(click here to listen or download)
From dust to glory
From death to dawn
Ashes to beauty
brighter than the sun
You've found me holy
You've found me pure
You call me lovely
You call me Yours
From dust to glory
From dust to glory, I have come
You brought me from my death
and gave me life
Yes, You made me to rise...
From dust to glory
From dust to glory, I have come
I wrote this song while listening to a sermon about death and the after-life. The old adage goes, "From ashes to ashes, from dust to dust." Well, that may be true for the rest of the world. But for those of us who claim Jesus as Christ and God, that simply is not the case. For us, it is dust to glory and ashes to beauty brighter than the sun.
Hallelujah. Hallelujah.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Saturday, July 29, 2006
of all sinners...
...I am the worst.
Okay. Confession time. I know that a blog isn't necessarily the most personal or private forum to confess secret sin. But I need to get this off my chest.
I am a sinner. I am fallen, filthy and in need of grace.
Okay, let me set the scene for you. Right outside my office is a large area that is used for Sunday School classes on Sunday mornings. And in this area, literally inches from my office door, sits a large desk. This desk is cluttered with crayons, markers, children's curriculum, building blocks, coloring books, etc. You know, your average Sunday School material. But there is something else that sits on this desk. Something that, on the outside, looks just as plain and ordinary as the rest of its desktop companions.
A dingy blue Tupperware container.
In fact, I probably walked by this Tupperware container a thousand times before my curiosity got the best of me. But eventually it did. And on that day, I stopped and thought, "You know, everything you could ever want or need for teaching a Sunday School class is sitting out on this desk already. What could they possibly be storing in that there blue container?" So I peaked in. And my life has never been the same.
What I found inside was the most complete and extraordinary bounty of treats and goodies I have ever seen. There was Starbursts, Chewy Sprees, Runts, Twizzlers, Airheads, Dum Dums, Dots, Laffy Taffy, Peanut Butter Cups, Jolly Ranchers, Almond Joys (Almond Joys have nuts), Mounds (Mounds don’t), Nerds, Tootsie Pops, Now and Laters, Caramel Chews, Whoopers, and my all-time favorite as a kid: Bottlecaps. The treasure appeared to be bottomless. I could bury my arm up to my shoulder in sweet, sweet goodness.
So I grabbed a couple Starbursts and a pack of Bottlecaps. "They'll never notice just a few missing", I said to myself. Later I walked by and figured, "Ah, whats a few more, right?"
The next morning as I passed it on the way to my office, I stopped dead in my tracks and stood staring at the Tupperware bin..."Well, I am doing the work of our Lord and I do need my sustenance. So, its only right that I partake from this fountain of sugary blessedness." And so I went...down the slippery slope of petty theft and justification.
I've tried to stop. I really have. But I am weak. "Its a dark room, Bill, and no one's around. Just take one or two treats. No one will ever find out." And here is the worst part, every time the candy gets low, every time I think I'm going to be found out...little candy fairies come and fill it right back up. I'm serious. I have never seen the bottom of that bin, yet I have never seen anyone refill it either.
So, in a way, I am not stealing candy from the kiddies. I'm stealing from the big, corporate suits who have more than enough already. I'm like Robin Hood...except that I'm keeping the goodies for myself and the "big, corporate suits" are actually Karen and Judy, two of the nicest ladies I've ever met.
I am horrible, horrible man. I have justified my actions in every possible way. But the truth remains: I steal candy from helpless little kids almost on a daily basis.
I don't know why I am telling you all of this and effectively blowing my cover. Maybe it is a cry for help. Maybe it is my way of saying that I am tired of living this double life and want to get better. Maybe it is a sign of maturity and growth, the work of the Holy Spirit in my life.
Or maybe...just maybe...it is because as I type this, there is an empty package of Runts sitting on my desk, a hint of artificially flavored candy on my breath, and the weight of guilt and remorse on my soul. Maybe.
Is there any hope for me?
Okay. Confession time. I know that a blog isn't necessarily the most personal or private forum to confess secret sin. But I need to get this off my chest.
I am a sinner. I am fallen, filthy and in need of grace.
Okay, let me set the scene for you. Right outside my office is a large area that is used for Sunday School classes on Sunday mornings. And in this area, literally inches from my office door, sits a large desk. This desk is cluttered with crayons, markers, children's curriculum, building blocks, coloring books, etc. You know, your average Sunday School material. But there is something else that sits on this desk. Something that, on the outside, looks just as plain and ordinary as the rest of its desktop companions.
A dingy blue Tupperware container.
In fact, I probably walked by this Tupperware container a thousand times before my curiosity got the best of me. But eventually it did. And on that day, I stopped and thought, "You know, everything you could ever want or need for teaching a Sunday School class is sitting out on this desk already. What could they possibly be storing in that there blue container?" So I peaked in. And my life has never been the same.
What I found inside was the most complete and extraordinary bounty of treats and goodies I have ever seen. There was Starbursts, Chewy Sprees, Runts, Twizzlers, Airheads, Dum Dums, Dots, Laffy Taffy, Peanut Butter Cups, Jolly Ranchers, Almond Joys (Almond Joys have nuts), Mounds (Mounds don’t), Nerds, Tootsie Pops, Now and Laters, Caramel Chews, Whoopers, and my all-time favorite as a kid: Bottlecaps. The treasure appeared to be bottomless. I could bury my arm up to my shoulder in sweet, sweet goodness.
So I grabbed a couple Starbursts and a pack of Bottlecaps. "They'll never notice just a few missing", I said to myself. Later I walked by and figured, "Ah, whats a few more, right?"
The next morning as I passed it on the way to my office, I stopped dead in my tracks and stood staring at the Tupperware bin..."Well, I am doing the work of our Lord and I do need my sustenance. So, its only right that I partake from this fountain of sugary blessedness." And so I went...down the slippery slope of petty theft and justification.
I've tried to stop. I really have. But I am weak. "Its a dark room, Bill, and no one's around. Just take one or two treats. No one will ever find out." And here is the worst part, every time the candy gets low, every time I think I'm going to be found out...little candy fairies come and fill it right back up. I'm serious. I have never seen the bottom of that bin, yet I have never seen anyone refill it either.
So, in a way, I am not stealing candy from the kiddies. I'm stealing from the big, corporate suits who have more than enough already. I'm like Robin Hood...except that I'm keeping the goodies for myself and the "big, corporate suits" are actually Karen and Judy, two of the nicest ladies I've ever met.
I am horrible, horrible man. I have justified my actions in every possible way. But the truth remains: I steal candy from helpless little kids almost on a daily basis.
I don't know why I am telling you all of this and effectively blowing my cover. Maybe it is a cry for help. Maybe it is my way of saying that I am tired of living this double life and want to get better. Maybe it is a sign of maturity and growth, the work of the Holy Spirit in my life.
Or maybe...just maybe...it is because as I type this, there is an empty package of Runts sitting on my desk, a hint of artificially flavored candy on my breath, and the weight of guilt and remorse on my soul. Maybe.
Is there any hope for me?
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
jesus today
I really know nothing about Robert Smigel, except that he creates sarcastically pointed and irreverent cartoons that air on Saturday Night Live each week in a segment titled "TV Funhouse". My wife tells me that they are also horribly offensive cartoons. But, I guess I'm usually laughing too hard to notice that.
Every once in a while, though, Smigel writes a cartoon that has a bit of heart behind its sarcasm. Jesus Today originally aired on SNL in December '97. It shows Jesus responding to the commercialization of Christmas by Christian Broadcasting. I remember seeing it back then and thinking that it was amazing. I've seen it a few times since then (usually during reruns on E!) and it gets me every time.
Again, I don't know a whole lot about Robert Smigel. But it seems to me that he has figured something out about the heart of Jesus that the guys who get paid to talk about Him on TV still never have.
(click the picture to watch the video)
Monday, July 24, 2006
lessons from the outside
Have you ever been sitting in a movie theatre, enjoying the latest blockbuster, when suddenly something is said or done onscreen that absolutely moves your soul? Something that is deeper, more profound, more spiritually awakening than anything you have seen or heard from the pulpit in years?
Maybe it wasn't in a movie theare. Maybe it happened while you were watching late-night TV, or reading a novel, or listening to your car radio. But regardless of the specific medium, have you ever caught a glimpse of God in something that was supposed to be "secular"?
I have. Actually, it happens pretty regularly. And really, to me, it makes perfect sense.
The Creator's fingerprint has been left on our souls. From Adam and Eve to Aristotle to Conan O'Brien, and everyone in between. There is a glimmer of Truth present in us.
But we have been taught to believe that if it doesn't come from a Christian bookstore or inside the walls of a stained-glass building, then it isn't worth reading, or watching, or listening to. And while we have been shifting back and forth, struggling to remain comfortable in our hard, wooden pews...a world of color and beauty has been spinning around outside. A dark and broken world? Yes. But within the darkness, there are flickers of light. Glimpses that, like fireflies, won't last for long.
Well, I say we pick-up out nets and head for the door. I say we find those fireflies, swing our arms and grab them while they still shine. And not for the purpose of putting one in a jar and taking it inside just to watch it loose air and fade away. No, I'd rather hold it in my hands for just a moment. Claim it as Truth and let it go; watching it fly and illuminate the darkness as it goes.
There are lessons to be learned from the world outside. And if we can let go of our illusion that something must be theologically complete and in full agreeance with our sets of beliefs before we listen...I think we would be blesssed, and frankly, amazed by what we find. That we don't have a monopoly on God. That we can't box Him in. That He lives and moves and breathes all around us.
In the next few days, I want to share with you just a few of these fireflies that I have found. Not because they are earth-shattering, or life-changing. But simply because they contain Truth.
From Plato's belief that the human soul is constantly searching for "the beautiful, the true and the good", to Hank Hill visiting a mega-church. We have a lot to learn from the world outside of our church walls.
Maybe it wasn't in a movie theare. Maybe it happened while you were watching late-night TV, or reading a novel, or listening to your car radio. But regardless of the specific medium, have you ever caught a glimpse of God in something that was supposed to be "secular"?
I have. Actually, it happens pretty regularly. And really, to me, it makes perfect sense.
The Creator's fingerprint has been left on our souls. From Adam and Eve to Aristotle to Conan O'Brien, and everyone in between. There is a glimmer of Truth present in us.
But we have been taught to believe that if it doesn't come from a Christian bookstore or inside the walls of a stained-glass building, then it isn't worth reading, or watching, or listening to. And while we have been shifting back and forth, struggling to remain comfortable in our hard, wooden pews...a world of color and beauty has been spinning around outside. A dark and broken world? Yes. But within the darkness, there are flickers of light. Glimpses that, like fireflies, won't last for long.
Well, I say we pick-up out nets and head for the door. I say we find those fireflies, swing our arms and grab them while they still shine. And not for the purpose of putting one in a jar and taking it inside just to watch it loose air and fade away. No, I'd rather hold it in my hands for just a moment. Claim it as Truth and let it go; watching it fly and illuminate the darkness as it goes.
There are lessons to be learned from the world outside. And if we can let go of our illusion that something must be theologically complete and in full agreeance with our sets of beliefs before we listen...I think we would be blesssed, and frankly, amazed by what we find. That we don't have a monopoly on God. That we can't box Him in. That He lives and moves and breathes all around us.
In the next few days, I want to share with you just a few of these fireflies that I have found. Not because they are earth-shattering, or life-changing. But simply because they contain Truth.
From Plato's belief that the human soul is constantly searching for "the beautiful, the true and the good", to Hank Hill visiting a mega-church. We have a lot to learn from the world outside of our church walls.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
sun-soaked and sore
Well, I got back last night from Tampa.
It was really good getting to catch up with old friends. We got to spend a lot of time on the beach and Friday afternoon went jet-skiing, which is the reason I am now sore. Although, I really shouldn't complain about being sore from jet-skiing considering the last time I was on one, I ended up with 13 stitches and on crutches for 6 weeks. So, compared to that I feel amazing.
And really, I probably should complain about being sun-soaked either. Thanks to a wife who knows a little something about sun-burns, I lathered up my face with spf 45. The other guys were like, "Oh no, I want to get some sun...I'm not using that." Suckers. Well, they got sun alright.
Anyway, I'm glad to be back (though I am flying to Chicago in the morning). I'll be posting some new stuff soon. Til then.
(the answer to my previous post is...drum roll please...Andrew Osenga.)
It was really good getting to catch up with old friends. We got to spend a lot of time on the beach and Friday afternoon went jet-skiing, which is the reason I am now sore. Although, I really shouldn't complain about being sore from jet-skiing considering the last time I was on one, I ended up with 13 stitches and on crutches for 6 weeks. So, compared to that I feel amazing.
And really, I probably should complain about being sun-soaked either. Thanks to a wife who knows a little something about sun-burns, I lathered up my face with spf 45. The other guys were like, "Oh no, I want to get some sun...I'm not using that." Suckers. Well, they got sun alright.
Anyway, I'm glad to be back (though I am flying to Chicago in the morning). I'll be posting some new stuff soon. Til then.
(the answer to my previous post is...drum roll please...Andrew Osenga.)
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
leaving on a jet plane
I am flying to Tampa this afternoon to visit my good friend, Dustin. He and his wife are preparing to head to Portland next month to attend Western Seminary. Two friends, who I just don't get to see often enough, are coming down as well. So I am very excited.
I tell you all of this because there is a good chance that I will be unable to post for the next few days. But before I head towards the airport, I want to leave you with something worthwhile in my absence.
First, a game of sorts. The picture below was taken at the wedding of my eldest sister, Jennifer and her husband, Mark. The date is July 29, 1995. The two gentlemen playing guitar (pay no attention to the back-of-the-head in the foreground) would later achieve moderate success in the christian music business. My sister's wedding was their first ever paid gig. You may not know the one on the right, but many of you should be familiar the floppy-haired one on the left.
Can you guess the name of this guitar wielding teenager?
(There are a handful of you who already know the answer to this question because of conversations we have had...or because you are related to me and were in attendance that day. Please don't ruin the game by giving away the answer.)
Secondly, I am attatching this link to an article in the Metro Pulse, which is a local paper here in Knoxville. The article chronicles the journey of a young woman as she went from church to church to observe "why people have religious faith, and how it manifests itself in worship". It is very interesting...insightful...disturbing...I don't know, I am still trying to digest it myself. But it is certainly worth a glance.
It is a rather long piece, though. Of course, you have a couple days to read it.
So, you can take your time.
I tell you all of this because there is a good chance that I will be unable to post for the next few days. But before I head towards the airport, I want to leave you with something worthwhile in my absence.
First, a game of sorts. The picture below was taken at the wedding of my eldest sister, Jennifer and her husband, Mark. The date is July 29, 1995. The two gentlemen playing guitar (pay no attention to the back-of-the-head in the foreground) would later achieve moderate success in the christian music business. My sister's wedding was their first ever paid gig. You may not know the one on the right, but many of you should be familiar the floppy-haired one on the left.
Can you guess the name of this guitar wielding teenager?
(There are a handful of you who already know the answer to this question because of conversations we have had...or because you are related to me and were in attendance that day. Please don't ruin the game by giving away the answer.)Secondly, I am attatching this link to an article in the Metro Pulse, which is a local paper here in Knoxville. The article chronicles the journey of a young woman as she went from church to church to observe "why people have religious faith, and how it manifests itself in worship". It is very interesting...insightful...disturbing...I don't know, I am still trying to digest it myself. But it is certainly worth a glance.
It is a rather long piece, though. Of course, you have a couple days to read it.
So, you can take your time.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
resurrection of an old friend
Blogs are about as few and far between as Starbucks these days. But for those of you looking for a good blog to read, I have some exciting news:
emergingminister.com is back.
I know that many of you remember that blog well. But for those of you who don't, emergingminister.com was started WAY back in 2003 (its hard to believe, but back then blogs were kind of a new thing, and the word "emerging" wasn't just a catchword). The blog was quite popular and for good reason. But about 9 months ago, it began slowly fading and eventually passed quietly away in the night. The plug was never officially pulled...but for all intents and purposes, it was gone. Many people mourned, some denied the obvious, but all longed for the good old days of fake book covers and funny videos.
Well, its a good thing that the plug wasn't pulled, because apparently this was no blog-death, it was only (I apologize in advance) a 'dot.coma'.
On Thursday July 13th, emergingminster.com...well...emerged from its slumber and rejoined the world of bloggers; much like Jordan taking his sneakers down off the wall, lacing them up, and stepping back on to the court. We may have to be patient as he stretches out, tries on the #45, and struggles to regain his form. But either way, I'm happy. My friend is back.
note: This post was often tongue-in-cheek and facetiously over-dramatic, but in truth...emergingminister.com was one of my favorite sites. It was funny, entertaining, and always thought provoking. Also, it was one of the main inspirations in creating this site. So, Greg...it really is good to have you back.
note II: Again, I want to apologize for the "dot.coma" joke.
emergingminister.com is back.
I know that many of you remember that blog well. But for those of you who don't, emergingminister.com was started WAY back in 2003 (its hard to believe, but back then blogs were kind of a new thing, and the word "emerging" wasn't just a catchword). The blog was quite popular and for good reason. But about 9 months ago, it began slowly fading and eventually passed quietly away in the night. The plug was never officially pulled...but for all intents and purposes, it was gone. Many people mourned, some denied the obvious, but all longed for the good old days of fake book covers and funny videos.
Well, its a good thing that the plug wasn't pulled, because apparently this was no blog-death, it was only (I apologize in advance) a 'dot.coma'.
On Thursday July 13th, emergingminster.com...well...emerged from its slumber and rejoined the world of bloggers; much like Jordan taking his sneakers down off the wall, lacing them up, and stepping back on to the court. We may have to be patient as he stretches out, tries on the #45, and struggles to regain his form. But either way, I'm happy. My friend is back.
note: This post was often tongue-in-cheek and facetiously over-dramatic, but in truth...emergingminister.com was one of my favorite sites. It was funny, entertaining, and always thought provoking. Also, it was one of the main inspirations in creating this site. So, Greg...it really is good to have you back.
note II: Again, I want to apologize for the "dot.coma" joke.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
it's all for thee
(click here to listen or download)
Any seed I’ve sewn … its all for Thee
Any kindness shown … its all for Thee
Any gift I give … its all for Thee
This whole life I live … its all for Thee, its all for Thee
Its all…its all…its all for Thee
Every gift, every ounce of char - ity
Every jewel in the crown I inherit from Thee
Before for You, I’ll lay it down for etern - ity
Its all…its all for Thee
Any need I’ve met … its all for Thee
Any mouth I’ve fed … its all for Thee
Anyone I’ve blessed … its all for Thee
All my righteousness … its all for Thee, its all for Thee
Its all…its all…its all for Thee
Every gift, every ounce of char - ity
Every jewel in the crown I inherit from Thee
Before for You, I’ll lay it down for etern - ity
Its all…its all for Thee
Every good and perfect gift comes from You
Its is my joy and honor just to be used…by You
May my life redound to the glory of Your Name
May my life redound to the glory of Your Name
Its all…its all…its all for Thee
Every gift, every ounce of char - ity
Every jewel in the crown I inherit from Thee
Before for You, I’ll lay it down for etern - ity
Its all…its all for Thee
All that awaits us in heaven…the treasures, the crowns, the mansions…none of it is ours. Nor will any of it make heaven a better or more enjoyable experience for us. No, the enjoyment we will receive from the treasures, crowns, and mansions, is getting to step before the throne of God and lay it all down at His feet...getting to say,
“It was all for You, my God. You are my only Crown, my only Reward, and my only Treasure. You, and You alone, make heaven heaven. And the truth is: any good I accomplished while in life, any thing I did to further Your Kingdom or care for Your children…it was all done out of my love for You. And even more, it was all done in You and through You. So all these treasures that I have stored-up for myself here…they are all Yours. May they add to Your pleasure and may they add to Your fame. Take them, my God, for they are all for You.”
That is the purpose for the heavenly bounty that awaits us. The joy of that moment. Before the soul-satisfying beauty and unrestricted glory of the Risen Christ…who would want mansions, crowns, and the like? We will want only Him.
So we lay it down. All that we have stored up. Some of us have earned nothing more than a tiny gold star to lay before Him.
“Here it is, God. See it there? On the tip of my finger? See it? It is all Yours.”
While others, those who spent their time and energy and resources well on earth, will have truckload after truckload after truckload backing-up, dumping heaps upon heaps upon heaps of treasures at the feet of the King they served so faithfully in life.
And those are the people who will know the deep and lasting joy of getting to say,
“My God...it's all for Thee”.
Any seed I’ve sewn … its all for Thee
Any kindness shown … its all for Thee
Any gift I give … its all for Thee
This whole life I live … its all for Thee, its all for Thee
Its all…its all…its all for Thee
Every gift, every ounce of char - ity
Every jewel in the crown I inherit from Thee
Before for You, I’ll lay it down for etern - ity
Its all…its all for Thee
Any need I’ve met … its all for Thee
Any mouth I’ve fed … its all for Thee
Anyone I’ve blessed … its all for Thee
All my righteousness … its all for Thee, its all for Thee
Its all…its all…its all for Thee
Every gift, every ounce of char - ity
Every jewel in the crown I inherit from Thee
Before for You, I’ll lay it down for etern - ity
Its all…its all for Thee
Every good and perfect gift comes from You
Its is my joy and honor just to be used…by You
May my life redound to the glory of Your Name
May my life redound to the glory of Your Name
Its all…its all…its all for Thee
Every gift, every ounce of char - ity
Every jewel in the crown I inherit from Thee
Before for You, I’ll lay it down for etern - ity
Its all…its all for Thee
All that awaits us in heaven…the treasures, the crowns, the mansions…none of it is ours. Nor will any of it make heaven a better or more enjoyable experience for us. No, the enjoyment we will receive from the treasures, crowns, and mansions, is getting to step before the throne of God and lay it all down at His feet...getting to say,
“It was all for You, my God. You are my only Crown, my only Reward, and my only Treasure. You, and You alone, make heaven heaven. And the truth is: any good I accomplished while in life, any thing I did to further Your Kingdom or care for Your children…it was all done out of my love for You. And even more, it was all done in You and through You. So all these treasures that I have stored-up for myself here…they are all Yours. May they add to Your pleasure and may they add to Your fame. Take them, my God, for they are all for You.”
That is the purpose for the heavenly bounty that awaits us. The joy of that moment. Before the soul-satisfying beauty and unrestricted glory of the Risen Christ…who would want mansions, crowns, and the like? We will want only Him.
So we lay it down. All that we have stored up. Some of us have earned nothing more than a tiny gold star to lay before Him.
“Here it is, God. See it there? On the tip of my finger? See it? It is all Yours.”
While others, those who spent their time and energy and resources well on earth, will have truckload after truckload after truckload backing-up, dumping heaps upon heaps upon heaps of treasures at the feet of the King they served so faithfully in life.
And those are the people who will know the deep and lasting joy of getting to say,
“My God...it's all for Thee”.
Monday, July 10, 2006
what is my daily bread?
When Jesus prayed for His daily bread, he really meant it. Being homeless and a vagabond, I believe He literally meant "bread" and I believe He literally meant "today". He didn't have a house. He didn't have a pantry or a refrigerator. He didn't even have a source of income. No...instead, He had to literally pray for his "daily bread" in order to survive.
So what does that mean for you and for me? Because most of us have our daily bread well under control. So much so that, above our daily bread, we can afford a couple cars, a house or an apartment, and way too many dvds (that one may just be me). And we end up worrying about things like: "Well, I really would like a new car and we could probably afford to buy a newer one if we squeeze the finances a little and move stuff around" or "Big screens are on sale at right now at Best Buy...we can't pass this up, can we?" or "The new Will Ferrell movie came out today on DVD, but I've got no cash on me. I suppose I can just put it on the card."
So, how do we pray for our "daily bread"? Seriously.
I suppose we could always just "spiritualize" the passage, dull its edges, take it out of its historical context and effectively justify our way of life. We, Christians, are real good at doing that. But what if we didn't this time?
Jesus meant something physical, essential...the bare minimum for living. He prayed for bread. And prayed for just enough for today. How does that translate to us?
Someone will probably tell me that all that stuff could be taken away in the blink of an eye...so even if we don't realize it, we are still dependent on God for the basics of life. That is true, believe me...I saw that first hand. But still. I've got today's bread already taken care of. Heck, I have rest of the week's bread lined up, as well as all of next week's too. So how do I pray that prayer?
What is my daily bread?
Maybe Jesus was right when He said that it is easier for poor people to live out the lifestyle of the Kingdom of God than it is for rich people to. And lets be honest here. If you are reading this, that means you have some sort of roof over your head, access to a computer, electricity, probably clean clothes on your back...you are rich. And so am I. Now, I'm not saying I want to be poor. But maybe I do. I don't know. How else do I know the humility and dependence of having to pray for my daily bread, and how else do I experience the blessing of its arrival?
Any thoughts?
So what does that mean for you and for me? Because most of us have our daily bread well under control. So much so that, above our daily bread, we can afford a couple cars, a house or an apartment, and way too many dvds (that one may just be me). And we end up worrying about things like: "Well, I really would like a new car and we could probably afford to buy a newer one if we squeeze the finances a little and move stuff around" or "Big screens are on sale at right now at Best Buy...we can't pass this up, can we?" or "The new Will Ferrell movie came out today on DVD, but I've got no cash on me. I suppose I can just put it on the card."
So, how do we pray for our "daily bread"? Seriously.
I suppose we could always just "spiritualize" the passage, dull its edges, take it out of its historical context and effectively justify our way of life. We, Christians, are real good at doing that. But what if we didn't this time?
Jesus meant something physical, essential...the bare minimum for living. He prayed for bread. And prayed for just enough for today. How does that translate to us?
Someone will probably tell me that all that stuff could be taken away in the blink of an eye...so even if we don't realize it, we are still dependent on God for the basics of life. That is true, believe me...I saw that first hand. But still. I've got today's bread already taken care of. Heck, I have rest of the week's bread lined up, as well as all of next week's too. So how do I pray that prayer?
What is my daily bread?
Maybe Jesus was right when He said that it is easier for poor people to live out the lifestyle of the Kingdom of God than it is for rich people to. And lets be honest here. If you are reading this, that means you have some sort of roof over your head, access to a computer, electricity, probably clean clothes on your back...you are rich. And so am I. Now, I'm not saying I want to be poor. But maybe I do. I don't know. How else do I know the humility and dependence of having to pray for my daily bread, and how else do I experience the blessing of its arrival?
Any thoughts?
Sunday, July 09, 2006
jamie cullum
Betsy and I saw Jamie Cullum live at the Bijou Theatre Friday night.
I'd never been to the Bijou before. So I didn't know what to expect. I must say, it was awesome. Not big, but great aesthetics and the acoustics in the room were amazing. The perfect place to see a show. I can't wait to go back. Ryan Adams is there later in this month. So I hope to be back soon.
Now on to Mr. Cullum...
The guy can not be much taller than about 5'3". No joke. And it wouldn't surprise me if he weighed under 100 pounds. He is so small...in stature.
But in talent, the man is a giant.
His voice, his song-writing, his piano playing ability...he has it all. But the most amazing thing about his show is that he is so energetic and so entertaining, that his musical prowess becomes a second-thought. He jumps around, stands on the piano, dances and struts...he's got a lot of energy for a little guy. And he plays incredibly well off the audience.
He did a lot of covers...from the Doves to "Don't Cha" by the Pussycat Dolls, Radiohead, Elton John...he played for well over 2 hours and it never got close to boring.
The highlight of the night was hands-down when he jumped off stage into the audience and sang "Nature Boy" by David Bowie from Moulin Rouge ("There was a boy..."). He walked up and down the aisle and sang, no microphone, with his hands cupped over his mouth. His only accompaniment was an upright bass (also in standing in the audience). It was by far the coolest thing I've ever seen at a concert.
So...if you get a chance to see this guy live, do it. He is well worth the ticket-price.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
back from nashville
Sorry for the lack of posts this week. I've been in Nashville all week with the in-laws. Good times. I won't bore you with lots of details. I'll just share with you some high-lights of the week.
1. Watching a heavily inebriated middle-aged woman trying to line dance at the Wild Horse Saloon. She was spazzing out like a crazy person, and her husband was taking a picture of her. Yeah, those are the moments you want to remember.
2. Finishing The Secret Message of Jesus by Brian McLaren and starting Confessions of a Reformission Rev. by Mark Driscoll. That's what I love about vacations...lots of time to read.
3. The Italy vs. Germany Semi-Finals World Cup game. Anyone else watch that? Man, that was one good game.
4. Pancake Pantry. Enough said.
5. Watching Leanne Rymes get mail out of her mailbox. Kind of voyeuristic, I know. But not the kind of thing you see everyday.
6. Tootsie's Orchid Lounge. Cramped. Dirty. One microphone. Bad speakers. Cheap beer. And good music. Pretty much everything it is supposed to be.
7. Our waitress at Demos Steak and Spaghetti Restaurant was...so cliche...a struggling singer/songwriter trying to break into the music biz. What are the odds?
8. Sunburn + Aloe Moisturizer + Ceiling Fan = Good Sleep.
9. Driving home on Highway 70 instead of the interstate. We had talked about doing it before and were in no kind of hurry, so we put the Elizabethtown soundtrack on and drove through country roads and small towns. It was nice.
10. Arriving to watch the fireworks on the 4th just in time to see everyone applaud, pack up their stuff and head towards their cars. At least we were the first ones out and beat the traffic.
1. Watching a heavily inebriated middle-aged woman trying to line dance at the Wild Horse Saloon. She was spazzing out like a crazy person, and her husband was taking a picture of her. Yeah, those are the moments you want to remember.
2. Finishing The Secret Message of Jesus by Brian McLaren and starting Confessions of a Reformission Rev. by Mark Driscoll. That's what I love about vacations...lots of time to read.
3. The Italy vs. Germany Semi-Finals World Cup game. Anyone else watch that? Man, that was one good game.
4. Pancake Pantry. Enough said.
5. Watching Leanne Rymes get mail out of her mailbox. Kind of voyeuristic, I know. But not the kind of thing you see everyday.
6. Tootsie's Orchid Lounge. Cramped. Dirty. One microphone. Bad speakers. Cheap beer. And good music. Pretty much everything it is supposed to be.
7. Our waitress at Demos Steak and Spaghetti Restaurant was...so cliche...a struggling singer/songwriter trying to break into the music biz. What are the odds?
8. Sunburn + Aloe Moisturizer + Ceiling Fan = Good Sleep.
9. Driving home on Highway 70 instead of the interstate. We had talked about doing it before and were in no kind of hurry, so we put the Elizabethtown soundtrack on and drove through country roads and small towns. It was nice.
10. Arriving to watch the fireworks on the 4th just in time to see everyone applaud, pack up their stuff and head towards their cars. At least we were the first ones out and beat the traffic.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
the communion of prodigals
This morning two members of our congregation were baptized during our worship service. They are a nice couple, probably in their mid 50's, who have attended church for a long time. Last Sunday, they made the descision that they wanted to heed Christ's command, publically proclaim their faith, and be baptized.
While the communion trays were being passed up and down the rows, I was standing on stage playing something soft on the guitar. In the stillness of that moment, I looked to my left and saw something sacred; something holy. From where I was standing I could see the couple back-stage, dressed in their white robes, taking communion together...seconds before they were to be baptized.
I saw their eyes close and their brows furrow. I saw their lips move and their hands tightly hold the plastic cups of juice, as though their very lives depended on it . I saw Brian (our Senior Minsiter) standing with them, waiting patiently as that moment seem to go on forever.
I saw two people deeply in love with God; two people communing with Him through the body and the blood of His Son and their Christ. I saw two people who knew the gravity of their sin and the abundance of God's grace. I saw the communion of two prodigals.
And in witnessing that sacred event, I realized something. See, the knock on those of us who take communion every week is that, in doing so, we take something that should be holy and special, and make it routine and mundane. And the truth is, that is an accurate criticism. I agree.
But the difference is that I don't believe the only remedy is to hide our crackers and juice under lock and key 50 weeks out of the year, so that the two weeks we do allow our member to partake in Christ's death, burial, and resurrection through the physical and sensual act of communion, then become that much more meaningful.
No, I don't think the problem is that our crackers and juice are too readily available. I think the issue goes much deeper than that.
We are prodigals. Everyone of us. And it is time to return. It doesn't just happen once and then become something we grow out of and look back on. Read the story again. Enter into it. See the way the father sprints toward his broken son. That is you and that is me. Filthy, defiled and unworthy of His embrace. Yet, before we can utter our words of apology, his forgiveness washes over us like a waterfall. Because we are His and He loves us. That ought never become just a nice story we read to our Sunday Schoolers. No. That should be a picture of our every morning, our every evening...of our every waking day.
The problem is that we move too quickly, and we think too highly of ourselves. We miss the blessing of communion because we make the act of it a chore. It ceases to be something we need and becomes something we do. And so we do it, because that is what good boys and good girls do. We mindlessly bow our heads and close our eyes for a few moments every Sunday, just like everybody else, because that is how it works.
But today I caught a glimpse of something better. In the blushed faces of two people, dressed in white, holding a thimble full of grape-juice and a cracker the size of my pinky nail, I caught a glimpse of a better way.
I caught a glimpse of grace.
While the communion trays were being passed up and down the rows, I was standing on stage playing something soft on the guitar. In the stillness of that moment, I looked to my left and saw something sacred; something holy. From where I was standing I could see the couple back-stage, dressed in their white robes, taking communion together...seconds before they were to be baptized.
I saw their eyes close and their brows furrow. I saw their lips move and their hands tightly hold the plastic cups of juice, as though their very lives depended on it . I saw Brian (our Senior Minsiter) standing with them, waiting patiently as that moment seem to go on forever.
I saw two people deeply in love with God; two people communing with Him through the body and the blood of His Son and their Christ. I saw two people who knew the gravity of their sin and the abundance of God's grace. I saw the communion of two prodigals.
And in witnessing that sacred event, I realized something. See, the knock on those of us who take communion every week is that, in doing so, we take something that should be holy and special, and make it routine and mundane. And the truth is, that is an accurate criticism. I agree.
But the difference is that I don't believe the only remedy is to hide our crackers and juice under lock and key 50 weeks out of the year, so that the two weeks we do allow our member to partake in Christ's death, burial, and resurrection through the physical and sensual act of communion, then become that much more meaningful.
No, I don't think the problem is that our crackers and juice are too readily available. I think the issue goes much deeper than that.
We are prodigals. Everyone of us. And it is time to return. It doesn't just happen once and then become something we grow out of and look back on. Read the story again. Enter into it. See the way the father sprints toward his broken son. That is you and that is me. Filthy, defiled and unworthy of His embrace. Yet, before we can utter our words of apology, his forgiveness washes over us like a waterfall. Because we are His and He loves us. That ought never become just a nice story we read to our Sunday Schoolers. No. That should be a picture of our every morning, our every evening...of our every waking day.
The problem is that we move too quickly, and we think too highly of ourselves. We miss the blessing of communion because we make the act of it a chore. It ceases to be something we need and becomes something we do. And so we do it, because that is what good boys and good girls do. We mindlessly bow our heads and close our eyes for a few moments every Sunday, just like everybody else, because that is how it works.
But today I caught a glimpse of something better. In the blushed faces of two people, dressed in white, holding a thimble full of grape-juice and a cracker the size of my pinky nail, I caught a glimpse of a better way.
I caught a glimpse of grace.
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