Heavenly Father, if I should suffer need, and go unclothed, and be in poverty, make my heart prize Your love, know it, be constrained by it, though I be denied all blessings. It is Your mercy to afflict and try me with wants, for by these trials I see my sins, and desire severance from them. Let me willingly accept misery, sorrows, temptations, if I can thereby feel sin as the greatest evil, and be delivered from it with gratitude to You, acknowledging this as the highest testimony of Your love.

When Your Son, Jesus, came into my soul instead of sin He became more dear to me than sin had formerly been; His kindly rule replaced sin’s tyranny. Teach me to believe that if ever I would have any sin subdued I must not only labour to overcome it, but must invite Christ to abide in the place of it, and He must become to me more than vile lust had been; that His sweetness, power, life may be there. Thus I must seek a grace from Him contrary to sin, but must not claim it apart from Himself.

When I am afraid of evils to come, comfort me by showing me that in myself I am a dying, condemned wretch, but in Christ I am reconciled and live; that in myself I find insufficiency and no rest, but in Christ there is satisfaction and peace; that in myself I am feeble and unable to do good, but in Christ I have ability to do all things. Though now I have His graces in part, I shall shortly have them perfectly in that state where you will show yourself fully reconciled, and alone sufficient, efficient, loving me completely, with sin abolished. O Lord, hasten that day.

Taken from A Valley of Vision: A Collection of Puritan Prayers & Devotions, edited by Arthur Bennett.

A lot, I tell you.

And I’ve been thinking about it lately – how I long for more of it, how I’m thankful for the certain amount of real community that I do have and how excited I am about new potential as well.

We live in a world full of quick connections, friends categorized in lists and followers of 140 characters (or less).  We are able to connect with more people at one time than ever in history, and in a lot of ways that’s a good thing.  But one thing has never changed:

Real friends are harder to come by than you think.

Real community is, too.  These sort of relationships are risky and sacrificial, which is not a way of life our culture typically recommends.  That needs to change.  Jesus changed it, and there was no greater love ever shown.

Henri Nouwen says it this way:

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing… not healing, not curing… that is a friend who cares.

Do you have people like this in your life?

More importantly, are you this person in someone else’s life?

There is a necessity for true worship among us. If God is who He says He is and if we are the believing people of God we claim to be, we must worship Him….

- A.W. Tozer

I sure do. 

But doesn’t he seem to whisper a lot?  Perhaps it’s to quiet our hearts and minds from the noise of this life.  When someone’s talking loud, you can multitask.  When someone whispers you have to pay close attention. 

You have to get real quiet. 

I’ve been trying to do that more than ever lately.  God has done some things this year that have blown me away, taken me places I never thought I’d be, and allowed me to wrestle through my doubts.  I’m extremely grateful. 

Right now, in the stillness of my heart, I hear God saying two things…both of which are hard to accept and live out at times.  I feel him saying:

• Take risks.  Risks me with me are always worth it.
• I love you in spite of your doubts. 

So I’m taking some risks and dreaming big, trusting that the fear and uncertainty of a risk with him will develop my character and give me hope.  Trusting that he will use the power that doubt sometimes has over my own life to instead display his glory.  Remembering that it’s only fear.  That a better story would be written because of it. 

What do you feel like God’s saying to you right now?  Perhaps there’s something that you’re reminded over and over during this particular season of your life.  That’s what is happening right now for me.   What do you hear in his whispers? 

And, if you find yourself caught up in the noise, I encourage you to get somewhere quiet.  I’m talking super-awkward quiet.  Find a place to be still…

and listen.

Lewis’ works are not really the type that allow for glossing over.  No, his are the kind that can cause one to think on a single statement for days upon end.

That’s happening today.

I keep going back to the very beginning of the book to read this statement:

Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak.  We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea.  We are far too easily pleased.

Think on those words for a bit…or a few weeks, perhaps.

Isn’t that true, though?  I know it is for me a lot of the time.  How often have I found satisfaction in the temporary when I’ve been promised something that is so much greater?  I’m sure it’s because these things are still unseen to me.  Jesus was the image of the invisible God.  He’s enough…always was, always will be.

It’s easy to get comfortable making things in the mud.
Accepting that things will never change.
Becoming complacent.

Today, I want to remember the holiday.  The promise of something that I cannot even begin to fathom.  It’s hard to be mindful of it when so many things present themselves as temporary pleasures.

But, this promise is better.

ht: sam

May we not be too easily pleased.

I think I’ve really only taken three in my entire life.

Pathetic.

A new risk was added a few weeks ago.  In the time I’ve had to reflect, I can honestly say that I’m both surprised and glad that I took the risk.  

Years ago I would have dismissed the idea before even considering it.

Thankfully, things can change for someone like me.

And you, too.

A friend of mine, who I’m connected with at work, shared a great story with me just over a year ago.  He is very involved with youth ministry, and one example is a camp in Northern Arizona for kids with disabilities.  He told me the story of a boy who was severely handicapped, and how one part of the camp allowed for these kids to participate in a special ropes course, with a zip-line  at the end.  These guys and girls can participate in this course without the reminder of the disability that so often holds them back from “normal” activities.

The course started out with a series of platforms that you had to step off of and make your way to the next one via the ropes.  Before stepping off of the platform, this young man would freeze with fear.  You know – legs shaking, teeth chattering, the works.  The leaders would ask him, “do you want to come down?”  ”You don’t have to go any farther than you want.”  Eventually, he would take the step off the platform and make his way to the next, only to be overcome by fear again.  The leaders asked the same questions every time, and after about an hour the young man made his way to the end of the course.

My friend said that he asked the boy, “why didn’t you just come down when you got scared?”

He answered, “It was only fear, that’s all.”

That’s how I want to see the risks that God asks me to take.  Is it scary?  Sure it is.  If it’s not scary you’re either not paying attention or dead.  That’s why they call it a risk and not “safe”.  But, you and I must remember that it’s only fear that’s holding us back.  That’s crippling us. 

Sometimes we can’t shake it.  We’re frozen.  There’s seemingly no way out.  But, if we look at God for who he really is and not what we’ve made him, we’ll see an awesome and powerful God who is for us…not against us.  What can fear do to us when we know this?  Nothing.  It can only be fear.  Nothing more, nothing less. 

He’s already overcome it. 

Trusting that he did?  Now that’s a risk right there…

This is especially true in our American culture, I think.

And I’m not just talking about singing, for it’s most certainly not the only way to worship.

The problem, in my opinion, is this:

A lot of us have an extremely low view of God.

If this view of him can change, I believe everything will change. 

Everything.

Do you ever get like me and judge God?  Now, I’m not talking about asking questions to God.  He’s not so small that he can’t handle our questions.  But, do you ever judge him?  Do you ever find yourself asking (like me), “God- why don’t you do anything about things in this world?  How come people are dying from not having clean water?  What about AIDS?  What about Haiti?  The homeless?  Won’t you do anything?  You have the power for crying out loud!  You could make this all go away….if you really wanted to.”

If you are like me and ask those things, you probably also (like me) forget that it will be us standing before God one day, not the other way around, and he’ll ask us why we didn’t do anything about it, and that he gave us his Holy Spirit to have the power through him. 

Ouch.  That’s a painful perspective for me to get. 

It’s almost like I somehow create this image of God being created for me, when in reality it’s that I was made for him.  Do you get this way sometimes as well? 

Or how about the times that I resign to the fact that my issues (or the world’s) are too great for God to overcome.  Sure, I never vocalize it that way, but my life would indicate to others that it was what I believe.  That attitude bears a certain fruit, and it’s not one of hope. 

I’ve reduced him to a cross on a chain, a sticker on a car, a Bible never opened.  This must change.

I need to remember just how huge God is, and therefore place him where he rightfully belongs in my life – first.  I’m reminded of Psalm 33 today, verses 6-7. 

By the word of the Lord where the heavens made, their starry hosts by the breath of his mouth.  He gathers the waters of the sea into jars; he puts the deep into storehouses.

Our Father creates entire galaxies with merely his words.  Try to wrap your mind around that one for a bit. 

I’m also reminded of Ezekiel seeing God.  Look how he attempts to wrestle with the right human words to describe a holy God.  (Ezekiel 1:26-28)

Above the expanse over their heads was what looked like a throne of sapphire, and high above on the throne was a figure like that of a man.  I saw that from what appeared to be his waist up he looked like glowing metal, as if full of fire, and that from there down he looked like fire; and brilliant light surrounded him.  Like the appearance of a rainbow in the clouds on a rainy day, so was the radiance around him.  This was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord.  When I saw it, I fell facedown, and I heard the voice of one speaking.

I love the section of the book of Job (starting in chapter 38) where God begins to remind Job of just how big he is.  God asks in verse 12 of that chapter:

 ”Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place, that it might take the earth by the edges and shake the wicked out of it?” 

Simply amazing.  Could you imagine God asking you these questions?  What would you say?  What if you saw him like Ezekiel did?  What would you do? 

I think you and I would hit the ground like Ezekiel, hoping that we didn’t have a heart attack.  Questions would not matter at that moment, I can guarantee you. 

God is huge.  His glory is far beyond any words we could imagine saying.  He was not created for you and I.  We were created for him.  When we have this kind of view of God, I believe things start changing. 

Have you ever just stood in awe of God?  Ecclesiastes 5:1-2 says to…

Guard your steps when you go to the house of God.  Go near to listen rather than to offer the sacrifice of fools, who do not know that they do wrong.  Do not be quick with your mouth, do not be hasty in your heart to utter anything before God.  God is in heaven and you are on earth, so let your words be few.

Take a moment today to simply be quiet.  No prayers, apologies, vows, nothing.  Let your words be few and be silent before him.  He’s in heaven and we’re down here.  He’s magnificent and we’re his creation.  He values us over anything he’s made. 

Anything.

Think on these things.  Spend time today thinking of God in this way.  Sing to him in this way this weekend when you gather for corporate worship with your church or fellowship of believers.  Surrender your stresses, marriages, fear, pride to this God who is always able to overcome.  He’s not intimidated by our circumstances. 

Having a high view of God will change the way you and I worship.  I believe that with all that I have, which is nothing in comparison to him.

Take  a moment to check out this video if you wouldn’t mind.

“Here I raise my ebenezer, hither by Thy help I’ve come…”

Today holds value in terms of markers in my life.  And I can honestly (and embarrasingly) say that it’s a rare day.

You see, I’m taking a risk today.  A pretty big one for me, at least.

And I am not good at taking risks.  Trust issues, I suppose.

Today I’m flying to Nashville to record a 6-song EP with Jeremy Casella.  I’ll be going nonstop from Thursday to Sunday.  I’m super excited and super afraid at the same time.  I believe this is what qualifies it as a real risk, right?

This is a time to remember where God has shown up before.

And He has a lot.

Today I’m resting in the truth of what God says about me, not what I think about myself in my insecurity.  I would greatly appreciate your prayers, specifically that I don’t talk myself out enjoying something that God has provided for in so many mind-blowing ways.

When was the last time you took a risk?

What became of it?

When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face.  Jesus said to them, “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.“

The story of Lazarus is the story of us.

If you’ve never read it, it’s in John 11. Take the time to read it if it’s new to you.  I’ve heard it and read it many times myself, and I’ve always focused on the fact that Jesus was deeply moved and mourned the loss of his friend (knowing very well that he was going to raise him from the dead).  This story amazingly shows the truth of Jesus being fully man and fully God.

But have you ever paid any attention to the last line?  I can’t say that I always have.  But it’s profound…

“Take off the grave clothes and let him go.”

You see, Lazarus was indeed raised from the dead, just as Jesus intended.  However, to everyone watching he still resembled a dead man.  Why?

Because of the grave clothes.

All of the strips of linen with spices underneath to keep ‘ole Lazarus from smelling foul in the tomb was still on him after he was resurrected.

He still appeared dead.

But he didn’t need them any longer.  Jesus had called him into life, but Lazarus was still identified by what was on him.

I think that’s why Jesus told the people to remove the grave clothes.  They had served their purpose while Lazarus lay in the tomb, but now he was called into something better.

You and I have been called out of death and into life if we follow Christ, so my question to you (and most certainly me) is:

Don’t you think it’s time we remove the grave clothes?

Do we live our lives wrapped in grave clothes, when we’ve been called out of the tomb?  Are we identified by our bindings and fetters instead of our call to freedom in Him?

I think it’s time for them to go.

And I think Jesus thinks so even more.