THIS DAY

Behold, now is the day of salvation. 

- 2 Corinthians 6:2

Today - this day, however much remains of it - is an important day. It is the most important day; because it is the day, the time, we are given.

And in this day, however much remains of it, God wants to do something in our lives, and through our lives.

Spiritual procrastination is an infection. It is an ailment from which we all suffer at times, and to various degrees. Prolonged periods of the affliction dull us to the presence and purpose of God in our lives. (That last sentence may be worth a re-read.) I do not have a guilt-goal here, for you or me; but our misunderstanding of this day's importance (however much remains of it) affects not only us, but others.

Look carefully then how you walk (live), not as unwise but as wise, 

making the best use of the time, because the days are evil.

-- Ephesians 5:15-16. 

We have best intentions about what we will do, or begin, tomorrow. But tomorrows become todays, and before we know it, yesterdays.

Now is the day of salvation. 

It is always in the present that God works in our lives. We can reminisce about what he did in the yesterdays; and that is a good thing. But we cannot live there. As one preacher put it: We can no more operate today on the grace God gave for yesterday than we can drive our car today on the gas that we burned to get around yesterday. 

We also trust him with our tomorrows. And that is a good thing. But we cannot live there. To stay with the metaphor, our grace tank is only large enough to hold what is required for today.

God gives GRACE-GAS for this day, for now. 

Today - however much remains of it - matters. It is the NOW in which God is at work in us and around us. Jesus said to Zacchaeus, "Today salvation has come to this house," (Luke 19:9). Why? How? Because Jesus had come to the house. And that moment was the moment; the Now is the day of salvation moment. 

Jesus has come to our house. And because he is present, this day - however much remains of it - matters. 

God, help me to make the most of the time.

For now...

D

SERVANTS & SAINTS

Paul and Timothy, servants of Christ Jesus, to all the saints in Christ Jesus...

- Philippians 1:1

I began reading through Philippians this morning. Why? Paul's letter to the Philippians is known as The letter of joy. In the midst of the storms of life, a reminder of joy sounds good to me. 

I didn't get far into my reading when something leapt out; and frankly, it wasn't what I was looking for. 

Paul opens the letter with a fairly normal greeting. In his hello, two words jumped out immediately:

SERVANTS & SAINTS

Paul was an uber-apostle. His writings and influence helped shape the early church and the (our) faith throughout the centuries. His life was a picture of the miraculous and gut-it-out faithfulness. His ears heard the audible voice of Jesus and the grating chorus of detractors. Paul lived for his (our) faith. Paul died for his (our) faith. Paul was a saint. (I know this because his first name is Saint, as in Saint Paul.) 

It's interesting to me that Paul didn't begin his letter: "Paul and Timothy, saints of Christ Jesus, to all the servants..." Nope, the opposite. Paul calls himself (and Timothy) servants, and the everyday people, the holding-on-by-a-fingernail believers, he addresses as saints. 

And that's it for this post. You and I are saints. You and I are servants. I propose that the more Saintly we become, the more Servantly we are. Or maybe, the more Servantly we are (in action), the more Saintly we become. Or... maybe it's both. Yea, I think that's it. 

You and I are SAINTS...

Believe and hold on to it. It's something Christ did for us. 

You and I are SERVANTS:

Live it and do it. It's something Christ does through us. 

God, the only way for me to understand I am a saint is to live as a servant. And the power to truly serve comes from understanding you have made me a saint. 

For now...

D

RENEWED NORMAL

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb, taking the spices they had prepared...

- Luke 24:1

Jesus is dead. They saw him die. They saw him buried. There is nothing they can do about it.

They have accepted this New Normal; one with a sky a little less bright, smiles a little less broad, hope a little less real. Jesus is dead.

All they can do now is memorialize the past. Go to it's grave and place flowers. Go to Jesus' body and honor who and what he was with burial spices and oils.

This is their New Normal.

Something to think about with New Normals however...

Though moments can feel like eons, often New Normals are only transitions. 

I don't know what happened inside that cave tomb. (I hope to watch the video someday.) What I do know is it was not Normal. Death does not give up his prey. Grave doesn't loosen his grip. 

Normal is: dead saviors stay dead. 

Normal is: isolation in windowless rooms. 

Normal is: fear so real it tastes of metal.  

Normal is: the silence of Saturday carries on, drowning out the melodies of hope and joy. 

Resurrection is not normal. But Jesus was not into normal. (Jesus is not into normal.) 

Saturday's silence was shattered in the way a black night fails in the presence of continual lightning; finally giving way to a cloudless sunrise. A stone was ejected to reveal a grave unoccupied. On a slab, neatly folded burial clothes: "I won't be needing these." 

Jesus begins showing up in strange places. Near his former tomb he meets two women who planned to honor his dead body. And joy is resurrected. He suddenly pops up in a stagnant room filled with fearful former followers. And hope is resurrected. He prepares breakfast on the shore for fishless fishermen, who at his direction came to the sudden realization that they might need bigger boats and stronger nets. Wonder and awe are resurrected.  

In each case, their normal is no longer. It has been renewed. Resurrection Renews Normal. And normal can never be normal again. This resurrected Renewed Normal pervades everything. Every New Normal we face finds its context within the power and perspective of resurrection. 

The storm will pass. 

The pain will end.

The isolation will be broken. 

Now matter how normal each may seem.

Because Jesus changes everything. 

And even normal can never be normal again. 

Jesus has Renewed Normal. 

He is Risen...

(And all the angels shouted...) He is Risen Indeed!

For now...

D

NEW NORMAL... SILENT SATURDAY

A New Normal...

We have heard the words repeatedly the past couple weeks (it seems like months!). We hear them spoken in press briefings. We see them illustrated in television commercials. We read them in numerous memes on social media.

A New Normal...

At times the words inspire me. At others, for some reason, they ring with melancholy. I have some thoughts about Normal vs New Normal that I'll get to in upcoming posts. Today and tomorrow however, I want to take it back a couple thousand years and change. So for today, let's think about the New Normal of a Silent Saturday.

We call it Holy Week. For the band that followed Jesus into the city gates, in what is now known as The Triumphal Entry, the week didn't seem so holy; especially come Saturday.

It was Silent Saturday.  

The adoring crowds? Long gone. The bewildered Temple marketeers? Business as usual. The blood-thirsty self-serving religious elite? High-fiving their victory. Heaven? silent. The would-be savior Jesus? Ingloriously nailed to a cross and now buried. And his piece-meal group of followers? Locked in windowless isolation. Fearful. Hopeless. Questioning. Abandoned.

This was their New Normal.

Their normal had been completely enveloped and invested in a living prophet; a water-walking, storm-calming, sight-restoring, words-of-life-speaking, counter-cultural, emerging king. Really, that normal was actually fairly new in itself. For most, their prior normal had been a mosaic of condemnation, hopelessness, directionless wondering, and falling short. But at Jesus' touch, normal had changed.

But that was then - as recently as a day ago. New Normal is fear. New Normal is hopelessness and heartbreak. New Normal is isolation - as much internal as external. New Normal is abandonment.

Something to think about with New Normals however...

Though moments can feel like eons, 

often New Normals are only transitions. 

Saturday's silence is only Saturday's New Normal... My mind wants to run on a thousand tangents of application; especially in our current social-distancing, self-isolating, mask-wearing situation. But I'll allow your applications to be your own (and mine, mine). 

This is what I know...

A resurrected New Normal is coming. 

Silent Saturdays give way to the sunrise of Sunday. And in that sunrise, there is new life. 

God, I'm not satisfied with my normal of silence and isolation. But I trust you are creating a resurrected New Normal... that in reality, is anything but normal!

For now...

D

STORMS (pt1) BEAM ME UP, SCOTTY

I can do all things... 
- (part of) Philippians 4:13

Star Trek ran for 79 episodes. Not once did a character say, "Beam me up, Scotty." Nor did Humphrey Bogart's Rick ever say, "Play it again, Sam," in Casablanca. Both are commonly attributed to the originals. Neither is there.

Nowhere in scripture is it written that God will never give you (or allow) more that you can handle. We hear it all the time. And it is as cliche as Beam me up Scotty.

The fact is God will again and again allow us more than we can handle. (Stay with me, it get's worse... then better!)

Paul wrote of his struggles: For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself (2 Corinthians 1:8). David writes much the same: I am feeble and utterly crushed; I groan in anguish of heart (Psalm 38:8).

Ultimately, 11 of the 12 disciples were martyred for their faith. The twelfth, John, was boiled alive in oil (and lived), and then exiled - where by the way, he had the incredible Revelation of Christ and wrote the letter of the same name.

I often face circumstances, burdens and pain beyond what I can bear. Please re-read the very last part of that statement: ...beyond what I can bear. 

There are two lies born out of the statement, God will not give you (or allow) more than you can handle. The first is that YOU can handle it. You. By yourself. You can and must be strong. 

The truth is, eventually you can't. There must be WE. The life of faith cannot be lived in isolation. Paul writes that we are to, bear one another's burdens (Galatians 6:2). When we cannot lift another's burdens, we must lift the person who carries the burden. Christianity - and life as a whole - is to be lived in community; not in isolation. 

The second lie is much like the first. It centers in the bearing of burdens. We are not human pack-mules, destined to trudge through life weighed down. That is not the joy inexpressible and full of glory Peter writes of (1 Peter 1:8); or the fullness of joy of which Jesus speaks (John 15:11). 

As a matter of fact it was Jesus who said:

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, 

and I will give you rest... you will find rest for your souls. 

For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. 

-- Matthew 11:28-30

(I told you it would get better!) 

I've often heard well-intentioned people say, "That's just my cross to bear," in speaking of a struggle or burden. But crosses are not for carrying. They are for dying. And when we are daily, crucified with Christ, as Paul wrote, we are also daily resurrected with him. It is only the pains, the struggles, the burdens, and the sin that remain nailed to the cross. 

So... can I can do all things... Well, yes, but...
When we read Paul's words in context we understand he is speaking about the power of relying completely on Christ in faith. Even more specifically, he is speaking to the power and perspective that is birthed out of contentedness. This power is not necessarily to stop the storms of life, or to dance on top of the waves singing a happy tune. 

Sometimes the power is to grab an oar and pull hard... to make one more stroke against the wind and waves. Yes, I believe Jesus can, and sometimes does stand up in the boat and calm the torrent with a word. But the callouses on my hands tell me he usually teaches me in a different way. And who knows, when my head is down and I am faithfully rowing with my last drops of strength, what greater waves or storms pass me by without my ever knowing?

Will God give or allow us to face more than we can handle? Maybe it's splitting hairs... but I'm going to say yes - alone, isolated, and in my own strength? Yes. But when I am driven to rely on the community of others, and to the feet of Jesus, NO. There is no valley too deep. There is no mountain too high. There is no storm too great.

God, because you are with me I can walk through any valley, I am ready for the storm. 

For now...

D

BLAME CONTROL

Just a thought. It may not land on your runway. My plane taxis here from time to time...

It's always someone's fault... The It changes. The Someone changes. What doesn't change is that It is always someone's fault. 

Or, at least I know... It's not MY fault. Right? (Hmmm...)

There are two things I can control when I am not in control. The first is BLAME. I gain a sense of control when I assign blame. At the very least, I can chunk any responsibility (of my own).  

There is a problem with blame. When I blame I cast myself in the role of victim. Think about that: It is my life story, my play, my epic, and I relegate myself to minor character status. Or at best, I nominate myself for best supporting actor. In. My. Own. Damn. Story! Playing off a lead actor that is not even aware of my role in the tale. 

This morning I watched a 20 minute video of Dwayne Johnson addressing his Instagram audience while standing in his fully equipped gym. Let me start by saying I am fan (though I've watched a total of 3 minutes of Professional Wrestling in my lifetime). I appreciate The Rock's intensity, entrepreneurship, talent, and even his perspectives. 

When he first began speaking, I was miffed. Why? He was post-workout in a fully equipped gym! And I'm relegated to Amazon-delivered resistance bands to get my lactic acid fix. I was ready to blame. "It's easy for you Mr. Celebrity in your incredible gym to "shelter in place." I felt it creeping up... if I can blame him just a bit, I can feel better about my circumstances. (Again, hmmm...) Johnson actually addressed this in the video. He did it well and with empathy. And my respect grew. 

I use this to illustrate how easy it is to play the part of victim by placing blame. Or, at least to scream, "It's not MY fault!" The fact is: It's not my/your fault... and that matters exactly zero!

I'm sheltering in place because of a virus. I hate this statement but, It is what it is. It is too easy to blame others - countries, leaders, basketballers or Winnie the Pooh (why not, as long as we're at it?). If finger-pointing occurs for ANY reason other than preparing to be better prepared in the future, it is worthless.* It is powerless. But it is not victimless. When I cry out, "It's someone's fault... It's not my fault... I become a victim. The problem with Blame Control? When I blame, I AM controlled. 

There is another thing I control. It is BELIEF. It is FAITH. Faith creates a hope that is not dependent on circumstance. "It's not my fault" is deflated. However (or by whomever) the IT comes, I have the power to respond. And the best response is prepared response. Faith is muscular. It is built through training and trial. 

I believe the greatest faith is more than a hope things will get better. It is even beyond a belief in myself. The overcoming kind of faith is in something (I believe someONE) bigger than me. 

There is much I cannot control - viruses, tornadoes (yep, it's that time of year), or even the safety of a flight I jump on. But I will not blame. I will respond with the control of faith. 

A long time ago a brilliant man wrote it, and I grew up singing it:

I know whom I have believed,

Am and persuaded,

That he is able,

To keep that which I've committed,

To him until that day. 

For now,

D

*If you read any kind of political statement into this post, one of two things has occurred. Either I have miscommunicated my intent, or you have put on the glasses of bias. If the first is the case, forgive me and I'll rite gooder in the future. If the second, well It's not your fault that you are wearing them :) 

A Stumbler's Walk | STUMBLING UPWARD...

For  this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen.

- 2 Corinthians 4:17-18

Yesterday I posted a meme I had come across. I planned to follow it up with something like: Just ask Sarah or Abraham, Joseph or Moses, Mary or Peter; Daniel, Paul, another Mary, Simeon, Annah, several blind guys, lepers, even a dead child and her parents... 

Oddly enough (?) my reading today drove the point more deeply home. (As I used to say with every message preached, "This one is for me, before it is for anyone else.") 

Paul writes of the power of light in the midst of darkness, and that this light of hope is housed in fragile jars of clay. We are the jars of clay. 

Flawed. 

Fragile. 

Apt to break. 

Often in need of repair. 

God has chosen it to be this way. He has chosen to place the power of the gospel's hope within our fragility.  

But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed...

- 2 Corinthians 4:7-9

A friend recently asked me to define progress. I said, "...movement toward a goal." Dory put it this way, "Just keep swimming." I like that. Following an intense leg workout yesterday, I shuffled up the hill to my house. And when I say hill, no exaggeration, it is a HILL! I happened to be on the phone with a buddy as I was struggling - let's call it stumbling up the hill. I'm sure my breathing sounded like the chugging of an old-time locomotive on his end. I told him I wasn't moving quickly, but as long as one foot found it's way in front of the other toward the top, I would make it. I finished the conversation from my couch, still breathing heavily, glad the hill was behind me. (Until next time.)  

Whatever your hill... STUMBLE ON!

This is today's message to the image in my mirror: (And maybe in it you can find some encouragement, whether you are a believer or skeptic, rock-solid or wavering, questioning, doubting, hurting, or just holding on.)

Have you lost direction? STUMBLE ON! 

Have you lost strength? STUMBLE ON!  

Have you lost hope? STUMBLE ON! 

Have you lost joy? STUMBLE ON! 

Have you lost faith? STUMBLE ON! 

Our stories are being written. Now. Today. And our stories of faithful stumbling will be someone else's survival guide one day. The dance will come. For now... stumble on!

God, one shuffling step at a time, I stumble after you.

For now...
D