a matter of pronouns

God is very particular about his grammar, especially where it concerns us. Consider the back-and-forth gospel pronouns of this glorious scripture,

He has made him to be sin for us, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.” (2 Corinthians 5:20)

Us and him. He and we. Kingdoms in conflict; a separation of powers.

The following poem undoes the riddle as Bennett’s words tug on gospel strings, each verse building upon the next. Watch as the pronouns switch places until at last the Guiltless One wins the day and owns the damning burden of all humanity:

DELIVERANCE

Under the Law with its tenfold lash,

Learning – alas, how true! –

That the more I tried

The sooner I died,

While the Law, cried:

“You, you, you!”

🔹🔹🔹

Hopelessly still did the battle rage:

“O wretched man!“ my cry,

And deliverance I sought

By some penance bought,

While my soul cried:

“I, I, I!”

🔹🔹🔹

Then came a day when my struggles ceased,

And trembling in every limb

At the foot of the tree

Where one died for me

I sobbed out:

“Him, Him, Him!

– R.P.D. Bennett

I came into this world mastering the singular personal pronoun, “I.” I’ve used it effortlessly and endlessly; it flows like honey over my lips and tastes as sweet. As you have probably seen, I still use it an awful lot – see? I still do. Wow, it’s hard to get away from that pronoun.

It’s mighty difficult not to make it about me. And you have the same conflict. Not judging. Just is.

When Jesus said, “it is finished” the transaction spoken about in the scripture at the top was completed. That matter is settled.

There is still an “I” that dangles like a hanging chad on a punch card, however, and I know I will not be made ready for glory until that matter is dealt with. I yearn for the day my “I” collapses fully under the weight of the possessive pronoun of HIS good reign.

I put my unadulterated amen to Elyse’s tweet yesterday:

I really hope this is the year that happens. I’m so tired of me some days I wonder how He can do it. Thank God he’s really good at what he does.

I’m asking the Father to baptize me in unassailable love, making me inoffensible and pure in heart. It’s a tall order, but:

it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure. Philippians 2:13

Now, that’s just good grammar.

Selah

home for christmas

It rained. Oh, how it rained!

A rather unfestive three days before Christmas, the storms were so bad we couldn’t get out of the van to watch the men lower our son’s body into its resting-place. The very best we could do was pull up beside the gravesite and witness the hurried ceremony, if you could even call it that. I could see my wife’s breath on the window from her passenger seat, forming little clouds of moisture as she looked on, reverently. We held hands.

It seemed oddly profane to see our son lowered as the running rain sluiced into the earthen hole. It was made doubly so by not having the familiar words spoken over the descending casket but rather the hasty work of workmen finishing before the hole flooded.

It was December 22 and Christmas felt so far away.

Four years have passed since that driving rainstorm served as the backdrop of one of our little family’s toughest days. It did not, however, drown our hope. Our only child – in spite of trauma, tragedy, and devilish snare – made it home for Christmas by the grace of God.

Funny what you think about in moments of deep sorrow.

Graham leading worship at The Garden in Atlanta, our last Father’s Day together

The last time I was in Graham’s company on a good day (re: clean and living with purpose) I watched him lead worship at a place called The Garden. Fittingly, it was Father’s Day, and, quite incidentally, a bright, sunny morning.

He was clad in jeans and a white fedora, with an electric guitar cradled around his broad shoulders. There was an array of snaking wires and guitar pedals at his feet. Me, I sat on the opposite side of the platform and just beamed at my boy. With axe in hand, Graham was pretty incredible if I do say so.

I believe my son chose the first song of the worship set as a means of introducing us to himself in terms he could easily have written. I’m going to add the lyrics because it’s important to know what his heart was conveying in that unworldly moment; chiefly, that he was averse to being fake, a kid who wanted nothing more than to “make it home” by God’s grace…in spite of himself.

Here’s how Graham wanted to be remembered. This is what he wanted his mom and I to think about in that driving rain on that cold, December Sunday afternoon:

(Momma & Dad,)
I’m not trying to hide anything
I wear it on my sleeve
I wear it on my sleeve
I’m not trying to be something I’m not
This is all I’ve got
This is all I’ve got
I’m not trying to re-invent the wheel
Just trying to be real
Trying to be real
I’m not trying to say follow me
I’m not the one who leads
I’m not the one who leads
Let me introduce myself to you
This is who I am
No more, no less
I am just a man who understands
Because of You I’m blessed
No more, no less
I’m not trying to prove anything
It’s all about the change
It’s all about the change
I hope you stare just long enough to see
The heart that’s beating here inside of me
Beyond all the things you may think you know
I’m just a kid trying to make it home, that’s it
No more, no less
Lord, I want to go home
Nothing more, nothing less

Advent in our household means there’s no higher joy than our kid being home, safe and sound.

Would we love to have our own ‘Maxwell House long lost son home for the holidays waking the parents up with the aroma of coffee’ version of Christmas? A small part of us would, but then it occurs to us: Graham already beat us home.

Selah, beloved.

From us to you, the happiest of Christmases and the joy of the Spirit of Christ – who is our eternal Home – be yours.

A Psalm That Calms

Welcome to Podcast #26!

“Psalm 23 teaches us to embrace the immensity of the adventure that takes us home. David has been there. He knows. He’s learned the twists and pitfalls, the sunny trails and the dangerous cliff edges. He knows where the forks are and the spacious green fields. He’s painted us a picture in this stanza. He’s set a table in the wilderness for us and invited us to hear his adventures by a roaring campfire…

“I’m not home yet. But I’m closer than I was 35 years ago when my dad read me this psalm that calmed my terror-stricken heart back then. Wild dogs were snarling at me from that dark valley of death but goodness and mercy were there all along, leading me home.

Every mile, every trial,
every cross, every loss,
Every step, every stop,
All has been mercy and grace.

Through every danger, toil, and snare
Mercy and grace has followed close beside, nipping at my heels.“

I could as easily have called this message “Dad and Me and Psalm 23” because the two are so intimately entwined in my life. You’ll see why.

What you’ll hear today is from a recent sermon I shared with the wonderful people of West Huntsville Baptist Church* back in late May. I pray it’s a blessing and encouragement to you…and that the calming grace of our Shepherd God will lay a blanket over your soul.

As always, thank you for listening – and by all means, please share this podcast episode with others who might need the Lord’s comfort as well.

* I absolutely LOVE these people! My wife and I had our very first date on their campus wayyyy back in 1982 – just 4 months after my life-altering, life-bettering ‘accident’ (go to the “My Story” page)! Then youth pastor Pastor Scott (whose wife’s name is also Sandra) invited me to share my very new-to-me story at their fellowship’s Valentine Banquet, so I took my future sweetheart along for the occasion. Scott has been one of my life’s most important encouragers. So, what you’ll hear today is us being with our faith family of three decades…

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