Tag Archives: Salvation

Chapter-a-Day

Who Am I Living to Please?

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"Who Am I Living to Please?" (CaD Jhn 5) – Wayfarer

By myself I can do nothing; I judge only as I hear, and my judgment is just, for I seek not to please myself but him who sent me.
John 5:30 (NIV)

I was 14 years old when I became a disciple of Jesus. My sister, Jody, joined me in this. This decision was not an institutional “profession of faith” or “confirmation” that was expected of us as part of the institutional church in which we were raised. In fact, both Jody and I had been through that established and corporate rite of passage. It provided us with knowledge. It resulted in us receiving a certificate and a box of offering envelopes. It did not, however, result in any meaningful transformation of spirit or of daily life.

When we willfully chose to give our lives to the Lordship of Jesus, and we committed ourselves to follow His teaching and example, everything changed. Some changes were immediate. Other changes took years, some took decades, and some changes are still in process. Being a disciple is a life-long journey of transformation.

One of the immediate changes for Jody and me was our relationship with one another, and our relationship with our parents. Jody and I had always been close as siblings, but suddenly we had experienced and shared a common love that transcended the petty sibling squabbles, rivalries, and conflicts that prevail in adolescence. In addition, without even thinking much about it, we became more respectful and obedient to our parents. Our parents would later testify that the change they saw in us led them to wonder what was going on, and eventually led them to the reaffirmation of their own faith.

John spends today’s chapter revealing and expounding on the “line in the sand” between Jesus and the ruling religious leaders in Jerusalem. We’re just 25% of the way through John’s account and he makes clear that the institutional religious leaders were already seeking to get rid of Jesus, whose popularity and anti-establishment rhetoric threatened their earthly power and authority.

When I read Jesus’ statement, “I seek not to please myself but him who sent me,” it resonated in my spirit. I find the question, “Who am I living to please?” worth pondering. The religious establishment crowd was trying to please itself. I’ve observed that human establishments and institutions end up serving themselves in what are often very unhealthy ways. I just finished watching the HBO Miniseries Chernobyl. I recommend it as Exhibit A. This is why the religious establishment saw a paralytic miraculously healed and walking for the first time after 38 years and immediately chastised him for carrying his mat on the day of rest.

John then records that Jesus contrasted this thinking by stating that He was interested in pleasing His heavenly Father, and him alone. I can’t help but ponder the fact that this motivation and commitment will only lead Jesus to conflict, persecution, prosecution, and execution by the establishment. That is what John is foreshadowing. This is the delineation between the establishment pleasing itself and the Son of God who wants only to please His heavenly Father and the Kingdom of God on His earthly mission. The line in the sand is clearly drawn.

As a disciple of Jesus, I must answer the question myself.

“Who am I trying to please?”

As a teenager, I saw how my desire to please God by honoring my parents had a positive impact on our relationship and on my parents themselves. I must confess, however, that I can look back at my life journey and see so many seasons, and so many examples, of me still choosing to please myself. The results were not so healthy or positive.

So here I am at the beginning of another day. I can’t change the past. I’m not promised a tomorrow. I have today. And so, my heart cries out in the quiet: “Heavenly Father, I choose this day to live to please you. May my thoughts, words, and actions toward others reflect Your ways, and the ways of Your eternal Kingdom, and not the ways of this world.”

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

A Bit Part

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A Bit Part (CaD LK 23) – Wayfarer

Then [the criminal crucified next to Jesus] said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
Luke 23:42 (NIV)

When I was young and involved in theatre, like most people I always wanted the starring roles. I’ve been blessed to have gotten lead roles in a number of great shows. As I studied theatre and began to direct shows myself, I was always struck by individuals at auditions who made it clear that if they didn’t get the lead role, they didn’t want to be in the show. As time went on, I found this sentiment increasingly sad.

The more time I spent on stage, the more I began to realize the joy of playing a “bit” part. It requires less time learning lines, which provides more time for playing with the lines, developing the character, and experimenting with the role. I’ve always loved the process of character development. Even with small roles of only a few lines I will do an entire character study and develop a full back story for the character in order to bring that character to life for the audience. There’s a ton of fun to be had in crafting a bit character who “steals the show.” I think the best role, by far, in Hamilton is King George. He’s only on stage for a few brief moments, but he’s stolen the show every time I’ve seen it.

As I read through the Great Story, I find that my theatre experiences lead me to contemplate those who have bit parts in the narrative. In today’s chapter, Jesus is tried, sentenced, crucified, dies, and is buried. There are a host of bit players in the event. There’s the terrorist and murderer who is pardoned instead of Jesus, who had done nothing wrong. There’s the foreigner traveling to Jerusalem who is forced to carry Jesus’ cross. Luke twice references the women who had traveled with Jesus all the way from Galilee and had the courage to witness the crucifixion while most all the male disciples were hiding in fear. And, there’s Joseph, a member of the ruling council who conspired to have Jesus killed now asking for the body of Jesus and placing it in his own tomb.

All of these bit characters have a story to tell, and I can only imagine how compelling those stories might be as they unpacked the events that led them to be there at that moment on that day. I wonder how the events of that day may have changed their lives.

Of all these bit characters, it was the thief crucified next to Jesus who commanded my attention as I meditated on the chapter in the quiet this morning. First, I found it fascinating that he knew enough about Jesus to be convinced of Jesus’ innocence, and he seemed to know what Jesus taught. Was he among the curious crowds who gathered to listen to Jesus in the Temple earlier in the week? Was he convicted of his own blaring mistakes and poor life choices as he listened?

I also found it fascinating that the thief knew Jesus’ teaching enough to acknowledge that Jesus was a King with a Kingdom. Did he overhear Jesus’ conversation with Pilate when Jesus said, “My kingdom is not of this world”? At what point did the thief decide that Jesus was exactly who He said He was?

Finally, I love that the thief owns his own sins and the painful consequences he is experiencing. Shakespeare’s tragic thieving character, Bardolph, comes to mind when he says to Prince Harry, “When thou art King, don’t hang a thief!” The thief on the cross has no such hopes of escaping with a royal pardon. With the eyes of his spirit, the condemned man sees with perfect clarity what is happening at this moment. He and the angry criminal hanging on the other side of Jesus are getting what they deserve. They committed their crimes and they are paying for it. With the same clarity, he sees that Jesus is an innocent man suffering like a lamb being slaughtered.

At that moment, the nameless thief has one request: “Remember me.”

There is something I find so purely humble and gut-wrenching honest in this ask. He accepts his fate and embraces the certainty that he deserves the eternal punishment to which he knows he is headed. I’m reminded of Jesus’ parable of the rich man and the poor beggar Lazarus. The rich man languishes in Hades and looks across the spiritual chasm to see Lazarus in heaven. This is the reality the thief fully expects. He will be in eternal anguish as across the great spiritual divide Jesus takes up His throne in His eternal Kingdom. He accepts this fate.

“Please. Just think of me. That’s all I ask.”

How magnificent, how beautiful, that in this grand, climactic, spiritual moment in the history of all creation, one undeserved, poor thief finds a mustard seed of faith and the grace that flows freely from it.

When, as an actor, I make an entrance to play a bit character on stage, I am that person in that moment. In the quiet this morning, I find myself similarly hanging on my cross next to Jesus. I know my sins. I know what I deserve. I know that Jesus does not deserve what I deserve. In the quiet, it is my soul whispering, “Remember me.”

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

The Earth and Eternity Connection

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The Earth and Eternity Connection (CaD Lk 16) – Wayfarer

“[Abraham] said to [the rich man], ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”
Luke 16:31 (NIV)

I have confessed in previous posts that I was foolish with money when I was young. When I got my allowance, I spent it and I didn’t spend it wisely. I made a lot of foolish choices.

As a child, I remember being plagued with existential angst. I was this unique person with fingerprints, thoughts, and personality. I was a soul trapped inside this one-of-a-kind body living on this planet in a vast universe. Who am I really? What am I doing here?

Was there a connection between my existential angst and my foolish choices with money?

When I became a disciple of Jesus, those existential questions went away. Jesus was very straightforward in His teaching. There is an eternity that lies beyond this life, and His disciples are to live this life with that eternity top-of-mind. My earthly thoughts, words, relationships, and financial choices should be made with an eternal perspective.

In today’s chapter, Jesus is focused on money and material wealth in this life. He started by telling a parable that highlighted how shrewd people become when they believe this earthly journey is all there is. People learn to cover their rear ends, take advantage of others, and hoard wealth and possessions for themselves. If this world is all there is, then the things of this world will be what you treasure.

Luke finishes today’s chapter with a different parable. A rich man had a homeless beggar who slept on the sidewalk outside his house. Both men died. The beggar ended up in heaven hanging out with Father Abraham, while the rich man landed in the torment of Hades. The rich man realized what a foolish mistake he’d made and begged Father Abraham to send the beggar to his family to tell them about the eternal consequences of their lives.

Abraham tells the rich man a hard truth. The message of eternity has been proclaimed through the centuries. It’s right there for any who are willing to hear it. Sending the beggar won’t do any good, Abraham explains. Those unwilling to believe won’t even listen to a person who rises from the dead.

Even after I chose to become a disciple of Jesus, it took a while for this eternal perspective to change some of my patterns of thought and behavior. The truth is I’m still working on it every single day. But it has changed me, and it continues to do so. If I really believe what I say I believe, then my earthly choices will reflect my eternal perspective. If they don’t, then Jesus’ words convict me: “If you have not been trustworthy in handling worldly wealth, who will trust you with true riches?”

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

Guilt and Grace

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Guilt and Grace (CaD Hos 10) – Wayfarer

Sow righteousness for yourselves,
    reap the fruit of unfailing love,
and break up your unplowed ground;
    for it is time to seek the Lord,
until he comes
    and showers his righteousness on you.
But you have planted wickedness,
    you have reaped evil,
    you have eaten the fruit of deception.
Because you have depended on your own strength
    and on your many warriors…
Hosea 10:12-13 (NIV)

“But you don’t know the things I’ve done,” he said to me.

I had simply told the man that God offers grace and forgiveness if he was simply willing to ask for it. He found it hard to believe.

Along my spiritual journey, I’ve found that people don’t need my condemnation. They know their own faults. They know their guilt. They know the things they’ve done, the pain they’ve caused, and they’ve reaped the bitter consequences of their actions.

What the man needed was the grace and forgiveness that he knew he didn’t deserve. If he was willing to receive it, his entire life might be transformed.

In today’s chapter, Hosea continues to proclaim punishment on ancient Israel for their sin. The pronouncement is not a metaphorical mystery. Hosea states it plainly. Israel will be attacked by the Assyrian Empire, she will be laid to waste, and her people will be carried off into exile. Once again, Hosea clearly states the charges against her: Idolatry, rejection of God, and corruption that made the rich richer while the poor and marginalized were oppressed.

As I have mentioned in previous posts/podcasts, I chose to read through Hosea precisely because his prophecies came directly after Amos, the last book we trekked through on this chapter-a-day journey. If anything, Hosea built upon Amos’ prophetic pronouncements. Amos proclaimed that Israel would be taken into exile. Hosea identifies the Assyrians as the nation that would do so. What I find fascinating about Hosea in contrast to Amos, is the continued offering of hope. While Amos pronounces judgement, defeat, and exile with righteous, hopeless anger, Hosea continues to remind his people to repent, return, and sow the righteous ways God prescribed for them. Hosea comforts them with the hope God will yet “come like the rain” to shower His righteousness upon them.

I find Hosea’s approach more true to the heart of God than that of Amos. The grace within judgement prefigures the criminal crucified next to Jesus. The criminal knew he was getting what he deserved, and he knew that Jesus was suffering for sins he’d never committed. He was willing to admit it, and willing to ask simply for Jesus to remember him, to think of him, when Jesus crossed into eternity. That simple willingness to embrace his own humanity and reach out to Jesus’ divinity released a flood of grace, forgiveness, and salvation.

In the quiet this morning, I find myself once again confessing my own sins and embracing my own guilt. Once again, I reach out for Jesus’ grace and forgiveness, which I don’t deserve, but which He freely showers upon me.

Once again, I pray for those I know who are unwilling to do one or both of those things.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

The Old Couple Who Lived Up on the Hill

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The Old Couple Who Lived Up on the Hill (CaD Matt 20) – Wayfarer

“…they began to grumble against the landowner.  ‘These who were hired last worked only one hour,’ they said, ‘and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the work and the heat of the day.’

“But he answered one of them, ‘I am not being unfair to you, friend. Didn’t you agree to work for a denarius? Take your pay and go. I want to give the one who was hired last the same as I gave you. Don’t I have the right to do what I want with my own money? Or are you envious because I am generous?’”
Matthew 20:11-15 (NIV)

I was surprised to get the call. I barely knew the old couple who lived up on the hill. I’d visited them once or twice, despite people telling me not to waste my time. They’d been described as cold, grouchy, and cantankerous, but I found them pleasant enough. I don’t think they ever learned my name. I was always just “Preacher,” which I discovered happens a lot when you’re the pastor of the only church in a small town.

Granted, I don’t ever remember talking to them about much of anything except the safe pleasantries of rural Iowa conversation between acquaintances. I asked them about their lives and their stories. We drank coffee and enjoyed the quiet majesty of the view from their house, which overlooked the rolling Iowa countryside. I never invited them to church. I don’t recall that Jesus ever came up in our conversations.

The call came late in the afternoon, asking me to come immediately to the ICU unit of the regional hospital about a half-hour’s drive away. The moment I walked into the room and saw the old man who lived up on the hill, I knew the situation. I reached out and took his hand.

“You’re dying, aren’t you?” I asked gently as I took his hand and smiled.

He nodded, wordlessly.

“You don’t know where you’re going when it happens, do you?” I asked.

He shook his head.

I shared about Jesus in the simplest of terms. He listened. I asked if he’d like me to pray with him for Christ to come into heart and life.

“Yes,” he said.

By the time our short, child-like prayer was done, the tears were streaming down his cheeks. He was suddenly filled with an energy that seemed absent in his mind and body just moments before,

“Preacher!? You have to go visit my wife. Right now. Tell her what you told me. Tell her I want her to have Jesus in her heart, too. Go. Now. Right now.”

So I went, and I did as he asked. I shared in the simplest of terms. I offered to lead her in prayer as I had her husband. She prayed. She cried. I told her I would come back and visit to check on them, but I never got the chance.

He died in the ICU unit a few hours later,

A few hours after he passed on, she followed him, dying quietly at home.

I did the funeral in our little Community church with both caskets sitting in front of me. It was a tiny gathering. They hadn’t built many positive relationships in their lives. I got to share about the call, our visit, their prayers, and I talked about it never being too late to give one’s life to Christ.

After the service, I was approached by an elderly couple who told me that they had, for many years, ceaselessly visited the old couple on the hill. They’d loved on them, they’d shared Jesus with them, they’d begged them to ask Jesus into their hearts. They’d been rejected time and time again. And while they seemed glad to hear that the old couple on the hill had finally made the decision, I felt a hint of indignation underneath the surface. They’d done all the work and seemingly experienced no reward for their spiritual labor. I showed up at the last minute to harvest what they’d been sowing for all those years.

That experience came to mind this morning as I read Jesus’ parable of the workers in the vineyard. I find that there are certain parables that mean more to me the further I advance in this life journey, and this is one of them. Each group of workers agrees to work for the same wage, but when the workers who slaved away all day watch those who pitched in for the final hour receiving the same reward, they become indignant. I find it such a human response. It is neither fair nor equitable in human terms.

The economics of God’s Kingdom, however, doesn’t work like the economics of this world. That was Jesus’ point, and He famously pins this epilogue to His parable: “So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

In the quiet this morning as I mull over the story of the old couple who lived up on the hill, I find myself asking about the motives of my own heart. Why have I followed Jesus these forty years? I find that reward is not something I think much about. I have been so blessed in this life I just assume that I’ll be among the “the first shall be last” crowd, and that’s okay with me. The reward is not my motivation. It’s gratitude for what I received that I never deserved that fuel’s my journey. It’s Paul’s words of motivation that ring true in my soul: “Christ’s love compels us.”

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

Santa God

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Santa God (CaD Gen 15) – Wayfarer

Abram believed the Lord, and he credited it to him as righteousness.
Genesis 15:6 (NIV)

This is the problem: It’s too easy to mix-up God and Santa Claus.

Life is a meritocracy from a young age. In my earliest cognitive memory around ages 3 to 4, I find myself under the authority of parents who make it quite clear that if I’m obedient and do what they say, then I’m golden, but if I’m disobedient, then I’m going to be punished.

By the time I’m five, the biggest gift giving holiday of the year solidifies this meritocracy in my brain with Santa Claus as the omniscient authority figure determining if the annual balance of my goodness and badness warrants me receiving a stocking full of candy and socks and a bunch of presents under the tree. If the scale tips to the badness spectrum, it’s coal for me.

Within just two years, I become involved in scouting program which rewards my good deeds and behavior with awards, badges, and medals. I continue to develop an understanding of meritocracy. There is a reward for ambition and good behavior, those who excel are on display for the whole world to see with their medals, badges, and awards. If I have less, shame enters the equation. I’m not as good. I don’t have as many badges. I am less than.

And, each year Santa drives home the “naughty or nice” lesson.

At the same time, my earliest experiences in organized sports adds yet another object lesson in meritocracy. The kids who are naturally coordinated, developed, and have knowledge of the game are successful. Meanwhile, I increasingly ride the bench and watch the coach’s wife score the game. (For the record, my little league baseball career lasted two years, but to this day I like scoring games.)

And, Santa, my stocking, and gift haul remind me annually that gifts are a reward for good behavior.

I’m twelve by the time I have my first serious discussions about God. Yes, I grew up attending Sunday School most Sundays and Vacation Bible School each summer, but it wasn’t very exciting and seemed to be a lot about stories that support the good behavior business. In my journey, it was confirmation class in 7th grade that was a year-long primer on the Bible and God.

In retrospect, I had already a well-developed sense of how God worked based on my life experiences. And, it looked a lot like the Santa. If I’m good, then God will answer my prayers, my life will go well, and I’ll end up in heaven. If I’m bad or fall short then my prayers will not be answered, bad things will happen, and I’ll end up in the fires of hell (burning with Santa’s coal, no doubt). As a child, I was pretty darn sure that all four of the Minnesota Vikings Super Bowl losses were my fault, God’s punishment for something I’d done.

I’m sure that Mrs. Washington’s confirmation class attempted to teach me about God’s grace and love, but my brain and soul were already branded by the Santa principle.

In today’s chapter lies a simple verse that is almost never talked about among Jesus’ followers even though it is foundational to understanding Jesus’ core message. Paul uses it to argue that Jesus’ message was God’s message from the beginning. The author of Hebrews does so, as well. For followers of Jesus, this verse is crucial to know, digest, and cling to:

Abram believed the Lord, and he credited it to him as righteousness.

No meritocracy.

No addendum talking about being good, pure, and holy.

No mention of achieving, doing unto others, going to church, or giving money.

Just believe. That’s what faith is. To believe.

“Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God” John 1:12

“Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved.” Act 16:31

“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast.” Ephesians 2:8-9

“If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” Romans 8:9-10

Along my spiritual journey, I’ve observed that it is so hard to get out of the God as Santa mindset. God says “My ways are not your ways” and this applies to perhaps the most important question of all: How can I be saved?

Humanity’s way:

“Be good, work hard at it, keep all the rules, and maybe you’ll earn salvation like a present under the tree.”

God’s way:

“Just believe. Ask me to come in. Receive my love and forgiveness. That’s it. You see, once you’ve truly experienced My unmerited love, grace, forgiveness, and mercy, I trust you’ll be inspired and motivated to choose and practice obedience out of your own freedom and gratitude. That’s how I roll. That’s how I’ve always rolled, like I did with Abram.”

In the quiet this morning, I find myself thinking about all the ways I still wrestle with “Santa God” after 40 years. It still creeps in to haunt me. Meritocracy is a hard habit to break, both in the way I see God and myself, but also in the way I see, approach, and treat others.

I’m also reminded that I can’t do anything about previous days. I’ve only got this day that lies before me. I’ve got this day to just believe Jesus, to receive His love and grace, and then to let that love and my gratitude flow in goodness.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

Source, not Compensation

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Source, not Compensation (CaD Mk 1) – Wayfarer

And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”
Mark 1:11 (NIV)

Looking back on my life journey, it’s obvious to me that my early thirties were an important stretch of road. My late teens and early twenties were a period of being cocksure of myself. Entering marriage, fatherhood, and adulthood in my early twenties was, for me, a heavy dose of reality. The side-effects of that reality dosage led to a period of intense personal chaos which eventually led to intense introspection, and this eventually led to a more healthy sense of what psychologists would call my individuation. In the parlance of our times, as the Dude would say, I grew up. I became my own person.

As I trekked through that time of life, I began to inspect my family of origin with a critical eye. As with any human system, there were shortcomings which I had to honestly acknowledge, address, and forgive. But I also discovered strengths which had to be equally acknowledged, addressed, and appreciated.

It was during this time of life that I began to witness a common soul wound that effected a number of my male friends. They had never experienced a father’s love. Never had their ears heard the words “I love you” uttered by their dad. Never had they received a word of affirmation, encouragement, or paternal pride. “The old man” had simply been a stoic source of silence, or constant criticism, or unattainable expectations. The result was a seemingly adult male who was, in reality, the walking wounded endlessly striving to earn a blessing that was hopelessly beyond price.

It was this observation that gave me a much needed contrast in my own process of individuation. Every day of my childhood ended with a hug and kiss from my parents and an “I love you.” My father, as well as my mother, was present, loving, affectionate, proud, and trusting. So much so, in fact, that I was blind to it. I took it for granted. I had no idea how priceless of a gift it was.

With today’s chapter, my chapter-a-day journey embarks on Mark’s biography of Jesus. It is the shortest of the four Jesus Stories contained in the Great Story. It is believed to be the earliest to have been written. Mark, also known as John Mark, was a colleague and assistant to both Peter and Paul. Mark’s mother was one of the circle of women who followed and supported Jesus’ ministry. The early believers met in her home. It is believed that Mark’s biography is his compilation of the stories Peter told as they traveled and taught others in the first century.

It is also believed that a curious side note of Mark’s biography of Jesus was, well, autobiographical. It’s found in his description of Jesus’ arrest:

A young man, wearing nothing but a linen garment, was following Jesus. When they seized him, he fled naked, leaving his garment behind.

This somewhat comical detail stands out, in part, because Mark’s biography of Jesus is short on details compared to Matthew, John, and Luke. It is a condensed compilation of stories, especially in the early chapters. A dramatization of today’s chapter would contain eight different scenes. That’s a lot of material to chew on in one quiet time.

What resonated most with me this morning was the scene of Jesus’ baptism in which all members of the Trinity are present. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit mark the beginning of Jesus earthly ministry and the Father’s voice from heaven declares His love and pleasure with His Son, Jesus. What always stands out to me is that Jesus hasn’t done anything yet.

He hasn’t successfully faced temptation.
He hasn’t hasn’t preached his first sermon.
He has no disciples.
He hasn’t healed anyone.

Jesus has been ritually dunked by His cousin, John. That’s it.

“That’s m’boy,” says the Father. “Man, I love Him. Couldn’t be more proud. It’s such pleasure to be this kid’s Dad!”

Years ago I made this same point during a message I was giving among my local gathering of Jesus’ followers. One listener accosted me after the service to take issue with this.

“He was thirty years old,” this person exclaimed. “He’d done stuff!”

This individuals insistence quickly made clear to just how wounded their soul was. They could not fathom parental love, pride, or pleasure that had not been demanded, earned, and merited. I have observed along my life journey that much of religious Christianity suffers from this wound. Churches talk about grace (literally, unmerited favor) while demanding that members faithfully earn the system’s social acceptability by carefully being obedient to the silent rules of dress, speech, relationships, and public behavior. In a meritocracy, love, pride and pleasure are a carrot dangled as motivation. They are to be dearly earned through strict obedience.

Not Jesus’ family system. Love, pride and pleasure are the source of the motivation. The divine love and relational intimacy of the mysterious One-is-Three and Three-is-One is what fueled Jesus’ ministry, His mission, His service, and His sacrifice.

In the quiet this morning, I find myself grateful to my father and mother for modeling love. It has mades it easier for me to understand this essential truth about Jesus’ message: Love is the source not the compensation. It is there. It’s right there. All I have to do is believe, receive, and make room. “We love because He first loved us.”

Perhaps the single-most important lesson of my life journey, thus far, was the realization that God’s eternal love, complete forgiveness, and total acceptance was not the result of my “doing stuff” or not “doing stuff.” It is a gift to be simply received. The realization of just how priceless that gift is has been the greatest motivation of my life and has led me to “do stuff” for forty years, like writing this post.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

My Inmost Being

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My Inmost Being (CaD Ps 103) – Wayfarer

Praise the Lord, my soul;
    all my inmost being, praise his holy name.
Psalm 103:1 (NIV)

In a few weeks, I will mark a milestone in my spiritual journey. It was a frigidly cold February night in 1981 when I decided to become a follower of Jesus. It’s been forty years.

The number 40 is significant in the Great Story. It is the number of trial, testing, and ordeal:

Noah’s flood resulted from 40 days of rain.

Moses lived 40 years in Egypt, then led the Hebrews through the wilderness for 40 years.

Jesus was in the wilderness 40 days being tempted by the Evil One.

The resurrected Jesus appeared to his followers over a 40 day period before ascending to Heaven.

Ezekiel laid on his side for 40 days as a word picture of the sins of the kingdom of Judah.

Elijah fasted for 40 days on Mount Horeb.

So, I’ve found myself meditating on my spiritual journey of late as I mark the milestone. I had been raised going to church as a child, but the experience for me was largely about ritual. It was something I did because it was what my family did each week. It’s not to say that it wasn’t without its lessons and benefits, but it was largely a weekly physical routine and family ritual to be endured. After completing my confirmation coursework at the age of 13 my parents told me that I could decide on my own if I wanted to go to church or not. So, I stopped going.

What happened a couple of years later on that cold February night was something completely different than anything I’d ever experienced. It was not a religious ritual or physical routine. It was something that happened in my inmost being. I opened my spirit and invited Jesus to come in. I made a spirit decision to surrender myself to following Jesus, whatever that might mean. Something was spiritually birthed in me that is still growing 40 years later.

Jesus gave His followers a word picture about the most religious people of His day. He said that religion was an ornate marble crypt you might see in your local cemetery. It looks beautiful, majestic, and expensive from the outside as you’re driving by, but if you step inside the crypt you’ll only find darkness, cobwebs, and decomposing bones.

If find that a really accurate description of my spiritual experience before that February night forty years ago. I physically went through religious rituals. I mentally considered the things I was taught. I took a class, learned what was required to take a test, and got a piece of paper telling me I was now a member of the institution. Yet, there was no spiritual change.

In today’s chapter, Psalm 103, King David pens the lyrics to a really beautiful song of praise to God. When David was still a kid, God called him “a man after my own heart” and Psalm 103 is a testimony to the intimate Spirit relationship David experienced.

In the very first verse David says that it praise comes from his soul. The Hebrew word he uses there (nepes) alludes to “breath” or the “essence” and “life force.” He then states that his “inmost being” (the Hebrew word is qereb) praises. This word alludes to the intimate interior of the heart that is the seat of thought and emotion. In other words, David is not calling his listeners to trek to church each Sunday and go through the ritualistic motions. This is David, who once got so intense in his worshp that he peeled down to his tighty-whities as he danced and publicly embarrassed his wife. David is calling his listener to an experiential rendevouz with the Creator. He is calling for an all-out ecstatic expression that comes from the depths of one’s soul. A personal exhale of life force in a euphoric song and dance with the divine.

In the quiet this morning, I find my spirit stirred by David’s spirit and the words it motivated in his lyrics. Dude, I get it. It isn’t about empty religious ritual and rote mental and physical machinations. That’s just a crypt. It’s about that which is spiritually alive in me that has to get out. It’s what the prophet Jeremiah described: a fire shut-up in my bones. It’s that life that was birthed in my inmost being forty years ago. I look back from 40 years further down life’s road and find that it only grows stronger within me, even as my body grows slowly weaker.

Chapter-a-Day

Of Corruption and Cravings

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Of Corruption and Cravings (CaD 2 Pet 1) – Wayfarer

Thus he has given us, through these things, his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may escape from the corruption that is in the world because of lust, and may become participants of the divine nature.
2 Peter 1:4 (NRSVCE)

I ran across a quote yesterday by the Roman stoic, Seneca. He said, “all cruelty springs from weakness.” What fascinates me about this quote is the fact that Seneca was an advisor and tutor to the Roman Emperor, Nero, who was perhaps the most cruel of all Roman Emperors. It was Nero who burned followers of Jesus alive around his garden to provide light for his parties.

Certainly, Seneca had plenty of opportunity to witness cruelties we can scarce imagine in today’s world. It would appear that he failed in his tutoring of Nero. Nero eventually demanded that Seneca commit suicide, a cruel request to which Seneca stoically complied.

I decided to take a quick break from the chapter-a-day journey through Psalms and to finish this week with Peter’s second letter to followers of Jesus. The date of this letter is the subject of much scholarly debate, but in today’s chapter Peter claims to know that his death is soon in coming, and it is generally believed that Peter (and Paul, btw) was executed during Nero’s cruel persecution of Jesus’ followers whom he used as a scapegoat for a massive fire that burned much of Rome in 64 AD. Ironically, Nero’s subsequent scapegoating and persecution of Christians in coincides with Seneca’s ordered suicide in 65 AD. The playwright in me finds an intriguing storyline there.

“All cruelty springs from weakness.”

The quote came to mind once again this morning as I read Peter’s words “the corruption in this world because of lust.” My brain immediately paraphrased it as a parallel to Seneca’s observation:

“All corruption springs from lust.”

Corruption is everywhere. It’s particularly visible at this time as it is during all elections. Politicians and power brokers (on both sides of the aisle and in every arena) obfuscate, deceive, stretch truth, speak in white lies, and hypocritically change positions with the prevailing winds of circumstance and poll numbers. All of those dark ads with ominous tones and carefully chosen photos intended to make their opponents look like criminals as the ad itself bends the truth out of context to make it look as damning as possible. All of the bright ads making themselves look like saviors, and shining examples of goodness and light. It’s corrupt and it springs from lust for power, position, and money.

Along my life journey, my perspective about sin has changed. When I was a child I thought it was simply about rules and obedience. Between parents, school, church, and community I was taught a list of rules to follow and a fairly strict guideline for right and wrong, good and bad. As I got older, I found that I broke some rules religiously no matter how hard I tried not to. I also found that if I keep certain (easy) rules in public where others could see them, then it blinded others to the “ugly” rule breaking I did in private and outside of the public eye. That’s corruption, too. It’s a personal form of the same hypocrisy and corruption found in politics on a much grander scale.

This is what led Paul to write to Jesus’ followers in Rome: “Everyone sins and falls short of God’s glory.” Or, as Bob Dylan sang it in his modern psalm quoting Paul quoting the Sage of Ecclesiastes:

“Ain’t no man righteous. No, not one.”

I began to realize that the problem wasn’t the rules, the problem was my appetites. Some appetites were easy for me to control, but other appetites were seemingly insatiable. An appetite out of control is a craving, a lust. Appetites are natural, but an unchecked lustful craving of that appetite which leads to indulgence will always end in corruption of some form.

It’s easy for me to point to the unbridled lust for worldly power, wealth and prestige found in Nero and present day politicians. But, that only diverts your attention to easy targets and away from me. It is my out-of-control appetites which wreak havoc on my life. My appetite for rest turns into slothful passivity. My appetite for food turns into gluttony. My appetite for sex turns into pornographic proclivity. My appetite for security turns into greed and an insatiable desire for more of everything. My appetite for safety turns into a never ending quest to avoid all pain and suffering.

In the quiet this morning, as I ponder these things, I return to Peter’s letter. My rule-keeping self saw faith and salvation as the end result of obedience. By being obedient to the rules, I thought, I would arrive a place of being good enough to be acceptable to God. But that’s just the opposite of what Jesus, and Peter after Him, taught:

For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love. For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. But whoever does not have them is nearsighted and blind, forgetting that they have been cleansed from their past sins.
2 Peter 1:5-9

Faith in Christ, salvation, and the cleansing of sin is at the beginning of the journey. It is the motivation. It is the spiritual catalyst that pushes me forward into increasing measures of goodness, knowledge, and appetite control. Not because I’m trying to earn something with my goodness, but because I’ve received something priceless in the gift of forgiveness, grace, and mercy that Jesus freely offers.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

Jesus: Unwanted

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Then the people began to plead with Jesus to leave their region.

As Jesus was getting into the boat, the man who had been demon-possessed begged to go with him.
Mark 5:17-18 (NIV)

Wendy and I have a recurring conversation about life. There is no doubt in either of our minds that we were supposed to walk this journey together. It’s a story that I should write someday. Our relationship has been such a good thing that we often wonder: “What if we had experienced our younger adult years together?”

While the hypothetical question is a natural one, we both agree in this recurring conversation that the younger versions of ourselves (me the religious rule keeper and good little preacher boy, she the rebellious wild-child) would likely not have hitten it off. My personal journey, walking through my “Prodigal” years, the failure of my first marriage, becoming a father to Taylor and Madison, were all part of what prepared me for the waypoint in which our story could begin.

Yesterday I wrote about the fact that every follower of Jesus has a unique story. Some follow in one season of life, while it takes others until a later season and waypoint further down the road before they are at the right place to follow. Some don’t reach that waypoint until their final moments on this earth. There is a mystery to the flow of it.

As I read today’s chapter, I found a connected truth. Mark’s version of the Jesus Story continues. While Mark has previously alluded to the miracles Jesus is performing, in today’s chapter he gives three major illustrations: a man possessed by a legion of demons, a woman who is miraculously healed by Jesus without His conscious decision to do so, and a twelve-year-old girl raised from the dead. I feel like Mark is telling me “Look, Jesus wasn’t just healing people from a runny nose or a tummy ache. We’re talking dead people being raised back to life kind of stuff!”

In the midst of these three episodes is a curious event. The people in the towns where Jesus cast the demons out of the man begged him to leave their region. The very next sentence has Jesus getting into the boat to shove off. I am reminded that when Jesus sends out His disciples to do their own internship practicum (coming up in the next chapter) He tells them if they are not welcomed by the people in a town to “shake the dust off your feet” and leave. In today’s chapter, Jesus exemplifies what He will command His followers to do in the next chapter.

In the quiet this morning I find myself mulling over the notion that Jesus does not force His way in. Tell Him to stay away and He is perfectly willing to move along. To the point of yesterday’s post, it may not have been the right season for the people of that region. Curious that the demon-delivered man asks to follow Jesus and Jesus tells him to stay and tell everyone in the region his story. In doing so, Jesus scatters “the seed” through this man’s story and witness which may take root and bear fruit in a future season.

Through many years of my journey, I observed the institutional church often trying to force itself in where it was not welcome and to manufacture converts via what I would liken to a process of systemic spiritual cloning. As I read through the Jesus story, I find Jesus’ actual example to be far more natural, more organic, more authentic, and more trusting of what God’s Spirit is doing in the Great Story and in the story of individuals within it.

Which brings me back to the journey of Tom and Wendy that began when two very different lives found themselves in the right season and at the right waypoint on life’s road to become one.