Thank You.

For sunny days. Windchimes. The smell of flowers. A cat's purr. The warm glow of a fire. Hot chocolate on a bitterly cold night. Lightning streaking across the sky. Foggy mornings. Good books. Sunsets. Sunrises. Words that paint pictures. Honest smiles. Christmastime. Snow right after it has fallen. The mountains. The sound of silence. Camping outdoors. Camping in the living room. Roasted marshmallows. The smell of a book. Imagination. Old Disney movies. Fireflies. Snowball fights. Times when I can simply look out the window. Music. Eyes to watch a bird fly. Ice cream cones. The wind blowing my hair in my eyes. New places to visit. Old places to return to. Poetry. Waves to play in at the beach. Waves to listen to on the shore. Porch swings. Hot tea.

For my loved ones. My family, my friends. Their health. Their presence in my life. Their encouragement. Their love. The memories I have with them. The laughter they bring out in me. The tears they've held me through. The faith they build up in me. Their quirks. Our inside jokes. The photographs of us. The advice they have given me. Their hugs. The belief they have in me. The sacrifices they made for my sake. The prayer they pour over me. The time we have spent together.

For Yourself. Your beauty, Your glory, Your grace. Your Son, the spotless Lamb who took my place on the cross. Your Holy Spirit, who made me new, who lives in me and gives me hope. The freedom You gave to me. The knowledge that the pain will pass and the tears will be wiped away. Opening my eyes to Your truth, more and more as I take the time to seek You. The promises You keep. Your strength in my weakness. Your holiness. The songs You sing over me. The plans You have for me. Sheltering me beneath Your wings. Answered prayers. Growing my faith. Exploding out of the box I tried to keep You in. Messing me up. Choosing me as Your beloved daughter. Your unreserved, unconditional, eternal love. All the incredible things that are yet to come.

Thank You, God, for every blessing You pour out, though they are far too many to name. May I always turn them back to praise. LORD, blessed be Your name.

I Had a Dream.

The night before last, I had a dream (which, I'm sure, after reading the title of this post, you're shocked to discover). I don't remember the context of the dream, or even very many of the details.

What I do remember: I was in a room full of people. Some I recognized, some I didn't. Some whom I knew were Christians, others whom I knew were not. And I was yelling at the top of my lungs. I don't recall exactly what I was saying, but it was something to the effect of: WHY AREN'T YOU PEOPLE LISTENING? CAN'T YOU HEAR ME CRYING OUT? DON'T YOU SEE THAT I'M FALLING APART? But I was, for whatever reason, invisible. The people around me were oblivious to my desperation.

Ironically, when someone did finally take notice of me and begin talking to me, it was someone that I recognized, and I am (almost) certain that this person does not know Christ. Of all the people in that room, this was the one who reached out to me.

God distinctly revealed to me the spiritual nature of the dream while I was still within it, and I was floored. How many people around us are crying out, screaming in desperation, begging anyone to listen? Not with their literal voice, but with their eyes, their body language, their Facebook statuses? How many people do we ignore every day because we are wrapped up in our on little world? How many people do we push aside because our own proud, self-righteous judgments against them?

And the fact that it was an unsaved person who reached out to me in the dream is probably accurate. We Christians are so afraid of getting our hands "dirty". We stay in our church buildings and perform our church activities with other church people, condemning the very people we should be out loving. The Church is not famous for her love; she is famous for her judgement and hypocrisy.

Dear children, open your eyes. People are hurting right outside your doorstep. And you have the Spirit of God, of Love itself, at your disposal, the Spirit that longs to heal the wounded, restore the broken, lift up the faces of the downtrodden. Just like He did for us, not so very long ago. And now he calls us. To be His hands. To be His feet.

Even Better Than a Zombie.

Twenty-one years ago today, I took my first breath. Oxygen into my screaming infant-lungs. Although it is too far-gone from my memory now, I imagine it was not the best of awakenings, entering into this broken world.

My birth into the Holy Spirit was an altogether different experience, though in some ways, it was just as painful. I'm not talking about when I was saved, but when God began to reveal to me what it truly looked like to live in His Spirit. He had made me a new creature, but I was not living in that reality. In many ways spiritually speaking, it was as if I were still dead. Dead in my apathy, my complacency. And to be perfectly honest, it is something I continue to struggle with.

I don't think my experience is an isolated one as a Christian in America today. This plague that struck the churches even in the New Testament haunts us as well, perhaps even to a greater degree:

"Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you." -Ephesians 5:14 

 "You have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead. Wake up!" -Revelation 3:2  

But in the past couple years, I have felt a stirring, in my own heart and the hearts of those around me. A stirring that sounds like sleepers awakening, the dead rising, the dawn coming. The Spirit of God is moving, pouring breath into the lungs of the children who are hungry for Him. I have found no more beautiful picture to illustrate this in Scripture than the following vision of the Old Testament prophet, Ezekiel:

"The hand of the LORD was upon me, and he brought me out by the Spirit of the LORD and set me in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me back and forth among them, and I saw a great many bones on the floor of the valley, bones that were very dry. He asked me, 'Son of man, can these bones live?'

"I said, 'O Sovereign LORD, you alone know.'

"Then he said to me, 'Prophesy to these bones and say to them, "Dry bones, hear the word of the LORD! This is what the Sovereign LORD says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the LORD."'

 "So I prophesied as I was commanded. And as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them. 

 "Then he said to me, 'Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to it, "This is what the Sovereign LORD says: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe into these slain, that they may live."' So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet--a vast army. 

"Then he said to me: 'Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel [the chosen people of God, i.e. the church]. They say, "Our bones are dried up and our hope is gone; we are cut off." Therefore prophesy and say to them: "This is what the Sovereign LORD says: O my people, I am going to open your graves and bring you up from them; I will bring you back to the land of Israel [our promised inheritance]. Then you, my people, will know that I am the LORD, when I open your graves and bring you up from them. I will put my Spirit in you and you will live, and I will settle you in your own land. Then you will know that I the LORD have spoken, and I have done it, declares the LORD."'" -Ezekiel 37:1-14 (emphasis added)

 Holy Spirit, come. Your people are ready to be made new.

Party Time.

I was actually going to write about an entirely different topic today, but I stumbled across this passage and knew I couldn't move on without sharing:

"You have not come to a mountain that can be touched and that is burning with fire; to darkness, gloom and storm; to a trumpet blast or to such a voice speaking words that those who heard it begged that no further word be spoken to them, because they could not bear what was commanded: 'If even an animal touches the mountain, it must be stoned.' The sight was so terrifying that Moses said, 'I am trembling with fear.'

"But you have come to Mount Zion, to the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God. You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God, the judge of all men, to the spirits of righteous men made perfect, to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel." -Hebrews 12:18-24

WHOA. If those verses had no effect on you, you'd better read them again. Slowly. Don't worry, the rest of your life can wait for a few more minutes. These words are profound, life-changing. Drink them in.

This passage is contrasting two covenants: the old (established under Moses) and the new (established under Jesus). The old covenant was that of the law. It was a time when the people of God were separated from Him by a thick, heavy curtain. The people could not touch the mountain where the tangible presence of God had descended, for it was holy, and they would surely die (Exodus 19:12-13).

But we are under the new covenant. The covenant of grace. We now have direct access to His presence. We have died and been made new, granted access to the holy of holies through the sacrifice of the most perfect Lamb. His presence is no longer a place of fear but a place of joy, of celebration. We are the "church of the firstborn", and as such are given a firstborn's inheritance--the best that the Father has to offer, a share in His eternal kingdom.

We have come, not to the old covenant, but to the new. Not to Mount Sinai, but to Mount Zion. Not to the law, but to grace. Not to rules, but to freedom. Not to fear and trembling, but to intimacy and joy. So sing, dance, make a joyful noise! Join the celebration of "thousands upon thousands of angels" as we praise our God for the glorious love He has lavished on His children.

 

Out of the Box.

Before we begin, I'd like you to pull out your box of theology. Whether it's under your chair or in your attic, whether it's big or small, whether it's opened everyday or wilting under a layer of dust, I want you to bring it out where you can see it. Look at it, analyze it. 

Who measured out its dimensions? Your parents, your pastors, your teachers, your friends, your own interpretations and experiences? 

Now, open it up. The first thing you'll probably find is a list of rules. No cussing, no drinking, no smoking, no sex before marriage, etc.--rules more or less strict depending on your denomination. Go ahead and set the list aside; I'm sure you have it memorized, anyway.

Rummage through the Bible verses, the sermon notes, the Sunday school lessons of weeks, months, years. Somewhere in that box, you should find God. Or at least, the part of Him that fits in your box. 

Pay attention, because this next part is essential: I want you to take God out of the box. 

This might be difficult. It is likely that He is tied down pretty tight, like those toys secured with fifty twisty ties. You may even want to get out the chain saw. Whatever it takes, you have to set God free. 

Free from all the rules and regulations you have chained Him with so He could fit into your finite understanding. I know it's scary. Trust me, I know. What if He gets out of the box and looks entirely different than all the carefully measured dimensions we forced Him to fit so nicely in? What if He causes you to question something you've been completely certain about your whole life, those carefully crafted theological convictions? What if He's bigger, more incomprehensible, than you had ever imagined?

It's true. If you let Him out of the box, He will mess you up. I guarantee it. God does not fit in a box, no matter how intricately constructed. And it is frightening, admitting that God is bigger than our comprehension, truly giving Him free reign in our lives to do what He will. 

But when we take the risk, when we trust in His goodness and fully surrender our desire to "define" the God who created us, He draws us deeper into the mystery of who He is, closer to His heart. And suddenly, we don't need answers. Because we've got Him.  

Dear God,

What can I possibly say that has not already been said? What great truth have You revealed to me that yet needs to be heard? I feel like I am shouting in a dark room, listening to these echoes reverberate back to me. And realizing. I am too small for this. I am much too small for this.

But this is my talent, Lord. This is my seed. May I never see the harvest, still I will plant. It's true, I want to see. Some confirmation that my words are not for nothing. Because I am selfish. I want to know that this is for You, that this is from You, and not from myself. I want to be used. And this is the only way I know how to be, right now. This is as much courage as I can muster.

I am still very broken, You know. It's easy to pretend I'm not, with these words. It is easy to pretend that I am very spiritual, wise. That I have it all together, the way most people seem to think. I can feel the expectation weighing on me, sometimes. 

You know I want to be everything You have called me to be. I want to know Your voice. I want everything else--everything else--to fade, my eyes are so enthralled with You. 

But I blink. I get distracted. By the material, the temporal. By myself. My anger, my fear, my selfishness. By the lies my heart insists on believing even when my head knows it's not true.

Still. You promised You could use us in our brokenness. You promised that my weakness was Your strength. That is why I have not given up. That is why I am still here. 

So this is me laying down my pride. If these words are only for echoing, I pray that I am changed when they return to me again. If these words cause only one person to stop and consider, I praise You for it. This is not about me. It never was. Because these words have always been Yours.

The Cynic Within.

Sarcasm is the preferred flavor of language in our society today. Anyone watch the television show House? Hugh Laurie's biting remarks and general disdain for those he deems idiots (which turns out to be most of the people he comes into contact with)--it's hilarious! How about Scrubs? I mean, really, who doesn't love Dr. Cox? And I know that everyone in my household laughs at the snide remarks made by Frank from Everybody Loves Raymond.

Still, our attraction to this kind of humor causes me to wonder. Because life is not a television show. Those same comments that we laugh about on the screen would be hurtful if they were directed at us in real life. And the bitter attitudes the characters possess are harmful when we possess them ourselves.

Yet, we take on that cynic mentality. At least, I know I do. To be optimistic is to be naive, shallow, out of tune with "the way things really are." Optimism is for those who are not strong enough to face the facts. The world is cold, harsh, unforgiving. We may as well expect the worst.

But I discovered something, almost two years ago now. I discovered that it is the optimists, not the cynics, who are the strong ones. After this revelation, I made a pledge to abandon cynicism. Two years later, I'm still struggling to get there (noticed the title of this blog lately?). But in the summer of 2009, I was inspired to write the following, and it remains an encouragement to me today:

Sure, it's dangerous abandoning cynicism for the life of the optimist. You're forsaking reality for idealism, giving up your protective shell and allowing yourself to become vulnerable. And in that moment when someone disappoints you, you will feel such pain, and you'll remember why you were so afraid to believe in them. But the truth behind it all is that there is a God who never fails, and He is urging us to have a little faith. Faith in Him, yes of course. But it extends deeper than that. It is a faith that all things really do work out for good. It is a faith that believes God can change people and use them for glory. It is a faith that believes in people as God believes in them, that sees His Spirit in His children and prepares to witness the impossible. And when people fail, there is not judgment or bitterness, but encouragement. This faith is not a feeble hope, but a hope that expects. And the cynical would call such faith naïve foolishness, because they are afraid of the pain of disappointment. So they retreat in misery, blocking out and numbing themselves to that pain, perhaps with the idea that they will wait for a world better than this one, and thus miss the opportunity to bring the hope of heaven to an earth that so desperately needs it. And it is true that the optimist, the dreamer, the believer, will experience much greater disappointment that the cynics, for they hope much while we live in a world that is yet broken. But we press on, pushing aside all fear of failure. Because our hope is in a greater reality, one in which disappointment does not exist. And any pain, any failure, in this world is overshadowed by the truth of God’s goodness, the plan He has in store, and the victory already won. So take the risk. Believe the impossible. Never give up hope. It is so much more than worth it.