I am a patriot.  I love this country.  My grandfather flew B-17’s over Germany, my uncle flew fighters in Vietnam, my brother was in the Navy, and I served in the Army.  I would be proud for my son to join and serve if he so desired.  The American flag is flying in front of my house right now, and I love that my neighbor has an even bigger flag draped across the front of his house.   I’ve stood in the rain at Arlington National cemetery to see the Changing of the Guard, I’ve been to Normandy to walk the fields of crosses, and stood on the cliffs of Pointe du Hoc, where the rangers climbed.  I’ve been to Vicksburg and walked those hallowed fields.  I stood in front of the Vietnam Wall, and walked through the Korean War memorial.  All powerful reminders that freedom isn’t free.

I reminded of Thomas Jefferson’s words that “the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants”.

Today is a day to remember honor, courage, sacrifice, and unyielding dedication to a cause far greater than self.  To all those who served, to all those who gave the last full measure of devotion, and to all those still missing, we remember.  And we are grateful.

I know what tragedy is.  I’ve seen it, read about it, heard about it, even seen other families walk through it.  I’ve watched a friend bury his brother.  Walked with friends as they bury their parents.  I’ve been to Africa and seen crushing poverty, disease, and an orphan crisis that defies my imagination.  And while I know what tragedy is, it’s never been personal.  Personal as in my family personal.

Looking back, I can see God’s protection on me and my family for more years than I can count.  And I’m now so grateful.  Yes, there has been sickness, there have been injuries, a major back injury with long term pain, kids with concussions, and hard times financially, but not real life and death tragedy.  Until now. Now our own personal tragedy is a  40 year old mother of four (and one of those four is a newborn) with a heart that blew out.  Brought back from the edge of death by EMS using paddles three times before they could get her to the hospital.  Triple bypass and a total of 4 open heart surgeries.  So far.  A month in the ICU on life support.  We have walked with her husband as he tells their kids that mom is in the hospital, and no, they can’t go see her right now.  And no, he can’t promise that mom is coming home soon, or ever.  All he can promise is that the doctors are doing everything they can to fix her heart.  So the kids write notes and draw pictures, which join countless pictures taped to the walls of her room in the ICU.  In case she can see them at some point, in case she needs a reminder of why she keeps fighting instead of giving up.  We want the nurses know that this patient has a life to go back to, we want every doctor to know she is so much more than a chart, so much more than a set of numbers.  She’s not a patient, she’s a mom, a wife, a sister, an aunt, a daughter, a friend.

In the midst of this, of couple things have become a little clearer.  I realize that faith is just of set of beliefs, until tested.  Faith can be the framework you build your life around, and then, all of a sudden, it gets real.  Where is God is this?  Why did He allow this to happen?  Why doesn’t He heal her?  We are doing everything right, praying, believing, calling out to Him in faith.  Hundreds of Christ followers are doing the same on her behalf.  Now is when my faith becomes more than a set of beliefs, it becomes real.  Or it dies.

Fast forward two months.  She’s home now.  With a pump in her heart, and 12 pounds of batteries in a backpack she carries all the time to keep the pump running.  Days are filled with physical therapy, meds, and rest.  Finding a new normal.  Building strength for a heart transplant at some point.  Tragedy turned miraculous, and a renewed sense of the brevity of life.  We have a new sense of prayer, deep gratitude for our faithful friends who battled for her life and health in daily and hourly prayer.

And in the midst of this, we realize that God is sovereign.  Pure and simple, He is sovereign.  We have seen too many families come into the ICU and leave without their loved one.  In a strange way, tragedy is relative.  Our personal tribulations are much more than most, but so much less than some.  We have watched death, pain, and suffering walk the halls of the ICU.  We have also seen nurses and doctors literally witness our miracle with us, and they are not the same.  Nor are we.

I was flying home from a work trip, and sat by an older woman.  After stepping over her to get to my middle seat, I asked how she was doing.  She said “not very well” so I engaged her and asked what was wrong.  It turns out that she was flying in to see her daughter, who had just lost her 21 year old son in a motorcycle wreck.  She told me most of her life story, and was struck by how resigned she was, how little hope she had.  Eventually, she asked me some questions, and was amazed that I have been married for 27 years, I told her I had a good woman and wasn’t about to let go of her.  She asked about kids, and then looked at me and said “your kids are good aren’t they?”.  I thought it was a little strange, but I responded and said, “they all love Jesus” and she said something like that’s all that matters and then turned away.

When the flight ended, she wished me well, and I told her I would pray for her and her daughter Patricia.  I also wonder if I should have said more, I think I was more concerned with what the six people around me would think if I started talking about Christ than I was about her.  As I have prayed for her since, I have struggled to think about how we as Christ followers should handle the adversity that life brings.  There are so many verses warning us to expect persecution as we stand for our faith, but I honestly don’t think many of us have to worry about persecution.  That would require boldly speaking the Word in a hostile environment, not a situation many of us will find ourselves (another topic altogether).  So what about the pain and suffering of life?  How do we as Christ followers handle the death of a 21 boy in a motorcycle wreck?  Or a 40 year old mother of four struck down by heart failure?  Or the death of a child, a friend, a spouse?

What happens to us when we find ourselves in a position to live out what we say we believe?  We say we trust God.  We say that God loves us and has a plan for us.  We believe that all things come together for good.  But do we really?  When we are face to face with death, deep sorrow, and tragic loss, do we walk with a peace that passes understanding?  Do we set our hope on Christ?  Do others look at us and wonder about the hope we have, even as we cry, mourn, and grieve?

A believe system is just a theory, until tested.  Being a Christ follower when life is good should not be radically different than being a Christ follower when persecuted, or sitting in the ICU wondering what next, or when you stand graveside for a friend.  When tested, our faith and hope in Christ should radiate from us, much like Moses glowed when he came down from the mountain after being near to God.  I would love to think that in my deepest pain and my greatest sorrow, all that I profess to believe, would be demonstrated to the world.

Matthew 7:24-27 talks about two men who both built a house.  One build on the rock, and one built on the sand.  For a while, both houses looked good.  No problems with them, both men lived their lives and their houses were fine.  Then the rain came down, and the wind blew.  And one house stood the storm, and one house collapsed.   Christ said if we hear His words and put them into practice, we are building our house on the rock.  But if we hear His words and do not put them into practice, we are building on sand, and we will collapse when the storm comes.  And a storm will come.

I took a break from writing.  It wasn’t intentional, it just kind of happened.  A week turned into two, which turned into a month.  Which turned into 4 months.

Reminds me of my spiritual life.  One day without reading the Word turns to 2 which turns to 20.  Same with prayer.  Before I know it, me and God are miles apart.  So simple, yet so hard.  Simple doesn’t mean easy, it means simple.  And if you’re like me, simple is deceptive.  I know I should eat less ice cream and more kale, but I don’t.  Pretty simple choice to make if I want to be healthier and weight a few pounds less.  I do want to weight less, but not enough to give up my ice cream and pick up a broccoli stalk.

What simple thing is God calling you to do?  Very few really good things are easy, but many are simple.  For the rest of the month, I’m committed to some simple things.  Because I truly desire to be more like Christ, so I need more simple, and less easy.

Grace and peace

Acts 16:16-40 is a simple reminder that we tend to look at the world backwards.  We think that our circumstances determine our attitude and outlook.  Think about it, if you have money in the bank, you feel secure.  If you have a nice car, you feel proud.  If your house is impressive, you feel important.  If you have a good job, you feel self worth.  And the reverse tends to be true as well.  When you lose your job, you feel worthless.  If you don’t know how to pay all your bills, you feel stressed and depressed.  If you car, or house, or clothes are not up to your internal measurement of good enough, you feel embarrassed.

On the other hand, Paul had been preaching the word in Philippi, and had just cast out a demon from a little girl.  Next thing he knows, he and Silas had been stripped and beaten, then severely flogged and then thrown in jail.  On top of that, they had their feet put in stocks in the jail cell.  So what did they do?  They prayed and sang hymns to God.  Just what you would have done, right?  I’m pretty sure I would be thinking “okay God, here I am doing your work, and what do I get?  Thrown in jail.  This is so wrong God, are really even there?  How could You let this happen to me?  Don’t you love me?”

Somewhere along the way, we Christ followers have lost the core truth that this world has nothing for us.  We forget that our hope is in Christ, and our hope is in heaven.  Not on earth.  Too many times, we do good, and expect good in return.  When hard, painful, and tragic events happen to us or our loved ones, we are the first to ask “why did this happen to me”?  We spend our lives talking about God, and working for money.  We are so focused on our financial goals, we relegate God to Sunday morning.  For an hour.  And we measure our success in life by what we own.

What if Christ followers boldly turned our collective backs to the world and it’s values, and instead found our value in Christ.  What if we were a people who valued grace, mercy, purity, justice, and love?  What message would we send if we strove to be holy, as He is holy?  And what if we really and truly walked with kindness, gentleness, meekness, and patience?

That perspective would change the world.  Is has before.  It is right now by bold Christ followers around the world.  When we die, we will all face Christ with nothing, or with everything.  Choose wisely and know that the life you live, not the words you say, reflects your real choice.

Grace and peace

My biggest fear in life is this – that I am one of many. Specifically, my fear is that I am one of the “many” that Christ calls out in Math 7:22. He says “Many will say to me on that day, Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and perform many miracles? Then I will tell them plainly, “I never knew you. Away from me you evildoers.”

Let’s backtrack for a minute. How did you become a christian? Maybe you came to church, heard a sermon on how Jesus loves you, heard how He is begging you to “let him into your heart” and save you. All you had to do was come to the front, pray a prayer, and you are good to go for heaven. Sounds pretty good, pretty painless, no real downside. You’re in. Maybe you’ve gone to church for a while, and when you were old enough, you went to class where you learned “how” to become a christian. After you knew enough about the bible, God, and what’s expected of you, you got confirmation that you are now a christian. Any way you get there, when you become a christian, your obligation mainly consists of going to church, giving money, and owning a bible.

Let’s backtrack a little further. Take a look at Christ’s words to some potential followers in Math 4. Jesus walks up to Simon Peter and his brother Andrew. Christ says “follow me” and they did. They simply walked away from everything they owned, while it was not much, it was still everything they owned. They literally “left their nets and followed him.” Next, Christ came to James and his brother John. I love this – “Jesus called them, and immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him.” Think about that for a minute. Christ called them to simply walk away from everything they had worked for (this is where so many of us draw the line, at the things we own) and follow Him. In Math 8 a teacher of the law comes to Christ and says “I will follow you”. Christ replies to let him know that if he does, he needed to be ready not to know where to sleep. A second man wants to follow, but not until after he buries his father. Christ says, let the dead bury their own dead. Then there’s the rich young ruler in Math 19. Christ says for him to go sell everything he owns and then come back and follow. The rich young ruler leaves sad, because he really wanted to be a follower, but not if it cost him that much. Not if it meant selling all his “stuff”. Not if it meant being poor.  I wonder how many of us would become Christ followers today if we had to give up everything we owned.  Not too many would be my bet.

In Mark 13, Christ tells his followers that they will be flogged, arrested, and betrayed. In Luke 6 we are told “blessed are you when men hate you, when they exclude you and insult you and reject your name as evil, because of the Son of Man.” To a large crowd gathered to hear Him, Christ said “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters – yes, even his own life – he cannot be my disciple.” Wow. I could go on, but we’ll stop with Luke 9:23 where Christ again tells us the cost required to follow Him. Christ says to deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow Him. Think about those words and all they encompass. We must give up everything. Give up everything we “own”, everything we want, all of our hopes and dreams have to be laid at his feet. Next we are to take up our cross, an instrument of torture and death, and then, and only then, are we to follow Him.

Christ called his followers to abandon their careers. To let go of dreams. To leave family. Abandon possessions. Leave safety and known for danger and unknown. Become homeless.  He calls us to go. Maybe even to go and die. All for Him.

That message won’t fill many churches. Won’t sell many books. No speaking tours with that subject matter. No incredible explosion of followers. So why is that the message? If God loves us (and He does), and if God wants us all to be with Him in heaven (and He does), then why not make the message a little easier to hear? Why such an incredibly hard message?

Ready for the answer? Because it’s the only way. The only way. Period. It required the death of God’s son. It requires our all. Literally our all. Everything. Nothing gets to be held back. If asked to sell everything, we sell. If asked to go to Africa, or Iran, we go. If asked to die in a nameless jungle, or feed the homeless downtown, or to take your family and move across the country, we go.

The real problem is not that Christ refused to make it clear what is required of His followers. The problem is that we don’t like what He requires. Let me say that again – the problem is that we don’t like what he requires.  So we find a way to minimize and rationalize away the hard words and replace them with words we like. We want to believe that simply going to church most Sundays, being a good person, reading the bible occasionally, or every day for that matter, and even going on a mission trip makes us a good christian. At our core, we want the benefits without the commitment. We like to be secure, safe, and honestly, well off financially.  In our hearts, we truly believe that “if God loves me, then of course He wants me to be safe and comfortable.”

So let’s go back to the “many”. When I read Math 7:22, I am struck that these “many” were truly shocked and stunned that they were not getting into heaven. They tried to point out their good deeds, which to me are pretty impressive. I’ve never performed a miracle or cast out a demon. But God says He never knew them. Why not? How could they do these things and not be known by God? That tells me that you can look really good on the outside, do some really good deeds (even miracles), truly think you are a christian, and miss it all. That is terrifying.

So how are we supposed to know?  How do we have the blessed assurance that Jesus is mine?  I believe the answer is found in Christ’s words.   Take a look at Luke 6:46.   Christ says that if we love Him, we will obey His commands.  Love equals obedience.  An internal change (Christ as Lord and Savior) leads to external actions.  External actions like selling everything and giving it to the poor.  External actions like moving to Africa.  Or Memphis.  Or wherever God calls you.  External actions like sacrificial giving, bold words, fearless love, and peace, patience, and joy that have literally nothing to do with your circumstances.  Understand that external actions are just that, external actions.  In Math 7:22, those people had the external actions, but without the internal change of knowing Christ, those actions are worthless.

Questions?  Email takeastandatx@gmail.com

Grace and peace

Last week I went into our backyard and saw that the roses had  exploded with flowers, seemingly overnight.  It was amazingly beautiful, with blooms everywhere.  When I commented to my wife, she told me that a few days before, she had deadheaded the roses.  As I looked slightly puzzled, she reminded me that deadheading is the process of going in and cutting off old blooms.  Somehow, the process of cutting away old, dead, and unproductive rose bush leads to explosive growth.  All the plant’s energy that was going to that old part of the plant, was now being used to grow, bloom, and produce.

While this is not a blog on gardening, Christ clearly used the process of plant growth as a direct comparison to spiritual growth.  For example, he used the parable of the seeds, where seeds fall on rock, thin soil, soil with weeds, and fertile soil to show how people receive the word.  He also talked about how a tree is known by it’s fruit, and he even cursed a fig tree that was not producing figs.

So what’s the point?  The point is that much as the roses bloomed after they were cut back, so do we.  The problem is, we don’t like to be pruned.  We want to hold onto our old, unproductive selves.  In our finite wisdom, we refuse to believe that God in His infinite wisdom knows better than we do.  In John 15:2, Christ says that God cuts off unproductive branches (that should scare you, it seriously scares me) and that “every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.”  Notice that “every” branch that bears fruit gets pruned.  Pruning is not a spectator sport.  It is literally cutting something off the plant.  In our lives, it is God literally cutting something off or out of us.  Maybe it’s material, maybe it’s relational, maybe it’s vocational.  It is loss.  It is painful.  And right now, we don’t see the whole, we don’t see the purpose, we only – in the moment – feel the loss.  Where we really get sideways is when we dwell on the loss, when we live in the “why” of loss.  When we are hanging on so tightly to something that it really really hurts to lose it.  There are times that God has to cut something off, because we are holding it so tight.  We are holding it so tight that we can’t even open our hands and hearts for what God has next for us.  And we are so quick to forget that God is a jealous God, and the only thing He wants us to hold tightly is Him.  Everything else is straw.

Some of you may be in a season of pruning.  I pray that you are, as I pray that I am.  Because pruning reflects that fact that we are being fruitful for the kingdom, and that God himself is actively working in our lives to make us even more fruitful.  For His glory.  Grace and peace.

Know Him.  Make Him known.

As a church, I’m afraid we’ve done ourselves a disservice around what it means to be a Christ follower.  There is a level of commitment required (not suggested) that says our love for God compels us to give to the poor (maybe everything we have), go and preach (maybe to the ends of the earth), and sacrifice everything (maybe even our lives).

It is a radical, complete, live transforming commitment.  And it comes with a warning.  A warning that we don’t hear preached very much in church.  It occurs in a couple of places, for now, take a look at Hebrews 10:26-31.  That passage warns us that if we (those that have knowledge of the truth) keep on sinning, we should expect nothing less than judgment and raging fire.  And a final warning in verse 31 that “It is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.”  Strong words.

Most of our thoughts around being a Christ follower center on how much God loves us.  God does love us, more than we can fathom.  What we tend to gloss over is what happens as a result of God’s love in our lives.  The result is faith.  And action (deeds).  And obedience.  Not one or the other.  All.  Faith without works is dead.  Christ says clearly and often in the gospels – “If you love me, keep my commandments.”

When a life has become completely transformed by Christ and the Holy Spirit, and when our minds have been renewed, faith, actions, and obedience become second nature.  The world’s hold on us is vanquished, death’s hold on us is severed, and we are new creations.

There is no middle ground.  The call to Christ is a call to come and die.  Come and die to self, die to this world, and find life everlasting.

Grace and peace.  Know Him, make Him known.

We are commanded to obey our parents, it made the top 10 list in the Old Testament.  Growing up, there were practical reasons to obey your parents, it saved you from some form of punishment.  In school, if you did what your teachers required (more obedience), you were saved from making bad grades or failing a class.  When you have a job, doing what your boss asks you to do will keep you from getting fired.

There’s a common theme here, obedience provides protection, and disobedience leads to consequences.  Seems pretty straightforward, and most of us have a pretty good handle on how that applies to our life.  The disconnect seems to come in our attempt to follow and know Christ.  Praise and worship, church attendance, bible study, those usually make our list.  Somehow, obedience (real, true, no matter what the cost obedience) is far down our list.  Here’s the problem, without obedience, all the rest of those things won’t matter.

In Luke 6:46-49, Christ talks about the man who hears what His words and puts them into practice.  He is like a man who builds a house and digs a deep foundation on rock.  When the flood comes, the house is not shaken.  But the man who hears Christ’s words and does not put them into practice is like a man building a house without a foundation.  When the flood strikes, the house collapses and is  destroyed.

The key verse for us is the first one, verse 46.  Christ says “why do you call me Lord, Lord, and do not do what I say?”  Without obedience, we can work (build) our whole lives, and have it wiped out in a moment.  Christ does not say “if” a flood comes, He says “when” a flood comes.  If you haven’t had one yet, trust me, a flood will come in your life.  And the difference between being “unshaken” and being completely destroyed, is obedience.

A couple of things to think about.  Both men build a house, and the house is completely functional.  Nothing is different about the houses, until the flood.  Life is going along, both men are living life, then a flood comes along, and that flood can come in many different ways – job loss, death, divorce, sickness, poverty, wealth, and more.  Then the two houses look nothing alike, because one house is simply gone.  There were two houses, now there is one.  Luke 6:49 says “its destruction was complete.”

What has Christ asked you to do?  What God dream sits quietly waiting for you to act?  What burns in your core, what calls you with a pull when you are still and quiet?  What has Christ laid on you that makes no worldly sense, that you have no idea how to accomplish, what scares you the moment you stop and reflect on it?  More than likely, that’s exactly where Christ is calling you into obedience.  He is calling you to build on the rock.  To trust His words, to trust His call, to let go of the illusion of well being, and to dig deep, to dig all the way to foundational rock.  There’s an old song I used to sing in church called Trust and Obey.  It may be time in your life to start do stop a few things, and start to obey.  Grace and peace in the journey.

Know Him.  Make Him known.

So, God ambushed me today.  Completely and totally blindsided me.

I started the day with some time in the bible, and ended up reading Deut 6 (long story how I got there, because I know, who reads Deut?) and was struck with the majesty and complete holiness of God.  Back to my day.  Breakfast.  Work.  Then I was off to run a couple of errands.

First, as I was driving, I was reminded of my trip to Africa and the people I met.  One in particular.  Julius is his name.  One of the most engaging, cheerful, and simply smart young men I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.  He lights up a room when he comes in.  He wants to be an engineer.  He was working as the night receptionist at the hotel/hostel I stayed in with a team from Austin.  It turns out that he had no money to pay for college, so he was working and saving up to take a class or two.  His dad had offered to sell one the families 5 acres of land (that they farm to live on) in order to pay for the first year of his school.  That’s a sacrificial love I struggle to even understand.  Julius told his father no, knowing the implications of selling the land would be far reaching and eventually devastating to his family.  In the midst of this, God came through for Julius in an amazing way.  One of the men on our trip quietly and with no fanfare stepped up and is paying for Julius to go to college.  He’s more than halfway finished.  Yea God.  After that, I spent some time thinking about the families living on dirt floors, the babies suffering from malnutrition, the sheer number of people literally on the edge of starvation.  My last thought was of the girls I met in the small villages of Uganda, most were around 10 years old, and every day they would walk to get water, and carry it back on their head.  Some of them walked 3 miles.  Each way.  And the way back was carrying water.

But that wasn’t enough to get through to me.  I dropped off my tax info so my accountant can file my taxes, and as I walked back to my truck, I saw an older lady holding hands and walking with her son.  Who had Downs.  He was smiling, and I watched his mom open the car door for him, help him in, fasten his seat belt, and close his door.  That did it.  Tears started flowing in the parking lot.  All I could think about was the hopes and dreams that mom must have had for her son.  And how hard her life has been taking care of a child in an adult body.  I have no idea of the joys she has had, but I know she has.  The simple beauty of a son who lives his live with a child like faith.  The joy in seeing your son love people well, and always believe the best in others.  With a broken heart, I wept all the way to my truck, and sat there silently crying while watching what was a daily event in her life happen in front of me.

At that moment, God revealed some of His heart to me.  And some of that sweet precious mom’s heart as well.  The heart that loves, suffers, endures, treasures small victories,  the heart that has to cry out “why” to the Lord.  And it crushed me.  I was humbled by my small and petty complaints.  Broken by how hard I make my road seem in this life, when in reality, my road is embarrassingly soft and easy.

So for today I am broken.  May God break you as well.  May we all see with His eyes, not ours.

Grace and Peace