No, You Are Not Being Punked

Within what felt like minutes one morning last week, I thought to myself, “Am I being punked right now?”

It was the last Monday of July. I wondered if there was some secret conspiracy for everybody to go into react mode about anything and let’s include John. Next thought to myself, “What’s the current state of the moon?”

Along comes my worship pastor yesterday to introduce a song he is thinking about adding to our worship library. There is a piano take version he asked me to listen to. When I found it, I learned it’s actually born out of the artist’s completion of a soon-to-be-released book entitled Everyday Hallelujah.

In the recently released EP, there are two tracks about the book-one introducing it; the other a reading of the first chapter. These three sentences from the first chapter took me back to Monday morning and frankly, just about every day of any workweek:

Worship can be simple acts of service like mowing your neighbor’s lawn, working at a soup kitchen, or buying a stranger a cup of coffee. It can also be in the routines of life-like a prayer when you tuck your kids into bed or in the middle of your workday when you realize you are bringing order to chaos, beauty to the mundane. We worship with the lives we live. -Phil Wickham

Chances are, reader, you fall into one of two categories. You either bring order to chaos or you create beauty out of the mundane. And chances are, those in the other category disrupt your worship…more than you want to admit…out loud.

So here’s a mind shift. Rather than wonder if you’re being punked, what if you said, “Looks like I have an opportunity to worship.”

I actually fall a little into both categories, but my strength is bringing order to chaos. So yeah, I can tend to get ruffled with the chaos dwellers, particularly when they all arrive at the same time on a Monday morning as if they saved it all up from the weekend.

Here’s the challenge: View your bringing order and creating beauty as worship. When we do it together everyday, the result is a hallelujah to the one who knows all about bringing order and creating beauty, the King granting us the lives we live.

A Fool Goes to Bed Not Tired

Recently I listened to C.S. Lewis’s A Grief Observed, his reflections after the death of his wife.

He doesn’t hold back. I don’t believe he ever did.

He asks all the questions. He ponders both sides.

He doesn’t provide answers. He voices the frustrating silence of the unknown.

I tried to follow his lead. Rather than take notes, grab quotes, pull out highlights, I observed him observing.

However, this simple statement turned my head:

I do all the walking I can, for I’d be a fool to go to bed not tired.

It seemed like an off-the-cuff reference. He wasn’t addressing challenges about sleeping. He wasn’t trying to give a how-to-grieve example. Honestly, I don’t remember the exact context.

What I know is I appreciated the wisdom, for life in general as well as for someone journeying through grief.

Keep living. Keep moving.

It’s possible. It’s good for you.

Walk it out. Tire yourself out for better sleep.

Do all you can. Then go to bed.

Fools are tempted to wait until it’s bedtime to start walking.

Grief is a journey. Take it all the way to the end.

Your bed will thank you.

Drawing Near to Heaven

I think those are drawing near to heaven who in this life find that they need men less and love men more. And to like more in being loved without being needed. For where agape is there, in some degree, is heaven.

Natural loves can become eternal only insofar as they’ve allowed themselves to be taken into the eternity of agape, and this always involves a sort of death.

What a find! Audio recordings of C.S. Lewis from 1958 reading his own work.

The quotes above come from the final chapter on charity and agape love.

I find joy in these words. Kinship permeates in hearing another believer express the truth of dying to the desire to being needed resulting in more love.

Heaven draws near the more we love and allow ourselves to be loved.

Sometimes 1+1=1

On my walk to the recycle container in my community, it’s not uncommon to see something eye-catching for the first time. Recently, this was the one.

There are other larger clusters of similar design that I’ve wondered over, so this one hadn’t stood out. Now I cannot not see it between cul-de-sacs C and D.

I’ve also been walking through Romans. Explains the eye-catching.

Chapter 11 has always grabbed my attention. It’s Paul’s graphic image of wild branches (representing Gentiles) being “grafted in” to an olive tree (representing the Jews). His message is layered, but it ultimately describes exactly who God’s mercy is for…Everyone.

Interestingly, the next chapter starts with words that indicate Paul’s not done with this thought. This continuation is a well-known 1+1=2. Except, I’m not sure we always see the equation.

Chapter 12 pleads for believers to worship God for his mercy by offering ourselves as “living and holy sacrifices.” No individual, no one people group is better than all the others. In fact, we are one; we are reliant on each other like parts of a body.

Just as our bodies have many parts and each part has a special function, so it is with Christ’s body. We are many parts of one body, and we all belong to each other. Romans 12:4-5 NLT

Maybe the equation Paul is telling us is more accurate is 1+1=1.

If I knew an dendrologist (confession: I googled that), I’d invite them on a walk to cul-de-sacs C and D. Imagine what other equations there are to be reminded of…or to consider from the Creator’s point of view.

Asking and Letting God Do Surgery

More from Mark Chironna’s “Rising With Hope” devotional

Here are three clips:

Before you pray for God to change your circumstances, ask Him to adjust your way of seeing them. (Day 22, Being and Becoming)

You are not a compartmentalized being, and God has not called you to disregard any part of yourself. (Day 23, Living in Your Body)

When He searches your heart, you can trust His gentleness. He will locate the triggers of your unrest, but His surgery is not only about removing what needs to go. It is also about resuscitating the precious parts of your heart, including the hopeful, creative places that have lain dormant under the weight of oppression and disappointment. He will awaken you to the living soul you were becoming and were created to be–the one who became hidden from sight over the course of time.. (Day 26, God in Your Depths)

The Edges of Darkness and Hope

More from Mark Chironna’s “Rising With Hope” devotional

Here are three clips:

We live in a culture where everyone wants to win all the time. That is not exactly a Jesus idea. Instead, it makes people who have lost something feel like they don’t belong. (Day 11, Not a Loser)

Anything that is left broken in a family tree will only be passed down to the next generation. (Day 15, A Healing Life)

When what you buried alive rises to the surface of your consciousness, you can move in the direction of healing and greater peace. What looks like the edge of darkness becomes the edge of hope. (Day 21, In the Mercy of God)

Facing and Being Here With Pain

More from Mark Chironna’s “Rising With Hope” devotional

Here are three clips:

Whatever you do, do not surrender your praise or self-isolate. Lift your praises to God and allow someone in the faith whom you trust to remind you who you are. (Day 5, Facing the Unthinkable)

The hardest thing about being here, in the place of your pain, is the thought that you might be there alone. I can assure you that you aren’t. Wherever here is, He is. (Day 7, Being Here)

David said to God, “You have…put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your record?” Imagine! Your tears are so precious to God that He collects and keeps them! (Day 8, Being with Your Pain)

Seeing, Faith, and Feelings

I’m three days into Mark Chironna’s “Rising With Hope” devotional

Here are two clips:

Sometimes you cannot see what you covered over until a crisis forces it back to the surface. Then you cannot unsee it. (Day 1, Firmly on the Edge of Hope)

Yes, you are called to live by faith rather than by sight. But faith does not ignore feelings. Faith considers feelings in the light of faith. (Day 2, Pay Attention)

If Only Stillness Were Black and White

There are plenty of things that are pretty black and white for me.

  • All diets can include daily servings of ice cream
  • Baseball over hockey
  • “Thou shalt take naps” is the 11th Commandment

One that I wish were but it just isn’t is when to be still and when to move. We’ve all been there. The last 24 hours have reminded me that it’s not simple.

Last night a friend asked for prayer. In my efforts to pray scripture over them, Exodus 14:14 spilled out.

The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.

Based on the need, this seemed like an honorable reply for prayer.

This morning while waiting in the green room at church between worship sets, I resumed reading this book:

In describing a lifechanging conversation with a longtime friend, Chacour acknowledged the grayness of being still.

Here was that old question that had troubled me so long: As a Christian do you speak out against the actions of your enemies-or do you allow them to crush the life out of you? So many seemed to think that submitting to humiliation was the only Christian alternative. Should you not, sometimes, be stinging and preserving like salt?

Old question. So many people have answered it in ways that we admire, question, or scratch our head. If only it were black and white.

Here’s my answering history. Sometimes I’ve been still successfully; sometimes I’ve sat still too long. Sometimes I’ve moved timely; sometimes I’ve moved too quickly.

It feels like I’m constantly learning the lesson much like engaging traffic lights.

  • “Good Lord (not really a prayer). When is this light ever going to turn green?”
  • “I’m sorry (sort of a prayer). I was looking at my phone.”

If I were in charge, the traffic light of being still would have three different colors from the traditional ones.

  • Black = “You’ll regret moving, so don’t.”
  • Gray = “Have some ice cream, and chill.”
  • White = “Floor it!”

Good Lord (this is a prayer), thank you for fighting for me…and forgiving me when I don’t let you.

Hope in the Waiting of Lent (book review)

A few weeks ago I decided to find a book about Lent. I’ve read articles about Lent, but I don’t recall reading a book about it. My search led me exactly to what I was looking for.

I found that Esau McCaulley and I share two things: we grew up in Alabama, and our church upbringing didn’t include Lent. Kindred spirits. I’ll have to research to see if he roots for the right football team.

I knew I was reading the right selection when he ended his introduction with these two sentences:

What follows is an attempt to point out the things I’ve seen along the way. It is not just an explanation of Lent but an invitation to experience it, a chance to meet our risen Lord who always runs just ahead of us, beckoning us forward.

Only four chapters long, the book is manageable, ideal before and throughout Lent’s forty days. For those looking for the how’s of Lent, chapter two covers seven rituals of Lent. For those questioning the place and value of rituals, chapter three walks through the prayers and scriptures of Lent.

Ritual is both a means of spiritual formation (we learn through repetition) and an encounter (God meets us in the act of worship and praise in the liturgy)…we do not outgrow God. We never arrive at a place where we are able to “take it from here.”

The final chapter is a beautiful walk through Holy Week. Whether you grew up fully aware of Holy Week or it’s a new journey for you, McCaulley encourages embracing the freedom found in the repentance and renewal of each day and its reflection.

As it is the end of Holy Saturday, here’s one reflection about this day:

At this point in the Gospel story, there is no work left for the disciples to do. There are no more great deeds to perform. All that remains is the waiting. Holy Saturday reminds us-as the Sabbath itself does-that for all our activity, our hope is not in the things we accomplish.

I wish you hope in the waiting.