Love

"Love covers a multitude of sins." - somewhere in Proverbs

Whatever difficulty, sin or person you struggle with, there's nothing that love can't cover.

I am reminded of this this afternoon, as I just got off the phone with a missionary friend who's expressing his anger and frustration (perhaps even hate) at people for their lack of generosity. Yeah, I know hate too.

I am reminded as frustration boils in my own chest as someone in the office is complaining about who gets to use which refrigerater. "Stupid petty people," I think.

I was reminded of this as I shared with Teya at breakfast about Jesus' beloved disciple John, who lived long enough to be carried into church on a stretcher, and who's repeated refrain to his dying day was "love one another".

I'm reminded of this when I think of Jesus dying for this truth: love can cover a multitude of sins.

I guess if there's one thing I had to know, one thing I wanted or one thing I had to get before I died it would be this: love - how to love well, how to live it out, how to bask in it, delight in it and believe it. Love equals life, for God is love.

And that's the beauty of it. Love isn't just some abstract principle, or higher plain of consciousness, it's a person. John knew this, considering himself "Jesus' beloved disciple", so we should too. John boiled over with love. Maybe I too can boil over.

Do I believe that all of my ticked-off/anger/hate/depression/rage can be answered by the salve of a real Jesus who really loved?

For a word that gets parried around so much, it's a very difficult one to really live isn't it?

This world knows hate, and I can sing that tune, but the tune of love, now that's something different, something I've got to have.

"Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love..." - St. Francis of Assisi

Tiny Muscles

"I am but a little child." - Solomon

I stumbled down the stairs in my getting-all-too-personal-morning-fog and into the kitchen this morning, just to be met by all the eager productivity that is my family. How did I wind up "Father" in this family? I don't know. But I'll take it.

Looking up, Melissa greeted me and asked David to show me something. David sauntered up to me (carrying his stocky frame with a confidence that only his new Batman pajamas afford him) looked up at me, took sort of a Sumo stance and began to flex/tremble until his face shook and changed color.

Later in the morning, as David and I were working on a task that required "man-muscles," I asked David to show me his muscles again. And though with all 3 year olds everywhere his muscles are tiny in proportion to his head, I was actually impressed. He's a strong little tike.

Now I've finally arrived at my work/caffeine-induced-morning-fog-reducer-Starbucks and I've just read the passage in 1 Kings in which God offers to grant Solomon a gift. Solomon's words "I am but a little child" just made something go click in my brain (I don't know, perhaps something just went click because I'm on my second cup of coffee).

The click is this: When we are asked to approach God and we do so as ourselves, in full knowledge that he is our father and the gift giver, there's something going on between father and child that is intimate, much like my rejoicing over David's new-found muscles. Now that I've written it, it's not really much of a "click". But I believe that God rejoices in us when we just come to him and show him what we can do.

In Solomon's case he's explaining to God his ignorance, what he feels powerless to do, rather than flexing his tiny muscles. And it's what everything in David was telling me today as he showed me his muscles and went about helping me in my task. He was showing me through all of his eagerness that he knew I was strong and I have real big muscles (I did do 10 pull-ups this morning by the way - in the middle of my fog as well), and he wants to be just like me, strong and capable.

All of this lit up my heart with a joy. God must rejoice over us no less when we come to him with our strengths and our weaknesses.

And apparently, as I read God's response to Solomon, he does. So my advice to any cyber-space people out there who may be reading this, is this: show him your tiny muscles. I promise, he'll be impressed.

Waves

"Deep calls to deep, at the rush of your waterfalls." - David (context is perhaps drowning, but we always take it as something beautiful)

I've been reading Ann Voskamp's book again 1000 Gifts. I try to hide the actual book when I'm out in public since it has a pink, bage and purple cover with a woman holding a nest with baby blue eggs (it might as well have been embroidered in lace. In fact it's probably the girliest book I've ever seen). But it is a book that's changing my life. Or rather, God's changing my life through this book.

Ingratitude permeates my soul like poison coursing through my veins (I say this on faith as I've never been poisoned, although I've eaten a lot of McDonalds). Ann Voskamp's major premise is that the key to living the Christian life, the full life, the life of joy and peace all those apostles sputtered on and on about is having thankful hearts to God.

It sounds way too simple. But for anyone who's tried thankfulness, it can be much harder than it seems. And Voskamp is emphatic here, we can't have the plastered on "thanks in all things" that is no more than a forced smile and gritted teeth. The thanksgiving that she talks about is thanks that soothes our soul and helps us see God in all things.

This sort of thankfulness takes practise. And while it seems cheesy, I've begun a gratitude journal, recording all the things I'm thankful for, be them ever so seemingly small and seemingly insignificant.

In doing so, I'm shattered by how much I drift through life dead. Dead to the beauty and gifts of God. Dead to his love song. Dead to his creation. Dead to his hand of provision and gifts. I live dead.

May God forgive me for this betrayal. I know he does. His forgiveness and patience is yet another gift.

So I was thinking last night, as I watched a video on our little Flip camcorder of Teya, David and me at the beach. Melissa was interviewing us, getting little snippets over the powerful rush of waves, asking us what we liked about the beach. Teya said she liked the getting tumbled in the waves. David yelled something incoherent. And I said this (and it surprises me with it's significance), "I knew they'd like the beach, but not this much. Not this much." I shook my head in disbelief, as I looked out over the crashing waters (I looked so cool by the way. It could have totally been in a movie).

The reason my comment has significance for me is that I think it's how God delights over us. Perhaps he shakes his head in disbelieving satisfaction when he sees us revelling in his gifts.

Perhaps this is the greatest gift of all. God shaking his head in delight as we revel in his goodness. Even and perhaps especially in those hard hard times.

Steadfast

"For not in my bow do I trust... In God we have boasted continually, and we will give thanks to your name forever." Psalm 44:6,8

This morning I just don't seem to want to get going. I finally got my rear end firmly planted in Starbucks, and was semi-ready to face a day of fund raising, when a group of about 20 mom's with toddlers scooted in next to me. OK, they didn't scoot. That many moms with "todds" don't scoot anywhere. It's more of a horde invasion.

Somewhere in all the chaos, with Starbuck's cheesy jazz music (turned up to 11 decibels) blowing any semblance of coherent thought out of my brain, I found myself typing away some half-hearted blog entry about my own self-righteous prigishness. Thankfully I had sense enough to move outside, and find a calm, though freezing, environment, where I could write in peace.

So what am I going to address this morning, when my mind feels like an over-soaked spunge, full of toddler yells? I guess I'll write about being stalled in life. But first I'm going to go grab my sweatshirt before I die.

Stalled in life. I've lived in this place. At least I've lived here in my head a lot. To tie it to the verse above, unlike the Psalmist, I've often trusted in my bow. In fact I've drawn it time after time only to find my arrows straying all over the place and my arms turning to jelly (and I won't even mention how bad my wrist hurts because of bad form and sharp stinging string - I remember shooting bows in middle school and finding that the only cure for string slap was some really hissing some really juicy and robust explitives). Then finding my bow to be totally useless I've tried to beat my enemies to death with it, and when all else has failed I've used the string to strangle them. Pretty graphic metaphor eh? I like it.

I've lived much of life paralysed by fear and frustrated by lack of productivity. I've lived the life of viscous self-dependance: When I feel good, I go nuts (like with my bow above) and when I feel bad I brake out the suction cup arrows and despondently stick them to my forhead - pop, pop, pop.

I give up on life pretty easily. Heck, it only takes a 20 mom/toddler horde to break my concentration.

So how does the good news speak into all of this? This tendency that I think is not unique to me to stall out in life. This tendency to go hard in our own strength and then give up.

Is it as simple as boasting in God as the Psalm above talks about? In that Psalm the Kohathites, whoever they were, say that even though they boasted in God, he doesn't go out with their armies and they are forsaken.

They say that they have been "rejected" and "disgraced". They go on a tirade of describing the disgrace they have experienced at God's hand, ending it with "Yet for your sake we are killed all the day long; we are as sheep to be slaughtered."

They scream at God to "Awake... Rise up and come to our help!"

Why do we look to God, rant at God or run from God when life doesn't make sense or go our way? Because deep down, we all know that God is in charge. He's the one to blame either way.

What I find is interesting is how the Coke-ites end the Psalm. "Redeem us for the sake of your steadfast love."

They knew something about God that we don't, or don't like to admit, when we're aimlessly swinging our bows around in frustration. They knew that they were loved. And they used a key adjective when talking about God's love. They called it "steadfast".

As the Hebrew word for steadfast is hard to translate and very, very deep, I can thank my little horde for their "Jesus Storybook Bible" that describes it with a "Never Stopping, Never Giving up, Unbreaking, Always and Forever Love".

This is the kind of love we all hope exists and should know comes from God. And belief and acceptance of it is able to move us out of life's stall-outs. It's what I'm banking on this morning.

If not, it's God's fault anyways, right? Pop, pop, pop...

Close Call

Maybe I'm being a little dramatic, but I feel like I almost lost my daughter yesterday. I really felt deep fear.

I was jumping my jumps, oblivious to what was about to happen. As I crested the last jump I saw my daughter on the landing right underneath me.

It was a really sick feeling. But I've got to write about it. When she saw me she screamed bloody murder (for once it was appropriate). I too screamed, tried to adjust my bike as best I could to not land on her and sort of bounced/jumped over her, using the old tuck and roll. Thankfully she did too.

As I held her in the woods, I checked her all over for some gaping wound. She had a tiny cut on her arm, a bump on her head, and other than that was just covered in a bunch of dirt. We held eachother and cried, while we both said how sorry we were. (I still don't know why she was sorry. Perhaps it was because I had just warned her a few days ago never to sneak up on me while I'm jumping as something like what happened could happen.)

Even as I write a wave of relief is rolling over me. My extremely precious, beautiful daughter was spared harm by God. I have nothing but gratitude.

This touches on something I've been reading about recently. The idea that God doesn't micro-manage. When we think of micro-managers we think of pesky annoying bosses who just won't let us do anything.

But for God, I believe He's in a different category. I believe that it is appropriate to feel anger towards God when bad things happen. I believe it is appropriate to feel gratitude when good things happen. I don't believe that God is responsible for evil, but I do believe He's in control.

Where else are we to take our feelings of anger and gratitude. True much and all evil (in a sense) is our making, but if we can't be angry with God, or more appropriately take our anger to God (I guess this is more what I mean) where are we to take it?

So this morning I am very grateful. God spared my daughter possibly great harm, and in doing so reminded her father just how fragile life can be and how precious.

God did a lot as we clung together in the forest yesterday. More than I can express in words. But another thing I've been thinking about is, while I would never want to harm Teya (other than on long car rides), how my absence, distance or preoccupation could wound her deeper than my bike ever could. It's a lesson that I'm glad God is bringing to light, and yes I believe God does that sort of thing.

But I also believe that we often miss his lessons when we start trying to figure everything out. Or claim that every event has a moral. God's in control, and in these fleeting moments called life, and in the bigger backdrop of the fall, God clings to us with the same sort of love that had a very frightened father clinging to a bruised and scared daughter in the woods (Did I mention she was wearing goggles? My life never seems to be without a pinch of humor). In fact it was his love.

Phew!

"The Bog of Etermal Stench"

"...the LORD takes pleasure in his people..." - Psalm 149

These days I'm seeing more evidence for what I believe to be most Christians' chief disbelief: that God loves them. We all know how rotten we are, or at least we get hints from the stinky piles of sin that dwell within.

It reminds me of a compost pile in Cambridge, England that my brother and a friend lovingly termed the "the bog of eternal stench." Let me tell you, England makes for some feirce compost, it's not your run-of-the mill quaint American "Ew,that's stinky!" type. Hey, we have something quaint on them!

My brother and I, being the fearless explorers and men's boys we are, or were, would turn the compost over with sticks and create aromas straight from the depths of Hades. I can see it now, steaming. It really steamed, I'm not kidding. Imagine the worst gas you've ever smelt, multiplied and mercilessly crammed up your nose by tireless pixies with sticks and sponges soaked in the stuff. It's enough to bring tears to my eyes even now. Have mercy, Oh Almighty Bog of Eternal Stench, have mercy!

When we are stirred by the Gospel, something similar occurs. We become struck by the audacity and pungent nature of God's love. It's too much for us to comprehend. So we keep it at arms length, fearful for what it might do to us.

I can't help thinking that most Christians do this. It is very, very, very difficult to believe that the only individual who knows our deepest and darkest, loves us. Frankly it's an offense to nature, just like the Bog of Eternal Despair.

But the God who created nature, has the right to bend the rules. And we see it over and over again in his word. He not only loves his creatures, dances and delights over them but, as the verse above says, he finds pleasure in them.

Do I believe that God finds pleasure in me? The first thing that comes to mind is how I'm, even now, bent on pursuing my own ways. Surely this rules me out from his pleasure. It doesn't. God still takes pleasure in me.

Am I giving in to cheap grace. My life is full of taking grace for granted, so probably. But in the case of meditating on God's pleasure, nothing can touch his delight in us. For his delight rests solidly in the work of Christ. When he sees my filth, or stirs the pile with his stick, he also sees Christ's obedience on my behalf.

So what does this do for me? The ego absorption of the question beside, it enables me to believe in a radical, warrior God, who furiously pursues his chosen. So is it my duty to navel gaze and wonder if I'm chosen. No, it is my duty to revel in his love.

When the horrific odors of your soul have you at the choking point, imagining a smaller earthly god's rejection, remember that we serve Jesus which literally means "saves." We are loved. We are approved. We are danced over, delighted in and give God pleasure simply by taking another one of his gifts: the next breath.

If we learn to breathe in humble recognition of where our breath comes from, we'll learn to love and I'm betting we'll learn to Live. Of course I'm going to rule this out if we happen to be in Cambridge, England with two young boys, who are rooting around in a funny looking pile. In that case I'd advise you not to breathe, ever. Some things were never meant to be smelled.

Obstacles

"Behold, now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of salvation. We put no obstacle in anyone's way, so that no fault may be found with our ministry, but as servants of God we commend ourselves in every way: by great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamaties, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger, by purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, the Holy Spirit, genuine love; by truthful speech, and the power of God; with weapons of righteousness for the right hand and for the left; through honor and dishonor, through slander and praise." - Paul to the Corinthians

What a list! And what an intimidating passage. Does my life reflect anything of Paul's? Honestly, I'm not sure. Though I'm sure the Spirit is moving in me and taking me in Godly directions.

But what pops me between the eyeballs ("You're my creative writing hero Phil! I love your word-smithy. Bravo, bravo, applause, applause, fog-horn, applause." "No, no, I quiet down everyone...") in this passage is Paul's statement of putting "no obstacle in anyone's way, so that no fault may be found with our ministry." With so many people turned off from Christianity and the church these days, this statement and following description is truly a refreshing take on what it means to live.

In the list he mentions "the power of God." I'm glad he includes it, because without it it'd be a impossible list.

The question I want to challenge myself with is "Am I willing to follow God in such a way that I put no obstacles in peoples way?" The way being the "Way" by which the early Christians were called. Umm, no.

I'm a sinner. Duh! But the power of God is at work in me, and I make it my aim to reflect Christ, to live in the light of Christ and to enjoy God's companionship. I believe this will draw others. There's no better way to witness than finding your sufficiency in Christ.

I'll give you a recent example from this sinner's life. And I got a hug and a kiss out of this one from Melissa when I related it to her! ("Store up you treasures in heaven Phil." "But are we going to be allowed to get kisses from beautiful women in heaven? Hmm?") So, I am often tempted to spend frivolously on candy. And I had that craving yesterday. But I decided to test God's sufficiency for me and resist the temptation to wittle away at our finances, which are already tight. In doing so I suffered the "affliction" of being without chocolate, and showed kindness to my wife's wishes which are "I'll kill you if you spend any more money on candy!" It was no huge victory, no big affliction (I had chocolate waiting at home for me), but it was a step in God's way. And I believe it was a light to Melissa.

I hate it when pastors come up with illustrations like mine. "I really struggle with speeding" etc. etc. So I'm sorry for my poor illustration. But if we lived like my illustration all the time, not just giving up stuff that keeps people from seeing Christ in us, but pro-actively loving others in the midst of hardship and being mis-understood (slander) for our sacrificial lives, I believe we would find an intimacy with God that is not only sufficient, but could be best reflected with "my cuppeth runneth overeth."

In the west the bar is set pretty low for living a life that is different and Christ-centered. That's why it's sad that people are turned off from the church. It reflects that people are not living the Gospel. Living lives that are filled with the radical (yes I used the buz word "radical," which I hate) love of Christ. Perhaps the American church has fallen out of love with Christ. So we heap up obstacles that no one in their right mind can get over.

So I wax and wane, and whine! I am so grateful that we serve the God who climbed over every obstacle to rescue us. Out of this gratitude and joy let us clear a path of love toward this world that so desperately needs Jesus. After all Paul was just a dude. He was no saint. He simply knew "the Dude." Let's fall in love with Jesus again.

OK, enough preaching, you probably don't read my blog to get preached at. But sometimes I have to preach at myself. Sorry.

Impossible!

In all my running, fumbling and restlessness there's a reality. It's something that's foundational to my world and the world around me: It's that I am loved beyond my wildest imaginings.

I heard a story just 5 minutes ago actually, and I need to get it down before I forget it: It's about a college football player who played somewhere for some team (Is it that obvious I don't follow football? Talk about having a hard time thinking of stuff to talk about with guys at social gatherings!) This young man (I can say "young man" now that I'm in my mid-thirties) seemed to have a close relationship with his father as the coach had noticed that he walked around with his father arm-in-arm.

The story goes that his father passed away about a week before one of the team's big games. The young man went into the coach's office to ask for some time off to attend his father's funeral. Of course the coach told him to take all the time he needed and not even to worry about the game.

But when the player got back from his father's funeral before the game and went back to the coach's office. There he asked him if he could start in the big game. The coach said "Sure," thinking that he would pull him after a few plays, as he really wasn't that good of a player.

He was put in the line-up and just so happened to receive the field-goal kick. He then surprised the coach by busting a few tackles and getting to the 50 yard line.

On a whim the coach decided to leave him in the game and had him run the next play. He busted more tackles and was able to run it into the inzone for a touchdown.

This sort of thing happened for the rest of the game, baffling fans, scouts and coaches. Who was this player (I still don't know - though it's a true story)?

After the game, which they won as underdogs, the coach pulled him aside and asked him why he played so well. The coach kindly emphasised that he knew he wasn't that good (with coaches like this, who needs enemies?). The player responded, "The reason I had such a great game coach is that my father was blind and this was the first game he was ever able to watch."

I share this story, not as some cheesy, feel-good tidbit for your day, although it might fit the bill, but more because it hit me sideways just a few minutes ago. To use a football term, it pancaked me - the term used when you get hit so hard you're flat like a pancake (or waffle if the guy is wearing cleats).

Why did this story strike a chord in me? Simply because it echoed of the heavenly story. If we latch on to the fact that we are ridiculously loved, loved audaciously, fanatically, and against all odds, great things become possible. Maybe even impossible things.

I get so hung up on sin, guilt and shame that I do my heavenly father the discredit of not meditating on his great love. In the cross story we see love at it's deepest and purest form: God taking on all of our sin and brokenness and feeling his infinite wrath for it. Why did he do it? Because he passionately loved people like you and me.

When we become enchanted by this reality (enchanted by reality, hmm...), great things are possible. My problem is that I pursue the great things without the assurance of this sort of love. I've spent a life-time of keeping this sort of love at arms length. A friend of mine once said that being loved like that is just too painful.

And it is painful. Painful because there is nothing we have earned, merited or achieved about this kind of love. It is solely a one-way thing. And if we're able to take time to meditate on it we are left stunned by the fact that it's unbelievable. That's why I think calling myself a believer is sort of like calling myself a Astro-Physicist. I have no real idea what I'm talking about. The love that I believe in shatters boundaries that I didn't even know were there.

The love I believe in is impossible, but that's just why it makes the impossible possible.