I already know the answer, of course. Whatever else I understand about the Lord, He is eternally interesting. And when it comes to us, He’s eternally interested.
But every once in a while, in the middle of the every-day kinds of exchanges, somebody actually takes at face value what He said, and comes calling.
No, I mean calling. As in, asking wasn’t enough – now I’m seeking. And since I’m not finding, I’m knocking. And when somebody like that cries out to God, I believe all of Heaven sits up and pays attention.
That is what the Lord encouraged, right?
Call on me in prayer and I will answer you. I will show you great and mysterious things which you still do not know about (Jeremiah 33:3, NET).
An important part of creating a compelling future has to do with remembering. That’s why lately I’ve been visiting some museums on a fairly regular basis.
I’m not referring to anything with the words, “Smithsonian,” “Historical,” or “National” in it. The museums I’m talking about are in my head, some really old computer files, and my journals.
Lately I’ve been visiting the Dream Museum. I suggest you do the same.
The idea for this little excursion was planted in my heart last August at a men’s retreat, where my friend Mickey asked a compelling question:
What dreams have you had either stolen or detained, to the point you have given up on them? Maybe the Lord is telling you to pick that dream back up again.
That really registered with me. “Electrified” may be a better term.
(Pause. Are you entering your dream museum yet? Visiting what’s in mine may help me, but it won’t do much for you. So let me ask you what Mickey asked all of us: What dreams have YOU had that were either stolen or detained, to the point you have given up on them?)
I didn’t have an immediate answer to the question, other than some unfulfilled physical dreams that I believe were prophetic. But I couldn’t get over the gut feeling that some long-ago dream had been shelved to the point that I had forgotten about it, but the Lord hadn’t. [click to continue…]
Today’s guest post is by Leonard Grimm. Leonard has been a deacon in three of my churches in the old days (he was stalking me), and is my favorite axe-grinder. As you can tell, he has a bit of a different idea about forgiveness. Actually, Leonard has a different idea about a lot of things.
Leonard has issues. Lots of ‘em. But in the interest of equal time and continuing the uh, discussion, here’s Leonard.
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Get a bunch of Christians and other religious people like me together, and somebody will eventually start talking about forgiving your neighbor, “seventy times seven,” and all that stuff. Well, I’m here to tell you, that’s a buncha hooey. If you’re pouting, shouting, or planning your next attack, hang in there and stay the course. Here are 10 reasons you should rethink all that forgiveness stuff:
1. It still hurts.
Just because you send the jerk on his merry way doesn’t mean his offenses don’t hurt anymore. And if you’re still hurting, why should he get off scott free? I think you need to remind his sorry soul every time you’re having a bad day.
2. It sends the message that you approve of what they did.
So the dirtbag comes along and says, “I’m sorry,” and you say, “Oh, it’s okay” with that sugar-sweet churchy voice. We all know what that means – “It’s really not that bad. I know you didn’t mean to drive drunk, cheat, steal or lie. I’ve probably done worse that.” Puh-leeze! You just signed his hall pass to do it all over again. [click to continue…]
Okay this post is interactive, so get a pen and something other than your outgoing mail to write on. Or do what I did and pop up your word processor.
Here’s the challenge: Watch the 46-second video below and see if, based on that, you can think of at least one adjective that begins with each letter of the alphabet. (Confession: I had to watch about five times, but I got it.)
Why this video? Only because I saw it the other day and thought it was way-cool. Here’s the back story: A missionary had distributed Gideon Bibles to a village in Malawi, Africa. These people were so happy to get their hands on their own Bibles, they spontaneously broke out into song and dancing, worshipping God in gratitude. (When was the last time you did that when you got a new Bible?)
So click on the “play” button and start listing adjectives. See how many plays it takes for you to get a full list. I’ll show you my list after it’s over and you have yours.
It was that time again. Time to plan the annual Men’s Rafting Trip in Colorado. I had taken a group of fifty men a year earlier and discovered how some guys get the nickname “Bob” when they go rafting.
That’s all I want to say about that.
Now as I pulled out the file, I came across the list of men who had gone with me. What a difference 12 months had made! I was amazed at the profound changes so many of them had witnessed.
Three had been fired from their work.
One had quit his job and was unemployed for four months.
One man endured an extended season of severe depression.
Another had faced a dangerous autoimmune disease and was out of work for several weeks.
One man’s career was at a dead end.
Three others lost their businesses.
One left for another state with no job in sight.
Put in Biblical language, “their brooks had dried up.” That is, they looked to a means by which God had provided for them in the past – health, strength, job, career – only to discover that the resource was no longer available.
Little did I know as I scanned that list that I, too, would soon face a drought of my own. Up until that time my ministry was fairly evenly split between an itinerant ministry and a part-time pastoral staff position. Within a matter of weeks, my traveling ministry had dwindled to two continuous months of inactivity. Then the church where I had served for four years terminated me, along with a number of other staff members, because of budgetary restraints.
I want to take you to a place where, frankly, we aren’t invited. For just a minute, let’s be one of “those” people we often gripe about – those rubberneckers on the highway, who seem fascinated with somebody else’s messes.
In this case, we’re creeping up to a closed bedroom door, where on the other side, we can hear muffled sobs.
A man’s sobs.
A few days ago, somebody from home had rocked his world. The news was bad, and every ounce of optimism he once had was crushed.
You should have been here yesterday. He was really blubbering then. And he will be again tomorrow. Fasting, too. And praying. Lots of praying.
But as he cries and prays and cries and fasts and cries some more, something happens. [click to continue…]
Take a look at this, and read it thoughtfully. As you do, count the number of times the words “all” or “every” appear.
The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love.
The Lord is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made.
All you have made will praise you, O Lord; your saints will extol you.
They will tell of the glory of your kingdom and speak of your might, so that all men may know of your mighty acts and the glorious splendor of your kingdom.
Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and your dominion endures through all generations.
The Lord is faithful to all his promises and loving toward all he has made. [click to continue…]
Maybe it’s because I majored in history in college. Maybe it’s because I’m an explorer at heart (not always a good thing). Maybe it’s because I’m a typical man who hates to ask for directions, or maybe it’s because I often wind up in places I didn’t intend to go. But regardless of the reason, one of the most common questions I ask myself is, “How’d I wind up here?
That’s a pretty handy thing if you want to stay out of the bad neighborhoods, the dead ends, or the “I told you so’s” in the future.
But wouldn’t it be more helpful to have a bit of a roadmap ahead of time? Maybe to get some directions that apply to whatever path I or you think we’re on? [click to continue…]
This is about asking yourself a simple, but profound question about choices and consequences and serving. Choose well, you’ll live well. Choose poorly, and you will serve the consequences of those choices.
Moses understood that. Just before his death, he called an assembly of Israelis and reframed all the things that God had taught him. We call it, “Deuteronomy.” Here’s what Moses had to say as he was wrapping things up:
This day I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live and that you may love the LORD your God, listen to his voice, and hold fast to him. For the LORD is your life, and he will give you many years in the land (Deuteronomy 30:19-20, NIV).
There’s one example of the diagnostic question: Am I choosing life or death? It’s a powerful question about the path we are on. A friend of mine has started using this to frame his everyday decisions – what he eats, his business decisions, his family relationships.
Nobody uses this gate any more. But when I was a kid, it was a gateway to wonder. Just north of my grandparents’ house, across a small pasture, this gate opened the pathway to one of the most fascinating people I have ever known.
On the other side, just across the dirt road, there rested an old log cabin. And inside that log cabin lived Bob and Pearl McLean. It was years before I knew their last names. To my sister and me, they were Cousin Bob and Miss Pearl.
Pearl McLean was the slowest-talking human I have ever known. [click to continue…]
Have you ever wondered if God gets bored?
