So many people are praying as though God just declared bankruptcy… I believe we are living in the suburbs of blasphemy when we pray for so little and ask for so little.
Ron Dunn, in a talk recorded in 1974.
…So admit you’re the worst sinner you know. Admit you’re unworthy and deserve to be condemned. But don’t stop there! Move on to rejoicing in the Savior who came to save the worst of sinners. Lay down the luggage of condemnation and kneel down in worship at the feet of Him who bore your sins. Cry tears of amazement (Luke 7:37-38).
C. J. Mahaney, The Cross Centered Life (I added the scripture reference)
On Michael Jackson
“Did you hear about Michael Jackson?” she said as she opened the door for me.
Nobody asked about Ed McMahon. Nobody will remember where they were when they heard about Farrah Fawcett.
But the king of pop died. And that meant a perfect stranger on the street in San Francisco felt compelled to ask if I’d heard.
Who is going to ask about you when you die? Will perfect strangers share their favorite memories of you?
Say what you want to about Michael. But when I traveled to Ashgabat, Turkmenistan, the village children who knew three words of English also knew to yell out “Michael Jackson” as I walked along the road. He impacted every corner of the globe.
So yes, there has been media hype over his death. But it’s only overly hyped when the media is talking about something that everyone else isn’t. And in this case, we are all talking about it, too.
Don’t drive past the significance. The world is reeling from a loss. We’ve lost something of value. The church, however, should be careful not to chastise folks for worshipping Michael Jackson. Instead, we should show them a Jesus who is more worthy of worship.
See, in a year there will be a few people who celebrate the anniversary of Michael’s death. In 5 years he’ll get a made-for-TV documentary, or a mention on late-night television. In 30 years he’ll be something that everyone’s parents talk about. But every single Sunday between now and then, over a billion people will gather in homes, dorm rooms, condos, elementary school gyms, bars, and auditoriums around the world to remember the death and ressurection of Jesus.
Michael is a big deal, sure. But Jesus ought to be a bigger one. Just not one that TMZ is going to break the story on.
And you just might hear talk of it from a perfect stranger on the street. But that’s pretty normal.
Finding Down Time
“What did the Lord teach you this summer?”
The words taunted me from the page as I filled out my post-project staff evaluation. I felt a wave of insecurity wash over me as I realized I hadn’t gotten some big revelation this summer. Maybe I didn’t pray enough. Maybe I should have spent more time reading my Bible.
In summers past, the answer to that question has taken some form of “I used to think _________ about God, but this summer He showed me _______________.” Some new way of seeing a passage of scripture, or some new way of relating to God.
This summer has been full. I’ve said that in previous posts, but I am confident I’ve never had more things crammed into each day than I had this summer. I’ve been forced to meet with God… differently.
That’s when it hit me. I have been relating to God differently this summer. I’ve gotten some extended time to spend with God, but more importantly I’ve met God in the midst of my life. I’ve learned (in small, gracious glimpses) what it looks like to be a full-time husband and father and a full-time minister, with a side of full-time follower of Christ. I’ve also learned how worthless my attempts at ministry are if I am not making any attempts to be a good husband and father.
I’ve learned the spiritual value of sippy cups. As a dad, the most spiritual thing I did at times this summer was refilling a sippy cup, or crawling on the floor “tackling” my son. In other summers I’ve met with God on my down time. This summer I found “down time” in the strangest places. Rocking a boy to sleep, or walking to downtown to buy dinner, or answering emails. Down time. I met with God all summer long, and often holding a poopy diaper in my hand.
That, I suppose, is what the Lord taught me this summer.
A Bench in the Dark.
Rob Upton’s bench has become a crossroad in my life.
I never met Rob Upton. He was 10 years older than me, and died when I was 12. We lived in different states thousands of miles from each other, went to different schools, and until about 5 minutes ago when I googled his name followed by the year he died, I didn’t even know how he died. It’s unlikely that we would have any connection whatsoever.
But every other year (give or take), I meet God on Rob Upton’s bench.
I was too busy to notice his name emblazoned on the plaque at my feet when I first sat down 6 years ago. I was wrestling with God. With tears streaming down my face I told God I’d break up with the girl I thought I was supposed to marry, if only he’d lead me. I’d do whatever God wanted me to do.
Two years later, I was a single man who had just been shot down by yet another girl when I walked out across the lawn to meet with God on Rob’s bench. I again cried out to the Lord, asking only that he would lead me. I’d do whatever He wanted me to do. In the cool night air, I begged God for a wife.
Four years later, (25 minutes ago) I put my minivan in park, and walked out across the same dew-covered lawn. I celebrated (again with tears) that God had, just days after I prayed four years ago, introduced me to Jacqueline Brooks, and began writing the love story of our life together.
Rob Upton, a sophomore thrower on the Colorado State University’s track team, died in a climbing accident in 1992, and the university paid tribute to him by putting up a stone bench in a wooded area of campus.
Our staff conference is here every other year, and each time I am amazed to sit down on Rob’s bench and reflect on how the Lord has changed things since I last visited. Here’s to a God who is so interested in planning out all of our crossroads!