We are not made great by we know. We are made great by what we learn.
The struggle of life and reconciliation>the comfort of being right.
One requires trust in and submission to something greater, the other requires the pursuit of all things submitting to you. Let's allow our lives to be raw, with many tears and many more shoulders to cry on. If we are unwilling to experience the reality of the pain, we miss out on the reality of the joy. What I mean is that if we use a small bucket to scoop sand, it is the same bucket with which we scoop water. Let your bucket grow by becoming vulnerable to good and bad things, which is made possible through the realization that the Lord is sovereign and can be trusted. Vulnerability is not a part time job.
Let the pain Jesus scooped show you the size of his bucket. His capacity for holding water is sufficient for us all. The good news is that he doesn't hold it for long. He's in the business of pouring what he has over ALL peoples.
Stop knowing so much and start learning. What are you so afraid of?
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
God is the giver.
It has become very clear to me that only God can reveal himself.
We can say all of the right things, do all of the right things, think all of the right things, own all of the right things, read the whole bible, read thick theological books, etcetera, but none of these will reveal God until God choses to reveal himself through them.
Everything is here so he can use it to reveal himself. We're like paints for a painter and notes for a musician. My recent revelations have been things I already knew. Things I've read, heard, thought of, and even taught. Nothing is here now that wasn't before, but veils are being removed, and nothing is the same. Nothing will ever be the same.
God never changes, but he changes us so we may better see him. This is freedom. There's no need to worry anymore. What I mean is that my role in your life and yours in mine is not about being God. It's about letting God be us. Let him do things in and through us- mysterious and invisible things that can only be seen by those who's eyes he opens in that moment. In other words, it's not my job to change you (unless, of course, you are an infant with a diaper full of nasty.) or yours to change me (I will have you know that I am a big boy now and can change my own diapers, thank you very much.) As many have said, embrace the blasphemy and let God be man.
I can teach you how to learn about who God is by exploring him myself and sharing with you what I've learned, but I can't teach you who God is or isn't. If how right or wrong I am will never change who he is, then why would you let it?
Ask him to teach you who he is. He will. Maybe He'll use me.
In the meantime, I guess I'll try and put what he teaches me into words. But as I've said, those are nothing but drops of paint and flat notes waiting to be painted and played. I've got nothing to offer you because he's the one who can give you things. I've got what he has given me to offer to him and he's taking it all with the smile of that weird creative guy who's up to something in the basement.
(Not George Clooney...Gross)
He's up to something and I think we should be excited about it. He sure seems to be.
We can say all of the right things, do all of the right things, think all of the right things, own all of the right things, read the whole bible, read thick theological books, etcetera, but none of these will reveal God until God choses to reveal himself through them.
Everything is here so he can use it to reveal himself. We're like paints for a painter and notes for a musician. My recent revelations have been things I already knew. Things I've read, heard, thought of, and even taught. Nothing is here now that wasn't before, but veils are being removed, and nothing is the same. Nothing will ever be the same.
God never changes, but he changes us so we may better see him. This is freedom. There's no need to worry anymore. What I mean is that my role in your life and yours in mine is not about being God. It's about letting God be us. Let him do things in and through us- mysterious and invisible things that can only be seen by those who's eyes he opens in that moment. In other words, it's not my job to change you (unless, of course, you are an infant with a diaper full of nasty.) or yours to change me (I will have you know that I am a big boy now and can change my own diapers, thank you very much.) As many have said, embrace the blasphemy and let God be man.
I can teach you how to learn about who God is by exploring him myself and sharing with you what I've learned, but I can't teach you who God is or isn't. If how right or wrong I am will never change who he is, then why would you let it?
Ask him to teach you who he is. He will. Maybe He'll use me.
In the meantime, I guess I'll try and put what he teaches me into words. But as I've said, those are nothing but drops of paint and flat notes waiting to be painted and played. I've got nothing to offer you because he's the one who can give you things. I've got what he has given me to offer to him and he's taking it all with the smile of that weird creative guy who's up to something in the basement.
(Not George Clooney...Gross)
He's up to something and I think we should be excited about it. He sure seems to be.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Traditions
The other day I was playing with my buddy, Drew, when his mother told us to play quieter because the baby was asleep. So, being the four year old that he is, he turned to me and shooshed at the top of his lungs. Then he turned back around and began to "tip toe" across the kitchen floor. I put the action in quotes because he wasn't really tip toeing. He was violently stomping- on his toes- completely defeating the purpose of tip toeing.
It was adorable, but it also got me thinking about myself and other Christians. We constantly do stuff because we are "supposed to," but the way we do them makes more racket than if we had just walked.
I believe in doing rituals and carrying on traditions. They work. But we shouldn't be doing things because "that's just what we do." When we act this way, we run the risk of stomping when we are supposed to be tip toeing because we don't truly understand the value tip toeing. Granted, Drew knows that he needs to be quiet, and he has very little practice doing so. Just as I know that I need to not think about myself when I'm preaching and have very little practice doing so. This is not an attack on style or skill.
This is an attack on knowing what tool "so and so" would use, but having no idea how or why.
Let's do these things, but let's know why we are doing them. It'd be a shame if communion became something that wasn't world changing. It'd be a shame if the Lord's prayer became an anthem rambled by many and sung by few. It'd be a shame if baptism had more to do with water or age than death and life. It'd be a shame if crosses became beautiful for any reason other than the fact that one led to life for the world. I'd hate to see people slander their brothers because of their style of tip toeing, stepping, dancing, sliding, or rolling across the kitchen floor.
Since when was it about traditions? I thought it was about joining Jesus Christ in loving the world.
Since when was it even about tip toeing? I thought it was about not waking up a baby.
We have mixed up our "hows" and "whys."
It was adorable, but it also got me thinking about myself and other Christians. We constantly do stuff because we are "supposed to," but the way we do them makes more racket than if we had just walked.
I believe in doing rituals and carrying on traditions. They work. But we shouldn't be doing things because "that's just what we do." When we act this way, we run the risk of stomping when we are supposed to be tip toeing because we don't truly understand the value tip toeing. Granted, Drew knows that he needs to be quiet, and he has very little practice doing so. Just as I know that I need to not think about myself when I'm preaching and have very little practice doing so. This is not an attack on style or skill.
This is an attack on knowing what tool "so and so" would use, but having no idea how or why.
Let's do these things, but let's know why we are doing them. It'd be a shame if communion became something that wasn't world changing. It'd be a shame if the Lord's prayer became an anthem rambled by many and sung by few. It'd be a shame if baptism had more to do with water or age than death and life. It'd be a shame if crosses became beautiful for any reason other than the fact that one led to life for the world. I'd hate to see people slander their brothers because of their style of tip toeing, stepping, dancing, sliding, or rolling across the kitchen floor.
Since when was it about traditions? I thought it was about joining Jesus Christ in loving the world.
Since when was it even about tip toeing? I thought it was about not waking up a baby.
We have mixed up our "hows" and "whys."
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Vomit.
Today I threw up a lot. A whole lot.
Around 4 am I woke up and puked for the first time and continued to do so every thirty minutes until 5 this evening. It was a bummer, but I am never going to be the same.
I could share a lot of what I got out of it, but instead I'll just talk about one part. This part is less personal and more universal.
Every time I threw up, I immediately went to the fridge and drank some water so I would have something else to throw up in thirty minutes. I think I threw up about 95% of the water I drank, but retained enough to keep living. My stomach must have known that water is good. It has been receiving it for its whole life. I don't think that the water was sent back up because it was bad. It was sent up because that was the program my stomach was running.
I must have water to live. But my body was in a mode in which even water was vomited back up.
I must have Truth to live. But my soul is in a mode in which even Truth is vomited back up.
I am blessed to have a Lord who is patient enough to keep pouring it into me, all the while knowing that most of it won't even be used. To Him, life is worth the time it takes. To Him, life is worth the smell of something good being heaved out of something bad.
Our sickness is what keeps the water from our tummies. Not the water. Let's be patient with each other and keep pouring love into hearts- Especially the dehydrated ones.
Around 4 am I woke up and puked for the first time and continued to do so every thirty minutes until 5 this evening. It was a bummer, but I am never going to be the same.
I could share a lot of what I got out of it, but instead I'll just talk about one part. This part is less personal and more universal.
Every time I threw up, I immediately went to the fridge and drank some water so I would have something else to throw up in thirty minutes. I think I threw up about 95% of the water I drank, but retained enough to keep living. My stomach must have known that water is good. It has been receiving it for its whole life. I don't think that the water was sent back up because it was bad. It was sent up because that was the program my stomach was running.
I must have water to live. But my body was in a mode in which even water was vomited back up.
I must have Truth to live. But my soul is in a mode in which even Truth is vomited back up.
I am blessed to have a Lord who is patient enough to keep pouring it into me, all the while knowing that most of it won't even be used. To Him, life is worth the time it takes. To Him, life is worth the smell of something good being heaved out of something bad.
Our sickness is what keeps the water from our tummies. Not the water. Let's be patient with each other and keep pouring love into hearts- Especially the dehydrated ones.
Monday, October 18, 2010
"The Heathens Need us because we are not them," is a false attitude: We don't build a well to get water that isn't already there!
(In a shouting voice)
I am sick of people (Myself included) saying, "I need to just be Jesus to them."
As if Jesus isn't being Jesus to them! Our job is to a part of His body, not for us to think that He is a part of ours!
And who are we to act like we are the ones He died for because we have joined Him? He died for us when we were sinners, not when we accepted Him!
He tells us very clearly in Matthew 25 that when we feed the hungry, we feed Him. When we clothe the naked, we clothe Him. When we serve the broken we are serving Him! Him! He is them, not exclusively us!
When one builds a well, he doesn't build it to create new water. He builds it to bring out the water that is already there. The water that has been there for years-long before the builder of the well was conceived.
The Spirit is in these people and we are to stimulate it, to tap into the underground river that violently awaits. Not talk to them out of a superiority as if we have something they don't.
Yes we are salt and yes we are light. But not in and of ourselves. We are because He is, and He is in them.
Let us not forget that we are in desperate need of a savior! I am judgmental. I avoid people who need me to love them. I run away from the Lord when he tries to comfort and confront me. I am addicted and afflicted. I sow hatred as well as love. I am a whore who constantly sells my God created beauty in attempt to fit in or be wanted by those who are doing exactly the same. It is clearly not me that does the illuminating! It is Christ in me!!!
I am blessed because I am the poor in spirit. I am blessed because I am thirsty for righteousness. I am blessed because I am in need of a savior and He knows that better than I do. I am blessed because He went to extreme measures- NOT ME! I am not blessed because I am disciplined or smart or a middle class American. I am not blessed because I go to a Christian College or because people think I'm something special. I am not blessed because I haven't starved before. I am blessed because the Lord of the universe has seen me flailing around in my own blood and he hurt for me and plucked me out of this pit!
We must see ourselves in the broken, for we are the broken. He is in them. Let's see that Jesus tells the truth. Let's see that they are Jesus to us! If Jesus is in the broken and we do not love the broken, we do not love Jesus or ourselves. Rules and culture can no longer separate people who love. We are Christ to them and they to us.
The United States of America is not the light of the world. We must stop thinking with this mentality. Jesus Christ and his followers are the light of the world and the salt of the earth. Some of the followers live in this place and many live in the other places. Let us not forget.
I am sick of people (Myself included) saying, "I need to just be Jesus to them."
As if Jesus isn't being Jesus to them! Our job is to a part of His body, not for us to think that He is a part of ours!
And who are we to act like we are the ones He died for because we have joined Him? He died for us when we were sinners, not when we accepted Him!
He tells us very clearly in Matthew 25 that when we feed the hungry, we feed Him. When we clothe the naked, we clothe Him. When we serve the broken we are serving Him! Him! He is them, not exclusively us!
When one builds a well, he doesn't build it to create new water. He builds it to bring out the water that is already there. The water that has been there for years-long before the builder of the well was conceived.
The Spirit is in these people and we are to stimulate it, to tap into the underground river that violently awaits. Not talk to them out of a superiority as if we have something they don't.
Yes we are salt and yes we are light. But not in and of ourselves. We are because He is, and He is in them.
Let us not forget that we are in desperate need of a savior! I am judgmental. I avoid people who need me to love them. I run away from the Lord when he tries to comfort and confront me. I am addicted and afflicted. I sow hatred as well as love. I am a whore who constantly sells my God created beauty in attempt to fit in or be wanted by those who are doing exactly the same. It is clearly not me that does the illuminating! It is Christ in me!!!
I am blessed because I am the poor in spirit. I am blessed because I am thirsty for righteousness. I am blessed because I am in need of a savior and He knows that better than I do. I am blessed because He went to extreme measures- NOT ME! I am not blessed because I am disciplined or smart or a middle class American. I am not blessed because I go to a Christian College or because people think I'm something special. I am not blessed because I haven't starved before. I am blessed because the Lord of the universe has seen me flailing around in my own blood and he hurt for me and plucked me out of this pit!
We must see ourselves in the broken, for we are the broken. He is in them. Let's see that Jesus tells the truth. Let's see that they are Jesus to us! If Jesus is in the broken and we do not love the broken, we do not love Jesus or ourselves. Rules and culture can no longer separate people who love. We are Christ to them and they to us.
The United States of America is not the light of the world. We must stop thinking with this mentality. Jesus Christ and his followers are the light of the world and the salt of the earth. Some of the followers live in this place and many live in the other places. Let us not forget.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Little black fingers
Something that is really refreshing about truth is that each and every time we meet, it's as if we had never met before.
Tonight was monumental for me. My brother, Desean, was sitting in my lap and it took everything I had to cowboy up and not cry. He is about two, talking, but not with words yet. He is one of the most joyful human beings I know and I'm completely in love with him. We played for about forty minutes, but what moved me took about five seconds. He was putting his tiny fingers in my ring and playing with my bracelets when he opened his hand completely and grabbed onto my pointer finger. Time stood still as I studied all of the tiny joints and bones that gripped mine. His black hand squeezed my white finger like mine had done to many when I was his age. I felt the biological sameness and saw it more clearer than ever. Our hearts were completely connected and I lost it. My heart got hot and I felt water rush into position in my tear ducts. The intimacy was worth dying for.
There's no way I could put this experience into words. I'm trying, but as I reread this I see that it's just words. I know you know that we are equal. That's not what this is about. Equality has absolutely nothing to do with this. It used to, but now it can't. This isn't a "Well God loves them too." kind of issue. In the kingdom we are past that. We are not separate and equal, we are one and loved.
I will be completely honest and tell you that I don't believe in my self enough. My confidence as a songwriter is about as low as it could be. I throw away my poetry.(That rhymed) But I need to post this poem. I'm not seeking anything from you- finally, I'm free from that! This poem is from my heart. No matter how basic, how bad, how cheesy, how whatever it is, this is what it is and I'm satisfied. This paragraph is more for me than you, unless you can relate. If you can, just be who you freaking are. If your anything but that and accepted, wake up, it's not even you they are accepting. I'd rather be me and persecuted than fake and fit in. That's enough. The message of this poem is the one we need to hear.
Little Black Fingers
Little black fingers wrap around mine
gripping tight, like a desperate vine
Little wet eyes innocent shine
Look strait past mine.
Through my mind, into my heart
past the places that have fallen apart
past all of the muck, all the grime
all this racist bullshit built up over time.
Whoa to my ignorant past
when self preservation was my only task
my life set to wither and burn like a field of grass
now my brother is first, I'm last.
This boy has found with his youth
this thing in my heart, this undeniable truth
deep inside he had to dive
to find this light I can no longer hide.
Our fingers one, like our soul and mind
the supernatural bond defying all space and time
all my life I'll leave behind
to hold this boy, just one more time.
A man is a man, a boy a boy.
A breath is a breath, life yields joy.
A mind is a mind, a heart a heart.
We can no longer be split apart!
These walls are GONE! Can't you see?!
His heart is with mine, his heart is part of me.
This boy is my brother, quite literally.
We're the resurrected body, this I believe.
Tonight was monumental for me. My brother, Desean, was sitting in my lap and it took everything I had to cowboy up and not cry. He is about two, talking, but not with words yet. He is one of the most joyful human beings I know and I'm completely in love with him. We played for about forty minutes, but what moved me took about five seconds. He was putting his tiny fingers in my ring and playing with my bracelets when he opened his hand completely and grabbed onto my pointer finger. Time stood still as I studied all of the tiny joints and bones that gripped mine. His black hand squeezed my white finger like mine had done to many when I was his age. I felt the biological sameness and saw it more clearer than ever. Our hearts were completely connected and I lost it. My heart got hot and I felt water rush into position in my tear ducts. The intimacy was worth dying for.
There's no way I could put this experience into words. I'm trying, but as I reread this I see that it's just words. I know you know that we are equal. That's not what this is about. Equality has absolutely nothing to do with this. It used to, but now it can't. This isn't a "Well God loves them too." kind of issue. In the kingdom we are past that. We are not separate and equal, we are one and loved.
I will be completely honest and tell you that I don't believe in my self enough. My confidence as a songwriter is about as low as it could be. I throw away my poetry.(That rhymed) But I need to post this poem. I'm not seeking anything from you- finally, I'm free from that! This poem is from my heart. No matter how basic, how bad, how cheesy, how whatever it is, this is what it is and I'm satisfied. This paragraph is more for me than you, unless you can relate. If you can, just be who you freaking are. If your anything but that and accepted, wake up, it's not even you they are accepting. I'd rather be me and persecuted than fake and fit in. That's enough. The message of this poem is the one we need to hear.
Little Black Fingers
Little black fingers wrap around mine
gripping tight, like a desperate vine
Little wet eyes innocent shine
Look strait past mine.
Through my mind, into my heart
past the places that have fallen apart
past all of the muck, all the grime
all this racist bullshit built up over time.
Whoa to my ignorant past
when self preservation was my only task
my life set to wither and burn like a field of grass
now my brother is first, I'm last.
This boy has found with his youth
this thing in my heart, this undeniable truth
deep inside he had to dive
to find this light I can no longer hide.
Our fingers one, like our soul and mind
the supernatural bond defying all space and time
all my life I'll leave behind
to hold this boy, just one more time.
A man is a man, a boy a boy.
A breath is a breath, life yields joy.
A mind is a mind, a heart a heart.
We can no longer be split apart!
These walls are GONE! Can't you see?!
His heart is with mine, his heart is part of me.
This boy is my brother, quite literally.
We're the resurrected body, this I believe.
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