story

I love a good story. Like nothing else, a good story can cause hours to completely disappear and problems to fade into the background. I can get lost in world’s I’ve never been to and times I’ve not lived in. Stories are so appealing because they highlight the human struggle and they bring forth heroes and villains. Good stories give us the chance to hope and feel and bond with the characters. It’s so difficult to resist being pulled into a really well written or well told story. If we’re honest, it’s partly because most of us secretly want to be the hero of some epic tale. We’re drawn to that idea of being the central character who fights against the wrong and triumphs for the good.

 

I’ve found that because this is true it’s also easy to approach my life as if this is my story, my chance to be the hero. I am often tempted to view myself as the central character of my life’s story. After all, this life I live is ultimately about me, right? Isn’t that why it’s called my life? This false perception can also be perpetuated by the way we talk and the way we pray. We speak of Jesus saving us (which he does) and we pray asking him for what we want and need. These aren’t wrong, but they can tend to encourage us to continue making ourselves the main character of the story of our lives. We can begin to view Jesus as the guy who adds to our life, who rounds it out, rather than the one who is our life. As if Jesus takes our life which would be a 6 or 7 on its own and tips the scales bringing life up to a strong 9 or 10.

 

Thankfully, the gospel reminds us that this is simply not the case. The story of which we are a part is not our story it’s God’s. The story isn’t focused on what I do in these seventy or so years I am given. It’s not mainly about how I manage my decisions and opportunities and develop my skills. It’s not a story about the conflicts I face or the people I impact. The story—much to my ego’s dismay—is not about me.

 

I find my true place in God’s story by the saving grace of Jesus. I am given purpose and hope and joy because of Jesus. I am given life and direction and value, because of Jesus. This is his story playing out in the scenes of my life. Just consider Romans 5:

 

For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die—but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.           Romans 5:6-11

 

There is a grand story that spans all of human history and it is this story—God’s story—that makes sense out of everything in our lives. This story tells of God’s great and enduring love for a people who rebel; a people of sin. God created, humanity sins, and God redeems and re-creates.

 

Like any good story, God’s story contains all the necessary elements. There is conflict that comes in the form of sin and there is a climax that appears on the cross when Jesus dies for our sins and is resurrected three days later. Contrary to how I often think, the climax of my story doesn’t happen when I get that big break at work, or when I finally get recognition for my abilities. The climax of my life’s story isn’t my wedding day or retirement or the arrival of my first child. It’s not landing that dream job or some other noble pursuit. The climax of our story already took place over 2,000 years ago.

 

When Christ died for the ungodly; when God showed his love for us sinners; when we were justified by the blood of Christ on the cross and saved from the wrath of God—this is the climax of the story we now live. I was an enemy of God and was reconciled by the death of his Son. The story will never get better than this. Everything that happens now, no matter how significant and impactful, is resolution to the climax. We are living out what the climax of the story has made possible.

 

inside out

 

There is no real, lasting change that does not begin in the heart of a person.

 

I think we hear that and are inclined to nod our heads in agreement. Of course real changes begins in the heart! But we often live differently…

 

We often live as if the goal of following Christ is behavior modification. As if Jesus just wants us to tow the line and speak the lingo. As if Jesus ever, anywhere in the gospels, is concerned with or interested merely in appearances.

 

Remember that time that Jesus gets angry with the Pharisees for living lives that don’t look holy enough? Remember when he gets frustrated with his disciples because they aren’t picking up the new phrases he’s trying to get everyone to use so they are identified as his disciples? Remember when Jesus was worried that not enough people were seeing him do the miracles or coming out to hear him teach? Remember that time when Jesus said, “You just need to change the way you’re acting!”

 

Nope. You don’t remember any of that.

 

Jesus never cared about the outward behavior just for its own sake. That’s not to say he didn’t care about outward behavior or appearances, but what he cared about primarily was what those behaviors say about our hearts. His interest is not really in our actions, but the heart behind those actions.

 

So how did we get so lazy as to relegate spiritual growth in Christ to mean little more than changing our behavior? Since when is a following after the Messiah in a self-sacrificing way just about acting right and appearing to be committed?

 

But this is how we approach our own maturity sometimes isn’t it? And this is how we counsel others and “encourage” them to grow in their faith. We focus on the behaviors and tell them to do it differently.

 

“Stop losing your temper.”

“Quit thinking so lustfully.”

“Don’t have that attitude of bitterness.”

“Love him unconditionally.”

“Treat her with respect.”

“Be joyful in suffering.”

 

So what’s wrong with these statements? Aren’t they true? Shouldn’t we stop losing our temper? Should we quit thinking in such sinful ways? Shouldn’t we have a different attitude or love others better or live joyfully?

 

Yes we should! Without question this is a life that Jesus is calling us to live. So what’s the problem here?! Actually there are several problems with the way we tend to approach sinful patterns in our lives. Let’s start with our focus. When we—or someone in our lives—is struggling with a sinful pattern of behavior we tend to see only that behavior. We tend to forget to look behind the action, to look in to the heart from which it comes. There is almost always a sin behind the sin.

 

Jesus, when speaking to the Pharisees in Matthew’s account says this:

 

“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. Blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean.”        Matthew 23:25-26

 

We focus on the outside of the cup—the behaviors that people see—and we forget that what really needs cleaned is the inside. The real problem lies within the heart.

 

It isn’t totally ridiculous for us to think this way. After all, this is how it works in every other aspect of our lives. You can’t clean your dishes at home this way. Cleaning the inside of the cup does nothing to get the outside clean. If this is how we cleaned our dishes we would not likely find many people willing to accept a dinner invitation from us!

 

But Jesus knows the truth: if we experience change at a heart level, behavioral change will follow.

 

Real change in our life never comes by merely addressing outward behaviors. We may find that we can stop certain activities, or start certain ways of thinking…for a time. But ultimately we’ll find ourselves back in the same rut, stuck in the same failures, battling the same heartaches. Is this the life Jesus called abundant? I don’t think any of us would argue for abundant life being little more than a cycle of momentary victories followed by continuous failures. We will always be sinners. True. And we will struggle against our sin nature all our days. True again. But does this mean real lasting change doesn’t happen? I would say absolutely not. Jesus seems interested in seeing us change in real and powerful ways. But his focus is not just on stopping this thing or no longer thinking that way. Jesus’ real interest is in our hearts. When those are clean the outside becomes clean as well. Our behaviors change when we are clean internally.

 

Real change that lasts is inside out. Jesus doesn’t start with what we see, but with what drives what we see.

 

This truth begs a lot of additional questions…

 

• What does this mean for battling sinful behaviors in my life? How do I confront and battle behaviors with the heart in view?
• Why not deal with the actions first so I’ll be cleared up to work on the heart stuff?
• What do we do from here? How do we draw out the heart based on the actions we see?
• How do we clean the heart (“the inside of the cup”)?

 

The good news is Jesus has answers for all of these questions. The Bible holds the answers. Real, personal change is possible. It begins with the heart. Over the next few posts I’ll be exploring the Biblical view of the heart and what it means for how we should live as sinners saved by grace.

 

the gospel and suffering

“I want to be clear…God does not identify with our pain because he lost his Son…we are able to identify with his pain through the loss of ours.”

 

Those are the words of my friend, spoken at the funeral of his toddler son. They are words that knock me down and rock my soul. Here is a man committed to focusing on the Father and the sacrifice of his Son, regardless of what his own painful circumstances might be.

 

Actually, that’s not true. It is more accurately said that here is a man who is committed to focusing on the Father and the sacrifice of his Son even more so because of his own painful circumstances. This father friend of mine and his treasured wife have been calling on those around them to proclaim the truth to them. They are begging to hear, to be reminded, to be given focus.  They want to identify with the pain of a perfect Father who willingly gave up his Son. They are looking for deeper connection with Christ.

 

For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ.            2 Corinthians 1:5

 

This is what we do when we suffer. This is what we do when we are blasted by extreme loss: we seek comfort in Christ. We allow our own suffering to draw us to him and identify with him. The gospel is even more beautiful when it is seen through the lens of suffering. Suffering gives shape and texture to the abstract.

 

God gave himself for our sin. This is a truth we can easily keep distant and somewhat out of focus in our daily lives. He willingly suffered loss and hurt and pain so that we might be with him. Our hearts ache in loss because we are created in his image. We ache when death comes because the Father aches when death comes.

 

Our tendency—our natural reaction—so often in these hurtful times is to blame God or be angry with him. But death and pain and loss are unnatural because they aren’t they way God intended this to be. Sin is where our anger should be directed; the sin of all of us. Sin has brought about death and none of us are exempt; all contribute, all are sinners.

 

And this is why we should hope in heartache and suffering. This is why we should, even in pain, press hard into the hope of resurrection. We should lean in to the offer of Christ to come and abide in him.

 

We’d prefer to make sense of the senseless; to find some thought, some action, some belief that would make us feel “okay” with the death and brokenness of this world. Tragedy strikes and the world clamors for answers. Everyone seems to try their hand at a catchy phrase or sentence that sums up the reasons why we need to accept it and move on. We often just want the pain to go away or the sorrow to be eased.

 

But the tension is right and real. Death is wrong, regardless of age or circumstance. It’s wrong and unnatural. And tragic loss like my friends have recently experienced is even more wrong. The Bible does not offer a solution that makes the sorrow go away. It does one better. The Bible promises comfort from God our Father, hope through Christ our Savior, and power from the Holy Spirit to make it through.

 

There is comfort and hope and power to make it through. There is an invitation to abide in the depths of God’s love and grace and have life in the midst of death and pain. There is Christ and we are called towards him.

 

I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead.  Philippians 3:10-11

 

grieving well

All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. For the more we suffer for Christ, the more God will shower us with his comfort through Christ. Even when we are weighed down with troubles, it is for your comfort and salvation! For when we ourselves are comforted, we will certainly comfort you. Then you can patiently endure the same things we suffer. We are confident that as you share in our sufferings, you will also share in the comfort God gives us.       2 Corinthians 1:3-7

 

 

I have delayed writing this morning for no other reason than it simply requires a great deal of emotional energy today. As I write I am grieving for two families. Families who are dear friends to my wife and I. Families who are both suffering the tragedy of loss today. Just a few short weeks ago both families were celebrating the expectancy of new life coming into their families. One family expecting their first, the other expecting their third. And in the span of three days, both have suffered loss at the hands of miscarriage.

 

There are no adequate words for this day, but if some could be said, these seem fitting: “I hate it when things like this happen. I do not like this world.” All too wise for her young years my eldest daughter proclaimed this sentiment through tears hot with anger and wet with grief far too large for her small heart.

 

This world is broken—as are all who live in it. And we suffer at the hands of tragedy and pain and loss. It’s not how it was meant to be. It’s simply how it is. Sin has wrought devastation and it breaks the heart to see people hurting with grief. They are suffering and we cannot make it right.

 

It is now that they need God’s comfort showered on them. This is the best we can offer them. Along with tears and hugs. Alongside an ear to listen and the meals brought to simplify the all too large and looming daily tasks. Above it all and through it all we call out for God’s comfort to come.

 

It is amazing how God is working even before the tragedy strikes. It shouldn’t be amazing—we know he is in control and knows all things. And yet it is. A God so magnificent and supreme invested in orchestrating the little things to bring comfort and assurance and wisdom in the midst of our tragedies.

 

Could it be considered coincidence that a sermon—planned weeks and weeks ago—could be on the topic of suffering the very day that a church body wrestles with these tragedies and seeks to understand how to love well and grieve with our beloved brothers and sisters? I suppose it could be—if we did not know the Father of mercy and source of all comfort.

 

How do we grieve well when others are hurting?

 

What does it look like to come along side without easy answers and trite explanations?

 

How do we love well for the long grief, not just the immediate sting of tragedy?

 

God is at work here. And in the midst of anger at brokenness and death we find comfort and assurance that he is able, whatever is needed. When we are sensing loss and hurting from our wounds, we have God who comforts. More than words, more than distractions to dull the pain, more than pushing it down so time can give us distance, this is what we hope in: a God who comforts the soul.

 

He will not crush the weakest reed or put out a flickering candle…

 

favor

When he came to the village of Nazareth, his boyhood home, he went as usual to the synagogue on the Sabbath and stood up to read the Scriptures. The scroll of Isaiah the prophet was handed to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where this was written:

 ”The Spirit of the LORD is upon me,
for he has anointed me to bring Good News to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim that captives will be released,
that the blind will see,
that the oppressed will be set free,

and that the time of the LORD’s favor has come.”

He rolled up the scroll, handed it back to the attendant, and sat down. All eyes in the synagogue looked at him intently. Then he began to speak to them. “The Scripture you’ve just heard has been fulfilled this very day!”

                                                                   Luke 4:16-21

 

The time of the Lord’s favor has come.

 

It’s an insightful piece of Scripture that Jesus quotes about himself. Insightful because it points out that God’s anointed one would come, not to defeat empires or set up easy living for God’s people, but come instead to forever change the lives of the poor, the captive, the blind, and the oppressed.

 

It is even more important to read in light of the last words from Isaiah that Jesus reads:

 

The time of the Lord’s favor has come.

 

This is important because I think it changes our natural assumptions about favor. So many voices within the church are calling for us—the rich, free, advantaged ones—to get more favor from God. And often that favor is described in terms of easy living and granted wish-lists of stuff. God has been made out to be an easily pleased deity who simply wants to make us happy if we would just ask nicely enough.

 

But here the favor is the good news—the gospel. It’s salvation and life transformation. It is being set free and being given hope. It is eyes to see as God sees and riches beyond our wildest dreams—just not the temporary, paltry “riches” we often think we want.

 

It’s no wonder that the world finds Jesus followers largely un-compelling and our life choices undesirable. We aren’t living in the favor that changes and transforms us. We aren’t living in the favor that carries the power of resurrection. We are instead chasing after the cheap imitations that world calls favor.

 

When Jesus comes with the Lord’s favor he comes to meet us where we are, in the traps and brokenness and sin we find ourselves in. He comes to set us free and give us sight; to provide for our needs and bless us beyond merit. He comes to bring real favor that lasts and makes lasting changes in us.

 

It has been fulfilled—the coming of this favor that is good news to the impoverished and sight for the unseeing. This favor that frees the prisoners and unburdens the oppressed. It has come. It has been done. Jesus has made it so and brought the Lord’s favor to the doorstep of our hearts. He offers us everything that true, life-transforming freedom from sin can offer. He has given us radical love that can turn the entirety of the world upside down. If only we would stop trading eternal, reckless, love for meager attempts at satisfying the desires of our broken hearts.

 

A life changed by the freeing gospel of Jesus is favor like the world cannot find a part from Jesus. May they see it in his people.

 

blessed to bless

What’s more, the Scriptures looked forward to this time when God would declare the Gentiles to be righteous because of their faith. God proclaimed this good news to Abraham long ago when he said, “All nations will be blessed through you.” So all who put their faith in Christ share the same blessing Abraham received because of his faith.     Galatians 3:8-9

 

Abraham’s blessing is our blessing. That sounds good. That sounds desirable. Abraham’s blessing which was his simply because he believed God and so was counted as righteous and then blessed. But what was his blessing?

 

To be a blessing.

 

Yes his blessing included being made great and growing into a large family that becomes a large nation that does well for itself. But ultimately his blessing is to be a blessing. To bless others.

 

And primarily that blessing comes through Jesus. He is the blessing that Abraham—and his descendants—bless the nations with. Jesus comes out of this nation of Abraham—this nation blessed to be ablessing. And Jesus is that blessing.

 

It is so great a truth that we are counted righteous simply by believing in Christ. So great that like Abraham we don’t earn it or work for it, that we are simply counted as righteous because we believe. But do we forget sometimes that believing means being given the blessing to bless others with Christ?

 

It would be easy to simply relegate this to the act of telling people about Jesus. I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen people “tell” others about Jesus in ways that were anything but a blessing. I have had people tell me about Jesus in ways that were not a blessing. Certainly sharing about Christ can be a blessing if it’s done well and lovingly and the individual hearing is open and receptive. But so often telling others without a life that shows them comes across as if there isn’t much to tell.

 

Could it be that we are given the blessing of blessing others with Christ by loving them sacrificially? Could it be that to bless others we serve them as Christ served? That we give up what’s our “right” to have so that others can be loved and shown mercy?

 

Jesus loved in radical ways, ignoring societal pressures and standards of who is and isn’t acceptable to associate with. He looked to the margins of society and the outcasts—looked them in the eye and treated them with dignity and love. He was loving and patient with the stupid, the stubborn and the self-righteous. Jesus hurt for those who were lost and gave up everything to bring us back to him.

 

This is the Jesus who is a blessing. The Jesus we are called to bless others with. It’s one thing to tell people about a God who appears to be a God of rules and requirements. It’s quite another to show them a God of reckless love who gives up himself to make us whole again.

 

Jesus Christ crucified for us, dead and raised again—this is the blessing we’ve been given to give.

 

what I was like

You know what I was like when I followed the Jewish religion—how I violently persecuted God’s church. I did my best to destroy it. I was far ahead of my fellow Jews in my zeal for the traditions of my ancestors. But even before I was born, God chose me and called me by his marvelous grace. Then it pleased him to reveal his Son to me so that I would proclaim the Good News about Jesus to the Gentiles. When this happened, I did not rush out to consult with any human being. Nor did I go up to Jerusalem to consult with those who were apostles before I was. Instead, I went away into Arabia, and later I returned to the city of Damascus. Then three years later I went to Jerusalem to get to know Peter, and I stayed with him for fifteen days. The only other apostle I met at that time was James, the Lord’s brother. I declare before God that what I am writing to you is not a lie. After that visit I went north into the provinces of Syria and Cilicia. And still the Christians in the churches in Judea didn’t know me personally. All they knew was that people were saying, “The one who used to persecute us is now preaching the very faith he tried to destroy!” And they praised God because of me.                        Galatians 1:13-24

 

You know what I was like. This is the gospel message we should live. Remembering—and reminding others of what we were like. Before.

 

Paul is looking back at things he would rather forget; things that were who he was before meeting Christ. Before coming to know and follow Jesus. Before his life was changed. And ultimately this is the gospel: being changed by Jesus in ways we cannot change ourselves. Being made whole again, a mending of the broken places. It’s not natural. We would all rather forget who we were before, how we used to act, the ways we used to think and used to speak. We can all look back and see what was—what we were—and usually we cringe.

 

There is this temptation in me to agree with all of this and assume it doesn’t really apply to me personally. After all, I came to know Christ as a young child. I was sinful, sure. But I didn’t have some dramatic turn around, some amazing conversion for wicked rebellion. I was a kid.

 

But I know what I was like 5 years ago. I know how I acted ten or fifteen years ago. I know what I was like before. I don’t think this is something that just applies to before we came to Christ, but at any point in our journey towards the Father we can look back and know what we were like before. We should always be able to see places we have grown or ways we have been mended. We should always be able to recognize the ways in which Christ is changing us.

 

I know the way I was before. I know the times when I thought I knew all the answers to everybody’s problems. I know what I was like when I thought I could do it on my own because I knew the Bible verses to recite. I know what I was like when I was trying to live for the future without allowing God to dig into and clean out the wounds of the past. I know what I was like.

 

And I know how my behavior has hurt people. I know the way dishonesty and secret-keeping has been damaging to relationships. I know how pride and fear have led me down paths of selfishness and self-centeredness. I know what I was like.

 

I am certainly not saying I have arrived or I am completely not like that any more. But this road to Jesus and with Jesus is a journey. I’m progressing. I know what I was like and how in so many ways I am not that way anymore. I know how in some ways I’m just not as much that way. I know that he is changing me, re-making me. I know what I was like and still he took me, still he loved me, still he saved me. And continues to.

 

And they praised God because of me. 

 

I love the way Paul ends this summary of his journey. They praised God because of him. Seeing the way God was working in him, knowing what he had been like, they could see that it was God, not Paul.

 

This should be us. This should be our lives too. So I’m carrying some questions with me today to evaluate if this is my story as it was Paul’s. Checking to see if there are things I should be surrendering so that it can be me. Would you carry them too?

 

Am I still living in the same damaging habits God has been calling me out of for some time?

 

Do I still fall back on the same lies so I can pretend to be someone I am not?

 

I know what I was like, how am I still like that? How has God changed me in recent years?

 

devouring lion

Sometimes words can haunt us. I don’t mean in a bad way. I mean that they can find their way back into our lives over and over again. Often times—most of the time—for me those words are directly from Scripture. But sometimes they are other words. Words that keep cropping up and speaking into my life. Words that challenge. Words that I have a love/hate relationship with. When I read the words Brennan Manning wrote about Jesus as the lion that would devour us I was captured. These words have come around again and again and challenged me where I have stood. They do so again.

 

I will not leave you alone. You are mine.  I know each of my sheep by name.  You belong to Me.  If you think I am finished with you, if you think I am a small god, that you can keep at a safe distance, I will pounce on you like a roaring lion, tear you to pieces, rip you to shreds, and break every bone in your body.  Then I will mend you, cradle you in my arms, and kiss you tenderly.       –Brennan Manning, Lion and Lamb (The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus)

 

It’s no wonder Jesus called on people to count the cost of discipleship. To consider what following him would require. We like to think of following Jesus in terms of us following, choosing, wanting to be with him and that is all true. But genuine following also means belonging to him, not ourselves.

 

“You are mine…You belong to me.”

 

Do we even grasp what kind of love is so deep as to willingly pounce, tear us to pieces, rip us to shreds, break every bone, just so it can mend us together again in ways that are more whole? I don’t think I comprehend a love that deep. Except in the ways I have been personally ripped apart and tenderly mended together again. Even then, my understanding and appreciation is small at best.

 

Today I am considering Jesus’ call to count the cost of following him. It will take everything. He will devour me, my loved ones, my things, my pride. He will take it all. And not necessarily with gentleness or anesthetic. He will rip it from me so that all I have is him. Then he will mend me together again with love and tenderness. The cost of following is only everything.

 

A large crowd was following Jesus. He turned around and said to them, “If you want to be my disciple, you must hate everyone else by comparison—your father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even your own life. Otherwise, you cannot be my disciple. And if you do not carry your own cross and follow me, you cannot be my disciple.

“But don’t begin until you count the cost. For who would begin construction of a building without first calculating the cost to see if there is enough money to finish it? Otherwise, you might complete only the foundation before running out of money, and then everyone would laugh at you. They would say, ‘There’s the person who started that building and couldn’t afford to finish it!’

“Or what king would go to war against another king without first sitting down with his counselors to discuss whether his army of 10,000 could defeat the 20,000 soldiers marching against him? And if he can’t, he will send a delegation to discuss terms of peace while the enemy is still far away. So you cannot become my disciple without giving up everything you own.        Luke 14:25-33

 

You cannot become my disciple without giving up everything you own.

 

And when I try to take it back, try to make it mine, try to be in control, he will pounce. I am so grateful for this ruthless love. Jesus is a ferocious lover of souls. He tears us and devours us so as to mend us. He breaks in order to heal rightly that which was twisted and bent. If we think he is finished with us or that he is small and easily held at a distance he may soon come calling, come devouring. And then we will see that he is indeed a devouring lion.

 

planted

You will bring them in and plant them on your own mountain—
  the place, O Lord, reserved for your own dwelling,
  the sanctuary, O Lord, that your hands have established.          Exodus 15:17

 

 

Planted

In place of God

In the very face of God

He loves with reckless abandon

 

Given

Not our place

But his very own space

He knows no sense of bounds

 

Living

On the heights

In the house of holy

He has opened wide the sacred

 

 

There are days and times when the reality of a God who pursues comes crashing in. A God who pursues, not to judge or punish or destroy. A God who pursues to love, to bring in, to heal and to hold. A God who plants tender shoots, a God who loves broken reeds and bruised branches. A God who finds a home for the scarred in the realm of the sacred.

 

This is our God. He loves with unabashed passion. He knows no boundaries of propriety or decorum. He loves. And this love stops at nothing to bring us home—to his home made ours.

 

new self

You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.     Ephesians 4:22-24 

 

It would seem reasonable, even expected, that putting on a new self would be easy. What has the old self given us anyway? It’s broken after all! Why should we wear it’s ill-fitting, unflattering tatters any longer? It would seem reasonable that to be naked and without self at all would be a better option than clutching at what never really fit in the first place.

 

And yet we do. We hold tightly to the old self.

 

We’ve taken this new self—these rich robes like Joseph’s many colors—a gift from our Father. We’ve taken them and we celebrate them…and still we keep the old. Tucked back and away of course. Not worn everyday or everywhere, but still we tend to keep them.

 

Why is it that once we are made new we like to live as if we are left old? Why is it not so simple to turn and walk and never look back?

 

We know the truth of it: Our old self lies to us. Our old self has nothing to offer us. But it is ours. It feels like a belonging we fear to leave; albeit a hurtful belonging. And so we seek to live in Life while still clutching shattered death. We want to keep in step with the Spirit and walk the narrow way, but cannot seem to let go. It does not make sense and it is a daily struggle, this leaving.

 

Now we look inside, and what we see is that anyone united with the Messiah gets a fresh start, is created new. The old life is gone; a new life burgeons! Look at it!          2 Corinthians 5:17 MSG

 

Look at it! Look at this new life we’ve been given. See it in contrast to the life we’ve left. A fresh start, a clean slate, no remembering for yesterday’s corruption. We are new, may we leave the old behind.