I am a member of a group of people who gather at my church several times a week to pray. The eldest member of our group is a widow named Polly who has been the lead prayer partner as long as I have attended at our church. When I first started coming 11 years ago, the church wasn’t nearly as big as it is now, and I believe the growth in number while retaining the flavor of a small church comes through prayer from faithful folks like this friend of mine. Now Polly’s health isn’t the best and she is forced to carry oxygen with her all the time now and her hands are showing the effects of arthritis but she is definitely still willing to lift the banner of prayer high in our church.
We were preparing to start recently and Polly asked if she could share something. It’s funny when Polly asks to tell a story because she speaks these days of the simplest things, which I find endearing because of the joy in her voice and the spark in her eye. So it was with great big smiles we looked at her with anticipation, and of course, she did not disappoint.
Polly said “well, of course most of you know I’m retired”. We all laughed when she said that and rightly so… Polly is in her early eighties and therefore she has been retired several years at this point. “I don’t have much or want for much these days, but I was sitting in my chair at around 9 AM this past week and I told the Lord that I was hungry and said “Lord, I haven’t had a good juicy tomato in a long time, do you think you could see fit to give a couple?” which is a simple prayer really because it was just for a couple of tomatoes, not a necessity, just something I really wanted. So I had kind of forgotten about it and around 10:30 I went outside to get the newspaper and just as I came out the garage door, a woman I knew had pulled in the drive, and I stood there to visit for a few minutes. She reached over into her bucket and pulled out 4 large tomatoes and asked me “Polly, would you like to have some of these tomatoes? I have too many and I need to give some away”. Well I gladly took them and I put em on the table and laughed to myself as I thought of God sitting there chuckling about not just giving me 2 tomatoes, but 4, cause that‘s just like him to give us more than we asked for.”
Of course we all had a great laugh about her story, but it was something much much deeper than that and Polly grew a bit more serious and looked around at all of us in less of a story voice and more of a forewarned tone and said “you know? God isn’t worried about my tomato intake nearly as much as he is my understanding that he is a good father and he loves me very much. I could go on and on about a lot of things, but he just wanted to remind me of his love and he does love me very much.” I was honestly very moved by the amount of sweetness in her voice as she told us about her experience because she had understood the whole thing correctly. She hadn’t missed God’s intentions… He just wanted her to realize that he loved her just because of who she was and wanted to give her good gifts not because she had earned them or been faithful or prayed the right prayer, but simply because he loves us as his children and longs to give us constant reminders of his love. Its not magic, it’s not coincidence…. It was just a matter of him, loving on Polly cause not only did she appreciate it, she wanted to share his story. I wrote this the week she told the story, but I didn’t feel it was time to share it… but today is the right time to share this story. If you have to ask why at this point, then it’s probably not for you, but someone needed this story today… and you need to know that if it’s a car, or a house payment or a job or just to know he loves you… God is just waiting to answer your prayer and give you a huge hug, cause he really loves you (well.. he loves me too.. But you know… Hee hee Hee).
Have an awesome day my friends ; )
Monday, August 29, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Superheros and Snotbubbles
My name is Todd… and I am a Father, part time to children who miss me.
But that’s not the big story.
My name is Todd… I once was married but now I’m no longer married.
But that’s not the whole picture.
My name is Todd… I am a minister… and I am a broken Christian, and I am one of Gods Ragamuffins… and that is the best story I can tell…
I’m not sure how old I was when I first started hearing stories of the Christian life. I must have been 3 or 4 but I do remember receiving a bible from my Aunt for Christmas in 1974 and I couldn’t really understand it and always knew I needed to be reading it, but to a 6 year old the King James version did NOT make any sense. So I did the next best thing, I put the bible under my pillow to protect me, and keep me safe from the demons I thought I saw looking in the windows at night and I slept with it there until I left for college in 1987. I would look at the pics and try to understand it, but it wasn’t until July of 1988 that I actually gave my life to God that I truly began to understand the words written on the pages. Sitting on top of a 10’ ladder in the back of a restaurant at 2:00AM, I gave the rest of my life over to God and he… is a man… of his word.
When you learn most of what you know about the bible by regurgitation from well meaning evangelical ministers, your outlook of the word can be very skewed and disproportionate. Much like those ministers who are hung up on blessings and tithing, the bible belt area I grew up in where my faith was formed is very steeped in the traditions of evangelism and much is given from the pulpit about morality and right living so others will be lured in. Sure that’s just MY viewpoint and there is nothing wrong with that mentality, but coming from my broken assessment of the gospels I have found solace in the last 10 years in the broken places of just knowing that my God is a friend to those who are broken and hurting.
I used to think God had called those who had it together or at least when we got saved, we all got a new car and a great haircut and our acne cleared up and all we had to do was pay our taxes on time and drive the speed limit and never cuss and we could punch a ticket into heaven. I listened to other Christians go on and on about the love of God and how they had been filled with peace etc and I swear for 15 years I faked it. I was even ordained in 1997 as a gospel minister, probably based on the words I could say, but I’ll tell you honestly, if there was any truth in me it was only how to live morally and not necessarily a true experience of God’s love.
In 2002 my friend Mark and I were discussing this love experience thing and I told him I just didn’t believe in the emotion of it all. I didn’t feel comfort when I prayed. I didn’t feel it was anything more than a public show and he looked at me like Id lost my mind. I mean, I was in leadership for goodness sakes. I was in the leadership home group with other leaders who were the folks in the church who were supposed to be the experts in the ways of Christianity and we had all the answers… and honestly? I had NO idea what it was to be in love with our father. To my shame Mark grabbed me by the hand that next Sunday morning and led me to our Sr. Pastor John and explained my plight. I had shared many meals with Pastor John and he knew me well. He had loved my family like his own when we joined the church and was very compassionate most days, but he looked at me with a look of broken compassion mixed with bewilderment. I had said all the right words, I had gone through all the motions correctly, but it was beginning to show in my walk that I was missing something…”something??” I was missing THE thing. I didn’t want Pastor John to know I didn’t have the grid for the experience I was supposed to understand. I mean I was an ordained minister for goodness sakes… I am supposed to be an expert in my field, the fact that this conversation had gone this far we ridiculous indeed, but God had bigger plans for me than for me to lie to myself and everyone else.
Now I’ve heard tell of spiritual Ninja’s and men whose prayers are heard no matter what they pray and I believe our pastor was just that kind of man. I wouldn’t say he is a prophet or some super spiritual guru… but trust me when I say he was a Spiritual Dirty Harry. The man had just as well been aiming a 44 magnum at my head when he stood there and prayed for me to feel the love of God in my life and in my emotions. His hands sort of shake as he prays and I don’t know if that is spiritual or not, but I remember him shaking me as he held my chest and prayed as if to ask God to take my heart out of my body and renew it… I promise you, God WAS listening that day. Not because John has magic powers, but because God was ready to bring me to the place where he could show me his love.
God is a man of his word… period. He always does what he says he is going to do. He had told me in the year 2000 in a bookstore in Independence, MO that I was a ragamuffin. He told me I would know what it meant to experience his love. I have it written in my diary from 2001 exactly where I was standing when God whispered “I’m going to change you from the inside out”. Not long after “Dirty Harry” did the prayer deed, I lost my job… not long after that? We lost everything that wasn’t tied down, jeep, appliances, money all of it. Then to make matters worse?? The boys and their mom left and went to live in Oklahoma. She only came back to visit her doctor for a lump in her breast several weeks later. We ended up having to go through breast cancer knowing full well when it was over we would end up divorced. I’ve lived the most radically painful and disappointing life since the year 2002 wandering aimlessly in life wondering when the pain of not feeling God’s love would subside. As I look back at the time of my struggle, I have come to realize one thing… everything I have endured was because God desired to bring me to a place where I knew WHO I was, who HE was and where I was going. He made himself real to me in the darkest dankest hours of my life when I felt like it would end several times. I’ve never reached out for attention just for attentions sake in those moments… I really have been scared… but every time I cried out to God… and every time.. He was faithful to send one person, one check, a job, anything I needed at the time and the only way I know how to describe the past 10 years of my life is God loving me as a father… holding me tightly and me kicking wanting to get down and play. The love our Father has for us in those dark moments when we are on our knees praying he will take our lives is not a romantic, giddy, puppy love. When you are praying for comfort as you cry until your throat aches and your eyes burn from the hot tears that drench your shirt because you long so much to know his love. When you have tried to kill the pain with alcohol, food, tobacco, the love of another and anything else you want to inject into your system to forget the past, and you finally reach your breaking point… he will find you there on the floor of your home, rejected and dismayed at life and he will pick you up and remind you once again… he loves you. Its then in that moment and not in some theological classroom that you realize WHO he is… WHO you are and what you have to give back to him and where you are going. You find yourself in that place of knowing that you in your rags and filth are nothing and the only goodness in us is the love he gives and the dignity he can restore if we find ourselves in that Garden of Gethsemane place of saying… not MY will.. Not MY life… not MY choices… not MY way…. Anymore. When we get to that breaking point… he can use us. He can heal us and we finally realize WHO we are. There is never a time when we have to look for love in the arms of another. We never have to look for affirmation from others… we are just his and he can then love on us…
I find it almost humorous when I write anymore… I have people constantly messaging me about God’s love, and giving me advice. Worried that I am just too hard on myself. Saying I am looking for encouragement. Saying I need to just figure out who I am. These are actual messages I’ve received from kind well meaning friends… and the funny thing is I really DO know who I am… who HE is and where I am headed these days. I’ve blown enough snot bubbles on my knees looking for direction that I know for sure. I know he isn’t finished with me… but I also know I don’t question if he loves me anymore. I am at peace with it now. I am so at peace I can share my stories in humility and transparency, not for you to pat me on the back, but to help you on your journey as well if you need it. I’ve come to understand that its not about being seen, gaining approval or masking our faults and sins. My sins are my sins, but his love is so much greater than those stories… I sleep peacefully every night… now cause HE calls me Superman… the name was his idea. I sleep peacefully knowing HE loves me and that too was his idea… and I know that I will now and for the rest of my days tell the story of how his love changed my heart even though it cost me all I had in life. Whether I find love or I am single all my days… I will write it, preach it, do finger puppets if necessary, telling about his love for us. it’s the greatest love story ever written and it will always be the same… a loving father… giving all he has for us to show us how much he loves us… and he does it using Ragamuffins…just like me and you. ; )
But that’s not the big story.
My name is Todd… I once was married but now I’m no longer married.
But that’s not the whole picture.
My name is Todd… I am a minister… and I am a broken Christian, and I am one of Gods Ragamuffins… and that is the best story I can tell…
I’m not sure how old I was when I first started hearing stories of the Christian life. I must have been 3 or 4 but I do remember receiving a bible from my Aunt for Christmas in 1974 and I couldn’t really understand it and always knew I needed to be reading it, but to a 6 year old the King James version did NOT make any sense. So I did the next best thing, I put the bible under my pillow to protect me, and keep me safe from the demons I thought I saw looking in the windows at night and I slept with it there until I left for college in 1987. I would look at the pics and try to understand it, but it wasn’t until July of 1988 that I actually gave my life to God that I truly began to understand the words written on the pages. Sitting on top of a 10’ ladder in the back of a restaurant at 2:00AM, I gave the rest of my life over to God and he… is a man… of his word.
When you learn most of what you know about the bible by regurgitation from well meaning evangelical ministers, your outlook of the word can be very skewed and disproportionate. Much like those ministers who are hung up on blessings and tithing, the bible belt area I grew up in where my faith was formed is very steeped in the traditions of evangelism and much is given from the pulpit about morality and right living so others will be lured in. Sure that’s just MY viewpoint and there is nothing wrong with that mentality, but coming from my broken assessment of the gospels I have found solace in the last 10 years in the broken places of just knowing that my God is a friend to those who are broken and hurting.
I used to think God had called those who had it together or at least when we got saved, we all got a new car and a great haircut and our acne cleared up and all we had to do was pay our taxes on time and drive the speed limit and never cuss and we could punch a ticket into heaven. I listened to other Christians go on and on about the love of God and how they had been filled with peace etc and I swear for 15 years I faked it. I was even ordained in 1997 as a gospel minister, probably based on the words I could say, but I’ll tell you honestly, if there was any truth in me it was only how to live morally and not necessarily a true experience of God’s love.
In 2002 my friend Mark and I were discussing this love experience thing and I told him I just didn’t believe in the emotion of it all. I didn’t feel comfort when I prayed. I didn’t feel it was anything more than a public show and he looked at me like Id lost my mind. I mean, I was in leadership for goodness sakes. I was in the leadership home group with other leaders who were the folks in the church who were supposed to be the experts in the ways of Christianity and we had all the answers… and honestly? I had NO idea what it was to be in love with our father. To my shame Mark grabbed me by the hand that next Sunday morning and led me to our Sr. Pastor John and explained my plight. I had shared many meals with Pastor John and he knew me well. He had loved my family like his own when we joined the church and was very compassionate most days, but he looked at me with a look of broken compassion mixed with bewilderment. I had said all the right words, I had gone through all the motions correctly, but it was beginning to show in my walk that I was missing something…”something??” I was missing THE thing. I didn’t want Pastor John to know I didn’t have the grid for the experience I was supposed to understand. I mean I was an ordained minister for goodness sakes… I am supposed to be an expert in my field, the fact that this conversation had gone this far we ridiculous indeed, but God had bigger plans for me than for me to lie to myself and everyone else.
Now I’ve heard tell of spiritual Ninja’s and men whose prayers are heard no matter what they pray and I believe our pastor was just that kind of man. I wouldn’t say he is a prophet or some super spiritual guru… but trust me when I say he was a Spiritual Dirty Harry. The man had just as well been aiming a 44 magnum at my head when he stood there and prayed for me to feel the love of God in my life and in my emotions. His hands sort of shake as he prays and I don’t know if that is spiritual or not, but I remember him shaking me as he held my chest and prayed as if to ask God to take my heart out of my body and renew it… I promise you, God WAS listening that day. Not because John has magic powers, but because God was ready to bring me to the place where he could show me his love.
God is a man of his word… period. He always does what he says he is going to do. He had told me in the year 2000 in a bookstore in Independence, MO that I was a ragamuffin. He told me I would know what it meant to experience his love. I have it written in my diary from 2001 exactly where I was standing when God whispered “I’m going to change you from the inside out”. Not long after “Dirty Harry” did the prayer deed, I lost my job… not long after that? We lost everything that wasn’t tied down, jeep, appliances, money all of it. Then to make matters worse?? The boys and their mom left and went to live in Oklahoma. She only came back to visit her doctor for a lump in her breast several weeks later. We ended up having to go through breast cancer knowing full well when it was over we would end up divorced. I’ve lived the most radically painful and disappointing life since the year 2002 wandering aimlessly in life wondering when the pain of not feeling God’s love would subside. As I look back at the time of my struggle, I have come to realize one thing… everything I have endured was because God desired to bring me to a place where I knew WHO I was, who HE was and where I was going. He made himself real to me in the darkest dankest hours of my life when I felt like it would end several times. I’ve never reached out for attention just for attentions sake in those moments… I really have been scared… but every time I cried out to God… and every time.. He was faithful to send one person, one check, a job, anything I needed at the time and the only way I know how to describe the past 10 years of my life is God loving me as a father… holding me tightly and me kicking wanting to get down and play. The love our Father has for us in those dark moments when we are on our knees praying he will take our lives is not a romantic, giddy, puppy love. When you are praying for comfort as you cry until your throat aches and your eyes burn from the hot tears that drench your shirt because you long so much to know his love. When you have tried to kill the pain with alcohol, food, tobacco, the love of another and anything else you want to inject into your system to forget the past, and you finally reach your breaking point… he will find you there on the floor of your home, rejected and dismayed at life and he will pick you up and remind you once again… he loves you. Its then in that moment and not in some theological classroom that you realize WHO he is… WHO you are and what you have to give back to him and where you are going. You find yourself in that place of knowing that you in your rags and filth are nothing and the only goodness in us is the love he gives and the dignity he can restore if we find ourselves in that Garden of Gethsemane place of saying… not MY will.. Not MY life… not MY choices… not MY way…. Anymore. When we get to that breaking point… he can use us. He can heal us and we finally realize WHO we are. There is never a time when we have to look for love in the arms of another. We never have to look for affirmation from others… we are just his and he can then love on us…
I find it almost humorous when I write anymore… I have people constantly messaging me about God’s love, and giving me advice. Worried that I am just too hard on myself. Saying I am looking for encouragement. Saying I need to just figure out who I am. These are actual messages I’ve received from kind well meaning friends… and the funny thing is I really DO know who I am… who HE is and where I am headed these days. I’ve blown enough snot bubbles on my knees looking for direction that I know for sure. I know he isn’t finished with me… but I also know I don’t question if he loves me anymore. I am at peace with it now. I am so at peace I can share my stories in humility and transparency, not for you to pat me on the back, but to help you on your journey as well if you need it. I’ve come to understand that its not about being seen, gaining approval or masking our faults and sins. My sins are my sins, but his love is so much greater than those stories… I sleep peacefully every night… now cause HE calls me Superman… the name was his idea. I sleep peacefully knowing HE loves me and that too was his idea… and I know that I will now and for the rest of my days tell the story of how his love changed my heart even though it cost me all I had in life. Whether I find love or I am single all my days… I will write it, preach it, do finger puppets if necessary, telling about his love for us. it’s the greatest love story ever written and it will always be the same… a loving father… giving all he has for us to show us how much he loves us… and he does it using Ragamuffins…just like me and you. ; )
Sunday, August 7, 2011
The People of Wal-Mart
The weirdness of this life happens when we least expect it. I was in Wal-Mart today shopping for some necessities and like everyone else I was quite entertained by the number of lower income/poorly dressed folks that seem so abundant in Wal-Mart. It’s interesting how sometimes you see these folks working at trying to look odd with their funky hairdos and crazy clothes and I was a bit appalled honestly by the whole production of it all. I tend to be quite critical of others most of the time and like most everyone I am very harsh in my judgments of those who were shopping today…
As I was tootling along with my cart, a very strange thing happened… I began to think about what it was like in the streets of Jerusalem during Pentecost when Jesus was a boy… All I could think about was what it must have looked like?? Was it different than this? I mean… sure there was no A/C, but were the people much different??
I can’t tell you why I had such a thought, but it was weird… I did. I began to think of the mothers who had been remanded to come to the City of David to make an accounting and the fathers who were herding goats or whatever animal was the flavor of the day. I thought about all those people who were going in and out of the city gate, skipping over animal feces, walking in the hot sand, smelling to high heaven of sweat and B.O. and just doing their best to survive in that day. I was reminded that 2000 years later we are no different, in the way we do things. We may have the ability to stay cool indoors and buy movies and magazines while we wait for cashiers who make the beeping sound instead of typing in numbers these days… but essentially?? It’s still the same.
I saw a mom who was shopping for back to school clothes and supplies with her kids and she was using food stamps, cash and a debit card and I was totally taken back. I noticed the food stamps and was amazed at how colorful they were. I had never seen them before today and I think she was a little irritated because she caught my stare and probably thought I was judging her. I wasn’t judging her, but I was amazed at the strength of this woman who struggled to make ends meet and her two children who seemed to be so well mannered were standing besides here asking for candy that wouldn’t fit the budget and gum that would not be good for anyone actually. I heard the woman say “not today sweetheart, we’ll get that on a day when momma isn’t buying so many clothes for school” and I was heartbroken immediately that I wasn’t able to help buy gum or candy for the woman. I didn’t want to create the feeling of judgment for her by giving the gum to the little girl. I know it would be hard to know the rest of the world was able to provide and to not be able to give your children all they desired would be hard.
I immediately began to be filled with compassion for everyone I saw. I think God was allowing me to see them as his children and not white trash or rednecks like I had so quickly imposed judgment on them because they had different value systems than me. I sat in my car and as I type this I still have a hard time with it… I began to shed tears for the broken and beat down people who I had been poking fun at only minutes before. I was completely taken back by the thought that I have absolutely nothing in this world to judge or compare myself to any of these folks with. I am saddened we as a nation lift ourselves to the place of judge and jury for the way we look down upon them. We are so harsh and critical for the way we treat people who live their lives the best way they know how and just because they aren’t the same as we are, we look at them as if they could never measure up. I began to think of my friend Katherine in California who is involved in inner city ministry and was sitting on the hot sidewalk talking to George a local street dweller who happened to be an African American man in his 50’s who had no teeth and he was a regular in her visits and when the sidewalk grew so hot that it hurt to sit on it, George offered her his blanket to sit on. His only worldly possession besides his clothes and it was stained with blood, urine and sweat from his hard life on the street. She was so moved to compassion she kissed him for his act of kindness. This man offered his only material possession to her in her time of need and it was greater to her as a gift than a thousand dollars from a wealthy man. She told me the story of how God had changed George’s life and yet he remained on the street to minister to others who were hurting because of the harshness of this life. I felt myself needing to repent of my judgments and my finger pointing for those who were doing their best in this life to cope. Me with all my education, 2 degrees, years of schooling and ministry and seminary training… undone completely by the story of a homeless Black man who hadn’t finished high school and he was doing more than I have ever accomplished by trying to share the gospel message of the God I so boldly serve and brag about all the time. I am not beating myself up, but I am being changed daily because of the world I live in. George is on the streets in San Diego tonight; sleeping on cardboard… stinking to high heaven and it’s a scent that our lord in heaven loves to fill his nostrils with because of the love for the lost that fills George’s heart. Maybe one day I will become more and more like Christ, but for now I struggle to stop judging, and learn NOT to be critical of those whom Christ called me to find worthy. Jesus never came to the church folks… but to those who would love him freely, like George, and if I ever meet him I’ll be glad to shake his hand….
As I was tootling along with my cart, a very strange thing happened… I began to think about what it was like in the streets of Jerusalem during Pentecost when Jesus was a boy… All I could think about was what it must have looked like?? Was it different than this? I mean… sure there was no A/C, but were the people much different??
I can’t tell you why I had such a thought, but it was weird… I did. I began to think of the mothers who had been remanded to come to the City of David to make an accounting and the fathers who were herding goats or whatever animal was the flavor of the day. I thought about all those people who were going in and out of the city gate, skipping over animal feces, walking in the hot sand, smelling to high heaven of sweat and B.O. and just doing their best to survive in that day. I was reminded that 2000 years later we are no different, in the way we do things. We may have the ability to stay cool indoors and buy movies and magazines while we wait for cashiers who make the beeping sound instead of typing in numbers these days… but essentially?? It’s still the same.
I saw a mom who was shopping for back to school clothes and supplies with her kids and she was using food stamps, cash and a debit card and I was totally taken back. I noticed the food stamps and was amazed at how colorful they were. I had never seen them before today and I think she was a little irritated because she caught my stare and probably thought I was judging her. I wasn’t judging her, but I was amazed at the strength of this woman who struggled to make ends meet and her two children who seemed to be so well mannered were standing besides here asking for candy that wouldn’t fit the budget and gum that would not be good for anyone actually. I heard the woman say “not today sweetheart, we’ll get that on a day when momma isn’t buying so many clothes for school” and I was heartbroken immediately that I wasn’t able to help buy gum or candy for the woman. I didn’t want to create the feeling of judgment for her by giving the gum to the little girl. I know it would be hard to know the rest of the world was able to provide and to not be able to give your children all they desired would be hard.
I immediately began to be filled with compassion for everyone I saw. I think God was allowing me to see them as his children and not white trash or rednecks like I had so quickly imposed judgment on them because they had different value systems than me. I sat in my car and as I type this I still have a hard time with it… I began to shed tears for the broken and beat down people who I had been poking fun at only minutes before. I was completely taken back by the thought that I have absolutely nothing in this world to judge or compare myself to any of these folks with. I am saddened we as a nation lift ourselves to the place of judge and jury for the way we look down upon them. We are so harsh and critical for the way we treat people who live their lives the best way they know how and just because they aren’t the same as we are, we look at them as if they could never measure up. I began to think of my friend Katherine in California who is involved in inner city ministry and was sitting on the hot sidewalk talking to George a local street dweller who happened to be an African American man in his 50’s who had no teeth and he was a regular in her visits and when the sidewalk grew so hot that it hurt to sit on it, George offered her his blanket to sit on. His only worldly possession besides his clothes and it was stained with blood, urine and sweat from his hard life on the street. She was so moved to compassion she kissed him for his act of kindness. This man offered his only material possession to her in her time of need and it was greater to her as a gift than a thousand dollars from a wealthy man. She told me the story of how God had changed George’s life and yet he remained on the street to minister to others who were hurting because of the harshness of this life. I felt myself needing to repent of my judgments and my finger pointing for those who were doing their best in this life to cope. Me with all my education, 2 degrees, years of schooling and ministry and seminary training… undone completely by the story of a homeless Black man who hadn’t finished high school and he was doing more than I have ever accomplished by trying to share the gospel message of the God I so boldly serve and brag about all the time. I am not beating myself up, but I am being changed daily because of the world I live in. George is on the streets in San Diego tonight; sleeping on cardboard… stinking to high heaven and it’s a scent that our lord in heaven loves to fill his nostrils with because of the love for the lost that fills George’s heart. Maybe one day I will become more and more like Christ, but for now I struggle to stop judging, and learn NOT to be critical of those whom Christ called me to find worthy. Jesus never came to the church folks… but to those who would love him freely, like George, and if I ever meet him I’ll be glad to shake his hand….
Friday, August 5, 2011
Politics of Perfection
Our lives are a canvas of stories that are told from our actions and events that either happen to us or we make happen and sometimes stuff just kind of happens that we neither plan nor could have a hope of making happen primarily because they are just too awesome to dream up. My good friend Ricky was relating to me a story that happened to him not long ago in his home town. He was apparently driving and chatting with his girlfriend when he said to her “oops looks like I’m being pulled over, I’ll call you back shuga”. Well, he DID manage to call her back, but it was about 17 hours later. It seems that his driver’s license had expired previously without his knowledge and when the deputy pulled him over, he was immediately arrested and taken into custody. I was blown away by the decision of the officer because I’d never heard of an arrest being made for what seems to be such a minor offense, but he was booked into jail and everything.
I found out about the story somewhere in the middle when his girl texted me asking for prayer because she had no idea of what was going on because he was arrested after he hung up… needless to say I was freaking out, Rick is a pretty humble guy, but as far as men of God go… he is the Apostle John in my book.
Well…I found out the next day when he told me about the story that it really was a divine thing, his arrest I mean. It turns out, he was placed in a holding cell with a guy who was a gang member and the guy had lived a pretty rough life. He related to my buddy how he had been kicked around all his life, typical deal, no family, street dwelling upbringing, never heard about the Love of God, probably a really great guy, but all he knew was take from others and selfish living because of the way he was raised. Rick… being Rick was just real with the guy and didn’t judge him or look down on him with some moral haughtiness of religion; he just spoke to him like he does everyone… with the love of God in his words. The guy listened and began to question my buddy and wanted to know of his kindness and why God was so good. The funny part is when Rick was getting ready to be brought in front of the judge; the guy thanked him for his words and actually gave Rick a hug. A gang member! I laughed out loud when Rick told us of his ordeal… that is sooo just like God to let it happen like that. The real kicker of the story is when he talked to the judge who was apparently “cornfuzzlated” (as my friend Lisa says) about Rick’s arrest. The judge wanted to know WHY he was being detained, because apparently it’s not an offense to be put in cuffs over. He was given his things and released. Like Peter or Paul, Rick ran to tell his friends and share with much exuberance about how awesome it was to be used of God like that. It didn’t shock any of us because Rick’s just that kind of dude.
I find it very interesting that in the midst of our semi cruddy lives, God is able to stick his finger in the middle of the muck and pull out a pearl.
I live my life most days like many others trying to make the awkward pieces of the puzzle fit together with very little success. I have those mountaintop experiences where I’m smiling and high fiving everyone around me, but they are vastly outnumbered by my screw ups that so encumber most of us. Most days are filled with hustling from place to place to find comfort to the need to fill up the brokenness with the love of others, or the need for money or endless business for the sake of being busy. Most everyone has a sense of who they are and when I am real with myself and God and I mean REAL, I am slapped in the face with just how broken I really am. Most of my friends are completely undone when I do this because they think I’m just being down on myself and I love them so dearly for their words but I don’t live in a la la land of grandeur about my being better than I really am. I don’t look at others with a microscope wondering about them either, but I do know we all seem to find a place of acceptance for who we are out of self preservation because if we didn’t we’d go out of our minds fretting over our troubles.
Politics are king and we are all masters of it whether we know it or not. Very rare are the times when we run across someone who is just a really good person who hasn’t polluted their lives with selfish virtues and lies and doesn’t have to keep their closets protected to keep the world from finding out just who they really are. Some are better than others at putting on a great front and with that skill comes great acceptance in our fallen world, but for those who are real or simply broken by life in the dark alley of sin, the world stands in the street clucking their critical judgments and calling out what a fool they are for being found out.
Christ never came to make bad people good…. He came to make dead people live. If we read our bibles instead of letting someone regurgitate what it says from a pulpit, we find that Jesus never criticized people who were not “church folk”. In fact… the religious people usually drew his ire because of their haughty actions and lack of grace for those God loved. Our belief in God is not nor has it ever been a call to a higher morality or judgment of anyone. It is a place where we are all little kids together and our father comes home with his tie undone and grabs the football to chuck to us and smother us with his love and acceptance and a gentle ear to hear of the bugs we stomped and the jungles we explored behind the neighbors back yard with our sticks and rocks as weapons. God is love….period. His whole existence is to give himself away and I long to be more like my buddy Rick who finds the biggest smiles in life when he gets hugs from gang members in a jail who for the first time in life encounter Jesus in the brokenness of who we are. Rick will be the first to tell you that God loves using broken people to love on those who need to hear of his love. It’s not the clean cut and perfect… it’s those who are simply willing to be used. ; )
I found out about the story somewhere in the middle when his girl texted me asking for prayer because she had no idea of what was going on because he was arrested after he hung up… needless to say I was freaking out, Rick is a pretty humble guy, but as far as men of God go… he is the Apostle John in my book.
Well…I found out the next day when he told me about the story that it really was a divine thing, his arrest I mean. It turns out, he was placed in a holding cell with a guy who was a gang member and the guy had lived a pretty rough life. He related to my buddy how he had been kicked around all his life, typical deal, no family, street dwelling upbringing, never heard about the Love of God, probably a really great guy, but all he knew was take from others and selfish living because of the way he was raised. Rick… being Rick was just real with the guy and didn’t judge him or look down on him with some moral haughtiness of religion; he just spoke to him like he does everyone… with the love of God in his words. The guy listened and began to question my buddy and wanted to know of his kindness and why God was so good. The funny part is when Rick was getting ready to be brought in front of the judge; the guy thanked him for his words and actually gave Rick a hug. A gang member! I laughed out loud when Rick told us of his ordeal… that is sooo just like God to let it happen like that. The real kicker of the story is when he talked to the judge who was apparently “cornfuzzlated” (as my friend Lisa says) about Rick’s arrest. The judge wanted to know WHY he was being detained, because apparently it’s not an offense to be put in cuffs over. He was given his things and released. Like Peter or Paul, Rick ran to tell his friends and share with much exuberance about how awesome it was to be used of God like that. It didn’t shock any of us because Rick’s just that kind of dude.
I find it very interesting that in the midst of our semi cruddy lives, God is able to stick his finger in the middle of the muck and pull out a pearl.
I live my life most days like many others trying to make the awkward pieces of the puzzle fit together with very little success. I have those mountaintop experiences where I’m smiling and high fiving everyone around me, but they are vastly outnumbered by my screw ups that so encumber most of us. Most days are filled with hustling from place to place to find comfort to the need to fill up the brokenness with the love of others, or the need for money or endless business for the sake of being busy. Most everyone has a sense of who they are and when I am real with myself and God and I mean REAL, I am slapped in the face with just how broken I really am. Most of my friends are completely undone when I do this because they think I’m just being down on myself and I love them so dearly for their words but I don’t live in a la la land of grandeur about my being better than I really am. I don’t look at others with a microscope wondering about them either, but I do know we all seem to find a place of acceptance for who we are out of self preservation because if we didn’t we’d go out of our minds fretting over our troubles.
Politics are king and we are all masters of it whether we know it or not. Very rare are the times when we run across someone who is just a really good person who hasn’t polluted their lives with selfish virtues and lies and doesn’t have to keep their closets protected to keep the world from finding out just who they really are. Some are better than others at putting on a great front and with that skill comes great acceptance in our fallen world, but for those who are real or simply broken by life in the dark alley of sin, the world stands in the street clucking their critical judgments and calling out what a fool they are for being found out.
Christ never came to make bad people good…. He came to make dead people live. If we read our bibles instead of letting someone regurgitate what it says from a pulpit, we find that Jesus never criticized people who were not “church folk”. In fact… the religious people usually drew his ire because of their haughty actions and lack of grace for those God loved. Our belief in God is not nor has it ever been a call to a higher morality or judgment of anyone. It is a place where we are all little kids together and our father comes home with his tie undone and grabs the football to chuck to us and smother us with his love and acceptance and a gentle ear to hear of the bugs we stomped and the jungles we explored behind the neighbors back yard with our sticks and rocks as weapons. God is love….period. His whole existence is to give himself away and I long to be more like my buddy Rick who finds the biggest smiles in life when he gets hugs from gang members in a jail who for the first time in life encounter Jesus in the brokenness of who we are. Rick will be the first to tell you that God loves using broken people to love on those who need to hear of his love. It’s not the clean cut and perfect… it’s those who are simply willing to be used. ; )
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