This week, we began the season of Lent (not "Lint"—sorry, I always have to make that joke!). Lent is the 40 days (technically 46 if you include Sundays) between Ash Wednesday and Easter. It's a reminder that we cannot have the joyousness of Easter without the sorrow of the cross.
Over these next few weeks, we're going to look at Jesus' "Seven Words From the Cross." These are seven statements Jesus made while experiencing the excruciating pain of crucifixion. Jesus hung on the cross for about six hours, so he probably spoke other words as well. But these are the seven the gospel writers captured for us. John Stott notes, "Each is an expression either of [Jesus's] great love for us, or of his dreadful work of sin bearing, or of his final triumph and victory."
This won't be an in-depth study, as I'm neck-deep in editing my upcoming Jonah book, and writing time is limited. Instead, I'll try to pick one facet of each statement for us to reflect on. We'll begin this week by looking at Jesus' plea of forgiveness for his executioners:
Two others, both criminals, were led out to be executed with him. When they came to a place called The Skull, they nailed him to the cross. And the criminals were also crucified—one on his right and one on his left.
Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they don't know what they are doing." And the soldiers gambled for his clothes by throwing dice. (Luke 23:32-34)
We might expect Jesus to forgive his enemies. While it wouldn't be easy, he commanded his followers to do the same, and now he was living it out himself. But today, I want to focus on the second part of his statement. Did they really "not know what they were doing"?
The religious leaders seemed to know what they were doing when they kidnapped Jesus under cover of night, held a mock trial, and beat him to a pulp.
Pilate seemed to know what he was doing when he gave in to the demands to have an innocent man killed. He even tried to wash his hands of the whole event!
The Roman soldiers seemed to know what they were doing when they decided to have a bit of fun and mock Jesus by crowning him with painful thorns. So this guy really thinks he's a king, huh?
Peter and the rest of the gang seemed to know what they were doing when they cut and ran as their friend was arrested. They knew they didn't want to meet whatever fate Jesus was about to meet.
And the crowd of onlookers seemed to know what they were doing when they demanded Barabbas to be set free and Jesus executed in his place.
Yes, of course they knew what they were doing!
But in another sense, they didn't know what they were doing. Not really. How could they? The idea of God allowing his own creation to torture and kill him so they can be redeemed is pretty "out there."
Three days later, when a dead man started walking around, some got a glimpse into this understanding. But it would still take a while to understand what it all really meant.
What about the things we do to hurt other people? Do we understand what we are doing? Yes. But also no.
We humans know how to hurt each other. We know the exact words to say to cut someone deep. We act in selfish ways, looking to maximize our own comfort even at the expense of others. But it's so easy to fool ourselves into thinking we are "good people."
Thankfully, God has given us gifts to make peace with each other in this life. Gifts like forgiveness, reconciliation, confession, and community. But even with these beautiful things, it's still hard to grasp the hurt we cause others. We know this is true because it's hard to convey how devasting the wound is when people hurt us. Even when they are sorry and take steps to repair the damage, the pain doesn't immediately disappear.
This is the tension we are invited to embrace during Lent. Yes, we are fully responsible for our sin. But also, we cannot comprehend the full extent of it. We are so good at sinning that we don't even know we're doing it half the time! We need to be saved from the brokenness of the world, even as we are the agents of it.
We can read the account of Jesus' horrific execution and judge the mockers. We think if we were in the crowd, we would have responded differently. Maybe. But probably not.
One of my favorite modern hymns is How Deep The Father's Love for Us. One verse in particular that always moves me is:
Behold the man upon a cross
My sin upon His shoulders
Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice
Call out among the scoffers
It was my sin that held Him there
Until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life
I know that it is finished
Ash Wednesday was a couple of days ago. On that day, many Christians wear ashes on their foreheads to represent death and repentance. It kicks off a season of reflecting on our brokenness and looking forward to a day when we will be set free from it.
"Father, forgive them, for they don't know what they are doing."
Looking at our own sin and how we hurt others is not fun. But this week, let's accept the invitation to examine our brokenness. It's a scary prayer to pray, but let's ask God to give us a deeper understanding of what we are doing.
If the examination were to end there, our grief would overwhelm us. We can only go there because we know this journey leads to an empty tomb on Easter morning. Sadness and pain do not get the final word.
Questions to Ponder:
What do you think Jesus meant with this statement from the cross? How can you embrace the tension of taking full responsibility for your sin but also not fully comprehending the extent of it?
Is there anyone you have hurt that you need to reconcile with? Think about the steps you can take to do that in this season of mourning.
—
P.S. If you are looking for more reflections to read this Lenten season, check out my book Jesus & the Way of Sorrows. It's a journey with Jesus through the final 18 hours of his life.
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.
The Time King Hezekiah Received a Mean Email
Imagine opening up your email and seeing a mean, nasty, threatening email. At first, you think it was meant for someone else. But no. The menacing words are directed at you, and you feel your soul being pierced.
As you read the words over and over again, your body responds. You feel both anger and shame as you try to make sense of it.
How do you respond? Do you...
A. Take advantage of that adrenaline coursing through your body and fire back an equally mean and nasty reply.
B. Crawl up into a ball as shame and fear overtake you.
I'd probably be tempted to do both, one after the other!
King Hezekiah of Judah found himself in this predicament. Okay, okay, so he didn't receive an email. But he did receive a threatening message from King Sennacherib from Assyria. King Sennacherib's army had flattened other nations and made a joke out of their gods. Now he was coming after Judah.
Here are some of King Sennacherib's fighting words, sent through a messenger:
"This message is for King Hezekiah of Judah. Don't let your God, in whom you trust, deceive you with promises that Jerusalem will not be captured by the king of Assyria. You know perfectly well what the kings of Assyria have done wherever they have gone. They have completely destroyed everyone who stood in their way! Why should you be any different?" (Isaiah 37:10-11, NLT)
He sounds like a real gem of a guy, huh?
So what does Hezekiah do when he receives this message? Does he flex his muscle and raise the temperature on an already tense situation? Or does he hide under the royal bed?
Neither.
King Hezekiah does something astounding. He does something I rarely think of doing when my back is against the wall.
King Hezekiah prints out the mean email and hands it directly to God!
After Hezekiah received the letter from the messengers and read it, he went up to the Lord's Temple and spread it out before the Lord. (Isaiah 37:14, NLT)
I love Hezekiah's response. He doesn't attempt to deal with the situation himself. And here's the thing—he easily could have tried. He was king. He could have ordered his army to make an immediate attack on Assyria. (Fight!) Or he could have surrendered and allowed Sennacherib to overtake Judah. (Flight!)
But Hezekiah doesn't do either of these things. Instead, he lays the problem before God and asks for help.
When I am put in a threatening situation, I hardly ever think to bring it to God first. Instead, my mind starts running through possible solutions. I go into fight-or-flight mode and try to deal with it on my own.
But what if I took a deep breath and printed out the email instead? Shaking my head, I hand it over to God, thinking, Well, I don't know how he's going to want me to deal with this one, but we'll see. (Of course, then I need to be ready to do whatever he asks of me and leave the outcome to him.) For Hezekiah, it turned out well. God rescued Judah from King Sennacherib that day. But that outcome wasn't guaranteed.
I recently heard a sermon by Andy Stanley about Daniel and the lions. He pointed out that we love to jump to the end of the story—God rescuing Daniel from the mouths of the ravenous lions. But the real "hinge point" of that story is Daniel making the decision to follow God. God never promised Daniel a safe and happy ending, even though that's what he got. Daniel simply printed out the email and gave it to God, took the next step, and left the outcome to him. King Hezekiah did the same thing.
After Hezekiah received the letter from the messengers and read it, he went up to the Lord's Temple and spread it out before the Lord.
There is something that makes me smile about that image. A king with the humility to know he didn't have it all figured out. A man who had unlimited power, but also enough restraint to not give in to his first knee-jerk reaction.
The next time I feel attacked or humiliated or afraid, I hope I take a lesson from Hezekiah. Rather than try to solve the problem myself (and probably make the situation worse), I want to remember to take a deep breath and hand the problem over to God.
What "email" (AKA, any situation making you feel attacked, agitated, or threatened... and it could very well be an actual email!) do you need to print out and hand to God?
—
P.S. Did you know you can buy me a coffee to keep me caffeinated and writing? (But I'll probably use it to buy sweet tea instead!)
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!
Jesus & Ultimate Tag
But God raised him from the dead, freeing him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him. (Acts 2:24, NIV)
I came across the above verse in my reading this week, and for some reason, I thought about the game show Ultimate Tag.
Ultimate Tag premiered last year and is essentially American Gladiators with only one event: Tag. (Hey, I'm not knocking it. The concept obviously drew me in!)
Ordinary contestants compete against "professional taggers." The professional taggers are in top-notch shape and go by intimidating monikers. (My favorite tagger is Geek. Imagine a guy who looks like Napoleon Dynamite but could eat you for breakfast!)
The taggers are usually able to chase down the contestants with relative ease. As they tag them out, they make a flourish of their skill and strength.
But every now and then, a contestant takes a professional tagger by surprise. They have been underestimated by the tagger and are able to break away and run to victory. The crowd goes wild. The tagger angrily stomps their feet, aware that the underdog has bested them. (And yes, I know their reactions are kind of fake and all part of the show to heighten the drama!)
In his very first sermon, Peter talks about the "ultimate" professional tagger. They call him Death. And he always wins. In the end, Death chases us all down.
But then Death went up against a contestant named Jesus. Death was overly confident, as he always is. And for a while, it looked like he'd win this match, too.
But then Jesus made some moves. Every time Death got close, Jesus pivoted. "It was impossible for death to keep its hold on him."
Like a running back breaking free from the defensive line, Jesus COULD - GO - ALL - THE - WAY! (I realize I'm mixing sports metaphors here, but I really wanted to use that line.)
The Message version puts it like this: "Death was no match for him."
Everyone in the arena cheered as Jesus made it safely to home base. Death threw up his hands in frustration, knowing he'd lost.
But who cares? Who cares if one contestant defeats a professional tagger? What about the rest of us slowpokes?
That's where the good news comes into play.
Jesus invites us all to share in his ultimate victory with him.
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