Month: October 2008

Backyard blessings

I was out in the backyard this morning with Sumo while he was doing his business, and I was thinking about love.  Not just romantic love (though that at last has become part of my life again), but love.  I used to think about it solely in romantic terms, but now that I have that in my life, it’s like it freed me to consider love in the way it was actually created.

I thought about how Jesus was actually the greatest manifestation of love that has ever existed–or ever will.

Consider John 3:16.  “For God so loved the world…”

God loved us enough to do that.  And not just for the people that loved Him, but for those that did not as well.

Especially for them.

He sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for them.

I thought about Abraham, and his unwavering obedience.  Walking up that hill to sacrifice his son, not wanting to, but willing to, able to.

                                     Sacrificing his son.

His son was spared, but God’s was not.  He, too, went willingly up a hill.  You see paintings or images of Jesus all the time, walking the via dolorosa.  You sometimes see stations of the cross (if you’re a Catholic, mostly).  You see Jesus with a wooden beam balanced across his shoulders as  He walks.  Sometimes, even a whole cross.  But the Jesus usually represented in these images, is whole, and hale, and were it not for the crown of thorns you would probably not even be able to recognize Him for who he was. 

 But by the time Jesus climbed the hill to Golgotha, he was battered, and scarred, and bloody, and in pain.  He was near His end in more ways than one.

It was not pretty, nor should it ever be represented that way.

I read somewhere that when the Romans were going to flog someone to death, the punishment was 40 lashes (someone had deemed that enough to kill).  Jesus was to be flogged nearly to death, but…not….quite.

                                             39 lashes, supposedly.

No way to prove this, of course, but the word does mention how badly Jesus was beaten.

                                                          39 lashes.

In “Blood on my hands,” Todd Agnew sings

                                       “each crack of that whip was for my mistakes…”

Mine, too.  But Jesus loved me (and loves me) enough to choose to be beaten, and whipped.  To have thorns twisted onto his head.  To have nails driven into his limbs, on my behalf.  He loved me then, two thousand years before I even existed.

                                                     He loves me still.

I was thinking about that when I was in the backyard this morning with my dog.  I was thinking about what it felt like to be loved.  It feels pretty good.  I have someone in my life now that has only been there for a short while, but she loves me.

And there is someone else that has always been in my life, and loved me even before I knew it was possible to know him intimately, passionately, and with all my heart.

I am loved.

Loved.

It feels amazing.

All things to all people

This is a blog by Todd Agnew. He’s an awesome blues/rock/gospel/worship/praise artist, in case some of you didn’t know:

 

“For though I am free from all, I have made myself a servant to all, that I might win more of them. To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as one under the law (though not being myself under the law) that I might win those under the law. To those outside the law I became as one outside the law (not being outside the law of God but under the law of Christ) that I might win those outside the law. To the weak I became weak, that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, that I may share with them in its blessings.” 1 Corinthians 9:19-23 (ESV)

Seeing as how the same thought has come up twice this week in completely unrelated circumstances, I think it may be of some value to share it with you. One instance was being in the van driving back from our shows listening to a sermon from my church. But that’s where you expect to hear from God and learn what He desires from you. The second instance was listening to a concert by a band that as far as I know doesn’t know God at all. They may, and that’s not really the point. The point is that it was a very different environment to be hearing from the Lord.

Now I’ve noticed that in our churches most of the time we want people to be like us. We may say we want to be welcoming to all races, but what we really mean is we’re going to do church like white people but anyone else is welcome to attend. Or we’re going to do church like black people, but you’re welcome to come. Or we’re going to do church like Hispanic people but you’re welcome. We have an upper middle class service but people from a lower income bracket are invited, should anyone happen to run into one. Now while I’m sure that is a step in the right direction, considering the stories I’ve heard of segregation in generations before, I don’t think it was what Paul was talking about in 1 Corinthians 9.

I think I first noticed it in worship music. Obviously that is my field of strength so I pay attention to it. I noticed among many churches I was working with that they were starting to say they wanted to reach people of all ethnic backgrounds. And yet their services didn’t change at all. They may have invited people from other cultures, but hadn’t done anything to actually make them feel welcome once they arrived. Once again, the music stood out to me. A church I knew said they wanted to start reaching the African-American community surrounding the church, but musically they stuck with an entire roster of Passion songs. Now don’t get me wrong. There is absolutely nothing wrong with those songs. But they have definitely defined a generation. All I’m saying is in the middle of their set, why don’t they work in a gospel number? Or even a soul or hip-hop track? These visitors’ opinions on music are just as valid as ours. And Paul says he became like the people he was trying to reach. Not after he knew them, but in order to know them. So it seems to me that if we wanted to reach other ethnic groups that we should value their culture, their music, their heritage, and include them in our own.

So here is the example I wrote about. This weekend I attended the Austin City Limits Festival, which I will blog about in the days to come. On Sunday, we went to church and then hurried over to the festival grounds to make sure we got our spot for Abigail Washburn and the Sparrow Quartet. Abigail is a singer and a banjo player. The rest of the group included a violin (fiddle, if you will), cello, and another banjo. Of course, the OTHER banjo player was Bela Fleck, which only means something to music fans, but he’s amazing. So anyway, these guys (and girl) were incredible. Their instrumentations and arrangements were so creative. The songs were beautiful. And the musicianship was exquisite. I’m sorry, I know it’s a weird word, but it’s really the only one that fits. So anyway, they told a story about touring China and having such success that they were invited to be the first American group to play in Tibet. And in their set, they played two Chinese folk songs. They said when they played one of them at a high school in Tibet, they had 3,000 high school kids singing along. And they didn’t just learn Chinese songs to tour China. They truly appreciated the art and the music of this place. They had a love and a passion for it. So they had worked up amazing arrangements of these songs, using the banjo, a very American instrument. God really spoke to my heart about these people and their story. They had prepared to reach a very different people group. But they hadn’t just done it to be a hit over there, they truly valued this other culture and its music.

So I began to wonder what it would be like if we, the church, approached reaching people in this way? What if we built churches that didn’t demand that people fit into our mold, but accepted them and not only accepted them, but valued them as they are? What if, in trying to reach different people, we became different ourselves? What if we included their musical styles? What if we altered preaching styles, sometimes? What if a protestant church was willing to include some liturgy? (Now you Episcopals back off, I’m obviously not talking to you! …now that’s a joke. I’m just kidding. But I also refuse to use LOL or smiley faces to define my humor.) What if we were willing to become like the people we were trying to reach? Now obviously this is not a question of holiness, or of the church becoming like the world. I don’t mean that at all. I don’t mean we should start using offensive music in our churches because that may be what lost people listen to. I just mean that maybe we should put our preferences aside and be willing to include other cultures in our values, not just in our verbage.

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Todd

 

Pray

I’m really not a very politically minded person.  Maybe I should be, but I’m not.  It’s only fairly recently that I started voting every election.  I used to just vote along party lines, which for me tended to be conservative, or Republican.  But now, considering the state the country and the economy are in, I think I would vote for whoever had the best answers. 

This year–a presidential election year– we have Senators Obama and McCain in the race. 

Change you Can Believe In.

Straight Talk.

Which to choose?

A friend I was talking with once referred to Obama as a “hollow” man.  I really think she’s right.  He speaks platitudes.  He makes reference to CHANGE, but does not (that I’ve heard) specifically define it.    What does he really plan to do?  I don’t know.  All I hear is how change is needed.  How we can’t afford four more years of Bush in the White House.  His campaign seems to mostly center on telling people what he thinks they want to hear about the war in Iraq, about the economy, and about CHANGE.

But what is he going to do?  I don’t know.  I don’t have the discerment that some people do, but when I think about Obama as President, I get a feeling of unease–almost dread in the pit of my stomach.  It isn’t just his empty speeches filled with empty words.  It’s a lot of things.  To me, he almost seems anti-American at times.  Removing the flag from his airplane.  Standing at indifferent ease during flag-raisings and pledges of allegiance.  There are several things like that, and feel free to look them up on the net if you want to. 

Is McCain the perfect candidate?  Of course not. No one is perfect.  But I believe he is the best candidate this election, and I will vote for him.  I respect his service and sacrifice to his country.  I respecte his experience.  I agree with almost everything he has to say.  Will he follow through on all of it?  I don’t know. Maybe he won’t.

But he is specific about his plans.  Or at least, not as vague as the Senator from Michigan (or wherver the heck he’s from).

One problem I see in Obama telling people what they want to hear is that it seems to be working.  He is the “it” person, or candidate, for the entertainment industry right now, in all its liberal glory.  He has Hollywood on his side, and worse yet, has Oprah lobbying for him.

Oprah, for heaven’s sake.

And it seems to be working.

I hate the thought that it seems he has a very real chance of winning, based on that alone, not on experience, not on issues, but on popularity, and the endorsement of the Hollywood elite.

I hate it.

When I expressed this sentiment to my friend, she said “Are you praying about it?”

I was speechless.  I hadn’t been, or at least not to the extent that I should have been.

I used to rationalize not voting by thinking that my vote didn’t count.  It’s just one vote, I thought.

It doesn’t matter.

But what if everyone thought that?  What if all the people that could have made a difference in this or any election thought their vote didn’t count, and did not vote because of it?

Now, I vote.

So my other thought is that, what difference would my prayers make in regard to the whole country?  How are the prayers of one man in San Diego going to impact the country for the next four years?

The answer is that they won’t, if I never pray them.  What if everyone who could have made a difference by praying did not pray because they thought their prayers would not matter?

Now, I will pray.  Look at what James has to say about it:

“…the prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective…” James 5:16.

Jesus’ brother.

I will pray.

I will pray that God’s will is done in regard to this election, above all other things.

I will pray for wisdom for myself, in regard to my vote.

I will pray for wisdom for the American people in regard to theirs.

I will pray that blinders are lifted from eyes in regard to Senator Obama, and that truth will be revealed in hearts. 

I will pray that Senator Obama encounters Jesus somewhere along the road to Damascus (or Pennsylvania avenue, if that’s God’s will).

I will pray.

Let me just leave you with the words of one of America’s greatest minds.  MC Hammer.

Hollow

I used to feel like part of me was missing. I could pretend to be a complete person all I wanted. I could walk around like everyone else. I could work, I could go to the mall, or to the movies. I could go to church.  I could do whatever I wanted.

But something was missing.

I felt like an imposter.

Like I was pretending.  I looked like I felt OK, and I usually said the right things, and to anyone that wasn’t inside my mind, things would seem

                                          just perfect.

But during these times, it felt like I was yearning for something, and I didn’t know what.

                    Like I was searching, and not finding. 

                          Like having an endless thirst, and not being able to slake it.

It was like there was a hole, right through the center of me. I could almost feel wind whistling through it. It was cold, and it was painful, and it seemed there was nothing I could do about it.

Except try to fill it.

And nothing fit.

Nothing fit because this hole was not shaped like anything on earth.

It was shaped like Jesus.

I believe now we were all made with this emptiness, with this hollow place in our centers. A place designed by our maker to be filled–with light, and love, and completeness. You can stuff it with anything you like. Some things will even work for a time, but eventually, they will begin to come loose around the edges, and things will begin to stream in again, and eventually, what you have stuffed into the hole will come flying out, and there will be the emptiness again.

Because only one thing will fit there, and stay.

My tendency has always been to try and fill the emptiness with things other than what was designed to fit there–things other than Jesus. For a time, it was food. That worked best of all, so far. It made me feel better to just pig out. Later, it would be the same with alcohol. Binging was fun, and easy, and when I did it, I didn’t have to think about anything, and it was great.

Except when it wasn’t. When the party was over, or the meal was over, and I was left with myself, I was not happy at all. The truth is, I was disgusted with the “wonder” of me. And what I had tried to fill my emptiness with was gone.  The food, the fermented malt beverages, the empty relationships

                       all gone.

And I was empty again.

Maybe it isn’t those things for you.  Maybe it’s something else-like drugs, or sex, or pornography.  Maybe it’s video games, or maybe you adopt a lot of cats.

And none of those things work.  You still feel hollow.  Not all of the time, but when you really sit down, or when you lay down at night, or when you ask yourself if you’re really happy, or really feel complete, the answer is almost always no.

Something is missing.

I was hollow for 32 years.  I spent my life trying various things to fill my emptiness.  I nearly ate myself to death, literally.

And it didn’t work.

I became not an everyday drinker, but a serious binge drinker.  I would pound beers until I was sick, and the result was always the same.

It didn’t work.  After the buzz was gone, and the sickness was gone, and the hangover was gone, I still felt hollow.

And then I discovered that sometimes empty relationships felt a lot like love, or what I imagined love would feel like.  But when the person was gone, and I had to think once again about my life, I had to admit that it wouldn’t have worked if I had a new person in my life every weekend.

And I was still hollow.

And then there came a day where I absolutely couldn’t do it anymore.  I was on a trip with my friends to see a baseball game, and our intention was to eat as much bad food as we could, and drink as much beer as our stomachs could handle.

Instead, God spoke to me on the first night of the trip, before we even got to Peoria.  I remember standing on the dock leading down to the river, holding a beer cooler in each hand, and just feeling overwhelmed with so many different feelings, and memories.  I remember thinking that I could no longer fill the emptiness through my center, that I never had been able to.

I did not even want to try anymore.

So for the first time in my life, kneeling on the rough wood of the dock, I asked Jesus to fill that emptiness, because I was tired of being hollow.

And I was filled.

And it was good.

The difference between my life now, and my life then, is that now I have hope.  Now I have help.

I am not in it alone.

How can an entity I can neither see nor touch give me hope?

I can’t explain how, I only know that He does.  And it changed my life.  I am the same person as before, but I am also different. 

When I begin to feel like my old self, when I begin to feel hollow, now I can turn to Jesus.  Now I can reach out for His touch, and grasp the edge of his garment, and be healed.  I don’t have to reach out for food, or drink, or anything else, though that temptation will always be there.  Now, I don’t need to fill that emptiness with anything else, because it isn’t there anymore.

Jesus is.

I am no longer hollow.