The Rules

I am, by my nature, a rule-follower. Tell me that's the policy, and I'll do my best. Give me an exception to the rule, and I'll remind you what the rule is. Especially in the field in which I work, the rules are the rules for a reason (most of the time); they protect safety and dignity. 

But I'm also a logical person, so if something doesn't make sense to me, I will work diligently to prove it's a flawed system even while I continue working within it. 

So the rule is the rule...until I can prove that it's doing more harm than good and can get it changed to something better. 

I was working on a project in this vein just this week. 

Then, this morning, I was reading in 1 Samuel. 

Saul is king, and the armies of Israel are set up against the armies of the Philistines, and it's one of those stand-off type arrangements, though before the most famous one with Goliath. There's a rocky ravine and an army on either side of it and Saul's son, Jonathan, decides he's tired of all the waiting and crosses the ravine with his armorbearer and starts the fighting. Not only starts the fighting, but is decisively winning. Saul wants some of that action, and the armies mobilize, and victory is certain. 

Now, while Jonathan is away doing the actual fighting, Saul is back with the rest of his army, making silly rules. He tells them, for example, that no one is allowed to eat until they defeat the Philistines. 

It makes no sense at all to make your army weaker. God didn't tell Saul to make his army fast. Saul didn't know that the battle was already starting; he honestly didn't know when it might get actually started. He's just making arbitrary rules that he thinks sound good - nobody gets to eat. 

Then Jonathan, who is off doing the actual work, comes back into the fold of the camp and someone catches him tasting a little bit of honey that he found, and all of a sudden, Saul is ready to even kill his own son for breaking the rule. 

The rule that was not grounded in anything reasonable and that Jonathan didn't even know about because he was busy working while Saul was making policy decisions. 

And if that isn't the world we live in sometimes, I don't know what is. 

Some of us are out there working and others are sitting back making policy decisions without even thinking them through. Then, we show up in the midst of things and just do what we're doing, do what's shown to be effective, all but secure wins for our groups or families or organizations, and someone inevitably steps in and says, "Hey, you can't do that. There's a rule about that." 

There's a rule about that? That you made while I was busy doing the actual work and you all were just sitting around talking about it? A rule that you want to hold me accountable to even though I didn't even know it existed? So weird. 

Thankfully, the army came to Jonathan's defense and refused to let Saul kill him, God stepped in with mercy, and the whole army moved on. It doesn't always happen that way for us in the real world, but it does happen that way in God's world. 

So at least there's that. 

No point, really. Just something I'm thinking about right now. 

God Plus You

One of the greatest things on this side of heaven is the community of God's people. We are part of His plan for each other, and we're all better for it when we lean into that. 

Fairly early in the book of Acts (chapter 9), Saul is on his way to Damascus to persecute the Christians there. It was one of his favorite things to do; it made him feel good about himself and what he was doing for the name of God. But along the way, he was blinded by a tremendous light that came with a thundering that everyone heard. All of a sudden, this young man standing so tall in his own confidence was groping around in the darkness, still trying to find his way forward. 

God was already ahead of him on that one, too. God went on to the place where Saul would end up and found Ananias and told him that Saul was coming. The plan was that Ananias would meet Saul, lay his hands on him, give him his sight back through the power and plan of the Lord, and be a part of the transformation that would spark an incredible explosion of the Gospel throughout the region and beyond. 

Here's the thing: God didn't need Ananias. 

He didn't. God blinded Saul all by Himself. He could have restored the man in exactly the same way, all by Himself. One act of God could have been followed by another and the story might have remained much the same - Saul would still have become Paul, would still have traveled throughout the region, would still have written his letters, etc. 

But something essential would have been missing. 

Namely, the way that God partners with us for His will. 

This is a really important part of our relationship with God...and His with us. It's something we absolutely have to understand if we ever hope to understand, even a little bit, this Lord we serve. Yes, there are plenty of gods in this world who act autonomously, who do whatever they want in their own power because they can. They like to demonstrate how great they are by showing what they can do without us, just because they are so much bigger and stronger and greater than us. 

Not so with the Lord. Because our God isn't drunk on His own power; He is overflowing with love. And love...requires a partnership. Love requires a relationship. Love requires not a power dynamic, but something much greater. 

So throughout the Scriptures, we see God over and over again partnering with us to accomplish His will and purposes. 

Abraham has to climb the mountain before there is a ram in the bushes. Noah has to build a boat before his family is saved. The priests have to step into the raging waters before God parts them. Israel has to march around the city before the walls fall. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego have to go into the furnace before God joins them there. 

The entire story of the Bible is not just God's story; it's our story with Him. It's His story with us. It's what is accomplished by invitational love - the kind of love that keeps bringing us in to do beautiful things with it. With Him. 

The only question, then, is...what is Love trying to do with you today? And...will you join Him? 

God Made All

If you've read the Old Testament, then you know just how long it took Solomon to build the Temple of the Lord. And if you've kept reading, you know how long it took Nehemiah to restore it. And if you've read after that, you know that Israel spent most of their history trying to rebuild and maintain the Temple of God because that was where God came to dwell among them. His presence, His glory, filled the place, and that's where they knew He was with them. 

When you're a people who have put so much work into a project like that, it's easy to take credit for it. It's easy to make it the shining piece of your own history, the thing you've done so much for, a testament to your own faithfulness and steadfastness. Look! We have created a beautiful Temple that God Himself lives in. 

But never forget that the entire Temple was God's handiwork, not ours. He gave us the blueprint down to the very cubit, and in that sense? We were merely the labor. 

Then you get to the New Testament, and we are told that we are the Temple of the Lord, the place where God dwells. Right here in our hearts. And certainly, there's no way we can take credit for our own creation; Genesis is clear that God made us with His own hands, too. He knelt in the dirt and formed it together and breathed into it the breath of life and of His spirit. 

After, you know, He flung the stars into the heavens and separated the waters and formed the light and filled the earth. After by His own hand, He created everything else. 

And it is this to which Stephen is referring when he faces the accusations of those who are not happy with his theology, who are threatened by the perspective that he has on God's world. He says, plainly, didn't God make all this? 

Or, more accurately, he speaks as the Lord Himself - Has not My hand made all these things? (Acts 7:50)

It is the quickest way to put everything - including ourselves (and the Pharisees who think they are better than us) - back in its proper place. If God made everything, there's nothing you can take credit for. If it's all God's handiwork, then it's not your shining achievement. If God did it by His very hand, then you, my friend, did not, and the only thing you can do is humble yourself and be thankful that you get to be part of it. 

By the grace of God, we sometimes get to get our hands dirty in the work, but do not be fooled - it is still God's work. Still His design, right down to the very cubit. We are here only because, by grace, He invites us into it. 

We would be wise to remember that. 

Has not My hand made all these things? It has, Lord. It has. 

God Goes In

In Acts 5, the apostles are put in jail by the leading priests and Pharisees for preaching the Gospel - the good news of Jesus Christ, who the leading priests and Pharisees thought they had killed and finally put to rest. 

Also in Acts 5, by a mighty act of God, the apostles are freed from the jail in the middle of the night and found preaching again the next morning by those who were coming to persecute them. The apostles just sort of shrug and say, "We have to preach Christ. What else would we do?" 

And for many of us, this is a story about the bravery of the apostles in the face of persecution, an example for all Christians everywhere to choose the path God has called them to regardless of what the world says or what obstacles might be in their way, regardless of the personal cost. 

But as I read this story again recently, what jumped out to me was not the apostles; it was the angel of the Lord. 

How many folks do you know that will break into jail? 

That's the crux of the story. It's not the apostles' bravery or resolve or whatever; it's the fact that here is God, yet again, sending His messenger into the hard places, right into the heart of the imprisonment. It is God who shows up and opens those cells. It is God who sets the prisoners free. 

The same God who goes into the fiery furnace to walk around with three faithful men from Israel. He didn't even rescue them; He never opened the door or pulled them out or anything. He just walked around with them. 

The same God who parts raging seas to let His people cross on solid ground. He's the One who steps into the waters. 

The same God who takes our nails in His hands and hangs our shame on His cross. 

Yeah, the apostles are cool, but I have a God who breaks into jail for me, into all the places where I'm captive. If there ever were a damsel in distress moment in my life, if I had even a little bit of damsel in me, my God is a God who comes to rescue me, wherever I'm at. 

In the top of the tallest tower. Behind the dragon's keep. Across the moat. From east to west. In the fiery furnace. In prison. Wherever. God is breaking in to get to me. 

And that's a really cool part of this story that we don't give enough credit for. 

God Speaks

It's a magical thing when you hear the Gospel in your own language. 

One of the hardest things about seeking God is walking into a gathering of His people and not knowing the language. I'm not necessarily talking about the spoken language; I'm talking about the rhythms of worship of any particular congregation. 

You walk in, and it seems like everyone else knows when to stand, when to sit, when to kneel, when to move, when not to move, when to bow their heads, when to take their bathroom breaks, when to break the bread.... It's a choreographed dance that you haven't been to any rehearsals for, and it feels like you're messing it all up. 

I've been there. I get it. 

But it's always been that way. Even from the very beginning, there were those who knew the rhythms and those who didn't. Those who understood what was going on and those who didn't. Those who were paying attention and those who weren't. 

Shortly after the final events of Jesus's life, the believers were gathered in Jerusalem, which you'd think would remember the hubbub of not that many days ago (we are at Pentecost at this point) when Jesus was crucified, then the tomb was empty, then He kept appearing to everyone. But somehow, all of a sudden, the believers are struck and start talking in other languages. 

Not unknown languages, but the languages of the persons around them. Persons who were also right there in Jerusalem. Persons who might have seen some of the events of Jesus's life play out, but not understood them. And all of a sudden, the stories of Jesus are being told impromptu right there in the gathering, in a ton of different languages (Acts 2:6).

For the first time, they were hearing it in their own tongue. 

For the first time, they were "getting" it. 

See, God doesn't have some mystical, magical, other-worldly language that He calls us to learn before we can understand His story. He doesn't have some rhythm set up that we haven't rehearsed. He isn't hiding behind a series of secret steps and movements and motions that we have to figure out in order to get to Him. 

He speaks our language. Whatever that is. Wherever we are. 

It's not gibberish. It's the language of our souls. (And, yes, our tongues.) 

I think that's important for those of us inside the church to remember, especially as we work to intentionally make ourselves welcoming to those who are seeking. To those who have maybe heard a few stories or seen a few things or caught a few whispers but who had never heard the Gospel in the language they actually speak. We have to be mindful about speaking the language of the lost. 

After all, that's what God Himself would do. 

He showed us that much at Pentecost. 

Problems

Recently, I was talking with someone who thought they had a problem with their home - a serious problem. In hindsight, they said they probably should have paid attention to it sooner, done more maintenance, etc. I said I wasn't surprised. 

Last week, I found myself in the emergency room for the first time on a new insurance plan. Not knowing how much it would cost me, I kept thinking to myself, "They'd better find something that makes it worth the cost." I'd been sent to the ER for suspected appendicitis, which would of course be worth the cost, but instead turned out to be something acute that was significant, but not yet "serious," but could turn serious.

Is taking your car for routine oil changes, maintaining your lawn mower, paying for a yearly service plan for your HVAC system, going for an annual dental cleaning...worth it? 

The truth is that most of us have trouble shelling out the money for maintenance when there's nothing wrong with what we've got. We don't even like shelling out the money if it's something small. We always think, "Maybe it's not a big deal. Maybe it will just get better. Maybe I'll get used to it." 

Then, we end up drowning in our serious problems because they suck everything we've got in reserve right out of us, and we look back in hindsight and wonder...should I have done something sooner? 

The question we really have to be asking ourselves at any given point is whether we're as willing to invest now to avoid a problem as we would be later to fix one? 

Are you willing to take what you have today and put it to use to make tomorrow better...or would you rather have what you have and cross your fingers and hope for the best? 

It's silly, really. We live in a fragile world that is even more fragile by the day. The stuff that is manufactured today is made to fail; everything has a shelf life. And yet, we all try to live like our stuff isn't falling apart. 

Like our lives aren't falling apart. 

Like we aren't falling apart. 

And then, things fall apart and we feel betrayed, but the truth is, we never did what we were supposed to do to keep this from happening. We couldn't, we say, justify the cost of maintenance when nothing was wrong, but now, the cost is astronomical because everything is broken and fixing it...is not optional. You can't just not have a refrigerator or an air conditioner. You can't just let your teeth rot right out of your mouth. You can't just let your appendix rupture. 

But as I was thinking about my non-appendix medical cost and wondering if it's worth it, I was really thinking about this. The truth is - we found a problem that was at a correctable stage. Do I feel like I was robbed of money because it wasn't life-threatening yet? Am I upset at having to spend so much only to find out it wasn't urgent after all? 

Is it worth it to me to spend that money to find the problem while I can still fix it without costing more - more time, more money, more energy, more risk, etc. - or does it feel like a waste because it wasn't already at that point? 

Is it worth it to you? 

Most of us would rather pay $700 every decade to replace an appliance we never maintained than spend $30-80 here or there to tweak the little things that would keep it running for far longer. It's just hard to get us to justify maintenance. 

And yet, good maintenance goes such a long way. 

In case you haven't figured it out yet, this is a post about stuff...and it's also a post not about stuff. And in both regards, the question I have for you is this: 

Would you invest as much today to avoid a problem as you would later to fix one? What do you need to be investing in right now? 

God Reveals Himself

After the Resurrection, something incredible happens: 

Jesus just keeps showing up everywhere. 

Right from the very beginning, He appears to Mary. Right there at the tomb. She thinks He's the gardener. 

He walks with some of the disciples on the road to Emmaus; they think He's a fellow traveler. 

He pops into the Upper Room while the disciples are gathered on more than one occasion. Some of them immediately know that it's Him; it takes some others a little bit longer. Some require a little more proof. 

He's hanging out on the seashore, grilling fish, while the disciples are out fishing. They spot Him from the boat and one of them says, "Oh my gosh - it's Him," and another one jumps into the water to get to shore faster. 

John tells us, in the latter chapters of his Gospel, just how often Jesus keeps showing up, appearing, revealing Himself to folks.

It's not the first time...or the last time. 

See, showing up has always been God's way. It was His way in the Garden, when He was strolling by even as Adam and Eve dove for the bushes. It was His Way by the Jabbok River, when He wrestled with Jacob. It was His way in the wilderness, when He dwelled with Israel in cloud and fire. It was His way under the broom plant when the prophet was famished. 

It's been His way from the very beginning, and it's still His way now. 

When you're least expecting it, there He is. Or, rather, here He is. Somewhere right beside you. Somewhere where you most need Him. 

Maybe He looks like the gardener. Or a fellow traveler. Or someone you know. Or someone you can hardly believe. Maybe He's just going about regular business, doing nothing spectacular or even something so plain as making breakfast. Yet, if you keep your eyes open, you see Him. 

You can't help but not see Him. 

Because God reveals Himself. Over and over and over again in the places where His people are living and loving and trying to dwell, where they're seeking grace and hope and faith, where they're trying to figure out what to do next, where to go from here, what just happened...here He is. 

Immanuel. Still. 

God with us. 

Forever. 

God Knows

Have you ever laid awake at night wondering if you actually did that thing you thought you did, or that thing that you went in the kitchen to do but might have gotten distracted? Have you turned back home to make sure you locked the door? Have you double-checked with a friend to figure out if you actually did something or only thought about doing it? 

This is the curse of being human - not knowing whether we've even done the things we intended to do, sometimes wrestling with the insecurity of not being able to remember. To know. Always wondering if there's one more thing or something we forgot or some new little detail that's going to pop up that will take what we think was a finished job and make it unfinished. 

We burn ourselves at both ends trying to accomplish things, but we never quite feel like our work is finished. Even if we did it one hundred percent right, there's something always nagging at us that we missed something. 

Not so with Jesus. 

Perhaps some of His most famous words were, "It is finished." These, He spoke as He breathed His last on the Cross. But He actually knew it was finished before He spoke it. 

John 19:28 says, "Later, knowing that everything had now been finished, Jesus said, 'I am thirsty.'" 

I am thirsty. At the moment that Jesus knew that everything was finished, He did not say, "It is finished." He said, "I am thirsty." 

He knew it was complete before it was over. He knew He was done before He died. He knew that what He had been sent to do had been accomplished. Before the spear, before the tomb, before the stone rolled away. 

He knew it was finished. 

So He asks for a drink. 

It seems so strange, so casual to us. Think about finally being caught up on stuff, finally feeling like there's nothing too pressing, and grabbing a drink and a few minutes to yourself to relax. 

The death of Jesus was agonizing - that's how we portray it. But I think, in those last moments, it wasn't. I think that's maybe what captivated everyone around Him at that moment. He knew it was finished, so He settled into peace...before He settled into death. 

There was no question left in His mind. There was no hesitation. There was no wondering. He wasn't asking whether something else was to come, whether there was another shoe to drop, whether He missed a moment or mishandled one, whether He really had done everything He set out to do. He knew. He just knew, and this allowed Him to relax. To settle into peace. 

To ask for a drink. 

I want that kind of chill in my life. I want to be able to let go like that. I want that kind of confidence. To know that it is done, that I did what I was supposed to do, that there's nothing else I can do, and to be able to just let it go and settle into peace. 

His final, unagonized breath tells me it's possible. 

God of Victory

"In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." (John 16:33)

Jesus spoke these words while He was teaching His disciples about what was to come, about how He would be betrayed, about how He would die, about how they would think it was over, but about how He would come back. 

And we quote these words quite often. We use them to encourage ourselves when life gets difficult. Jesus said we'll have trouble; why are we surprised? But take heart! Trouble only lasts for a night time; joy comes in the morning. 

Then, we turn our eyes to the Cross and the tomb and the stone rolled away. 

Except...

That's not what Jesus said. 

Jesus spoke these words before any of those things happened, and He spoke them in the present tense. He never said - I will overcome the world; He said - I have overcome the world. 

I have overcome the world already. I have overcome the world by being here. I have overcome the world by teaching, preaching, working miracles, coming in flesh. 

Immanuel, God is with you, and in being here, in bridging that gap, in crossing that divide, in reaching out My hand and putting it on the hurting, I have overcome the world. 

The blind see. The deaf hear. The mute speak. The lame walk. The demon-possessed are sitting clothed and in their right mind. The unclean are made clean. The powerful have been humbled. The humble have been empowered. The sinners have a place at the table. The tables have been turned over. The old is made new. The lost have been found. 

I have overcome the world. 

I think it's hard for us sometimes, when we're looking for Jesus, when we're looking for that power and that inspiration and that assurance in our lives, to look to the Cross and to the tomb and to an eternity that is promised to us, but that always only leaves us waiting for a day. As a popular phrase suggests, it's possible to be so heavenly-minded that it does us no earthly good (to put a spin on that phrase), and that's when so many of us start to struggle in our faith. 

Heaven is nice, but Lord, I need you now. 

And Jesus says, you have Me now. It's already done. I am here, God with you, and I have overcome the world by My mere presence in it. The same presence that is with you now. 

How much, then, does it change today for us to know that God is with us? How much does it change today for us to realize the miracle of the incarnation? How much does it change today to know that before the Cross, before the tomb, before eternity, He is and He has overcome the world. 

Just ask the blind man. For he has seen it with his own eyes. 

God is Home

God makes His home in your heart. You've probably heard this - or some version of this - somewhere in your Christian walk. It's the kind of thing we teach to our young children, something that seems to be relatable and understandable no matter what your age. 

One of the places where we see this expressed in the Scriptures is in John 14, where Jesus says that if anyone loves Him, they will obey His teaching, and then God will come and together, the Father and the Son will make their home with them (v. 23). 

And it's easy to think, well, God's moving in. 

But when I think about this passage, another passage comes to mind. I start thinking about the one where Jesus sends His disciples out to do ministry in the region. He tells them that whenever they come to a village, if someone welcomes them, then they should stay with that person for as long as they are there, embracing the welcome and making a temporary home. 

If someone doesn't welcome them, they are to shake the dust off their feet and walk away. 

Do you see the parallel? 

God desires to walk with men. It's what He wanted from the very beginning, when He walked with Adam in the cool of the day. Contrary to what deists believe  - that God simply set the world in motion and stepped away - God actually desires to be present with us. It's why He came as Immanuel. 

But He's not going to stay anywhere that's unwelcoming. He's not going to force Himself somewhere. 

So when I read that God wants to make His home with me, I read also that that means I need to make my home welcoming to God. I read that God is sojourning through this world, doing ministry, loving others, working miracles, and that He's looking for a place to stay while He's here. 

That place to stay...is in me. It's in my home. It's in my heart. 

And if I make my heart a welcoming place for Him, He will move in and stay here while He's working in this region, while He's doing things in my community, in my family, in my life, in my heart. He will dwell with me, and it will be a mutually beneficial relationship. 

But if my heart is not welcoming, if I do not make it possible for Him to dwell here, He will shake the dust off His feet and keep moving. 

So, then, God making His home in my heart is not merely an act of faith; it's an act of hospitality. He doesn't force Himself in; I have to make room for Him. I have to make welcome. It's not something that just happens, not even when I profess belief; it's something I have to be intentional about - creating the space, opening the door, inviting Him in to dwell. 

And then...and then, my friends...truly beautiful, wonderful, miraculous things happen. Not just in my home, but all around it. 

Because the Lord has made a home here with me. 

Hospice

As you may know, I have a heart for hospice. I love healthcare, but I love hospice, and if I spent the rest of my life with the dying, I'd probably be okay with that. 

But the thing about hospice is that it frequently gets used incorrectly. Or...less-than-optimally. Especially when I see it in traditional healthcare settings. 

The true definition of a person on hospice is a person with a terminal illness that will result in their death within the next six months. That's right - a full six months. And should God have different timing in mind, hospice can be extended for another six months and six more after that and six more after that...until the terminal illness takes its full course. 

That's because the true nature of hospice isn't to help you die comfortably; it's to help you squeeze the most life out of your final days as you can. Yes, hospice is not really for dying; it is for living. 

Still, too often, hospice is called in at the last hour, in the final few days, when there's nothing left to do but to make someone comfortable. When there's not much life left to squeeze out, if any at all. So folks have this impression of hospice as the team that comes in when there's nothing else that can be done. 

Imagine if you didn't wait that long. 

See, hospice comes in in the final days and family members are gathered and they say, "We just can't watch him be in pain any more" or "We don't want her to know what's going on," and they expect hospice to induce a kind of out-of-it-ness that will remove their loved one from the decaying body they're still trapped in. 

What if you wanted those things for your loved one before those final, hard-to-watch, painful hours? 

That's what hospice is supposed to do. It's supposed to come in early and manage pain for the living, not the dying. It's supposed to come in early and fill the terminal space with so much life that you can almost forget what's going on. It's supposed to come in early and make the last season comfortable, not just the last hours. And there are so many ways to do that besides morphine drips and mouth swabs. 

At the same time, as I have been thinking about this, I have also been thinking about my own eventual fate. I mean, we are all dying. Every one of us. Myself included. 

I spend a lot of my time investing in my wellness, in my strength, in my healing. I'm always doing exercise, running, walking the dog, engaging in rehabilitation, working to make my life better. But sometimes, it occurs to me that in the end, all I'm really hoping for is to die strong. That's the end - that's what's going to happen. I'm going to die. The only question is whether or not I will die strong, whether or not I will die having squeezed as much life and strength and vitality out of my seasons as I can. 

Every time this thought comes into my head, it makes me stop and think about what I really want, what I'm really doing, and what's really possible. And whether this is the best time that I have or whether it might be better some other way. 

We think it's morbid to think about, but it doesn't have to be. It's just life. And, well, death. There's no getting out of it. So just as we're hesitant to call hospice in "too early," as though there is such a thing, and thus miss out on the full benefits of what it has to offer, we are often too hesitant to think of our own eventual demise and miss out on much of our own lives, as well. 

Just something I'm thinking about. Thought I'd share. 

*If you ever need to talk hospice, hit me up. It's seriously a passion of mine and probably always will be. It's the way God's wired me.  

God Speaks

There are persons in this world who just like to hear themselves talk. 

Jesus is not one of them. 

Throughout the Gospels, we hear the voice of God. We also hear the voice of Jesus. And we are told repeatedly that this voice has not been for His benefit, but for ours (i.e. John 12:30). 

In that specific verse, Jesus is predicting His death and indeed, the time is approaching, and a voice booms from the heavens and declares Him the beloved son. John tells us the whole crowd heard the noise and knew that the heavens had spoken to Him, but Jesus said - it wasn't because I needed to hear it; it was because you needed to hear it. 

At His baptism by John, the heavens opened and thunder roared and a dove descended. Again, none of this was because Jesus needed a sign from heaven; it was because those around Him did. 

When Jesus was praying, He specifically said, "I pray these words not for us to hear (me and You, Father), but for their sake...." The disciples and the others around Him were the ones who needed to hear Him pray. 

In my life, I have been around those who like to hear themselves speak, and quite honestly, they are very boring and not very encouraging. I even find myself boring and not very encouraging when I'm talking a lot, usually to try to establish some sense of presence or authority or value. 

But I have also been around those that I desperately needed to hear speak. You know these moments. They are usually tense or at least, heavy. Burdened with an air that is so thick you almost can't breathe. You're looking into each other's faces, and something is silently begging in your heart - say something. Or you're dealing with someone you know loves you, and they just haven't said it yet, but the timing is oh so perfect and you're holding your breath - say something. Or you messed up at work and everybody kind of knows it, but nobody's said anything yet and your boss keeps walking by your desk and shooting the breeze - say something. 

I think the crowds, at these moments when the heavens thunder, was having that same kind of sensation. Their hearts were in their throats, they were starting to suspect, they were beginning to hope, they were thinking about believing, everything was hinging on this little gnawing of understanding that was creeping up in their hearts, and they just needed that one thing, that one little thing, to push them over into fuller faith. 

Say something. 

So He does. 

The Lord speaks, not to hear Himself talk, but because we need to hear Him. His voice is, as Jesus Himself said, for our benefit. 

Do you hear it? 

God the Sinner

In a world built on cultivating "likes," it can be easy to fall into the trap that we are what we appear to be. 

We are whatever everyone else thinks we are, whatever they interpret us to be, whatever it seems on the surface. It doesn't matter what our real intentions are; it only matters how they are perceived. It doesn't matter what's in our heart; it only matters what it looks like. It doesn't matter how diligent we are in projecting exactly what we want to project; it only matters how someone else sees it. We are who others think us to be. 

And so, of course, we do our best to cultivate the image we want them to have of us. 

Not so, fortunately, with God. 

Jesus was always doing stuff that nobody would have ever expected a Messiah to do. Not even a Messiah, but just a regular ol' faithful guy. Just a good Jew. Just someone who actually loved God would not do the things that Jesus did. 

It was why there was so much tension between Him and the Pharisees. They couldn't believe there could be anything good about a man who associated with sinners, who touched the unclean, who broke the Sabbath, who spoke perceived threats against the temple, who blasphemed - He claimed to be God, for crying out loud. 

The Pharisees did everything they could to convince the crowds that this was no "good teacher" they were following; this sinner was going to lead them astray. 

Lead them right away from the hundreds of man-made regulations the Pharisees had imposed on them. 

The question is put poignantly in John 9, when the Pharisees are yet again determining that Jesus can't be any kind of a good or holy man because He doesn't even keep the Sabbath (which He seems to have broken, again, by having compassion on someone). 

Then others start asking, rightfully so, "But could a sinner do these miracles?" 

Could a sinner give sight to the blind? Could a sinner make the lame walk? Could a sinner heal a bleeding woman? Could a sinner cleanse the unclean? Could a sinner cast out demons? 

Say what you want to about the Guy, but there's no denying that the craziest, most dangerous man in the entire region is sitting "clothed and in his right mind" at the feet of Jesus. 

Could a sinner do that? 

Still today, we are debating such a thing. Still today, we are trying to figure out how Jesus would truly respond to the events of our times - we are declaring that one way is His way and might be righteous, and we're arguing over whether another way might not be. We're trying to figure out what the "image" of God is supposed to be and cultivate that...for "likes," of course. For a little bit more, maybe. For the same reasons as the Pharisees, probably. 

But God still doesn't care. He does the right thing and the righteous thing, the compassionate and merciful thing, the beautiful and holy thing, the unquestionably loving thing. 

And if we think that scandalous, if we think that unclean, if we think that backward, if we think, then, that He must be a sinner to do such a thing as this, well, then...we wouldn't be the first ones. 

But it won't stop Him from doing it. 

God's Confidence

One of the things that I love about Jesus is what I will loosely describe as His confidence, although it's something quite more than that. 

Over and over again during His ministry, He runs up against folks who have other plans for Him. They want Him to be a political revolutionary. They want Him to stop teaching or healing. They want to capture Him and do...whatever they want to do to Him. They want to keep children from coming to Him. They want to silence blind men crying out from the side of the road. 

And Jesus, calmly and coolly and totally collected, just says, "Nah. That's not the plan." 

There was even a time when they were trying to capture Him and He just slipped quietly through the crowd and walked away. Like "Nope. Not today. That's not the plan." 

In John 7, they are really trying to capture Him. There's all kinds of hubbub over who He is, whether He's the Messiah, what the crowds are saying about Him, how much trouble He's causing for the Pharisees by being greater than them - more loving, more generous, more forgiving, more gracious. For making God accessible to the people again. For going against the "custom" in favor of something greater. 

So they send the Temple guards to arrest Him, and He looks them right in the face and says, "Yes, I'm here, but I won't always be here, and when you look for me, you won't find me." 

And they don't arrest Him. 

Because how do you arrest a man who is standing right in front of you telling you that you can't find Him?

Brothers, it is not the time. 

Listen, they could have reached right out and touched Him. They could have put their hands on Him right there. They could probably smell the remnants of the fish He had for lunch on His breath. And yet, He just stands in front of them without any fear at all and says, "Now is not the time for that. That's not the plan." 

And then He just walks away. 

This is truly the greatness of God - to be able to set the time for things and to not get distracted by what men think. To not be troubled by what the world is trying to do. To not worry about what looks like a plan falling apart because He knows, without a doubt, that's not the plan. 

The plan is the plan is the plan and it's not changing, as men change, for God does not change His mind. 

To be honest, I'd love to have that kind of confidence. 

But I'll settle for a God who is just that great. 

God of One

If you have ever wondered whether God truly knows you, you need look no further than the Gospels to discover a resounding "yes!" 

As Jesus traveled through the region, teaching and preaching and healing, He was often pressed by the crowds. He was often surrounded by masses of persons. The disciples often commented that He didn't have time for them or He couldn't possibly have noticed them, as they did when they told the blind men to stop screaming from the sides of the roads and as they chastised Him for saying something so silly as "someone touched Me." He knew. They didn't. 

Jesus not only saw, but stopped for, every blind man. Every deaf man. Every lame man. Every child possessed by a demon. A bleeding woman (who should have been unclean, by the way). He recognized a man who had climbed a tree just to get a better look and called out to that man by name before anyone in the crowd even really noticed him. Jesus spent His ministry engaging the one. 

Perhaps the greatest example of this, though, comes in John 5. 

There is a man who has been waiting by a pool of healing waters for a very long time, but he never seems to get to the waters fast enough. Jesus comes by, sees the man, starts a conversation, and heals him. Then, John tells us, Jesus disappears into the crowd before the man even has a chance to thank Him. Jesus has again stopped for the one. 

But it doesn't end there. 

Later, we are told, Jesus saw this man in the temple and strikes up another conversation. You look well. See how much better you are now? Live into this. 

Jesus, who stopped in the middle of a crowd to heal a man the world had looked past for far too long, sees that man again later in the temple, recognizes him, and stops to talk again. 

He didn't just heal a man; He knew the man He had healed. He could pick him out of the masses. He could see him in all the places where he was "just" a face, just a number, where the world was still looking right past him. 

He does the same for us. 

Isn't it so cool for you to know that Jesus can pick you out of a crowd? That when He sees you across a room, He recognizes you? That He knows your story together, what He's done for you, how you believed in Him, without even having to think about it? 

Our Lord is the Lord of All, but He is also the God of One. Of you. Of me.

That's so cool. 

Former News Junkie

In a different season of my life, I was a news junkie. Not really on purpose, but it just sort of happened. I found myself at home for long hours of the day when the best thing on television was news - local or national - and quite honestly, I just needed the noise. 

I was never a person to tune into an actual 24/7 news channel; I was never over here streaming Fox or CNN or MSNBC or anything like that. It's just that one can only watch so many reruns in their life and at some point, the noise of the familiar voice becomes somewhat obnoxious and at least the news occasionally did have something new to add to my life. 

I was not just a news junkie; I was an amateur pundit. Chalk it up, perhaps, to my background in journalism, where I learned to ask the questions. Or perhaps to my background in being human, where I learned to distract myself with them. But whatever it was, I was well-versed in everything from local headlines to international affairs and could wax eloquent on almost all of it. 

It's a good way, maybe, to convince yourself you're relevant. 

In the current season of my life, I almost never see the news. Really. It's still on in the mornings, but my attentions are elsewhere in that precious hour or so that I get before going to work - I'm reading my Bible, doing a couple of puzzles to warm my brain up for the day, walking the dog. By the time I realize the news is even on, I've missed most of it, and that's okay. When I get home from work, the news is almost over for the evening. 

And quite honestly, I no longer need the noise. 

So what changed? 

What changed is that I landed in my dream job where my whole life is human service. Where I spend my days engaged with real human beings in my real community with real problems and things weighing heavy on them. I spend my days talking with folks who need someone to talk to, hearing about whatever they're thinking about, listening to my coworkers talk about the latest trends on whatever social media platform they are engaging. 

And when you're so engaged and connected with the persons who are actually around you every day, all the commotion in the world simply loses its appeal. 

I'm not saying we should be disengaged from worldly affairs. I'm not saying we should turn a blind eye to what's going on in other places. As good citizens of God's creation, we should live with our eyes wide open to what is going on in our fallen world...and all the little stories of redemption that are happening alongside of that. 

But at the same time, we have to be honest with ourselves. We have to realize that it doesn't matter how much posturing I do here at home, there is not much I can do to realistically change the course, even for things I care deeply about, halfway across the country or the world. I can get as righteously (or unrighteously) angry as I want and spend my time up in arms here in my own town, but it's just noise. 

And like I told you, I no longer need the noise. 

I no longer need the noise because I'm actively engaged here in the conversation. I no longer need the noise because I'm doing the work right here. And yes, maybe one day, those headlines hit a little closer to home, but if I'm investing in my little corner of the world right now, then I'll be ready when I get here. 

I think that's the greatest lie that we've bought into. We've been told we have to engage the far away right now because if we don't stop it while it's there, we will blink and it will be here and it will be too late. But I don't think that's true. I think that if we engage right here right now, then when those big, scary things from far away finally get here, they won't find a crack to get a foothold in. We will be so connected, so secure, so engaged, so loving in our own place that there simply won't be room for them. We won't let each other down. 

So I don't need the noise any more. Because I'm building something better. And if that means that when I come home at the end of the day, I no longer need to turn the news on, then so be it. Because come what may, I'm ready for it. 

I've been laying the foundation in the real world and that kind of solid foundation - that kind of real community, that kind of meaningful engagement, that kind of deep love - stands up to any headline. Every time. 

God Restores

For God so loved the world...

It's one of the most famous Scriptures in all the world, known by heart by many Christians, embroidered on decorative pillows, painted on piece of old barn wood and placed above the fireplace. 

The question that comes next is often: okay, great, but do you know the next verse? The one where Christ has not come to condemn the world, but to save it? 

But I think there's more to this passage even than that. In fact, I think our human brains process this passage most deeply if we start not one, but two verses later, and then read it backward. So, then, right in the heart of John 3, we would have this passage: 

Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because they have not believed in the name of God's one and only Son (v. 18). For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him (v.17). For God so loved the world that He sent His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him will be saved (v.16). 

See, verse 16 - that verse that we know and love - talks about the way that God saves us, that He restores us. But without the context of verse 18, we don't understand. Not fully. 

Verse 18 reminds us that we're condemned already. We're condemned because we don't believe - our willingness to eat the fruit in the garden tells us that much, let alone all the little acts of rebellion that we still engage in on a day-to-day basis. Like worrying about our future or trying to make plans for tomorrow or thinking we can figure it all out ourselves. Those who do not believe are condemned. That is where our broken story starts. 

And into our condemnation, God sends His Son. And it's easy to think...well, crud. Here comes God to lay down the hammer. To smite us. To put a heavy burden on us because we have not believed, because we are rebellious, because we are down here doing our own thing and not His thing. Here comes the angry God we've read about in the Old Testament. But no, Jesus has not come to condemn us, but to save us. 

But why? 

Because God so loves the world. 

Do you see what happens when you read this passage backward? You lay the foundation for understanding how broken and backward we are, how we have condemned ourselves already, and by the time you get to the love of Christ, you feel your deep need for it. You understand what it means that God has not come to condemn the world, but to save it, because you already feel your own condemnation...and you stand in need of that grace. 

That grace that then hits like water in a desert. God has not come to condemn you - you're doing a good enough job of that yourself; He has come to save you, and that's what you desperately need. 

Do you get it? Do you see it? This is what the Lord is doing. 

Not condemning. 

Saving. 

Loving. 

God of Grace

God's got too many rules. 

It's an objection you'll hear from many seekers...and an affirmation from many of the faithful. So often, when we talk about what it means to be a Christian, we're talking about the do's and don'ts, the things God wants from us and the rules He's laid out. 

We go back to the Ten Commandments, to Leviticus, to all the weird rules about not mixing two different types of fabric in our clothing. As much as we want to look back at the way that the Jewish leaders really overdid themselves in making hundreds of fine points and adding tones of tiny print to the laws of God, here we are overdoing like we've never overdone before - God hates this sin, but this other one is forgivable, but don't ever do this thing...or that one. 

The truth is that the only way any of us navigates all the "rules" that we think have been placed on our faithfulness is by claiming that we understand them in all of their nuances, by pretending that our understanding of what God really wants is the same thing we think about it. 

How convenient!

The Bible does say, after all, that "this is what the Lord requires of you," but if you're about to answer that question by saying, "live justly, love mercy, and walk humbly," then you should know that the very same phrase is used in Deuteronomy, and it doesn't end quite like that. 

And yet, for all the talking that we do about the law, about the rules, about what God "requires" of us, we're missing the point of the Christian faith - the Christian faith that centers not exclusively on the God that we come to know through the pages of Scripture, but on the Christ who actually came and walked with us in the flesh. 

John introduces the difference well: 

Moses gave you the law, but Jesus came with grace and truth (1:17). 

And all of a sudden, it's no longer about what God requires of us (which is not to say that He does not still have standards nor expectations); rather, it is about what God has come to give us. 

God has come to give us that thing that our sin led us to seek from the very beginning - truth. When Eve broke the fig off the tree in the Garden, that's what she was looking for, the serpent having convinced her that God was holding out on her. Now, here is Christ, coming to give us the very fruit we thought we already ate and reveal to us the truth. 

Not just that, but He also gives us the grace to handle it. Because once we take this fruit, once we know the real truth, it really puts into perspective how much that tree - and that serpent - really lied to us, and we wonder, how will we ever live with ourselves? Not just with ourselves, but how will we live with God? 

So at the very same moment that God brings us the truth, He comes living with us so that we understand it's not about us figuring out how to live with Him; He's already here, living with us, and this...is grace. It's the grace to forgive ourselves as Christ has forgiven us and to get out of the mindset that there are rules to follow, rules we've already broken, rules we are still breaking right now...

...because Christ isn't about the rules. He's about truth and grace. 

And that is how we should live. 

That is what God requires of us.

God Listens

How long do you have to talk to God? 

It's a question most of us have asked ourselves, most likely while trying to pray. Either we think we haven't talked long enough, that our prayer needs to have more words to it, so we go on rambling until we have more than run out of meaningful things to say...and then chastise ourselves for saying so many non-meaningful things...or we think we've talked too long and God stopped listening a long time ago, judging us for our inability to just get to the point. 

God is busy. He's got a lot of folks to listen to and take care of. He probably doesn't have time to listen to us ramble, but nor does He really want us to just ask too bluntly and not develop the relationship that He desires with us. 

It's complicated, really. 

But only in our human brains. 

For God, the issue is far easier - He loves you, and He's going to listen to every word you say. He's going to listen to you talk, even when you fumble around the words. He's going to listen until you're done, even when He already knows the answer. He's going to listen because that's what love does. That's how relationship works. 

I love the story of the disciples on the Road to Emmaus. If you remember this scene in Luke 24, Jesus has been crucified. It's been three days and the tomb is empty, but nobody can really find Him. The disciples are stunned, scattered. They don't really know what to do with themselves. So a couple of them go walking away down this road; this road might lead to what used to be "home" for them. 

Jesus sneaks up and starts walking with them, asking them questions about why they look so sad and where they are going and what they're going to do now. He pretends to not know much of anything. 

And then He listens as they tell Him His own story. 

They start recounting the things that have just happened. They start by talking about how great this Jesus was, how it seemed so promising that He might actually be the one, but then He got betrayed and the Romans got hold of Him and they crucified Him and now, His body was even missing and nobody really knew what to do. And they just tell this whole story like this guy has to be totally crazy to not know any of it. 

And there's Jesus, knowing all of it, but listening anyway. Listening carefully. Asking questions. Totally engaged. Listening all the way to the end. 

You can almost picture Him, as the disciples get near the end of their story, pausing for a second, creating a silence that causes them to turn and really look at Him, then giving and wink and saying, "I know, right?" 

And BAM - there it is. They recognize Him. All of a sudden, they know who it is that has joined them on this road. 

It's the One who has always listened to them, and listened well. 

It's the One who listens to us just the same, who still listens well. Whether we're confident in our words or not. Whether we use many or few. Whether we know what we're asking or don't. Jesus is right here on this road with us, listening anyway, fully engaged, all the way to the end, even when He already knows the answer. 

Then, He just gives us a wink.... 

God of the Table

Jesus was known for eating with folks. He had a meal at the Simon the Pharisee's house. We can assume He at at Peter's house, since the Scriptures tell us that after He healed Peter's mother-in-law, she got up and cooked for them. He spotted Zacchaeus in a tree and invited Himself over for dinner. And after His resurrection, He was found grilling fish on the seashore, inviting the disciples to join Him once again. 

This should come as no surprise to us, as God has always been a God of food and of the table. He provided manna and quail for the entire nation of Israel in the wilderness. He sent ravens to feed Elijah in a desolate place. And in His most famous psalm, He's promised that He prepares a table for us in the midst of our enemies. 

But les there should be any doubt that God desires to eat with us, Jesus outright says it in Luke 22:15. 

The scene is the Upper Room. The setting is the Passover. It is the last time that Jesus will be gathered (that we know of) with all of His disciples. He's made His triumphal entry. The disciples have found the place that He had spoken of. The city of Jerusalem was well into Passover preparations with only One Man among all of them understands what's going to happen in the next few hours...going on three days. 

And Jesus takes this moment to say, "I have so long desired to eat this meal with you." 

He's spent three years traveling with them. Thousands of hours teaching them. Hundreds of miles walked, dozens of men and women healed. They've had some dinners together, gone fishing, climbed mountains. Prayed. They have probably already spent at least two other Passovers together. 

Yet, here He is, saying, "I have so long desired to eat this meal with you." 

This meal, this sacred meal. This meal of brothers, of the family. This meal of the chosen, of God's people. This sacramental meal that is about to become even more sacred, when Jesus breaks the bread and pours the wine and says, now, do this in remembrance of Me. 

Not in remembrance of Egypt. Not in remembrance of wilderness. Not in remembrance of being passed over...but in remembrance of being welcomed in. 

In one breath, He changed the whole meal and in the same breath, He declared this is the meal He's desired to eat with us. 

And why wouldn't it be? 

This was the relationship God had in mind from the very beginning, when He breathed the first breath of life into the dust in the Garden and began walking in the cool of the day. When He and Adam and Eve sat around eating from all the trees together, kicked back around that first table. When He set that table in the midst of their enemies and fed them through the wilderness. When that food rained down from Heaven or, rather, rose up with the dew. When He'd made His triumphal entry into Jerusalem and gone with His disciples to the Upper Room and declared, finally, I no longer get to just feed you; now, I get to eat with you again. 

I have so long desired for this day. 

...Haven't you? 

Touch

It wasn't that long ago that you could navigate the world by touch. And strange as it may seem in a world that is literally at our fingertips, that is no longer true. 

Yes, we have touch screens. And apps. And things we have to navigate with our fingers, but if you really pay attention, all of these things require sight - not touch. Touch is just the method; sight is the engagement. 

I first had this realization about 11 years ago when I bought my first smartphone. I didn't really want a smartphone, but after being stranded roadside in the middle of nowhere, I saw the usefulness of a sophisticated map app, so I made the switch. And immediately, I recognized that in case of emergency, I would not have the slightest idea how to call for help. 

With my old phone, if I were able to even reach the phone at all, my fingers would be able to feel for the buttons, and I would be able to find the 9-1-1 and dial for help. With a smartphone, the entire screen feels the same. I think there's a way to voice activate something, maybe, but eleven years later, I still haven't figured that out. But give me a real touchpad, and I could still dial for help. 

I had a similar revelation when my household switched from traditional cable television to a streaming service (because cable was being phased out in my area from my provider). It used to be that in the middle of the night, if I woke up to infomercials, I could pick up the remote, tap a couple of numbers without even looking at them, and switch it to a trusty, reliable channel with programming more suited for sleeping. 

Not with streaming. With streaming, I have to make visual contact with the screen in order to scroll through and find the appropriate channel. Again, I think they are coming up with voice options for this, but the setup I currently have is not designed for this, and I'm not sure I would use it anyway. 

Because remember - we are all already weary of automated voice systems that have us screaming "talk to a representative!" at our phones and still not being understood. 

Face it - we are living in a visual world, one that can no longer be navigated except by sight. 

And....I think that's why fidgets are so popular.

As much as we want to say that we are a digital people, a people who have progressed in our relationship to technology and who now dwell firmly in its realm, the truth is that we are all still looking for something to do with our hands. We are not meant to live by sight alone. 

What did Jesus say? Blessed are those who have not seen.... there is more to our being than our visual acuity. 

We were made to taste, to smell, to hear, to touch the world, and the fact that we can't stop looking for something to do with our hands only reinforces this. 

I miss the world that I could navigate by touch. I miss being able to reach over and control my world just by feeling it. I miss having the sensitivity to notice the subtle changes in texture happening all around it. 

And truthfully, my eyes are tired. They are. In a world in which we spend our whole day engaging by vision, my eyes are just exhausted. I can't wait to close them at the end of the day.

One of the new catchphrases of the day is "Touch grass," and it's often said a little tongue-in-cheek, sometimes judgmentally, sometimes as a chastisement. But it's got some truth to it. We all need to touch grass...and a whole lot more. 

When was the last time you truly touched something...besides your screen? 

God is Impartial

The Pharisees were always trying to trap Jesus. They always wanted to get Him to say something that was inconsistent with His character so that they could blast Him as a fraud...or get Him to say something that was consistent with their teachings so they could puff themselves up. 

But every once in awhile, the truth slips out from even the Pharisee's mouth. 

Luke 20 is one such time. 

Having been angered yet again, but unable to hold Him on any charges, the teachers of the law and the chief priests sent spies to try to trap Him. This time, they were trying to pin Him between the Temple and the world, between Israel and Rome. The spies were sent simply to ask Him, "Should we pay taxes to Rome? Do You pay taxes to Rome?" 

But what they actually said was: 

Teacher, we know you are fair and you pay no attention to who people are. You do not show partiality, but teach the Truth...(v. 21).

And herein lies one of the great truths about God: He doesn't show partiality. 

God doesn't care if you're a tax collector or a chief priest. He doesn't care if you're a teacher of the law or a thief on a cross. It doesn't matter to Him if you've purified yourself or if you're an unclean woman pushing through the crowds. 

All are welcome to come, and He speaks the same truth to everyone. 

He doesn't soften the truth for those who think they deserve a break, and He doesn't harden it for those we'd like to stick it to. The truth is no different for Simon, who hosts the Rabbi at his house, than it is for the woman who interrupts the whole thing with a jar of expensive perfume. It is no different for the women who come bearing spices to the tomb than the centurions tasked with guarding it. It is no different for the thief on His right than it is for the one on His left. 

The truth is the truth is the truth and God teaches us the same truth no matter who we are. Saint or sinner or a messy mix of both. 

And that's probably what aggravated the Pharisees the most. 

See, I don't think these spies were trying to butter Jesus up when they said this. I don't think they were being deferential to Him. I think this was one of the things that was gnawing at their minds as they tried to figure out how to trap Him. He didn't care that they were supposed to be the elite, and that got under their skin. So what they were trying to do was to get Him to say that something was better than anything else. Literally anything. If they can even get Him to say that Israel owes nothing to Rome, that would be a start toward the favoritism they were seeking. 

So I think when they came, they were exasperated. Jesus - we know You don't make any distinctions. Would You please make a distinction? Any distinction? Just one?

Because one distinction gets them, they think, one step closer to being distinguished. 

But Jesus isn't here for that. And He foils them again. 

Because the truth is the truth is the truth and God pays no attention to who people are. We are all just sinners in need of grace and that's all He will proclaim. 

God in the Open

Some folks spend their whole lives looking for God. They run from church to church, from Bible translation to Bible translation, from radio station to radio station, from pastor to pastor and expert to expert and prophet to false prophet, always looking for that next piece of information that will lead them where they're hoping to go - to God. 

Even though they have their hearts set on one thing, they spend their lives running aimlessly through the world because as soon as you change your source of information, you change what the God looks like that you think you're seeking. 

That's how they end up never quite finding Him. 

The even sadder truth is that...God doesn't need to be found at all. 

He's not hiding. 

In Luke 17, when Jesus is teaching His disciples, He tells them that a time is coming when others will try to declare that God is here or there or somewhere else. He's out in the fields. He's over in the next town. He's coming to that one place. 

"But don't go running after them," Jesus said. 

Don't go running after them because you already have everything in your heart that you need to seek after God. Don't go running after them because God is never 'over there;' He is always right here. Don't go running after them because they will lead you on a wild chase that will never end. Like looking for the end of the rainbow, the closer you think you're getting, the easier it is to lose sight of the whole thing. 

Don't go running after them because they don't know the God who lives in your heart already, and the things they are chasing after will change the shape of what you're looking for. You will start to think God has to be this thing or that thing and forget all of the things He already is for you.

Don't go running after them because if you do, you can only ever end up with the God they are seeking and not the one that satisfies your heart. You will be looking for things that don't make sense to you, that don't dwell in your heart the way that your urge to seek Him already does. 

Seeking after the Lord is a holy endeavor, and it comes straight from the heart. There is no map for it, no one place to find Him. No X marks the spot. 

There is only a Cross. On a hill. And an empty tomb nearby. And that's all you need. 

Because God is not hiding, that He would have to be found. He is dwelling right among you, where you already are. The Cross stands tall and cannot be missed. The tomb is wide open; go in and see for  yourself. There's nothing secret about the Lord, nothing He's hiding, waiting for you to uncover it. It's all right here. 

So don't go running after them. They won't lead you to Him. They'll just keep you running until you come to the end of your days and regret that you never found Him. 

When in all truth, He was here all the time, never lost. Never actually needing to be found. He was already with you. 

You just needed to stop long enough to see Him. 

God Thrills

Jesus was known for getting under the skin of the Pharisees and other religious elite. Time and time again, He put them in their place, even calling them hypocrites and broods of snakes.

To be honest, most of us feel a certain sense of satisfaction when we read about Him doing this. ...and we're not alone. 

There's a scene in Luke 13 when Jesus once again heals a woman on the Sabbath, in the synagogue, no less. The Pharisees are, as they always are, extremely upset, but instead of criticizing Jesus, they criticize the woman. They tell her that she has six other days in the week to try to find her healing and that she shouldn't interrupt the Sabbath by seeking some kind of work. 

Jesus hushes them, reminds them that they would save an ox on the Sabbath, but here is a woman who is worth much more than an ox, calls them hypocrites, and heals the woman. 

And the crowds go wild. 

Luke says the elite were humiliated and the crowds were delighted (13:17). 

There's something in us that wants to think that perhaps the crowds rejoiced because the Pharisees were put in their place. Because they were brought down a notch, as we would say. Because someone dared to speak back to them. 

But I think that's only part of it...and only a very small part. 

I think what the crowds delighted in is that for the first time, someone with authority was recognizing them. Someone in the synagogue was engaging with them. Someone in the religious place was giving them some credit for being worth more than an ox. 

These men and women, they had been treated horribly by the religious elite for so long. So many burdens had been placed on them just to come to a place like this, and then to often be told that they still weren't good enough to receive what they were seeking, what they desired, what they needed. So many barriers had been put up to keep them from coming near to God. 

And here was God, drawing near to them. Easing their burdens. Taking the load off of them. Making a way. 

They had become burden-bearers - true oxen - and here was the Son of God saying they are much more than this. 

Not only that, but healing them. Loving them. 

What Jesus has just done for this woman in the middle of the synagogue, He can do for any one of the men and women still standing there. Any one of them. And they recognize that. They recognize that the barriers are being broken down right in front of them when a crippled woman stands up. That's why they rejoice. That's why the crowds are going wild. 

Because they're finally more than oxen again. And Jesus declares that with such authority that it puts everything back in its place, not just the Pharisees. 

So rejoice! Go wild. This is a moment that deserves it. 

Story

This past week, there was some kind of big football game. (Just kidding - I love football.) But this particular game is always surrounded by hype not just for the action on the field, but for a performance at halftime and all the little breaks in between. 

We can't wait to see the commercials. 

For the second year in a row, there's a company who got extremely high ratings for its commercial. Not because of the company - it doesn't really have any more market share than anyone else, I don't think. Not because of brand loyalty. Not because the commercials were especially well-done. 

But only because this company's commercials parade out a series of celebrities from mostly the 90s and 00s. And everyone loses their mind over it. 

I have actually seen comments - "I loved that commercial. Did you see all those stars in it? Did you see so-and-so? So good." 

So good except...absolutely no actual content at all. 

These ads don't tell stories. They don't create narratives. They don't offer anything substantial. They are literally just a parade of celebrities making appearances to music, and the culture applauds it. 

This is one of the troubles that we have in our current culture. 

We aren't invested in story any more. We aren't here for narratives. We don't want to get drawn into things. We want to just be shown shiny little snippets of things we already like and get a quick hit of dopamine and move on with our lives. 

That's why political division is so high. We don't think about things. We don't put anything in context. We have headlines and talking heads and they feed us what already agrees with our pre-existing persuasion and we clap and get fired up and say that of course, that's the best thing ever, but there's no content. There's no story. There's no connection to the lives we're actually living. 

It's why we're all on our phones even when we're in the company of others. Whole groups of us, together, but looking individually down. Craning our necks to see anything but the person right next to us. Because persons are multi-dimensional. They require context. 

You know we don't even say, confidently, that we like someone any more? Even a friend, even a close friend. We say we like someone and then someone else mentions something they don't like about that person, and we're like, "Well, I don't like them that much." Because we're afraid to like something that's not shiny enough for the person next to us, lest we find that we like something that's unlikable. Or lest we find that context is difficult. 

Friends, context is difficult, but we are not shiny people. We are characters in a grand story, and when you separate us from our story, we are all villains. Every one of us. 

We need context. We require narrative. Our lives are built toward something, toward telling something, and it can't just be as simple as, "Oh my gosh, that gets my dopamine running!" No, we have to learn to engage again...and to demand engagement. 

We have to stop telling companies their ads are good just because they show us the things we like. We have to demand better of them. 

We have to demand better of ourselves. 

God Among Us

There's a famous scene among the disciples where Jesus tells Peter what the future holds for him. Upon hearing what God has in store, Peter turns and points to John and says, "But what about him?" And Jesus says, that's not any of your concern. Whatever I have for him, I have for him; focus on what I have for you. 

It's not the first time Jesus gave such a speech. 

There was a man in Luke 12 who came to Jesus and asked Him to step into a little family dispute. The man wanted his brother to fairly split the inheritance with him, but there were shenanigans behind the scene. So the guy comes and says, "Jesus, step in. Judge between us. Put us both in our place." 

But Jesus basically says - I don't stand between men. 

God doesn't get into our little battles. He doesn't stand in the space between us in our disputes. He doesn't put Himself in the situation of even appearing to choose one man over another. 

He stands in front of us. Beside us. With us. Focusing on one thing - our relationship with Him. 

I think that's the tragedy of the man's plight in Luke 12. Here he was, in the presence of Jesus. Not just in the presence of Jesus, but he has the opportunity to speak to Jesus. Jesus is listening to him. The entire scene centers on their interaction. For a brief moment, he has God's ear. 

And the one thing he seems to want from God is a hand up on his brother. The one thing he wants is a social escalation among men. He wants God to put him on a pedestal so that others have to favor him because God has said so. 

Uhm, bro? Jesus is right there. All the power, all the love, all the mercy, all the grace, all the goodness, and yes, all the riches in the entire world are right at your fingertips. You can smell their breath. 

And you just want to be right? 

That's why Jesus takes a step back in moments like this. What does it really do for us to have any information at all, any authoritative word from God, about someone else? Not a bit. 

It doesn't matter what God is doing in someone else's life. It doesn't matter what He could do in someone else's life. It doesn't matter the things they whisper to each other in their prayer closets or the strangely warm feelings they get in their hearts. It doesn't matter. 

God isn't here to gossip about someone else. He isn't here to make you right. He isn't here to satisfy your perverse need to know more than you actually need to know. If God wants him to live forever - or God wants him to keep all of the inheritance - or God wants him to get the promotion - or God wants him to buy the new car - or God wants him to have the relationship - what is it to you?

That's not what God is here for. He's not here to step in between us; He's here to walk among us. 

And if you're so busy wasting your time asking about the things of men when the Lord of All is standing so close in front of you that you can smell His breath, you're really missing out on something. Something amazing. 

God Together

God has a unique relationship with His people. 

Many of the other gods that men have worshiped over the years have had either no use for men or perverse use for men. They have either required nothing much from the men who worship them or they have toyed with them. They have depended on men to feed them, to satisfy their desires, to satisfy their whims. They have used men as cosmic pawns in their battle, have ignored men, have degraded men. 

Our God partners with men. 

You would think that when God came to earth in full form as a human, He wouldn't have needed any help. And you would be right. Jesus was fully capable of doing everything that He came do to, all by Himself. At the same time, He chose to surround Himself with men, to minister to men, to disciple men, to eat with men, to bathe with men, to travel with men. 

And when the time came, He chose to send men out to proclaim His Kingdom - the very Kingdom He was already living out among them. The very Kingdom that was already drawing crowds from everywhere. There was nowhere Jesus could go where the people didn't already seem to know about Him, and yet, He sent men out to proclaim Him and to do even more good works in His name anyway. 

Luke tells us He sent men out twice. 

First, in Luke 9, Jesus sent out the twelve. He sent them out proclaiming and trying to make welcome in new spaces, advising them to shake the dust off their feet if they weren't welcome and to keep on moving. And then, just one chapter later, He sends out the seventy-two (Luke 10:1). 

This means He sent out both the apostles and the disciples. The faithful and the inner circle. The many and the few. He sent everyone. 

And this is important - because no other god in the history of humankind has sent men out to proclaim grace. To proclaim mercy. To proclaim healing. To proclaim goodness. 

Every other god has used men to display their strength, dominance, demand, authority, whatever; only our God uses us to proclaim His love. To set the captives free, give sight to the blind, forgive sinners, invite the lonely, find the lost. 

And He wants to do it together. With us. With us as part of His master plan. With us as part of His faithful. With us as part of His inner circle. 

He could have done it without us. I mean, what else does the Lord of the universe need when He's already turned water into wine, given sound to the deaf, voice to the mute, movement to the lame, and life to the dead? He could have done it all without us and still been God. 

But doing it with us makes Him something more. It makes Him loving. 

And that's what He most wants to show us that He is. 

God of Man

God is a God of love and as such, He doesn't force Himself on anyone. He chooses you, but He wants you to freely choose Him in return. And if you don't, well...that's a choice He's going to let you live with. 

Perhaps nowhere is this more beautifully articulated than in the middle chapters of Luke. 

In Luke 7, Jesus accepts an invitation to dinner at the house of a Pharisee. This might sound surprising after all of the harsh words that Jesus had for the Pharisees in the Gospels - calling them even a brood of snakes, and calling them hypocrites. Then, one invites Him for dinner and He goes. 

While there, He does what we would expect Him to do - demonstrates grace, speaks truth, challenges the underlying assumptions, broadens the circle. He doesn't change who He is to come into the place to which He has been invited, but He embraces the invitation to come as He is. 

It becomes one of the most powerful scenes in the Gospels - Jesus in the house of  Pharisee, rebuking the religious elite in his own place because of the love of a sinful woman. 

But He was invited there. 

Just one chapter later, in Luke 8, Jesus is on His mission. He's crossed over to the other side of the region for a bit, and He encounters a man naked in a cemetery with the remnants of chains hanging off of him. Jesus recognizes immediately the demons at work and casts them out of the man, into a herd of pigs, which then rushes over the side of a cliff. 

The squealing noise alone would make the rest of the town come running. And come, they did. 

They came and found Jesus in the cemetery with a man they'd all deemed mad, who was now clothed and in his right mind and having a regular ol' conversation with this Jesus guy. And, Luke tells us, the crowds were afraid and told Jesus to leave. 

So He did. 

See, Jesus is happy to go where He is invited, but He's happy to leave somewhere that He's not welcome.

The same is true in our lives. If we invite Jesus to dinner, He will come. If we invite Him into our home, He will be there. If we make space for Him, He will fill it. 

But if we ask Him to leave, He will do that, too. If we get scared and want to send Him away, He will go. If we hear the squealing and come running and can't process what we're seeing and ask for some space, He will give it to us. 

We are seeking in earnest to be men of God, but we must also remember that God is a God of man...and He will not go where He is not welcome. 

Are you making Him welcome?