…to use the tools of the trade – words or paint or dance or music – to design the ultimate masterpiece.
…to turn passion into such artistic cleverness and inspiration into such adoration that mountains move, easels grow dark, and all other voices remain silent, at least for a while.
…to write the song to end all songwriting, or the story that all other stories are compared to, or the verse that contains the finest content of the heart.
Never gonna happen.
The heart is too large to be reduced to words or rhymes or phrases or meter.
The soul is too powerfully changing to be framed by one snapshot of expression.
The imagination is too delighted in the dance of dreaming to stop with one image.
The inspiration is too elusive and awe-inspiring to ever satisfy the poet that his work is done.
The Creator whose image we bear is too interesting to be limited to our vision-of-the-moment.
Somewhere in the places where sighs give way to hope and promises sing to aching hearts, your soul waits for something different. More than the pleasure of a passing moment or those 15 minutes of look-at-me, you were created with a craving soul. “He has planted eternity in the human heart,” Solomon said, “but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.”
One day – sooner rather than later – that craving will be satisfied. And not by what the pavement is made of or what the real estate market is like past the pearly gates. Not by something that resembles Sunday morning at the church house, Monday noon at the White House, or Friday night at the penthouse. Craving souls are smarter and deeper than that.
One day – nearer rather than farther – tired hearts, stale relationships and flyblown religion will give way to a new dawn. And at long last your soul will taste satisfaction. Ashes will give way to beauty. You’ll trade your mourning in for the oil of joy. You’ll wear a garment of praise – complete with dancing shoes – instead of a spirit of heaviness. In the satisfaction of the soul… [click to continue…]
In one sense, as my Dad said yesterday, it has flown by. In another, it felt like a thousand years.
But if one thing has emerged from the past 365 days, it’s that when people or Bible writers talk about the “God of All Comfort,” I can say “Amen” and turn the pages with credibility.
But it didn’t start – or end – with the events surrounding my mother’s sudden death. In fact, the biggest lesson of all was that healing of the heart is a journey through time.
Translation: Don’t tell me how much comfort or encouragement you’re feeling in the funeral home. You have no clue yet about comfort. You’re still being buoyed and insulated by kind people and the truths of your faith.
Comfort – the real kind – comes later.
In the last year, I have been blessed to live what I have preached for years – that the words we use about a Heavenly Father who is who is able to empathize with our weaknesses and invites us to boldly approach a throne of grace are all true. And believe me, other than the promise of eternal life, I can’t think of a promise that is more vital.
How does He do it? If you’re the one just leaving the cemetery or the courthouse or the hospital, what can you expect? How does the Lord put the pieces back together? While every experience of loss – whether it is through death, rejection, forced job termination, or the death of a dream – is unique, I think I have found some common elements in the way our Heavenly Father brings about His healing. [click to continue…]
One guy holds a guitar. Another guy, 14 months old, holds somebody’s keys.
One leads with structured, heartfelt songs. The other freely moves, but stays in touch with Mama.
One is concerned with decency and order – the other, with intimacy and relationship.
The one before me is saying a prayer. The one below me says “Dada” over and over again with love and joy.
With a plan and a band, one leads in worship. With white-blonde hair aimed in 20 directions and a smile aimed straight at me, the other models it with his delighted life.
I was standing in the bank branch foyer the other day. It was lunchtime, and only two tellers were working, so there was a small line.
Waiting my turn, the man in front of me turned around, and I recognized him. He was an acquaintance from a former church where I had served. The truth is, the last we’d seen of each other in any meaningful way was on a rafting trip more than 10 years ago. We had a few minutes to catch up – not asking eternal-type questions mind you – just mainly the life-and-work stuff.
He had retired a few years ago, just in time for the stock market to crater. So he had figured out that the way out was the way back in, and had gone back to do some consulting.
I told him I am a teacher now for four different universities, soon to be five. I didn’t mention the part about being an aspiring author and counselor.
His back to the tellers, I had to tell him there was one who was available.
“Hello, Mr. Scott,” she said. It was the beginning of a powerful lesson.
Wow, I thought to myself. He must get by here a lot. He must be The Man. I wondered what it was like to have the fab bank teller know you as a somebody. [click to continue…]
Have you ever felt as though you had been shoved out of your nest, or your comfort zone?
And that God was doing the shoving?
Have you ever been forced to move, had some people removed from your life that you depended on, or taken away from a comfortable church or home situation?
Maybe He was teaching you something you may not have learned any other way. Maybe He was placing you in a strategic spot to be greatly used by Him – as improbable as that might feel. Maybe, just maybe, He was taking something dead and bringing it to life… or putting something to death that needed to die.
Maybe He was taking you from “living stoned” to “living stone.”
One of my favorite places in Israel is the steps of the Temple, where Peter most likely preached on the Day of Pentecost. There behind the cleansing pools and in front of what was then the main entrance to this massive building, Peter declared that the stone had been rolled away, and that Jesus Christ was alive. Thousands of people responded to his message.
If you’re in church leadership, you know the challenge of weekly developing an experience that’s creative, energetic, uplifting, anointed (gotta be anointed), and most important of all – as cool as the church down the street.
It’s a daunting task.
Fortunately, the folks at Northpoint in Atlanta have produced a resource that will change your life and revolutionize your church.
Or at least give you a laugh, as they spoof themselves.
Check out the video below, follow the easy-to-understand template, and you’ll be renting your city auditorium in no-time, just to keep up with the masses who are flooding in.
In California, two very dear friends are facing their second-greatest fear as their son is deployed with the Marines to Afghanistan. They know the promises of God. They know full-well that every other military parent or spouse has walked this same path. But that doesn’t change the fact that the emotions are more than they bargained for. Tossed about and beat up, their souls are sinking.
Here in Lubbock, a bright young professional had launched a successful and lucrative career when his work was upended by petty, jealous people. He lost his job and another significant source of income. And though he was innocent of the lies told against him, and though he has bounced back in a different setting, he still retreats to an emotional cave of isolation, as if he were totally guilty. Broken, bewildered, and just going through the motions, his soul is sinking.
In my home state, a once-confident, faith-filled woman lives in the wake of one of the most grotesque griefs of all – the death of a dream. Sure she had heard from the Lord about her future, and bold in her expectations of how He would order her steps, nothing has turned out as expected. First the heartbreak. Then the waiting. Then more disappointment. Now rudderless and aimless, she feels powerless to choose any direction… her soul is sinking.
However committed or expectant you or I are, none of us is immune to the sinking of the soul. [click to continue…]
It’s the creator’s fantasy…
