Bright lights on brand new eyes and a first gasp of breath. Unfamiliarity whirrs by the tiny newborn baby with the reddish skin and big round eyes as he is passed from rubber gloved hands back to his only companion for the last nine months. He can’t see her very well but can feel her arms comfort and soothe and he knows her voice so well already. In his first moment of life, lungs still unaccustomed to breathing, he wonders to himself for the first time, “Is this what love feels like?”
Everything was fun until he tripped over that rock. Laughing and running on a summer day it came out of nowhere and now the three year old giggling boy had a hole in his jeans and warm blood running down his knee. Oh but Daddy is here, picking him up and holding him close. Daddy is always there when he needs him. Amidst intermittent sobs, the boy thinks to himself from the arms of his father that this is what love must feel like.
She makes fun of him at school because she doesn’t want anyone to know. A big heart drawn in bright red crayon on a sheet of notebook paper folded over eight times was sent across the room in secret. The boy with the blonde hair opens the note, looks up at her, and smiles. Her cheeks turn rosy red and she tells all her friends that this is what love feels like.
He used to love playing baseball, he really did, but now it is not so fun. When daddy said he would be his coach he thought everything was going to be great and that he would finally get to see him but he didn’t know how much daddy like to yell. It wasn’t his fault, honestly, nobody could have hit that pitch. That didn’t stop his coach from screaming his name loud enough for everyone to hear and calling him a girl. “I guess this is what love feels like” the player muttered to himself as he slumped back to the dugout throwing his red cap into the dust below his cleats.
Everyone’s bodies are changing, and some are getting more attention than others. It didn’t take long for the pre-teen girl to realize that the guys in her class seemed to like her more when she wore that particular red shirt with those particular shorts. Looking in the mirror in her bedroom she realized that by just showing a little bit more, she could really know what love felt like.
Her head buried under a pillow drowning out her screaming parents downstairs, she realized that she is never too old to cry. One last slamming of the door and it is all over as her eyes turn red from tears. Now she lives in two different houses but neither of them feel like home and she has convinced herself that all of it was her fault and that’s just how love actually feels.
Drenched in sweat his teammates lift him onto their shoulders and the crowd goes crazy. That was his name they were screaming, and just because of a lucky catch for a lucky win. He could already picture his bright red jersey displayed in the trophy rack of his high school and smiled because now he felt good enough to know what love felt like.
No girl had ever let him go this far before, this time must be the real thing. The lights were dimmed and the movie was over but she was still there with her big red lips inviting him closer. One hand sliding up further than it ever slid before and a quick decision and they were off. He woke up the next morning ready to tell the guys in the locker room all about what love felt like.
He was a really great guy, she couldn’t afford to lose him. No other guy looked at her the way he did and now was the time to show him that she really loved him. One momentary lapse of reason and the red ribbon in her hair was pulled out and everything started moving in a blur. She got caught in the moment that she wished would last a lifetime but faded away the next day when she never saw him again. If this is what love felt like she didn’t want anything to do with it.
School was impossible and the parents just didn’t understand, but thankfully he had his friends. Playing video games downstairs it all started innocent until one guy reached into his pocket. So small and insignificant, but everyone wanted to try it. A couple puffs each and everyone was having a good time telling jokes and laughing with red eyes. This was where he could escape and be with people who actually understood him. He had never felt love anywhere else so he guessed that this is what it must feel like.
Hardly recognizable as human, the man hung bloodied and beaten and on display for the world to see. His body was red with stained blood and open flesh as the nails piercing his hands suspended him against a wooden cross. Insults and saliva flew toward him without relief but he didn’t say a word. He knew that sometimes love had to feel like this. He also knew that soon He would be able to come down from that cross and wrap His arms around His children and show them what Love really felt like. He would get to show them that the things they thought were love that hurt them so much were never love at all and the things that they experienced in life that felt like love were just a shadow of the real abundant Love He was giving them. Love kept Him up on that cross, and Love took Him off it and sent Him into our lives.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Is this what it feels like?
Friday, September 16, 2011
Nolo Contendere
In those books there some very long lists of sins we didn’t even know existed that we could easily blacken our consciousness' with. Didn’t know you should feel bad about cutting the hair on the side of your head? Well Leviticus 19:27 says you should be, apparently God really digs sideburns. If you read earlier in that chapter in verse 19 you will find that you are also a dirty rotten sinner for wearing clothing woven out of two different kinds of fabrics. Think you are innocent of this one? What about that T shirt you have that says it’s made of 99% cotton? What’s the other one percent? What do you have to say for yourself Mr. half-breed polyester?
Deuteronomy 22:12 tells us to make tassels to wear on the four corners of our cloak. What!? You mean to tell me that you haven’t made your own tassels and fastened them to the corners of all your cloaks? You don’t even wear a cloak? I don’t know how you expect to make it to heaven.
If reading all these laws doesn’t make you feel guilty, you should at least feel guilty about not being able to get through the book of Leviticus.
It is ridiculous to think of anyone looking for things to feel guilty for but I think we do it all the time. We walk around with huge signs on our foreheads advertising all of our failures and mistakes because we think it will explain to the world why were are what we are today. We know we aren’t good enough for God’s grace and for some reason, we keep looking through our past to find more proof that we don’t deserve it.
In Exodus we find a people plagued with guilt. God gave them the opportunity to pay for their crimes by having the priests offer sacrifices on behalf on the people. In order to do so, the priest would have to enter the Holy of Holies, the place where God Himself dwelled. The priest had to walk in with the guilt of his people and know that at any moment God literally could strike him down and that He had every right to do so. Bells were fastened to the edge of his garment and a long rope was tied around his waist just in case, should God’s wrath be so fitting, that the priest fell down dead before the Lord, the people on the other side of the curtain would hear the bells and be able to reel in the body of their priest.
The people recognized their guilt and recognized the holiness of their God and had to walk with the stains of everything they had done wrong trailing behind them into the presence of God.
There was, however, another article of priestly clothing that is generally overlooked and was ordained by God to be worn. On the turban of the priest was to be a sign made of pure gold that read “Holy to the Lord.” Try and imagine this.
The priest would walk in with the guilt of his people behind him and the full awareness that he could die for his crimes but all God would see coming towards him was this sign on his forehead that read “Holy to the Lord.”
He wasn’t looking at all that was behind him, He was looking at the sign that said that this man and the people he represented were holy- set apart and purified, and that they were good enough to walk into His presence.
We as people tend to view our lives from the lens of our past. We take all of our past experiences and put them together as the basis for our identity and expect that God does the same thing. We forget that God is bigger than our understanding of time. He gets to see our lives from the lens of our future. In His perspective, we are already standing beside Him in paradise as completed and perfected souls who’s robes have been washed clean and crowns already rewarded. He sees us how we actually are.
Who are we to see ourselves otherwise?
If you are accused of a crime, you always have one of two options. You could either plead innocent, or you could plead guilty. However, in some cases a third option is given, that is, the right to plead “Nolo Contendere.” Nolo contendere is Latin for “I do not wish to contend.” It basically means that you are accepting the punishment for the charges you are accused of but you don’t have to live the rest of your life with the word “guilty” all over your record.
I think it is time that we as Christians plead Nolo Contendere over our lives. We accept that we deserve the punishment for our crimes and that we don’t deserve the grace of God, but are refusing to walk around with guilt labeled on our foreheads. We will not let guilt be the motive for everything we do.
We will go to church because want to be with God and His people, not because we feel like we owe God.
We will share our faith with the world because we get to, not because we have to to make sure we are good Christians.
We are guilty, but that is not how we are defined.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Get on Your Knees and Fight Like a Man
It’s no secret that I wish I was a teenager in the eighties.
Give me some high-top All Star Chuck Taylors, cassette tapes and face melting guitar solos any day and I will be happy. This is a little weird, I know, because I was born two years after the eighties were over. I think that my odd fascination with the era of Reagan and big hair comes from my early discovery and love for a band called Petra.
If you don’t know Petra, you are missing out on life. They were true pioneers in putting Christian lyrics to electric guitars (and the more than occasional synthesizer and key-tar).
I usually have any one song from their thirty-three year musical career playing in my head at some point in the day but lately I have been hearing one in my head that I hadn’t heard in forever. In 1987, Petra’s This Means War album came out and on it was the song “Get on Your Knees and Fight Like a Man.”
Now out of context, this is kind of a funny title. Can you picture some big burly men getting into a brawl at a saloon and getting on their knees to proceed with their dual? For some reason the idea of midgets having a slap fight keeps playing in my head whenever I think about this. I don’t know about you, but I think that that is pretty hilarious. In fact, I keep trying to write this post but I am getting distracted by visions of angry midgets beating the mess out of each other.
But that is not what this song is even remotely about.
The verses of this song talk about being at the lowest point circumstantially than we ever could imagine. They talk about having the world fall on top of you and all your resources being exhausted and your options dwindling. Lately, I can relate.
This past week, God has been stressing to me the importance of what I thought an elementary truth, that is prayer. I thought I was good on this one. I mean, even non-Christians know that Christians are supposed to pray, I understand all that God.
I have always understood the importance of prayer but I don’t think I could honestly say that my life or even my schedule reflected that.
I want prayer in my life to be more than an emergency kit that I never use unless I absolutely need it. We seem to have this mentality that after we have done everything we know to do and our circumstances still haven’t changed then “all we can do is pray.”
All we can do? That makes it sound like that is the least promising thing we are capable of doing to get the results we need.
Why don’t we realize that going to the all-powerful, all-knowing, ever present God of the universe first before wasting our time with what we think we can do is the most logical thing we could ever do?
I know we all know this but do we really know this?
I guess prayer is one of those things that is great in theory but can be boring in practice. When we think about radically following Jesus, we usually think about selling everything we own and moving to Africa or having the faith to tell that guy in a wheelchair that he is healed and should go run around the block. In the back of our mind, prayer just means turning off the T.V and sticking our face in the carpet while we try and think of what to say to God.
When I think about prayer, I am not usually thinking about the spiritual forces of good and evil colliding in epic war for humanity. I am secretly thinking about midgets slapping each other.
It sounds ridiculous and I am exaggerating a little bit but I think that is how we really view the effectiveness of getting on our face before God.
We are so action oriented that the idea of locking ourselves away to pray seems less effective than going out and trying to fix everything on our own.
I tell God all the time that I want to change the world but when was the last time I humbled myself to the point of getting on my face before Him in desperation to see Him move? A lot of times I think that I am O.K. if I just say a couple words of prayer under my breath for somebody. Sometimes I tell God that I am going to pray in my bed as I am falling asleep.
Obviously, there is nothing wrong with praying like that but lately God has been showing me that there really is something to setting a part a certain amount of time and physically getting down on the floor and warring against the forces of evil.
It is really inconvenient, but doesn’t the effort you put into prayer reflect your passion for whatever you are praying for? What would your life look like if you got on your knees and fought like a man for an hour every day? Ooh an hour, that’s a little much. That would be really hard to commit to.
But if you are desperate enough to complain to the world about your problems, an hour can’t be so bad.
One thing I have found is that it is really easy to pray for yourself and your own problems. Sometimes we get discouraged when our prayers aren’t getting answered so we give up. What if, instead of praying for ourselves for an hour, we prayed for somebody else’s problems? I don’t know why but whenever I dedicate that much time to someone else, my prayers get answered and so do theirs.
If I can’t carry my burden, I’ll drop mine and pick up somebody else’s.
What can we change about our lives to reflect that we actually believe prayer is more than a midget slap fight but the opportunity to bring Heaven down into our problems? I want to spend more time praying that God will do something than I do hoping that He will bless me when I do something.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Checkmate
I used to think I was pretty smart, until my five year old little sister beat me in Chess.
I have no idea how it happened because the last game I played with her was Candyland and I wasn’t sure then that she could handle the intensity of the molasses swamp and now I was finding my king pinned between her bishop and her queen with no hope of escape. She got me good and I had nothing to say. I just left the table and buried my head in shame.
When I heard that my brothers had taught her how to play I expected that she vaguely understood the rules but would still fall prey to the number one mistake of every beginning Chess player, that is, to play the game of Chess like a game of Checkers.
You see, in the game of Checkers, the point is to take as many pieces as you can from your opponent while keeping all of yours in play. It is a last man standing kind of thing and new Chess players usually assume that since the boards look the same that the rules must be the same so they use their armies to just knock out their opponent. However, Chess is different. The game is not about how many pieces you collect, but about one specific piece that needs to be taken out. The point of Chess is to go after the king.
I didn’t expect Jamie to understand this principle, but she clearly did. Her eye was not on my knight, bishop, or even queen, but was on my king.
I realized this week that I had been playing life like a game of Checkers instead of a game Chess. I was going after all the extra stuff life has to offer instead of going straight to the King.
I mistook the things God blesses us with for God Himself and that can be dangerous. There are tons of things in this life that are good, noble things that we as people are always going after. A new season in life, new relationships, great experiences- you name and we will go after it instead of going after the One who gives it.
Jesus told us in Luke chapter 12 verse 31 to “seek his kingdom and these things will be added as well.” 1
So I have to ask myself when I wake up in the morning and the Great To-Do list starts scrolling through my head what pieces of the game I am going after.
Am I really content with putting so much effort into capturing a pawn when the King is waiting for me?
Does my schedule reflect that me getting one more glimpse of who God really is is my very top priority? Why am I so concerned with fixing this, getting that done, or talking to that person when I have the opportunity to leave Earth and the way it thinks by spending time with the King of the Universe?
I want everything God has for me in this life, but I don’t want to want them more than I want to want Him. I want to measure the effectiveness of my day not by how much I accomplished but by how much closer I grew to God in the last 24 hours.
The world can keep it’s pawns and even its’ knights and bishops. I want to want nothing but the King.
1-Luke 12:31 (NIV)
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Dear God
Dear God, I can’t sleep.
Truth is, I haven’t slept for awhile.
Life keeps waking me up and I just can’t get my brain to shut up long enough to recognize the inside of my eyelids. I am worn out. I am dry. I am exhausted, in every sense of the word that I could imagine.
It is hard to sleep when it feels like the whole world is crashing down on top of you. God, why does everything happen at once? Why can’t things happen one at a time? Why not when I’m stronger?
I miss You so much even though I know You never went anywhere. You had to have been here the whole time but where then, have I been? I have been pouring and pouring out but am still needing You to refresh me. I don’t find any comfort in writing anymore, at least not tonight. I don’t find satisfaction in doing what You tell me to do. To be honest, I can’t remember the last time I found satisfaction in anything.
I just want sleep. I just want rest. I just want everyone to stop expecting me to know what I am doing when I feel like I am falling apart on the inside. I just want to disappear. God, You expect too much.
You taught me not too long ago that the greatest revelations come when I am barely hanging on to the towel I am about to throw in. Well I am still waiting on the revelation. Give me something worth chewing on. Show me some nugget of truth that makes it all better and lets me wake up smiling again, That’s not too much to ask is it?
You always talk about forgiving people for their sins and everything they have ever done wrong and honestly I have never really had a hard time believing You but I never thought about what You asked me the other night.
I was busy doing ministry and trying to serve You when You interrupted my prayer and asked me a ridiculous question. You asked if I had forgiven You.
Had I forgiven You? You are God, You do everything right. You are the definition of perfect, why are You asking for my forgiveness?
Then I realized that you didn’t need my forgiveness. You have never done anything wrong but even if You had, You are big enough to not need my approval.
I need my forgiveness.
Intellectually I completely understand that You work all things for the good of those who love You but I’m not going to lie (anymore), sometimes my heart doesn’t believe taking the life of a twelve year old boy was in my best interest. Sometimes it is hard to convince myself everything my family has gone through and is going through will all eventually work out. God, sometimes I am just clenching my teeth and telling myself that You know what is best for me when really I am just angry that You are God and that I am not and that there is nothing I can do about it. Thank You for being bigger than my doubt.
Thank You for being real. Thank You for doing so much in my past that my future can’t not believe You will come through for my present.
I can’t honestly sat that I have no bitterness left. Frankly, God I don’t like You very much at the moment.
Thank You for being bigger than my moment. Thank You for being real when I can’t feel You. Thank You for planting so deep inside of me the truth that You are everything You said You would be that any thought that creeps its way into my heart that tries to say otherwise dies quickly.
I want to forgive You because I need my own forgiveness. I am not there yet even though I really thought I was. I know who You are, even when I forget.
I know that not only are You all-powerful, all-knowing and ever-present but that You are above all good. Even when I forget.
I know that You not only can heal, but really want to.
I know that You are the same God yesterday, today, and forever despite how I feel about You in the moment with my incredibly narrow human perspective. You are God and I wouldn’t change that if I could. I love You, and not because I have to, but because I want to and I have the right to.
God, I love You enough to not just accept that You know what You are doing, but embrace that You know what You are doing.
I will wake up tomorrow alive.
I will get up and I will bear it. I will walk in the truth that I know but cannot feel. God, I believe everything You have told me and I will keep telling myself that until I can honestly say it is true.
Thank You for a destiny worth suffering for. Thank You for letting me be just like You.
-Sincerely
An Exhausted,
Dried Up,
Used Up,
Survivor who still believes that You have it all under control
Kyle
Monday, August 8, 2011
Melting Down My Nose Rings
Kansas
Now I know you might be really jealous of me, being that Kansas is such a magical land of wheat and flatness, but try not to let it bother you too much. Someday you might be able to go to Kansas too.
Actually, I don’t think I would wish that on anybody.
The reality is, and I mean no offense to the people of this state, but Kansas is really boring. I was driving to Wichita and it seemed like time slowed down once we crossed the state line and I was drowning in a never-ending sea of wheat and mind-melting nothingness.
As I was driving out of Kansas, to my great relief, a week later, I realized that my faith lately had been a whole lot like Kansas. I was ready to get out.
Here are some things I have noticed about Kansas faith.
Kansas is incredibly flat. I am pretty sure that if you lived in Kansas and your dog ran away you would have a good three days to find him before he was fully out of sight. There are no ups and there are no downs. Everything is constant. Sometimes I go through seasons where nothing could ever excite me. Everything is going right and just the way I want it to go but I still have trouble looking forward to the next day. I and the world around me are flat. Nothing cranks my tractor like it used to.
When I find myself in a season like this I usually start feeling guilty that I am not being as passionate as I need to be. I start critiquing myself on all the things I should be doing and forcing myself to pretend to be excited about life. I don’t generally fool anybody but myself for a little while until it all boils down to a fit of frustration. After breaking down in an apathetic temper tantrum, God reminds me of who He is and who I am and shifts my perspective to where I truly can be excited about life and all that God is doing. Then He reminds me that those seasons of flatness are OK, as long as they are just seasons and not lifestyles. God never wants us to live our lives with flat Kansas faith but sometimes He does drive us through them for awhile. These times of spiritual flatness only make us appreciate Him more on the other side. They offer a transition between where we were with God and where we are going with God. Until we become unsatisfied with where we are we will never want to go any further into God and what He wants for our lives.
While driving through Kansas I swear we passed the same truck stop five or six times. I checked the GPS to make sure that we weren’t going in circles and it turns out that Kansas just repeats itself over and over. It was almost like every ten miles or so looked exactly like the ten miles we had just driven through and I knew I could relate. Sometimes I feel like life is just a big déjà vu and that I have already gone through everything I am going through now. I feel like I should let God know that I already passed these tests and therefore shouldn’t have to go through them again but He puts them all on repeat and I discover that I still have more to learn. When life repeats itself, God is just reiterating Himself. What did I miss the last time I went through everything I am going through now?
Another thing I noticed about Kansas the second I stepped out of the vehicle was the intense heat. Now, being the native Floridian that I am, heat is something I am generally accustomed to but nothing could prepare me for the dry heat of Kansas. Down south we have this thing called humidity and we have a lot of it but Kansas apparently doesn’t have it at all. I stepped outside and instantly felt life all the fluids in my body were being evaporated through my skin. I imagined that my parents would receive a phone call telling about how their son had been found in raisin form.
The thermometer read 106 degrees and from the outside people could look at my faith and say the same thing. I was doing ministry. I was giving myself as a servant. My faith must have been hot.
There was one problem, though. I was completely dry.
I realized that it is possible to do all the right things and be “on fire” for God but still lack the wetness of His presence. Heat and intensity aren’t enough if we are not saturated with the presence of God in our lives. God never calls us to a dry heat, but and over flowing spring of life that fills the world around us. If we aren’t soaking ourselves in the presence of God than we are sucking life from the people we think we are ministering to.
The best thing about Kansas is that it doesn’t last forever. Toto, I am not in Kansas anymore!
The seasons of dryness that we all go through don’t always happen because we are doing something wrong, but often they happen because we are doing something right. God is calling us deeper into His presence than we ever imagined and there is nothing like a season of Kansas to drive us into that desperation we need to want to pursue God more. Don’t hate on Kansas when your life drive you through it, because the state you are about to go through will be worth it all.