A couple of weeks ago, I attended a local high school production of The Music Man. My friend's daughter was playing the lead role of Marian, and she—and the entire cast—did a fantastic job. And after the show, something happened that I can't stop thinking about. But first, let me back up a bit...
As I walked into the lobby of the theater, I looked to my right and saw a picture of a young man framed on the wall. When I took my seat and opened the show program, I learned he was a former student (and chorus member) named Tyler. He died in a tragic car accident in 1998. After he passed away, the school decided to honor him by dedicating the annual musical to his memory. The production I was about to watch was the 23rd anniversary of this tradition.
Tyler's story gripped me, partly because we were born the same year, and the high school I attended is only a few miles away from this one. I wonder if Tyler and I liked the same music or TV shows. I wonder if we would have been friends had we gone to the same school. It made me sad to think of my peer dying way too soon and so tragically. I thought it was wonderful that the school honored him in this way. But I wasn't expecting what came next.
After the final bows, two students from the cast took center stage and shared Tyler's story. Each year, the proceeds from the musical go toward college scholarships for seniors. The two students asked past recipients of the scholarship to stand. A few people in the audience stood as we applauded.
And then (and this is where it took everything in me not to break down and start sobbing loudly)—the cast sang one last song. It was an original song they sing every year, written for Tyler by a Broadway composer. It's titled "There Is Only One You."
Here is what I kept thinking (and what moved me the most about the whole experience): The kids on this stage weren't even born when Tyler died. And yet, they were now connected to his story.
After a tragic event, it can be easy to want to forget about it and "move on." The painful memories are too much to bear. We've all been there. But this high school decided to lean into the pain. Rather than try to forget Tyler's tragic death, they used the pain as a catalyst for good works. This couldn't have been easy, especially in those first few years when the wounds were still fresh.
I experienced a taste of God's kingdom inside that high school theater.
When Jesus blew the doors off death on Easter Sunday, it was the beginning of establishing his kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. It's a kingdom that doesn't ignore sadness or pain but redeems it. It's a kingdom that acknowledges the brokenness of the world and then begins working to set things right. And no, that vision will never be fully realized until Jesus comes back. But in the meantime, we get to take part in his life-giving work here and now. Sometimes that looks like high schoolers singing a song to honor a life cut short way too soon.
As I watched these students sing Tyler's tribute song, I could see how much it meant to them. Some of them were crying. You got the sense that somehow, in some unexplainable way, they knew Tyler personally. It was as if they were staring Death square in the face and saying, "Yes, I see you. I see your destruction. I feel the hurt and the pain you cause. And yet, I also see the hope in the midst of it."
As I held back my own tears, I thought of my 1-year-old son, Emmett. 13 years from now, he'll be attending this same high school (assuming we don't move!). I thought to myself, Maybe he'll be up on that stage one day, singing that song, honoring Tyler's memory.
Maybe he—and our entire family—will become part of Tyler's story, a story full of profound sadness and pain.
But also one that flickers with hope.
—
P.S. If you’d like to support my writing, you can buy me a sweet tea to keep me caffeinated and it would be much appreciated.
God's Heartfelt Tenth Commandment
If you ask people their opinion of the 10 Commandments, you're likely to get a variety of answers. Some would call them a list of good ideas, but about half are outdated. Some would say obeying them is how we earn God's favor. (Okay, they might not actually use those words, but that is their broad conclusion.) And some would just roll their eyes at the whole thing.
No matter where we fall on that spectrum, it's easy to view the 10 Commandments as a cold list of dos and don'ts. The word "commandment" doesn't exactly conjure up warm, fuzzy feelings, does it? But when viewed in this impersonal way, we miss God's heart in them.
God handed down the 10 Commandments (perhaps better translated as "Words," according to some scholars) after he brought the Israelites out of slavery. The Israelites were the centerpiece of God's rescue plan for the whole world—a plan that began when God called Abraham to pack up and follow him. The project was always for Abraham's descendants to be a blessing to all nations. And as part of that plan, they needed to reflect God's heart to the world. The 10 Commandments give us a glimpse into that heart.
It's easy to imagine God making up the 10 Commandments on a whim one day. Moses goes up to Mt. Sinai and says, "What should I tell the people today?"
"Well, I was up all night coming up with a list of 10 things for y'all to do," God replies. "I think it'd be pretty fun to watch you guys try to keep them all. Good luck!"
But the essence of the 10 Commandments was always part of who God is. They show us how to be at peace with God, others, and ourselves. In Genesis, long before the commandments were spelled out, we see heartbreaking things happen when people violate their concepts. And not because God "punished" them, but because there are real-life consequences to breaking that peace. When we look at the commandments through the lens of God's heart, a lifeless list becomes a beautiful way of living. And for me, this beauty shines through most in the final commandment.
The 10th commandment comes after a list of four big "don'ts": Do not murder, commit adultery, steal, or testify falsely against your neighbor. Even today, we have laws around at least two of those things. And we know that all these actions hurt other people in some way. (Yes, we can rationalize away their impact. But the very act of minimizing shows there is a consequence to minimize!)
But then you get to the 10th commandment, and it almost seems out of place in this behavior-based list:
You must not covet your neighbor's house. You must not covet your neighbor's wife, male or female servant, ox or donkey, or anything else that belongs to your neighbor." (Exodus 20:17, NLT)
The Message version puts it this way: Don't set your heart on anything that is your neighbor's.
But why? If I want something that someone else has, who am I hurting? That person won't even know about my secret jealousy!
You could make the argument that it's a guardrail. If I don't covet anything, I'm less likely to break those four previous commandments, right? Yes. That's true. But I think it goes deeper (and is more beautiful) than that.
God doesn't want us to just "get along" with each other and try not to break anything, as if we're siblings left alone with a newbie babysitter. He wants us to love each other and live together in a thriving community. That's God's heart for his children.
When I want something someone else has—whether it's their stuff, their success, or their book sale numbers (Ouch! That one hurt, Michael!)—I break the peace I have with them. (I also break the peace I have with God and myself.) If I am jealous of someone's success, I will have a hard time celebrating with them. There will always be something between us, even if I never do anything to actively hurt them.
This is why when Jesus came, he was able to summarize all God's commandments into one "new" command: "Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other." (John 13:34) This is God's heart behind the commandments. It reveals what he's all about.
But how do we "not covet"? Behavior-based commands are easier to follow because we know where the line is. We can walk right up to it but not cross it. But this commandment forces us to look inside of ourselves. We all have desires, and most of them are probably good things. But how do we keep them from controlling us?
I think it starts with reframing how we look at the 10th commandment—and all God's commandments, for that matter. Instead of seeing it as one more thing not to do, we need to see God's heart in it.
God loves you too much to see you spending your time wishing you were someone else. He wants to bless the world through you—in the way you love, serve, and encourage others. When you express sincere joy in seeing your neighbors flourish, they get a glimpse of God's heart. In a world that can be cynical and skeptical, joy without strings attached can be a refreshing balm. This is the vision God is inviting us into. And it's so much bigger than obeying a set of rules because we "have to."
And when we get it wrong (and we will) and feel jealousy creep into our hearts, it's okay. Because of Jesus, we are not condemned. We can bring our feelings to Jesus and ask him to help us in those moments. We can't do it on our own, and he knows it.
Maybe it's as simple as saying, "Jesus, I'm feeling jealous about________." I can't change my feelings, but I can give them to you. Please help me. Help me be a neighbor that reflects your heart into this world."
I pray to see God's heart behind every commandment rather than a lifeless set of arbitrary rules.
—
P.S. If you’d like to support my writing, you can buy me a sweet tea to keep me caffeinated and it would be much appreciated.
The Weight of Discouragement
I am reading through the entire Bible this year. (I'm using J. Ellsworth Kalas's wonderful book The Grand Sweep as a guide. It's my second time using this resource, and I highly recommend it. It's like having a friend by your side to chat with you about the Bible!)
What amazes me about the Bible is how you can read these familiar stories over and over again and get something new out of it each time. When I get to Exodus, I know Moses is going to have an argument with God. God wants him to go back to Egypt to confront Pharaoh, and Moses tries to worm his way out of the gig. Moses seems afraid. But as I read it this time, I had a thought: Maybe Moses's enemy wasn't fear but discouragement.
God had heard the cry of his people. Pharoah was brutalizing the Israelites, and the time had come to set them free. But Moses had also heard this cry decades before. In Exodus 2, Moses witnesses an Egyptian beating a Hebrew. This made Moses furious. And so "after looking in all directions to make sure no one was watching, Moses killed the Egyptian and hid the body in the sand" (v. 12).
Moses wanted to free his people and took action. But this action had disastrous consequences. He was forced to flee from Egypt and become a fugitive. He settled down in Midian and became a shepherd. As the years went by, Egypt must have felt like a dream to him.
Then one day, God appears to Moses and tells him to go back to Egypt and free his people. And this man who once had the fire in him to kill a man was now weak and timid. "Who am I to appear before Pharaoh?" he argues. "Who am I to lead the people of Israel out of Egypt?"
I think Moses had let years of discouragement and guilt beat him down. He had already tried to help his people. Why should he try again?
Discouragement can feel like a 1,000-pound weight around our neck. We carry around our failures with us. It can be especially crushing when we were genuinely trying to do something good, but it blew up in our face. We acted without thinking and ended up hurting people. When Moses killed the Egyptian guard, he was called out by one of his fellow Hebrews. His bad decision left him isolated from his Egyptian family and Hebrew family. It makes sense why he wouldn't want to go back to Egypt.
But there is a crucial difference this time. All those years ago, Moses tried to act alone. He had a passion for seeing his people set free, but his quick-tempered decision made things worse. I'm sure he was haunted by the memory every day of his life. Now God was calling him to go back to where the failure first happened. God wanted to harness Moses's passion, but it would need to be done in God's way. It wouldn't be easy, and it wouldn't be quick.
Discouragement has a way of zapping your energy. When I feel discouraged, I don't want to do anything. Taking the next step seems impossible.
Discouragement can also take hope out of our sails. When Moses returns to Egypt, he tells the Israelites everything God planned to do. But they wouldn't listen because "they had become too discouraged by the brutality of their slavery" (6:7). Moses' words of hope were like salt in their wounds. They couldn't bear to hope because they had been disappointed too many times.
What are you discouraged about? What have you failed at that you don't want to try again because the disappointment was too crushing?
Please don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying every failure is a result of us acting rashly as Moses did. Sometimes we do everything we can to follow God and still "fail." I'm using quotes because we probably view success and failure differently than God. Our failures might be considered successes if they help us learn more about God and ourselves.
But what I am saying is, like Moses, God may call us to do something that we already made a mess of the first time around. It doesn't make sense why he would ask us to do it now.
But time gives us a new perspective. God was working on Moses all those years in Midian before ever appearing to him in the burning bush. When he was younger, Moses had the strength to kill a man. But he didn't have the strength to lead his people to freedom. Now that he was older and weaker, God was ready to use him.
Is God asking you to do something, but you already feel like you've "been there, done that"?
It could be trying to reconcile a relationship that always seems to end with conflict.
It could be giving volunteering at church a second try even though the first time didn't end so well.
It could be quitting a habit you've tried to quit a thousand times before. Or making a second appointment with the counselor even though the first session was painful.
Discouragement can be debilitating. I know it is for me. It may take some coaxing from God to get us to see past it. That's okay. God is patient. He even gave Moses a sidekick with Aaron to help him through it!
We never know what God might be planning to do through us until we give it a shot.
—
P.S. If you’d like to support my writing, you can buy me a sweet tea to keep me caffeinated and it would be much appreciated.
A Better Hope
Every now and then, I come across a Bible verse that stops me in my tracks and makes me smile. I think, Man, I wish more people knew this verse existed!
I've been reading the book of Hebrews this week, and I stumbled upon one of these verses:
The former regulation is set aside because it was weak and useless (for the law made nothing perfect), and a better hope is introduced, by which we draw near to God. (Hebrews 7:18-19, NIV)
We don't know who wrote the letter of Hebrews, but it does a great job of connecting the Old Testament to Jesus. Personally, I like to think it was a collaboration between Peter, Paul, and James, kind of like how members of different bands get together to form supergroups. (Yes, I just compared Hebrews to the Traveling Wilburys...)
In chapter 7, our mystery writer talks about the inadequacies of priests making sacrifices for sin, which was the OG (or O.T.) way of doing things. It's not that it was a "bad" system (it worked for that period of time), but it was incomplete. It was a never-ending hamster wheel of sin, sacrifice, sin, sacrifice, etc. And it did nothing to address the root cause of our messiness.
I love the line, "the law made nothing perfect." We all know this is true. The law (not just God's law, but any law—even our own personal law to wake up at 6 am and exercise for an hour) may help to guide our behavior. But it doesn't give us life.
The law makes nothing perfect, and so it always leaves more for us to do. The problem is, we can always be a little bit kinder, a little bit gentler, and a little bit patient-ER. :) There's always one more thing we can check off our to-do list.
And when we feel that pressure, we start trying to figure out what the minimum requirement is to be perfect. Imagine if I woke up every day and told my wife, "Alright now, please just tell me, what's the minimum I have to do today to love you???" (Jesus was asked this very question once.) Love becomes a burden because the law is a burden.
But there is a better hope! A few verses later, the writer talks about how Jesus is our true priest. We can finally get off the never-ending wheel of trying to be good enough.
Because of this oath, Jesus is the one who guarantees this better covenant with God... Therefore he is able, once and forever, to save those who come to God through him. He lives forever to intercede with God on their behalf. (Hebrews 7:22,25, NLT)
When our hope is in Jesus, we can lean on his love to draw us close to God rather than trying to earn God's love. And we can allow that love to spill over to all the people in our lives. We are no longer burdened by the law, but free to love.
And that is something to smile about!
Questions to Ponder:
In what way has the law (any kind of law, even the rules you create for yourself) put pressure on you to be perfect? Have you ever been frustrated that you weren't a little bit __________-ER?
How is leaning into Jesus' love a better hope than trying to rely on yourself?
—
I’m an Expert at Judging Others
Did you know that I'm an expert at judging Olympic-level gymnastics?
I didn't either until I started watching it yesterday afternoon. Then I started saying things like, "That landing could've been better," and "He didn't keep his wrists straight." (I copied that one off the commentator. I didn't even know that was a thing.)
I can't tell you the proper name of the bar they are swinging on, but clearly, I'm qualified to criticize the athletes. After all, I've been watching it for a whole two hours! As the judges' tallies came in, I found myself nodding in agreement with the scores.
"Yep. He totally deserves a half-point taken off for that!" (Never mind that I don't even know what qualifies as a good score. Apparently, it's anything over a 14??? At least in the preliminary rounds...)
It's fun to judge something I know absolutely nothing about.
But maybe I should leave the judging up to the judges.
I don't want to belabor the point, but maybe that lesson has applications outside the realm of Olympic-level gymnastics.
—
The Half Cookie Story
The other day a friend and I were having a conversation about some pretty deep issues, and it brought up a memory from my middle school days.
When I was in 8th grade, I would eat lunch in the cafeteria with the same kid every day. The weird thing is, I'm not sure why we started eating lunch together. I don't think we had any classes together. He just kind of showed up in the cafeteria one day and sat by me.
I would bring my lunch (peanut butter & jelly!), and on most days I would also buy a 35-cent, freshly baked chocolate chip cookie for dessert. It was a good-sized cookie and would come wrapped in plastic.
One day this kid (I don't even remember his name, but I can still picture him) asked if he could have a piece of my cookie. No big deal. I broke off a small piece of my cookie and gave it to him.
The next day he asked me again. And the next day after that. This went on for several days, and I really didn't mind parting ways with a small piece of my delicious cookie.
Then one fateful day, he asked me if he could break off a piece of the cookie. I thought, Well, maybe he wants to help me out. He sees that it's a bit of a struggle for me. So I said okay. He then proceeded to break the cookie clean in half and ask, "Which piece do you want?" How kind of him to defer to me!
I was shocked, but I'm the type of person who doesn't like conflict. So I chose the piece that looked slightly bigger and tried to go on with my day.
But now my lunchtime friend had set a precedent. A new cookie ritual was established. Every day he would break my cookie in half, and we would "share" it. (If my parents are reading this right now, they are probably ready to hire a P.I. to track this now-grown-up kid down.)
As the weeks went by, I grew angry, resentful, and bitter at this kid. Eating half my cookie was eating at me! But I didn't say anything... Until I reached a breaking point.
One day, he asked me if he could have a piece of my cookie as usual. I said yes, but this time I quickly snatched up the cookie so I could break it myself.
"I can do it," he said.
"NO!" I said. "I'll do it! You're not getting half my cookie!"
As I type these words, I am laughing out loud at the Seinfield-like humor of it all. (Or maybe it's more Breaking Bad???) But reflecting back, I keep thinking about one thing.
I was not obligated to give this kid half my cookie. I did it to keep the peace. I did it out of an unhealthy place.
But what if I did it out of a place of self-sacrificial love instead? What if it was truly my choice to make?
This story bubbled up because my friend and I were discussing unhealthy patterns in our lives. Sometimes the need for approval can cause us to live a life of fear where we stuff our emotions and don't say how we're feeling.
It's interesting how the same actions done from a different perspective can completely change the narrative.
What if I looked at that kid and said, "You know, I don't know what the deal is with this guy and why he shamelessly asks for half my cookie... But if giving up half my cookie is what love requires of me, then I'll do it."
(Because let's be honest—every day after school, another snack was waiting for me at home... I could afford to be generous.)
I don't expect an eighth-grader to have that level of emotional maturity. (Though some do.) But what can I learn from that experience now?
Resentfully allowing someone to take half a cookie from you is unhealthy.
Generously giving away half a cookie is choosing to love self-sacrificially.
Sometimes it's hard to know which place you are operating out of.
But it's worth thinking about.
—
What I Did (Or Will Do...) On My Summer Vacation
Happy Summer!
(If you live in Orlando as I do, it's been summer for the past 3 months...)
I came into summer with a long list of things I wanted to accomplish. The most ambitious was to start (and finish!) my third devotional book. But as I began to juggle everything, I realized that might be a project better suited for the fall. And you know what? I felt a bit disappointed in myself.
Truth Talk: My cerebral palsy is not something that causes me too much stress in daily life. It's not something I actively think about throughout the day. But lately, I've been thinking about the frustration it causes me as a writer/content producer. Projects take me a little bit longer to complete than most people. I might have to devote an entire day to a task that may take another writer a couple of hours to knock out. On most days, I can only focus on getting one "big thing" done for the day. This causes me to feel overwhelmed as the to-do's keep piling up. (It reminds me of that classic episode of I Love Lucy where Lucy and Ethel get a job in a chocolate factory. They have to wrap each piece of candy as it rolls through the conveyor belt, but they soon fall behind, and hilarity ensues!)
I don't say this to elicit pity. On the contrary, I think most people can relate to my dilemma. It seems we are all in a state of perpetual "behind-ness."
A few weeks ago, I talked to my counselor about my disappointment with not getting enough done.
"Who is putting pressure on you to get more done?" he asked.
That is a profound question!
Is it God?
No. He doesn't need me to "get stuff done" for him. Yes, he invites me into the work he's doing, but he's not looking over my shoulder seeing how many words I wrote today. Jesus' yoke is easy to bear, and his burden is light.
Is it other people?
Not really. Lately, a few people have been asking me when my next book is coming out. I perceive that as pressure. I think, "Oh man, they want a new book... They must think I'm lazy for not working on one!"
But no one's world is going to stop spinning if it takes me a bit longer to get another book out. After all, I've been waiting for a new Billy Joel album for 28 years, and life is still going on for me...
So, where is this pressure coming from?
It's coming from me! I put pressure on myself to get more done. Somewhere along the way, my worth gets attached to what I do rather than who I am (a loved child of God). My goal becomes the destination rather than the journey to get there. But here's the thing: the journey is made up of ordinary days that we can never get back.
This summer, I want to enjoy the ordinary days. I have some things I want to accomplish. But when fall comes, and I look back over the summer, I don't want to say, "Wow, I got everything checked off my list, but the days were filled with pressure and joylessness!"
If you are feeling stressed and overwhelmed right now, I hope you'll take a moment to remember that your worth isn't tied to what you do, either. The person who is putting the most pressure on you may be... you! As we move through summer, let's try to enjoy the journey.
That being said, I wanted to fill you in on some projects I'm working on this summer...
- Changing Email Service Providers: I'm in the middle of transitioning to a different mailing list provider (the company I use to send out these emails). The new one will give me a lot more flexibility. (I hope my current service isn't reading this. That would be awkward...) I'm also writing a 4-part welcome email series for new subscribers to help them get to know me a bit better. It's something I've wanted to do for a while but keep putting on the back burner. Well, it's front burner time!
Just FYI: As a current subscriber, you don't have to do anything to make the move. As long as you stay subscribed, you'll come along for the ride!
- Produce Audiobooks of My Two Books: This is something I'm really excited about. Before writing a third book, I want to have audio versions of the two books already in the Nobody Left Out series. Right now, I'm looking into options, but I hope to have this project completed by the end of summer. I'll keep you updated!
- Producing More Video Content: A few months ago, I started getting more serious about my YouTube channel. I enjoy producing videos, but, like everything else, it's a time-consuming process for me. I add sub-titles to all my videos to make sure everyone understands what I'm saying. I use a program to generate them but still have to go in and manually edit. (You should see some of the hilarious things the program thinks I'm saying!)
Those are just a few projects I'm working on this summer. And in between, I'm still learning all I can about the world of online marketing and self-publishing. I'm reading some books and taking a couple of courses. (If you're ever thinking of self-publishing, let me know. I can point you to some great resources!) It's all good stuff, but I don't want good stuff to become "ultimate" stuff. I want to enjoy the ride.
What about you? What are you working on this summer?
Let me know!
The Gospel of Jesus Intersects at Joy Ave. And Brokenness Rd.
Today's my 38th birthday. (Insert the obligatory, "Am I really this old?!" remark.)
I was thinking back on my 37th year on earth. So many good things happened. I managed to (self-) publish two books and make strides in my business. Diana and I adopted our son, Emmett, something we had longed to happen for a while. By all accounts, it was a good year, and I am so grateful.
But at the same time, it was a year of grief, isolation, and sadness. The pandemic was in full swing as I turned 37. While Diana and I thankfully both stayed healthy through it, we've known several people who have been hurt by it. (Whether it'd be physically, emotionally, financially, etc.). There seemed to be a low-grade anxiety even on the best days. And even now, as the world slowly gets back to some kind of normalcy, there is still grief in everyday life. There is still hurt to battle.
Joy and Brokenness. These are two things to recognize and two things to hold in tension with each other.
The Gospel of Jesus intersects at Joy Ave. and Brokenness Rd. The Gospel says we were joyfully and beautifully created by God and yet are broken. The world isn't as it should be, and we continuously add to the mess. But the story doesn't end there. Jesus is joyfully redeeming all things, including us.
The Gospel without joy isn't good news. It's despair. It's like an indie film with one of those sad, depressing endings. Life is meaningless, we're all going to die, and there's nothing we can do about it. Now, who wants ice cream?!
But the Gospel without brokenness isn't good news, either. It's phony. It's a caricature. It paints a happy face on everything and pressures us to "turn that frown upside down." It may work for a while, but, ironically, pretending to be unbroken will break us.
Joy and Brokenness. On this birthday, I want to reflect on both.
Oh, and that's a birthday cookie from Panera. So much joy and about to be broken!
Rational Thomas
One of the twelve disciples, Thomas (nicknamed the Twin), was not with the others when Jesus came. They told him, "We have seen the Lord!"
But he replied, "I won't believe it unless I see the nail wounds in his hands, put my fingers into them, and place my hand into the wound in his side." (John 20:24-25, NLT)
Instead of calling him Doubting Thomas, maybe we should call him Rational Thomas or Realistic Thomas.
Thomas was still reeling and heartbroken over the events that took place a few days before. And now his friends were telling him Jesus was alive? It was all too much to bear.
Did Thomas think their grief had driven them insane? Were they grasping at straws to continue this movement? Or (though he'd never admit this) was Thomas hurt that he missed out on seeing Jesus? Did he feel left out? Did Thomas say, "I won't believe it!" in the same tone we say, "I really didn't want to go to that party anyway!" after everyone else receives the invite except for us?
It's interesting that for Thomas, seeing Jesus wouldn't have been enough. He needed to touch Jesus. Thomas needed to feel the wounds that had brought him so much sadness. His request showed how much he missed his friend.
Thomas's skepticism wasn't unreasonable. Sure, when you're around Jesus, you're used to amazing things happening, but this? This was too wonderful to be true. If I were in Thomas' shoes, I'd be thinking the same thing. I just don't know if I would have the courage to say it out loud.
Because Thomas was right—or at least, he should have been right. Dead people don't walk out of graves. If this were Vegas, we'd place our bets with Thomas. He'd be right 99.9999999% of the time.
He'd be right if the person in question were anyone other than Jesus.
—
Get 5 free chapters of my 40-day devotional Nobody Left Out: Jesus Meets the Messes.
Grasping the Love of Jesus
And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord's holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ. (Ephesians 3:17-18, NIV)
Happy Easter! (A little late, but it's always a good time to celebrate the events of Easter morning!)
Over the past couple of days, I've been pondering the above verse. What does it mean for Jesus' love to be wide, long, high, and deep?
Whenever I see this verse, I think of the song "Your Love Is Deep". It's a song popular at Young Life camps and conveys the message in a simple yet profound way:
Your love is deep
Your love is high
Your love is long
Your love is wide
Deeper than my view of grace
Higher than the highest place
Longer than this road I've traveled
Wider than the gap you've filled
As I struggle to grasp the meaning of this love, here are some brief thoughts...
Wide Love:
God's love is wide enough to include anyone who wants to be included.
It's wide enough to tell Jonah to get on a ship and visit his enemies. Wide enough to prepare a feast of "unclean" food for Peter to make some new friends.
Jesus once told a simple story about a fishing net.
Once again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was let down into the lake and caught all kinds of fish. When it was full, the fishermen pulled it up on the shore. Then they sat down and collected the good fish in baskets, but threw the bad away. (Matthew 13:47-48, NIV)
Jesus' words are sobering and a bit scary. But I find comfort in this net being so wide. It pulls up all kinds of fish. In God's kingdom, all are welcome to rest in the grace and love of Jesus. No one has to be left out. That love is available to anyone who accepts it.
Long Love:
Long enough to cover the distance when we're stuck in a pigsty. Long enough for a father to embarrass himself by running down the road like a giddy child to greet his lost son.
Long enough for a weary shepherd to venture out into the dangerous wilderness to find his lost sheep.
High Love:
I must admit, this one stumped me a bit. What does it mean for love to be "high"?
I thought about the song "Higher Love" by Steve Winwood. (And the very 80's music video!)
Things look so bad everywhere
In this whole world, what is fair?
We walk blind and we try to see
Falling behind in what could be
Bring me a higher love
Bring me a higher love (oh oh)
Bring me a higher love
Where's that higher love I keep thinking of?
Things in this world don't always make a whole lot of sense. Tragedies can leave us blindly searching for meaning. But Jesus' love for us transcends the brokenness of this world. It can give us a higher perspective on suffering that we so desperately need.
I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world. (John 16:33, NLT)
Deep Love:
Love so deep that it plunges our sin to the bottom of the ocean floor.
Love so deep that it willingly faces the goriness of the cross and kicks down the gates of hell so that no one has to be separated from God.
I don't think I'll ever be able to fully grasp Jesus' love for me. But as I ponder the empty tomb this week, I pray it will lead me to a wider, longer, higher, and deeper appreciation of it.
—
Get 5 free chapters of my 40-day devotional Nobody Left Out: Jesus Meets the Messes.