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? 

God of the Few

When we think about the Gospels and Jesus, we cannot help but think also about the disciples - the group of men and women who traveled with Him, who heard Him speak, who ate with Him, who gave themselves to everything to be involved in His mission and His work. 

And we know that of all the persons in all the crowds in all the places where Jesus went, there was an inner circle - a smaller group of men and women who were not just followers and not just crowds, but were disciples. Usually, we think of twelve of these men, but that's not entirely true. 

The disciples were the group who were with Him when the other folks were crying out on the sides of the road. The disciples were the group who were with Him when other folks were climbing trees to get a better look. There were persons that Jesus knew who were with Him consistently and whom He was invested in teaching even more than the crowds. 

(But let us not forget that no matter where He went, He also engaged the crowds. And individuals along the way who were not disciples.) 

But then Luke tells us that "from among His disciples, He chose 12 to be apostles" (6:13). So even from among the followers, there was an even smaller group chosen by Him to be even closer witnesses to His works. 

These are the twelve that we know. 

But we could keep going even from here. Because He chose only three from the twelve to take with Him on the mount of Transfiguration. And He chose one at the foot of the Cross. 

So always among the many, there are the few. And among the few, there are the fewer. And among the fewer, there is the one - the one who describes himself as "the one Jesus loved." 

This is important for those of us who follow Jesus. 

Many of us started among the crowds, curious and wanting to engage but not being wholly committed. And then, we wholly committed ourselves and became disciples - students of Christ, following His example, learning His teachings. 

Then, we are called. He draws us nearer to Him so that we become part of a true inner circle, a witness so close as to see and experience His miracles. He is working in our lives in ways that are wondrous, and we are blessed to be part of it. 

But then, still, we become witnesses to more marvelous things, things just a few of us may understand. Miracles that only happen to a handful like us (in contrast to the kinds of miracles that others are experiencing). Although we all may know and follow and love Jesus, the specific circumstances of our lives give us specific witness to specific kinds of things that He is doing. 

And then one day, we discover His unique individual love for us - for just us - and we become the one. And we start to describe ourselves as "the one Jesus loves." Because only when we get to this level of intimacy do we understand, for real, that He truly loves us in a way that we never could have gotten by being in the crowds. 

God is the God of the few; Jesus is the Lord of the few. He keeps narrowing and narrowing and narrowing the many until it becomes the one - until it becomes just you - and then He shows you how much He loves you by looking down from the Cross, catching your eye, and calling you beloved. 

And this moment changes everything. 

Words

Today, more than at any other time in history, we are talking to each other. In the past, the voices that we were hearing were professional voices, but today, the content we are engaging with is less professional and more social. 

When voices were professional, we had a certain expectation, and that changed the way that we read or heard the words. It changed the way that we engaged with the content. The way that we came, expecting some measure of authority, expecting some level of experience, expecting some level of wisdom in the content meant that we read expecting the words to impart something to us. 

No longer. 

Today, we know that the person on the other side of those words is a person not entirely unlike us. It is someone just out there living their life, with whatever experiences they have, whatever viewpoints they have, whatever politics and religion and family structure and whatever that they have. So no longer do we expect them to speak with authority. 

We expect them to speak with a voice more like ours. 

And that leads to changes in the ways that we engage that content...and how we interpret its creators. 

If this is a person somewhat like us who is speaking, then we feel justified in critiquing their language. They didn't say that the way that we would. They used such-and-such a word or a sentence structure that doesn't sound right to our ears. We start to interpret not through what words mean, but through what words mean to us...because the language is, after all, not fundamentally different than our own. 

So if we go into an interaction and have a predisposition toward hearing a certain phrase as arrogant, we will assume that the person offering the content is arrogant. If we go in thinking that certain sentence structures indicate hostility, we will think them hostile. We engage content today as if we were the ones creating it, and if we were creating it, it would most definitely mean whatever those words and phrases and structures mean to us and what they have meant throughout our lives. 

The problem is...the only content created in our language is the content that we create. Other content, created by others who are like us but who are not us, is not created in our language; it is created in theirs. And that means it comes bearing their experiences and dispositions and legacies, not ours. 

That means that it's possible that what sounds hostile to us never even crossed the creator's mind as hostile. What seems funny to them might not seem funny to us. What we take as arrogant, they might see as confident. We assume something is an opinion (because, after all, it might not be a topic we have invested much energy in), but the creator may have spent years in the rabbit hole, researching such a thing. 

No longer do we assume that anyone speaks with any measure of authority, unless they happen to have some kind of credential behind their name. And even then, it's iffy - it depends on what we think about those credentials. No longer do we expect wisdom or experience or anything measured. We expect that what we see is someone else spouting off the same way that we spout off, writing in a language similar to ours with a background similar to ours with an energy level similar to ours and an ability similar to ours and...

...and we read their content in our voices and criticize them for not doing it the way that we would do it. We judge them by a standard they could not possibly know, let alone live up to because the minute they would meet our standards, they would tragically fail by someone else's. 

The only way to exist is to be yourself, to speak in your own voice, to create your content and offer what you have to the world as earnestly and honestly as you can. 

And to know that in a world without authority, in a world without deference, in a world that can't consider an experience outside its own unless you can prove it - and even then, it's iffy - everyone will take everything you say in their own voice and hold you to standards you didn't even know were out there and your message will always, to one degree or another, be lost somewhere. 

But in all the right places, in all the important places, in all the places where God has placed hearts that need to hear them, they will still hit home. They will still be just right. For all the discouragement you will face, you will still encourage someone. 

And that's reason enough to keep speaking anyway. 

God of Authority

Luke tells us that when Jesus taught in the religious gathering, "they were amazed at His teaching" (4:32). 

Why? 

Because He taught as "one with authority."

Authority is more than confidence, although confidence is a good start. Confidence comes from having done something for a long time, or done it deeply well, having experienced it to a tremendous degree and navigated it successfully. It's the professional, in whatever field, who has been doing the job for decades and knows all of the tips and tricks and isn't afraid to just jump in and do it. 

But confidence does not create authority. Confidence merely makes you capable, someone to be admired, but not necessarily respected. Authority commands respect. 

Authority requires not just the knowledge, but the...practiced wisdom. It requires demonstrating the ability to interpret and apply, not just to know. 

Authority requires not just knowledge, not just confidence, not just practiced wisdom, but humility, as well. 

There's a difference between someone who speaks as an authoritarian and someone who speaks with actual authority. An authoritarian uses power to dominate and demand, but real authority never does this. Real authority speaks with an offering, as though what is being said is a gift to the other, given out of a reservoir that is full and not in danger of being depleted. 

Jesus wasn't afraid to offer freely what He knew of God. It was not a threat to Him to give it away. He spoke confidently, knowing the truth of the words He spoke. He spoke with practiced wisdom, having demonstrated His ability to interpret and apply and trust, not just to spout words. 

Everything in His presentation lined up in a single direction to point to the very thing He was focused on, and that, really, is what authority boils down to. 

It is a powerful pointing to a singular thing with every aspect of your communication and being. And when you witness it, it truly is amazing. 

That's what set Jesus apart in the gathering. The men there knew the Scriptures; it wasn't that Jesus was saying anything new. They believed in God; it wasn't that He was proposing anything new. They trusted in His promises; that's why they kept coming to these gatherings and learning, reading, praying more. But there was something about Jesus that was so completely unwavering, so confident and competent and practiced and measured and humble that put all their best "knowing" to shame. There was something more "other" about it. 

Something with more authority. 

But then, of course there was. That's exactly what we would expect from God as He reveals Himself to us - that He would reveal Himself with the authority that comes with knowing exactly who He is, all things pointing back to Him. 

God of the Firstborn

Throughout the Bible, we see God place an emphasis on the firstborn. 

The firstborn is the one He killed in Egypt, but spared in Goshen. The firstborn is the one He set apart. The firstborn is the one who had to be bought back, whether it was a human or a donkey. The firstborn is the one who had to be redeemed. And if it could not be redeemed, it had to be offered as a sacrifice. 

No wonder, then, that when God chose to come to dwell among us in flesh in the person of Jesus Christ, He came as a firstborn (Luke 2:23). 

That's why He was born of a virgin - so that He would be the one to bring life first. That's why He wasn't born to an old married couple - so that He would be the first. That's why He wasn't just a favored son, like Joseph - He was the favored Son, the firstborn. 

He had to be bought back. He had to be recognized as something sacred, set apart, honored, revered, and redeemed.

And if He couldn't be redeemed, He had to be sacrificed. 

That is the story of Jesus. 

The thing about this firstborn is...He couldn't be redeemed. What can you possibly offer to the Lord to get His Son back from Him? It doesn't make sense. 

And what did the Lord's Son need to be redeemed from? His flesh wasn't broken (Isaiah even said this). He wasn't sinful. There was much that was scandalous about Him, but nothing that was fallen. There was nothing unclean about Him. 

He was dedicated, as He should have been. Given back to God as sacred, as the law required. He was taken to the Temple and presented, but this was a firstborn who did not require redeeming; He was the Redeemer. He still is. 

So He becomes a sacrifice. He must be offered to the Lord. He must be given whole, His blood poured out as holy before God. 

That's on Calvary. 

And then His blood becomes the blood on our doorposts as Passover, the blood that marks us as set apart, the blood that marks us as something sacred. The blood that makes the Lord, in His curse, in His wrath, protect us somehow still. 

It can only be the firstborn. 

It must be the firstborn. 

He must be the firstborn. 

So firstborn, He was. 

God of Silence

Why, God? 

It's the question we most want to ask. Why? 

Why is my life so hard? Why do good people suffer? Why do bad people seem to get ahead? Why is there darkness and death and destruction? Why haven't You stepped in already? Why don't You make things right? 

Why haven't You healed me yet? 

Whenever I am tempted to start asking these questions, I think about Jesus in front of the leading priests and Pilate. They were hurling accusations at Him, teasing Him, taunting Him, begging Him to speak...

...and He said nothing (Mark 15:5).

He said nothing because He could see the bigger picture. He could see the bigger plan. He knew what was coming and that there would be a moment when He wouldn't have to defend Himself; the whole world would be able to see. 

Jesus stood in front of the courts and He saw the tomb. He saw the stone rolled away and the victory that was coming. 

He couldn't have explained that to them if He tried. They wouldn't have understood it. Their minds had no framework to process it. Even after it happened, they didn't really get it, but Jesus could have said a thousand words and done a million marvels and given a thousand signs, and it wouldn't have mattered. 

Nothing would have spoken as loud as that tomb. 

And that's what I'm reminded of when I want answers in my own life. That's what I think about when I'm begging God to speak, to defend Himself, to say something. 

I'm reminded that He doesn't have to say anything. Because He knows what's coming, and it will speak for itself. Because a thousand words and a million marvels and a thousand signs will never convince me more of His incredible goodness than one small little act of love. 

So if God's not speaking to you right now, if He's not answering your questions, if He's not telling you why, just know...He might not have to. The day might be coming - indeed, it might be here - when the answer is so obvious, in love, that you'll find that's all you need. 

No other answer will ever be as poignant as a single stone rolled away. 

From a tomb or from your life. 

God of Grace

One of the questions we often ask about Jesus is why He chose Judas Iscariot in the first place. If He knew that the disciple would go on to betray Him, it just seems easier not to ask the guy to follow Him at all. We don't actually even know how or when or where He called Judas, but He called Him, and that boggles our minds. 

But an equally reasonable question to ask would be why He chose Simon Peter, too. 

Simon Peter was impulsive. He was unpredictable. He had a passion that he could not rein in. He blurted out whatever he was thinking, and he acted more on instinct than on careful consideration. By all accounts, we would say that Peter was a "loose cannon," and yet, Jesus was willing to take those risks and invite Peter on a journey with Him anyway. 

And Peter was going to betray Him, too. A little bit quieter, but he did it. He sat around that fire and denied that he even knew this Man, this Man who had, just a short while before, told him with a full measure of grace that he was about to fall away. 

Then, when Jesus come back, He comes right back to Peter and builds him back up. Restores him to relationship. Encourages him in his weak spots. 

Why? 

Because God knows what we are all unwilling to admit: that we will stumble. That we're going to mess up. 

He told Peter as much in Mark 14:27. He told the disciple that he was headed for a crash. He predicted that it wouldn't be long before the fear got the better of him and he denied knowing anything about Jesus, denied being part of anything. He knew the disciple was going to find himself between a Rock and a hard place and that, at least at first, Peter was going to succumb to the hard place. 

He also knew he would come back to the Rock. 

God knows the same thing about us. He knows the troubles we're going to get into in our lives. He knows the positions we're going to find ourselves in...or put ourselves in. He knows that at times, we're going to be between the Rock and a hard place and that sometimes, we're going to give in to the hard place instead of choosing the Rock. 

But He also knows we can come back. 

It's why He speaks with such grace and tenderness. Because He knows. Because He already knows what we are unwilling to admit - that we're going to stumble. 

Thank God for that grace.