Tag: Jesus

another turn

In Eugene Peterson’s classic, A Long Obedience In The Same Direction, he writes of a time when he needed to sharpen the blade on his lawnmower. He got the biggest wrench he could find and worked on that nut but it wouldn’t loosen. Then he got a long length of pipe to add leverage to lean into. Still, no go. Next he took a large rock and beat it repeatedly against the pipe.

He writes, “By this time I was beginning to get emotionally involved with my lawnmower.”

As the story develops, Peterson tells of a neighbor who saw him struggling, walked over and shared that, as it so happened, he once had the same lawnmower. “[I]f he remembered correctly, the threads on the bolt went the other way.”

Sure enough, it worked. A simple change of direction loosened the bolt and released the dull blade.

Today I celebrate my 62nd turn around the sun. I wish I could say every turn was in the right direction, but there’ve been some turns in there that challenged my sanctification. But I’m still here and I can only say that by the good grace(s) of God.

I’ve had several close brushes with death; I even coded once, which is pretty cool, so I know God has me here for a reason. I have a good idea why overall, and sometimes I even know why in the immediate. As long as God puts oxygen in my lungs, I’m here to offer up my life as a praise to Him.

But how I do long for home.

I’ve lived 22,630 days on this planet. There have been some really good wins and some embarrassing losses filling the pages of my story. God has been in it all.

I don’t really have a whole lot to share, except to emphasize how much I love the life God has given me. It’s not a perfect life, but I’m perfectly happy. I adore the one who helps hold the wrench alongside me. I’d like to think we’re turning it in the right direction together. She’s been that “neighbor” to me, getting things to work right and better.

I apologize for all the first person singular pronouns throughout this post. That’s unfortunately necessary in a post like this, but I know that you know my story is not because of me but Jesus in me.

I do want to share this brief section of Peterson’s book. He puts just the right words to my ‘turning 62’ meditation:

…each step we walk, each breath we breathe, we know we are preserved by God, we know we are accompanied by God, we know we are ruled by God; and therefore no matter what doubts we endure or what accidents we experience, the Lord will guard us from every evil, he guards our very life.

Eugene Peterson, A Long Obedience In The Same Direction, 45

This morning I closed my journal entry with these words,

“Bless this day. Make it holy. Make it fun. Make it memorable. Let me see a bird or some creature that fascinates and makes my heart soar!…Thank you for this life you’ve given me. If this is my last year here, I’ll be a happy man. If it is not, I’m still here for you! In Jesus’ name, amen.

Selah, beloved.

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unforeseen kiss

Y’all remember when “sloppy wet kiss” was sung in churches a good many years ago? Thank the kind Lord for Crowder’s good save with “unforeseen kiss.” It’s way more proper for the Sunday morning crowd.

In the opening act of Ephesians, Paul starts off with a love sonnet from heaven. It’s like a kiss we weren’t expecting. There’s nothing sloppy about it; it’s pure poetry.

Twelve verses. Two hundred and one words. And get this: one single sentence in the Greek New Testament! Paul lays it on pretty thick and in a way the church won’t ever forget. Dear Ephesus saints, How does he love thee? Let me tell you the ways… He obviously got carried away with his subject.

Paul takes us scuba diving into the great ocean of God’s love without equipment. Take a deep breath, he instructs. When we come up we’re gasping for air.

Paul doesn’t want us to interrupt his flow so he opens up the fire hydrant. We stand there with our tiny spoons trying to catch a sip. It’s okay, he says, you won’t get it all at first, but I just gotta get it out!

We’re meant to be astounded. God’s love is supposed to drown us. He means for us to have a hard time catching our breath. He wants us weak at the knees when he sets his affection on us. Even while we were yet sinners, he loved us.

When we were more loathsome than the beggar on the dunghill, and of so degenerate a spirit as to embrace our shame, and glory in our infamy – then was the time of love – then our Redeemer said, “I have betrothed thee to myself in righteousness, and in judgment, and in faithfulness; I have betrothed thee to myself forever.”

—Letters of Henry Venn, 1776

I’ve done my share of weddings in forty years of ministry. When “the moment” comes, the long-awaited finale, there’s usually a fun pause before I ask the couple to seal their pronounced love with a kiss. I admit to thinking on the rare occasion, They don’t look like they go together. Yet there they stand, unblushingly, in an unbreakable union.

Wait. God kissed…me?!?

In a manner of speaking he certainly did. Jesus gives credence to the idea when he spoke of an over-the-moon father who fell on his lost son’s neck and furiously kissed him (wait…is that where ‘sloppy wet kiss’ comes from???). What a gospel! He doesn’t just save me, he wants me!

Near the end of Paul’s great run-on sentence he said, “When you heard the gospel (his love song), you believed (said ‘yes’), and you were ‘sealed’ to him forever.”

The following excerpt needs little in the way of a set-up. You’ll likely see the gospel lovingly hidden inside the story before you get to the last sentence. But that last sentence is a treasure of words that could artfully say everything about How He Loves we need to know.

I stand by the bed where a young woman lies, her face postoperative, her mouth twisted in palsy, clownish. A tiny twig of the facial nerve, the one to the muscles of her mouth has been severed. She will be thus from now on. The surgeon had followed with religious fervor the curve of her flesh; I promise you that. Nevertheless, to remove the tumor in her cheek, I had to cut the little nerve.

Her young husband is in the room. He stands on the opposite side of the bed and together they seem to dwell in the evening lamplight, isolated from me, private.

Who are they, I ask myself, he and this wry mouth I have made, who gaze at and touch each other so generously, greedily?

The young woman speaks, “Will my mouth always be like this?” she asks. “Yes,” I say, “it will. It is because the nerve was cut.” She nods and is silent. But the young man smiles. “I like it,” he says, “It’s kind of cute.”

All at once I know who he is. I understand and I lower my gaze. One is not bold in an encounter with a god. Unmindful, he bends to kiss her crooked mouth and I am so close I can see how he twists his own lips to accommodate to hers, to show her that their kiss still works.

Richard Selzer, Mortal Lessons: Notes on the Art of Surgery

When I got to college I wanted to try out for a choir. I didn’t want the men’s choir because I liked chicks too much. The Concert Choir sang cooler songs than the rest, but my roommate was in the ‘Weigle’ choir and got me an audition with the director. In a tiny room with just him and a piano, I sweated bullets, but made it.

The choir was named for Charles Weigle whose greatest contribution to the world of church music was the song, “No One Ever Cared For Me Like Jesus.”

All my life was full of sin when Jesus found me;

All my heart was full of misery and woe,

Jesus placed His strong and loving arms about me

And He led me in the way I ought to go.

No one ever cared for me like Jesus,

There’s no other friend so kind as He;

No one else could take the sin and darkness from me,

O how much He cared for me.

—Charles F. Weigle

File this in “Unforeseen” (as in, Didn’t see it coming).

Totally unexpected.

The Jesus of Glory and sinners like us. We’re a match made in heaven. We sure don’t look like we go together, but every morning we wake up and as angels bow to watch our full redemption played out, we can remember a very long, breathless sentence in the Bible that assures us the kiss still works.

Selah, beloved. Happy Friday.

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so run

Is anyone among you suffering?
Is anyone cheerful?
Is anyone among you sick?

James 4

Hey James, how about, Is anyone just plain sick and tired?

Have any of you felt like it doesn’t matter, you don’t matter, nobody cares, so what’s the point? Have you ever thought about walking away because your faith journey is just too hard? Running the race is just too…whatever?

I have a word for you. Literally, a word.

“ἀνάγκη”

Paul uses the word to describe how he could never walk away from the life he’d been called to. To quit was unthinkable. You’ll find this word in the following verse:

For necessity is laid upon me. Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel!

1 Corinthians 9:16

“Necessity.” Anágkē means a driving force, an inner compulsion. This word unburdens one of having a choice in the matter. It’s not a thing you volunteer for (“on my own initiative”, v17), but a calling (“sacred trust”, v17). You don’t ‘sign up’ for it.

One fine day, Saul/Paul was horsebacking with warrants in hand to arrest Jesus followers. Next thing he knows, he’s flat on his back, blinded by an explosion of light. Jesus showed up. “You’re not going that way anymore, Saul. I have something else in mind for you.”

You won’t find Jesus asking him if he wants to preach and suffer and die for the cause. It’s a foregone conclusion, “You’re going to do this.”

Paul’s necessity was to preach the good news. He wasn’t called to make tents or build synagogues. He was called to preach the gospel to the Gentiles. And “WOE TO ME if I don’t…”

Paul was so captured with his calling all of his life was measured in terms of the gospel. The good news of Jesus Christ defined his joy and shaped his thinking and liberated his soul. He was fueled by it. All his hopes were bound up with the prospect of living out and advancing the gospel.

His ‘necessity’ to carry the gospel forward was a vital organ inside the man; if it ceased, he’d be done for. Others might try to ignore theirs or “flee to Tarshish” but Paul’s compass pointed to Nineveh. To abandon his calling was a woe he didn’t want to imagine!

What’s your “necessity”? What compels you? What burden has Jesus placed on you?

I have a necessity to show people that God can use my disability to share the love and hope of Jesus to others. Yours might be to lead your family with integrity. Your calling might be to teach. I had lunch with a retired brother yesterday who told me he’s motivated to help people who are powerless to help themselves. You might be compelled to write. Or you ‘heart’ the homeless. Maybe you are an entrepreneur or a philanthropist.

You might know what it is but you find yourself in a dry season and are tempted to walk away. Face it, we all get discouraged. We all get weary in well-doing.

With all the compassion and understanding I can muster, please allow me to encourage you not to call it quits. Whatever *it* is in your life, it’s worth it. Trust me, I get it.

I’ve got recent entries in my prayer journal that would curl your toenails. In Job-like manner, I’ve railed at God about my struggles. I’ve pity-partied about how I seem to be the only one getting sanctified (not the good kind!). Why do others seem to thrive but I’m over here getting the thorn? Huh, God?

In spite of it all, God is faithful. If I didn’t have that, I’d just roll over and die. His loyal love (‘hesed’) to me is what gets me up in the morning. On those days I’d rather pull the covers over my head, I’m compelled by a calling I cannot deny. It’s my necessity. People fail me, I fail myself, but God never fails.

So then, where is my reward? It is found in continually depositing the good news into people’s hearts…

1 Corinthians 9:18, Passion Translation

My “reward“ for ministry used to be a regular platform, an enthusiastic congregation, name recognition, and a monthly paycheck. Nowadays, I watch birds. I have a fulfilling quiet time with Jesus. I study and read. Sometimes I write. Most everything I do is hidden.

So what is my reward? It’s not a recognition of my preaching gifts. It’s not people waiting in line to speak to me after a service. And I certainly don’t get paychecks for doing gospel ministry anymore.

Now I do all this because of the gospel, so I may become a partner in its benefits.

1 Corinthians 9:23, CEB

What is my reward, you ask?

Paul would say, your reward is to live and share the gospel and enjoy its blessings. It doesn’t matter to who or how many or whether it’s even seen.

Stay in the race, weary sibling in the faith. Keep running. Let’s finish well.

Don’t you know that all the runners in the stadium run, but only one gets the prize? So run to win.

1 Corinthians 9:24, CEB

I’ve heard this text preached with a variety of applications. Now I read “So run” in light of verses 18 and 23.

Run, beloved. Keep running. Run for the sake of the gospel. Not for pay, not for adulation, not for personal success, but for Jesus. Run so others might share in the blessings of following Jesus.

“So run.” It’s worth it. It’s worth all the bends, twists, detours, and it’s worth it even when everyone else is passing you by. God has made you to run, he’s given you a lane, so run for Jesus’s sake.

When we run with this as our motivation along with the fuel of “necessity,” we win. It doesn’t matter if you get your name put up in lights or your testimony included in the chapter of a book. Jesus sees it. He sees you. He sees you getting back in the race…and running.

So run.

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