we plan for.

It’s waiting when we didn’t plan to wait that is the hardest.

Like waiting for a job when we’ve been unemployed two months after the savings runs out. Waiting for the doctor to say this round of chemo therapy finally worked. Waiting for a baby to place in the nursery that’s been ready, and empty, for years. Waiting for that estranged relationship to be reconciled.

This is the waiting that exasperates and exhausts us. And if we’re honest, it is a waiting that frustrates and angers us. Because deep down, whether we admit it or not, we realize we’re waiting on God. He could do something about it if He wanted to. So why doesn’t He? Why doesn’t He do something? Anything to show us a glimpse of forward progress?

Most of the time we want our waiting to be over because we’re ready for a change of scenery. We want to be delivered from our immediate circumstances. All we can see is what’s in front of us. God has a different vantage point. He sees the big picture.

Though it pains me to say it, our waiting may be God’s working.

Abraham was an old and childless man when God promised him a son. If it was a hilarious thought that at 75 years old Abraham would be shopping for bottle warmers and a bouncy seat, then it was beyond incredible for him to be in the delivery room at age 100. But that’s what happened. God promised Abraham a son. And delivered on His promise 25 years later. They named him Isaac. It means “laughter”. Being a new dad when you’re 100 is pretty funny.

We can read the account in the book of Genesis and we can wonder about the wait. But God must have had His reasons. Albert Baylis put it this way,

“It appears God wants to do more with Abraham than drop promises on him. Abraham had received an irrevocable promise from God. But being God’s candidate for blessing is not a trip to Disneyland. Because God is going to bless Abraham, he’s going to make him into a man of faith. Because He is going to make Abraham a blessing, God will take whatever time is necessary. And God has never let time bother Him.”

Time bothers us. But it doesn’t bother God.

If you’re waiting, know that God is working. It’s ok to yell and scream about it. It’s ok to wonder how and why. The Bible is full of people who, in the middle of their dry dust wait, threw up their questions to God. No worries. He is big enough to handle them. You may not get the answers you like. You may not get answers at all. But this much is true. God always delivers on His promises. In His time and in His way. And always for your good and His glory.

Hang in there.

The rain is coming.

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.” – Proverbs 13:12

“The Lord is good to those who wait for Him, to the person who seeks Him.” – Lamentations 3:25

We live in a performance based society. GPA. ERA. SAT scores. Sales figures. MPG. Batting averages. Won/Loss columns. S&P 500. P&L statements. We measure everything.

It’s easy to carry that performance mentality into our relationship with God. But what if our best efforts could never be enough?

The essential, invaluable lesson of “imputed worth”.

(Presented to Hope Covenant Church – Chandler, AZ – 10/23/2005)

“What is it, Emma?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Emma. More than you know.”

“Daddy, you my best fwend!”

“You’re my best friend, too, Emma.”

“But you my best fwend first.”

I started to disagree, but left her with a big hug and a kiss on the head instead. It’s tough to debate a soon to be 4-year old. They possess a maddening combination of stubbornness and charm. I could say, “Emma, you’re wrong.” But she’d just tilt her head and respond with a confident sing-song lilt in her voice, “Noooo, I’m not.”

When it comes to being best friends, Emma thinks she picked me first. In her mind, it was all her idea. A decision she made and allowed me the privilege of being part of. “You my best fwend first.” Of course, it wasn’t that way. We adopted Emma and her twin sister Annie. It was our decision to make them part of our family. Our choice. We picked them.

Emma thinks it was all her idea, this best friend business. She’s too young to understand that it was just the opposite. She’s too young to understand what it was like for her Daddy to stand frozen between two incubators in a Spokane neonatal intensive care unit, not knowing what to do. Like being in an art museum in front of a Rembrandt and a Van Gogh, not knowing which masterpiece to look at first.

She doesn’t understand what her Daddy felt like the first time he saw her tiny three pound fourteen ounce frame and feel the life changing reality of realizing that little bundle would be coming home with him to stay. She’s too young to understand the thrill and the fear and the wee hour bleary-eyed wonder with which her Daddy gazed at her, night after night after night.

Emma thinks she chose me. Of course, I know otherwise. She didn’t choose me. I chose her. I laugh at Emma’s short sighted self-confidence. But I wonder…

How often does God laugh at me for the same reason? How often does He shake His head and smile at my myopic ideas? Truth be told, how often do I “choose God”? Too often, I fear. Though my head knows the correct theological answer that God chose me first, my actions sometimes show otherwise. I choose God to be my best friend when it’s convenient for me. God is my idea that I move around in my schedule. On Sundays I move Him up on the priority list. It’s His day, after all. But Monday to Saturday God sometimes gets shuffled around like an appointment I know I need to keep, but can’t commit to. So I choose to slide Him down after work is over. Or slide Him up if I have an opening or when I’m in a pinch. All the while forgetting that God being my best friend wasn’t my idea. It was His. He chose me. His idea first.

Someday I hope Emma and Annie will understand how much I love them. I hope they will understand that I gladly chose them to be part of my family. To be my kids. To live fully and enjoy everything I have to offer them. I hope they someday realize my unconditional, unwavering, fiercely protective, never ending love for them.

God probably hopes that someday I will understand that, too.

“We love because God first loved us.” – 1 John 4:19

She must have asked the question at least three times but I didn’t hear her over the spray of the garden hose. It was a Saturday afternoon during my last year of seminary. I was washing my truck in the driveway and a couple of stubborn tar spots on the bottom of the driver’s door were receiving my undivided attention. When it finally registered that someone was talking to me I looked up to find a girl standing on the sidewalk, a polite distance away.

“Excuse me”, she said again, “Could I possibly get something to drink? I’m walking to a friend’s house over on the other side of Mesa Drive and I forgot to grab a water bottle before I left.”

“Sure. No problem. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”, is what I said. “Thanks”, she said and smiled a very pretty smile as she unshouldered her bag and set it down beside her. It was a big bag. One of those oversized canvas duffle bags that causes certain husbands to wade into the perennially fruitless marital argument over luggage and how he could live out of a bag that large for a year so why can’t his wife survive out of it for a short weekend?

The bag looked heavy. Too heavy for a girl to be carrying down the street on a long walk. The black canvas matched the color of her duster coat and leather lace up ropers that peeked out from the legs of her boot cut jeans. Tossing the hose off into the grass and turning toward the house to get her something to drink, I knew this girl had a story. I wondered if I’d have a chance to hear it.

“I’m Todd”, I said, handing her a bottle of water and a phone. “I thought you could call your friend and see if they can come pick you up. That way you wouldn’t have to walk.” She touch-toned a number, got an answering machine and left a message. She handed the phone back to me with a thank you.

“I’m Annie”, she said, extending her hand. I shook it and tried to find the doorway into a conversation.

“So you’re headed to your friend’s house?”

“Yeah, it’s a couple miles from here.” Standing there in front of me she didn’t look any older than 17. I was thinking of my next question but didn’t need to ask it.

“My friend said I could stay at her house for awhile. I just need some time to think. My boyfriend and I broke up ten days ago and I’m not getting along very well with my parents, so this is probably the best. At least for now.” Well, I thought to myself, that explains the bag.

“I know you’re not supposed to ask a lady how old they are”, I said, apologizing in advance,”but will you forgive me if I ask you anyway?” She laughed at that. Like a sudden breeze it momentarily diffused the heavy cloud of reality she had just admitted to living under.

“I’m 19. Almost 20.”

Annie ran a hand through her shoulder length brown hair and pushed it off her face. Almost 20. The time in life when your convictions run faster than your life experience. Still, knowing how old she was made me feel somewhat relieved. When you’re almost 20 you can’t be considered a runaway. At least not technically. But she was running away. She knew that. And she seemed to know that I suspected it, too.

Her eyes caught my eyes looking down at the black canvas duffle resting against her leg. “That’s a nice bag. I’ve thought about getting one of those. You can put lots of stuff in it.”

“Thanks. I like it, too. I’ve got just about everything in here right now. My clothes. My boots. Some books. Even the things my boyfriend gave me.” She tugged on the button hole of her coat. “This duster is…or was, my boyfriend Larry’s. I bought it for him as a birthday present. But that was before…” Her voice trailed off as she remembered she was talking to a total stranger.

“Before you broke up?”, I offered. “Yeah. Before we broke up.” Her matter-of-factness wasn’t enough to mask the sadness in her voice.

“So what caused the break up?”

“I’m not sure, really. I thought we were happy together. His friends didn’t like me spending time with him. They don’t have girlfriends. I think they talked him into breaking up with me.” Annie tried hard to make her assessment sound convincing. Whether it was true or not, it sounded flimsy and she knew it.

Stuffing her hands into her coat pockets she looked down and ran the toe of her boot along a crack in the sidewalk. Then Annie took a deep breath. The kind of deep, serious breath you take right before you shoot straight with the person you’re talking to. The kind of breath you take right before you’re honest with yourself.

“To tell you the truth, up until ten days ago I was living with Larry. I thought for sure we would get married soon. I did everything for him. I put everything I had into our relationship. Because I wanted to. When we broke up, I moved back home with my parents. It’s been awful, being apart from Larry. I really love him.”

She bit down on her lower lip and looked across the street. “And, honestly, I’m really scared right now because I think I might be pregnant and Larry doesn’t know.”

It was an awkward moment. I wanted to let her know I cared but I didn’t know what to say. I reached in to the pile of phrases tumbling around in my mind like shirts in a dryer and grabbed one.

“I’m really sorry to hear that. I don’t know anything about your situation except what you’ve told me. But I’ve listened to lots of people’s problems. I’d be happy to listen to you.”

She gave me a hopeful look. “What do you do?”

“I’m a seminary student.” As soon as I said it, I questioned the wisdom of it. Saying you’re a pastor causes people to either open up like a book or close up like a clam. Occupational hazard, I suppose. I prayed that she would tell me more about this chapter of her life.

When she heard my answer she took a literal step back and swallowed hard on her water. “Wow. Really. That’s, uh,…that’s nice.”

She said “that’s nice” as if it were the main ingredient in her recipe for clam chowder. This conversation was over.

She reached down and snapped together the leather handles on her bag, paused, then stood up again.

“I used to go to church. In fact, I used to go a lot. All the time. You’d probably never believe it but I was one of the main leaders in our youth group. I was even one of the counselors at a Christian camp for high school kids.” And for a moment after she said it, she was quiet. I could almost see her memories of those days flash across her brown eyes. With a tear, Annie looked up and said, “I guess I should have taken my own advice.”

We talked for a while longer. We talked about God and I told Annie what she already knew. That God loved her and that there was nothing she could ever do to cause God to stop loving her. We talked honestly about choices and consequences. Mostly we talked about the grace of God. It was 20 minutes of real life conversation.

Just then her friend pulled up in a white Chevy 4×4. I picked up Annie’s bag for her and set it in the back of the truck. It was every bit as heavy as it looked. We shook hands again and she thanked me for the water. I thanked her for the talk and promised that I would pray for her. They pulled away from the curb, did a U-turn in the middle of the street and waved as they drove off.

I still pray for Annie. And when I do I can’t help but wonder if she’s still carrying that heavy bag.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from Me, For I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” – Matthew 11:28-30