There is a profound shift that happens when we feel some hope in life. It can literally make or break your attitude and your outlook in life. It is the difference between night and day.
I find that the thing that keeps us from feeling hopeful is our perspective. In theory, we could always be hopeful because we are so profoundly loved by such an eternal God who is ever present in our lives. There is hope in Him - we can always trust Him, and we can always know He is even more invested in our future than we are. So where does our hope go when we are discouraged?
I guess we hand it away. We had it over to the bills or to that person who speaks negatively into our lives. We hand it away to our circumstances and our short sightedness. We give it away to fear and expectations.
Knowing that we have the power to hand it away or take it back can really cause a shift in how we live out our walk with God. I'll let you know if I ever get if figured out. In the mean time, I guess there is a call on all of us to take back the hope that is ours in Christ, even where there doesn't look like there is much hope.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Compromise
Compromise is one of those words that has a double meaning for me. There are times when finding a middle ground or a way to have two things be true at the same time is a valuable asset. It can be a real gift. There are times when it is most God honoring to be willing to make adjustments to what we want or hope for, settling for less than ideal.
The other side of compromise is not compromising - when giving in and settling for less than isn't a good thing. Those are the times when we need to stand our ground and hold fast to what we are called to. It is staying the course without listening to the waves around us.
Most of my life has been lived in the no compromise position. I have always been the one to stay firm, or at least call others to stay firm. I have always wanted to be the guy who hangs onto the stars despite the lack of grounding under my feet. Yet I find myself having to go against that grain and instead of reaching for the stars, settle for some rocks. I guess maybe it is the next step in the journey of following Papa. I told Him I was willing to go where ever He led. Boy, was that a dumb idea.
I cling to His goodness, despite the direction the road is taking. After all, He is God of heaven and earth.
The other side of compromise is not compromising - when giving in and settling for less than isn't a good thing. Those are the times when we need to stand our ground and hold fast to what we are called to. It is staying the course without listening to the waves around us.
Most of my life has been lived in the no compromise position. I have always been the one to stay firm, or at least call others to stay firm. I have always wanted to be the guy who hangs onto the stars despite the lack of grounding under my feet. Yet I find myself having to go against that grain and instead of reaching for the stars, settle for some rocks. I guess maybe it is the next step in the journey of following Papa. I told Him I was willing to go where ever He led. Boy, was that a dumb idea.
I cling to His goodness, despite the direction the road is taking. After all, He is God of heaven and earth.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Would you be willing to....
I wonder what the limits are to what we would be willing to do to follow God. I sometimes imagine the very antithesis of the way I live, and ask myself if I would live that way if God called me to it. For example, I could never work in a factory. I would need to be hospitalized within three months for psychiatric disorders (new ones, not the ones I already have). But if God parted the clouds and said "Mike, I want you to work in a factory for $8 an hour," I would. It is the parting of the clouds that makes that answer easy.
But what about all those times in life when the sky doesn't do anything, and there isn't any voice? I guess we do whatever makes the most sense. And if we do, what guarantees do we have? Deeper still is the question of where the heck we got the idea that following God was going to have anything to do with guarantees. That stupid notion sure isn't from anything I read about in the Bible. Except for a couple very select individuals, God didn't hand out many guarantees. What He handed out was faith.
So faith is what we do when the sky doesn't part. It is what we do because there is no clear direction as to what to do.
I suppose some day, when I am older and balder and not backpacking quite as much, I will look back at the 'steps of faith' moments, and they might make sense. Then again, they might not. He is still worth focusing out faces toward as we blunder on in the journey.
I guess His presence is the guarantee.
But what about all those times in life when the sky doesn't do anything, and there isn't any voice? I guess we do whatever makes the most sense. And if we do, what guarantees do we have? Deeper still is the question of where the heck we got the idea that following God was going to have anything to do with guarantees. That stupid notion sure isn't from anything I read about in the Bible. Except for a couple very select individuals, God didn't hand out many guarantees. What He handed out was faith.
So faith is what we do when the sky doesn't part. It is what we do because there is no clear direction as to what to do.
I suppose some day, when I am older and balder and not backpacking quite as much, I will look back at the 'steps of faith' moments, and they might make sense. Then again, they might not. He is still worth focusing out faces toward as we blunder on in the journey.
I guess His presence is the guarantee.
Monday, January 12, 2009
The Starbucks guy
I was in Denver this last weekend, and had a few hours to kill, so I went to Starbucks. I know, pretty depraved.
I sat there drinking my $567 mocha latte frapaccino thingy and began smelling the rankest smell. It was a mildewy BO smell that I thought was coming from a week old coffee spill someone had forgotten to clean up, but as I got my head out of my computer and looked around, I quickly saw where the origin was. Two tables away sat a homeless guy.
He was tall and probably good looking under the scruffy beard and unkempt hair. His stock of worldly belongings sat opposite him on the chair across the table, and every bit of his clothing had that greasy, hadn't-been-washed-in-months look to it. He sat staring as if he was carrying on a conversation with someone. His face often contorting into an expression as if someone who he cared about had just shared something awful with him. Whatever it was he was doing, it consumed him. He had no awareness of any one else in the room.
I watched him for a long time. I could feel a deep pain for him as he looked very trapped in a one sided conversation that only he could hear. I wanted to reach out to him, but what could I do? I didn't have any money. As I reviewed my own finances, I realized the sobering truth that I wasn't very far from joining him. I knew that if there weren't a few key people in my life propping up my world, I would be homeless too. I wanted to make a difference for the guy, but reality told me the way the path would go.
I had worked for 2 years with guys just like the Starbucks guy. They were usually severely mentally ill - the kind that were barely alive even after they were taking their medications. The best life got for them was a low grade existence. I knew from hundreds of hours of trying to bring people like him back to reality that it was mostly impossible. The best he would get would be a little more tolerable to be around - washed up, groomed, numbed with medication, and harmless. I knew he would never be fully alive. It broke my heart to realize I was powerless. Handing him $20 wouldn't have done anything, even if I had it to give. Taking him home with me and cleaning him up and feeding him and putting him to work shoveling snow off my roof wouldn't have given him any life that he could actually take in. Like the layer of greasy dirt on his clothing, there was a profound glaze on his life that I knew I couldn't wash away with any amount of detergent. I felt sad and powerless.
So I sat and watched him, and I hurt. I ached for his illness and the emptiness he lived in. I felt ashamed that although my bank account was pretty depleted, I had so much compared to him. I had my mind, my presence, my wits about me. I was sane and in my right mind. How I longed to speak to the demons that held him captive, but knew I had no magic words.
Seeing the Starbucks guy made me want to live, because I knew he couldn't.
I sat there drinking my $567 mocha latte frapaccino thingy and began smelling the rankest smell. It was a mildewy BO smell that I thought was coming from a week old coffee spill someone had forgotten to clean up, but as I got my head out of my computer and looked around, I quickly saw where the origin was. Two tables away sat a homeless guy.
He was tall and probably good looking under the scruffy beard and unkempt hair. His stock of worldly belongings sat opposite him on the chair across the table, and every bit of his clothing had that greasy, hadn't-been-washed-in-months look to it. He sat staring as if he was carrying on a conversation with someone. His face often contorting into an expression as if someone who he cared about had just shared something awful with him. Whatever it was he was doing, it consumed him. He had no awareness of any one else in the room.
I watched him for a long time. I could feel a deep pain for him as he looked very trapped in a one sided conversation that only he could hear. I wanted to reach out to him, but what could I do? I didn't have any money. As I reviewed my own finances, I realized the sobering truth that I wasn't very far from joining him. I knew that if there weren't a few key people in my life propping up my world, I would be homeless too. I wanted to make a difference for the guy, but reality told me the way the path would go.
I had worked for 2 years with guys just like the Starbucks guy. They were usually severely mentally ill - the kind that were barely alive even after they were taking their medications. The best life got for them was a low grade existence. I knew from hundreds of hours of trying to bring people like him back to reality that it was mostly impossible. The best he would get would be a little more tolerable to be around - washed up, groomed, numbed with medication, and harmless. I knew he would never be fully alive. It broke my heart to realize I was powerless. Handing him $20 wouldn't have done anything, even if I had it to give. Taking him home with me and cleaning him up and feeding him and putting him to work shoveling snow off my roof wouldn't have given him any life that he could actually take in. Like the layer of greasy dirt on his clothing, there was a profound glaze on his life that I knew I couldn't wash away with any amount of detergent. I felt sad and powerless.
So I sat and watched him, and I hurt. I ached for his illness and the emptiness he lived in. I felt ashamed that although my bank account was pretty depleted, I had so much compared to him. I had my mind, my presence, my wits about me. I was sane and in my right mind. How I longed to speak to the demons that held him captive, but knew I had no magic words.
Seeing the Starbucks guy made me want to live, because I knew he couldn't.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Stranded on the trail
I have been thinking lately about what it means to be and have a friend. I know hundreds of people, maybe thousands. In the last 6 months I have been doing the Facebook thing, and as I reflect on those interactions, I am struck that the same thing happens on Facebook as happens in life. People go through the motions of connecting, but not much really happens.
When I sit right down and think about it, a person can really only have a couple real friends. It is so much more common to have a bunch of acquaintances that you never really get anywhere with. How many people can we really be close to? It's like there isn't that much room on the trail of life to walk side by side with that many people. 2 or 3 maybe. That's about it.
And what makes up the traveling together that makes the investment worth it? Sharing the journey I suppose; having someone to talk about the trail with, someone to help you when there is a snag you can't get past, a brother or sister that can encourage you on your way. I can't even imagine doing the trail without a couple people to walk with. I find that I really need them. We really can't do this alone, even if we want to.
My truck broke down today - I know, hard to believe. It is only 19 years old with 200,000 miles. I was panicking because I had to get the kids to school, the truck wouldn't start, and it's big carcass was blocking in the car that has 225,000 miles on it. It finally started, but I knew I needed to take it into the shop. I called my next door neighbor, and he gladly picked me up at the shop and took me home.
Being truckless was pretty terrifying. For those of you who don't live in Colorado, you just plain can't make it out here without a four wheel drive, even if you wanted to try. Not only is the car useless, it is buried under 3 feet of snow.
Today, a neighbor who cared to walk the path with me was worth his weight in gold.
I wonder what kind of friends we are to each other. Are we walking the path with others on a regular basis? Is there a couple people you can count on when the snow gets high and the truck doesn't run?
I am thankful today to not be stranded on the trail of life.
When I sit right down and think about it, a person can really only have a couple real friends. It is so much more common to have a bunch of acquaintances that you never really get anywhere with. How many people can we really be close to? It's like there isn't that much room on the trail of life to walk side by side with that many people. 2 or 3 maybe. That's about it.
And what makes up the traveling together that makes the investment worth it? Sharing the journey I suppose; having someone to talk about the trail with, someone to help you when there is a snag you can't get past, a brother or sister that can encourage you on your way. I can't even imagine doing the trail without a couple people to walk with. I find that I really need them. We really can't do this alone, even if we want to.
My truck broke down today - I know, hard to believe. It is only 19 years old with 200,000 miles. I was panicking because I had to get the kids to school, the truck wouldn't start, and it's big carcass was blocking in the car that has 225,000 miles on it. It finally started, but I knew I needed to take it into the shop. I called my next door neighbor, and he gladly picked me up at the shop and took me home.
Being truckless was pretty terrifying. For those of you who don't live in Colorado, you just plain can't make it out here without a four wheel drive, even if you wanted to try. Not only is the car useless, it is buried under 3 feet of snow.
Today, a neighbor who cared to walk the path with me was worth his weight in gold.
I wonder what kind of friends we are to each other. Are we walking the path with others on a regular basis? Is there a couple people you can count on when the snow gets high and the truck doesn't run?
I am thankful today to not be stranded on the trail of life.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Grace and power
Sometimes I am completely boggled by the concept of grace. It is one of those things you just have to experience. When you have done something awful, and the very person you hurt is loving back instead of being bitter and awful in return - that's grace. Or when someone gives you a gift with absolutely no strings attached. I have always heard it said that grace is unmerited favor. Why is it that Christians say phrases like that and never translate it? Grace is when you are given something or something is done for you that you don't deserve. It is a 'just because' gift that isn't about you, but about their choice to give.
There are so many ways to be powerful in the world. We can intimidate people by being smart or strong or loud or big or swearing a lot. We can be powerful by putting other people down and shaming them. We can be powerful by controlling people and manipulating them through your higher status on the hierarchy ladder at work or in the church. We can be powerful by guilting people or making them feel obligated. We can be powerful by being really angry or really selfish or really depressed. I guess there really isn't an end to the list is there?
But I really believe that there is nothing more motivating and ultimately powerful that grace. Because grace is the only way to be powerful that has nothing to do with the other person. It has totally to do with us. If I choose to be graceful in an interaction, it is my gift to give. It doesn't require a response or a change from that other person. It is my power! It is my wonderful gift to wield as I want. It really does make me ultimately powerful - in a profoundly loving way - because I am the only one who can use it. And the very definition of grace implies that it is good. It can't be other than that.
So if you want to be really powerful and deeply motivating to others in the world, throw your weight around a little bit. Be in grace every moment of every day.
There are so many ways to be powerful in the world. We can intimidate people by being smart or strong or loud or big or swearing a lot. We can be powerful by putting other people down and shaming them. We can be powerful by controlling people and manipulating them through your higher status on the hierarchy ladder at work or in the church. We can be powerful by guilting people or making them feel obligated. We can be powerful by being really angry or really selfish or really depressed. I guess there really isn't an end to the list is there?
But I really believe that there is nothing more motivating and ultimately powerful that grace. Because grace is the only way to be powerful that has nothing to do with the other person. It has totally to do with us. If I choose to be graceful in an interaction, it is my gift to give. It doesn't require a response or a change from that other person. It is my power! It is my wonderful gift to wield as I want. It really does make me ultimately powerful - in a profoundly loving way - because I am the only one who can use it. And the very definition of grace implies that it is good. It can't be other than that.
So if you want to be really powerful and deeply motivating to others in the world, throw your weight around a little bit. Be in grace every moment of every day.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Sailing into a new year
I have an analogy for life in this new year that I am liking, and that is challenging me. It is the picture of seeing our relationship with God as being a big galleon out on the ocean. The ocean is life - limitless, expansive, and overwhelming at times. And the big ship, with masts pointing to the sky, and giant sails catching the wind, is us.
Every one of us has a uniquely different ship. As I sail mine, I find a bunch of lessons facing me as I look at the horizon of a new year. This is a unique place that Papa has me in. At the moment, the sails are up, and the wind is dead. There is nothing moving the ship - I find myself waiting for a breeze. Sometimes I think that I am a fool for having every sail I have drooping in the dead air. It looks like I am pretty hopeful for this new year. It also looks like the sails are up for no reason. Maybe they offer shade more than anything else.
In the dead calm it gets mighty tempting to go below and fire the engine up. Historically that is what I have done when the wind dies down. There is a voice in my head that says I am stupid for waiting for a wind that may never come. I tell myself sometimes that it just makes more sense to be going somewhere - even if it is the wrong way and under my own power - than it does to wait on a God who may or may not breathe on my life.
The other thing that happens in the windless season is that I look off the bow of the boat and wonder if the waves I see there far below are water or sand. If those waves are solid ground, I really will be a fool for thinking any amount of wind could move my ship.
Faith tells me to leave the giant sails hanging in the sky. It also tells me to trust that sooner or later the wind will blow. Faith says to hang onto the belief that the boat is still in the water, and that those are waves of billowing sea foam and not crests of blowing sand I see below me. Faith says that Papa wants to teach me as much in the dead calm as He does in the season ahead when the wind will blow mightily.
I don't know if my analogy for 2009 makes any sense to anybody but me. Maybe it isn't supposed to. I know that I have a lot to do in managing the affairs of my ship, and that I want to walk in faith that He is ultimately the captain.
So Lord, may this year be a mighty sailing year, full of adventure and new horizons. And more than anything, may You be glorified by the way I sail.
Every one of us has a uniquely different ship. As I sail mine, I find a bunch of lessons facing me as I look at the horizon of a new year. This is a unique place that Papa has me in. At the moment, the sails are up, and the wind is dead. There is nothing moving the ship - I find myself waiting for a breeze. Sometimes I think that I am a fool for having every sail I have drooping in the dead air. It looks like I am pretty hopeful for this new year. It also looks like the sails are up for no reason. Maybe they offer shade more than anything else.
In the dead calm it gets mighty tempting to go below and fire the engine up. Historically that is what I have done when the wind dies down. There is a voice in my head that says I am stupid for waiting for a wind that may never come. I tell myself sometimes that it just makes more sense to be going somewhere - even if it is the wrong way and under my own power - than it does to wait on a God who may or may not breathe on my life.
The other thing that happens in the windless season is that I look off the bow of the boat and wonder if the waves I see there far below are water or sand. If those waves are solid ground, I really will be a fool for thinking any amount of wind could move my ship.
Faith tells me to leave the giant sails hanging in the sky. It also tells me to trust that sooner or later the wind will blow. Faith says to hang onto the belief that the boat is still in the water, and that those are waves of billowing sea foam and not crests of blowing sand I see below me. Faith says that Papa wants to teach me as much in the dead calm as He does in the season ahead when the wind will blow mightily.
I don't know if my analogy for 2009 makes any sense to anybody but me. Maybe it isn't supposed to. I know that I have a lot to do in managing the affairs of my ship, and that I want to walk in faith that He is ultimately the captain.
So Lord, may this year be a mighty sailing year, full of adventure and new horizons. And more than anything, may You be glorified by the way I sail.
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