Yes, The Glory

Photo Credit: Emily Szabo

"Where is this place you have brought me? I don't recognize the shine. The sounds give life. Along the way you talked about it, you raved of glory. But when I see glory I see Hollywood and lights and the height of human pride. What is the glory you speak of?" 

"Don't look for it, Tim. When you look and strive, it only frustrates things. Do you know what I mean when I say, "Be still?" 

"I thought I knew. I thought so much of it was wrapped up in the religion I claim I don't possess--for religion is such a nasty word in this culture, you know?"

"Yes, but think of religio as the relational structure that holds you and I together. For you, religion became a matter of things, of places, of people, of positions." 

"Yes, I think I see now. I cannot achieve you." 

"No, you cannot. Though you've tried. And when you've tried, you shone indeed. But in your own glory, which is no glory at all." 

"So, be still?" 

"Yes, but being still is not a matter of physical action. To be still is to be within me. Remember that day at the Pacific Ocean?"

"Oh yes, how could I forget." 

"You felt the rush of the cold waters--I love the Pacific. But you also felt fear. You trembled a bit when you felt the force. But you did not back down. The fear drew you in, and then you dove." 

"I remember my breath being taken away." 

"You swam and played. Those waters took your breath away and they allowed you to breathe all at once."

"I felt. I gasped. I laughed, and played." 

"Yes, Tim. Glory. That is what it's like to be still. Do not forget the second part. 'And know.' Stillness is not an emptying of mind and spirit. Quite the opposite, really. It's filling. It's stepping from the world, the so-called religion, the glory you think is associated with me, and stepping into this place. This place where the sounds haunt you. Where the air feels alive, speaking to you, caressing you. And the shine." 

"Yes, the shine. I can't escape it. I walk to the trees but the shine permeates where shadows should rest." 

"Oh, Tim. You are slowly growing and it makes me smile but you are still so young. I AM the shine." 

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There are heavenly bodies and earthly bodies, but the glory of the heavenly is of one kind, and the glory of the earthly is of another. There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for star differs from star in glory.

-1 Corinthians 15:40-41 (ESV)

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My Birthday: Ten Things I Think I Think

Yes, it's my birthday so please, indulge me. I figured, why not reflect on some things I've learned over the years. I stole the idea from SI's Peter King who includes a "Ten Things I Think I Think" each week on his blog, and it's usually fantastic.  So, I thought I'd have some fun. 

If, at the end of this post you can surmise my age, then I'll send you (you being the FIRST person to guess it correctly in the comments) and your small group copies of my new book due out with Thomas Nelson April 29th, Home Behind The Sun: Connect With God in the Brilliance of the Everyday. I've included one major clue to help you. 

So, here goes. 

Ten Things I Think I Think ... 

1. I think when you're a kid, focus on being a kid. And adults, let that happen. 

a. All I remember about growing up in Florida is jean shorts, bike races, and kissing Lori Jones. When did we get so caught up with getting our kids into the right "Pre-school?" 

b. I think churches that let children be children, and encourage imagination and play are on the right track. 

c. As a dad to three little pixies, I see how important it is to be a kid with them; to romp on the floor and play; to leave the TV off, and keep the laughter loud. 

d. I think I miss how the Spanish Moss on the Florida oaks made the trees look like monsters.

2. I think I'm the man I am today because other men took time to build me up. Call it mentoring, apprenticeship, I call it good ole fashioned discipleship, and it's sadly missing in the church today. 

a. I think I'm thankful for Tim Weaver pulling me out of 7th grade youth group to set me straight. 

b. I think I'm thankful for a dad who was constant. 

c. I think I'm thankful for Ken Keener who offered no-holds-barred discussions. 

d. I think I'm thankful for Nelson Peters who told me, as a 20something, "Tim, you're Okay. Stop running." 

3. I think a good teacher is worth more than we know, and certainly more than they're paid. 

a. I can vividly remember my first grade teacher Mrs. Summerall, and how she taught me how to "feel" love bubbling up in my spirit. From American Political Behavior teacher Mr. Boyer to Dr. Lehy to Dr. Hugenberger to Dr. McGrath, I have been shaped by the minds and lives of teachers. 

The academic voyage has taken most of my life, and each teacher played a vital role. From challenging me to think for myself (Mr. Boyer), to telling me to pursue writing full-time, to telling me my writing needed to get tighter, clearer, to encouraging me to pursue something most thought I'd never accomplish, a PhD. 

b. Both of my sisters are teachers, and excellent ones at that--now, they collectively homeschool seven brilliant children. They've taught me so much, but mostly they've taught me how to be myself with kids, to let my imagination run, to challenge but always to love. I have the best sisters on the planet. 

c. C.S. Lewis had an excellent teacher of logic and Latin and literature when he was a teenager. The great Knock (Kirkpatrick) was of tremendous influence in Lewis's young formation. Even the most brilliant minds among us are influenced and formed by another. 

d. Some of the ladies I coached on the varsity volleyball team are now coaching and teaching. No greater reward than that! 

4. I think experience is vital. If you can travel, do it. If you can climb it, get your harness, if you can chase your dreams, then why not. 

a. Life experience must be mixed in with classroom learning. We're unwise to champion one over the other. 

b. Dreams come to life with the support of friends who will love you no matter what. 

c. Experience does not always look like a romantic dream-chasing. It hurts, it's hard, and it will leave you wishing you were home with family. 

d. Nothing can compare to shooting the Lehigh River rapids in a canoe. That insane adventure gave me a doctorate in risk management and "sucking all of the marrow out of life." 

5. I think there are four vital items in this life that you never skimp on and you always make sure you're never without. 

a. Orange Juice (with pulp)

b. Fresh whole wheat bread

c. Honey

d. The Holy Spirit

6. I think bonfires are essential to forge friendships. 

a. Most of my lifechanging decisions began and came to fruition around a fire. 

b. Fires in the winter are best: the sparks can go high into the trees and blend with the stars. 

c. Fires in the mountains near cliffs and waterfalls are preferrable. 

d. Fires with your brothers are life giving. 

7. I think music is essential to sustain life. 

a I've talked to adults who, sadly, have lost interest in music; as if once you turn a certain age you're not allowed to head bang in your office or mosh in your living room with your children. Whatever. 

b. I think everyone should get to Pearl Jam concert at least once. 

c. I think worship music is wonderful, but the church teeters dangerously close to idolatry by hoisting it up as a "draw" or "lure' to convince guests that a certain church is "relevant" or "cool." Be who you are church ... and that is Christ himself. 

d. I think Bach has to be the foremost musical genius ... ever. 

8. I think the church is in desperate need of revival. The burning kind! 

a. And by revival I mean a dynamic movement back to prayer, to yearning for God through fasting, to life swelling up in God's glory and beauty, and healing occurring in people's lives. 

b. I think the need of most Christian leaders is true affection for God. Our once vibrant religio has turned into the marketplace of ideas, best practices, efficiencies, and glorified self-help. 

c. Prayer marks all revivals. Ever wonder why? Where is prayer in our churches? Where is prayer in our daily lives? And by prayer I do not mean the liturgical, not to deny its benefits, but to point to an intimate conversing with the Lord of Hosts. 

d. I sat backstage in a church once and heard the worship team laughing and joking just before it took the stage. There was no spirit of prayer, no spirit of humility. It seemed like a job to them. Has our faith become something we turn on like the television each Sunday morning? 

9. I think your age doesn't matter. Do whatever you can to keep your heart vibrant. 

a. I was riding my mountain bike around my parents house last summer and the neighbor said, "Hey Tim, aren't you too old for that now?" Of course I bellowed out a loud laugh to let her know how ridiculous that notion was and rode on. 

b. Mountain biking keeps my heart young. I once had my lunch handed to me on the trail by a 60something who put the hammer down, as they say. I want to be that guy. 

c. I once repelled off a 300 foot cliff with a 50something gentleman. He's bagged most of the 14er's in Colorado. I want to be that guy. 

d. Each day, each dream, each opportunity is an opportunity to glorify God and to feel the joy he's infused into this life. Forget how old you are and do something that keeps your heart fully alive. 

10. I think God gives us everything we need to be brilliant in this life. But we miss it because we're too busy with, well, whatever. Look around you, what do yo see? I'll tell you. It's not what, it's who. 

a. My wife makes me brilliant because she digs past my muck and loves me still. My pixies wake each morning ready to hug the day. Today they woke me up, all dressed up in their best outfits and said, "Happy Birthday, Daddy." Brilliant! 

b. I have been richly blessed with a quiver full of brothers. Blood brothers, brothers-in-law, and brothers of heaven. Peter tells us to love deeply, to love the brotherhood. I take that literally. 

c. The Family of God should be a force to be reckoned with. And by reckoned with I mean a brilliant star of good ole fashion front-porch-love. What if we treated one another like a family rather than taking every opportunity to blast one another from our blogs, from our podiums, from our platforms.

d. I'm so sick of hearing about platforms. Think about the ramifications on relationships when every person is viewed for their network-ability, meaning how much their worth to your platform and network? I'm so tired of the ambulance-chasing (as my friend Jason calls them) bloggers who look for everything and anything to react to in the news. How about some blogs that praise, some that just offer poetry, some that offer thoughtful interaction with real topics--oh, right, those don't produce traffic. I get it. No, really, I do. 

e. In this life, it's not about what you do as much as it is about who you do it with. I'm on a journey, an adventure in England with three vivacious daughters and a wife who fears nothing. We miss our family and friends but we're making do with what God has given us right here and right now. Beauty abounds! 

So, today I'll head down to The Terf Tavern and do some writing. I'll walk the ancient streets of this beautifully bookish town and thank God for his brilliance, his glory, his wonder.

But then I'll speed home and hug my girls and we'll roll around and wrestle on the floor. I'll open their homemade cards and we'll laugh. Chris will prepare the cake and give me the biggest piece.

And when it's all said and done, we'll fall asleep in the peace of a love we can't explain.

The older I get the more at home in mystery I become.

In my twenties I wanted to argue and win arguments and fight. My writing read like rants. 

But now I've settled into the poetry of my youth.

I began writing to woo the girls, because I loved sonnets, because I loved rhyme and language. And now I see language and writing as a means by which to step daily into the brilliance. 

Sure there are times to pontificate and demand change and revolution. But more than anything I pray for a discerning eye and ear; when do I opine, when do I remain silent. 

The poetry of age rises, I fall deeper into it and I long to wade into the waters of beauty; letting all the rest bicker and argue.

Give me a bonfire and a brother. Give me music and a good book. Give me life, this life. 

What really matters? This. 

Leadership That Flourishes

"Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You’re not in the driver’s seat; I am. Don’t run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I’ll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to finding yourself, your true self. What kind of deal is it to get everything you want but lose yourself? What could you ever trade your soul for?" (Matthew 16:24-26)

The flourishing leader looks like a man or woman following Jesus with passion and intent. Henri Nouwen says the mature leader is willing "to be led where they would rather not go."

To follow Jesus to his cross demands a deep spiritual affection—you and I must love Jesus so much that we'd go anywhere with him and for him. Some think this kind of leadership weak. But that is not the case.

Jesus does not call us to roll over or be spineless. But he does call us to a place of powerlessness. "It is not a leadership of power and control," writes Nouwen about Christian leadership, "but a leadership of powerlessness and humility, in which the suffering servant of God, Jesus Christ, is made manifest."

The humble leader understands and lives by the truth: truth of self, truth of others and the truth of their situation. The powerless leader abandons power "in favor of love," performs their work  with precision and grace so that those who rely on him or her feel cared for and valued.

This is the person whose leadership knows no bounds, it is the leader who is led by Christ. Do you know this kind of leader? Are you this kind of leader? In your home? In your friendships? In your school? In your business? In your church?

You can spot a leader who leads for their own gain; the one bent on self-help, power and control. They're the one vying for the limelight and the accolades.

Who among us will lead the church and our families and our businesses into the future? It is the leader, as Nouwen says, who can be led.

"I AM the Way …" And so he is. May we follow him as we walk in him. 

Today's Prayer: Strengthen me to be strong enough to follow you, Lord Jesus, and humble enough to lead those whom I serve.

The leader that flourishes also needs to understand the value of rest. Check out the new FREE eBOOK my friend, Jason Locy, and I have just released. It's called The Sound of Silence: A Short Book on Rest. 

SIGN UP BELOW TO DOWNLOAD OUR FREE EBOOK 

On Spiritual Intimacy

Sometimes I think people fancy spiritual intimacy as a final destination, something you achieve. But that's not true. Spiritual intimacy is an ongoing pursuit, a developing conversation.

Being that it's a conversation with an unending and unfathomable being [God], our pursuit of intimacy will never see an end. Our pursuit will never experience the fulfillment of the finish line. When we, therefore, approach the topic of spiritual intimacy we should remember not to be discouraged when we drift. 

Like any relationship, either with our friends or spouse or sibling or parent, we will drift in our affections and may even experience estrangement for a time.  

But evenso, those times of distance contribute to intimacy. For we draw from those times just as we draw from those times of beauty and closeness—all times close and far layering our relationships, coloring intimacy. Each creates a depth and artistry appropriate to our existence and form. 

"Love never ends." (1 Corinthians 13:8) 

This partial verse reminds us that God is love. It's not our love that never ends, it's his and it's him. All the earth passes, but he remains. We grope through the fog of the world. We squint through the murky glass of reality.

And all in pursuit of that which has no end. All in pursuit of that which prompts our hope, and undergirds our faith. All in pursuit of an eluding closeness. All in pursuit of the tremenda majestas ... of God our Aweful Majestic.  

Do not dismay in "the drift." Close your eyes and listen. He is close. Intimacy stands, just over there. Simply reach, and hold.  

How To Move God

I played in your land, Oh Lord, scoring the trail with my aggressive tread and steal steed. My bike lunged, wheelied and billygoated up and up. I pushed through switchbacks, laughing for the sheer dominance of man over earth. I laughed for the sheer joy of man communing with earth.

I jeeprolled through the swollen creek, muddy with summer rain, and fell into the water atop river rocks and salamanders—and I hollered and spoke out damnation on the trail. I hollered and spoke out blessing on the trail. I climbed Heart-attack Hill praying out loud while the spike-deer running next to me taunted me with graceful leaps.

And the prayer lifted, coming regular off my lips like friendship conversation, pub-like and frolicking, loving just the moment of sharing and the moments of laughing. I called out to you, "Change this reality. And, Lord, you can do this." I wasn't struck down for blasphemy. Instead joy sprung from my brazen, yet thankful, words.

I was not silent in my prayer. In the open, my words fell. The laurel heard me and rustled. The spike-deer bounded back into the trees to tell his brethren. And we all of us raised our spirits. Oh, the wonder of hearing words spoken to God. The sheer 'YAWP' of our faith, of my faith.

Am I barbaric, in the woods yelling out strange requests to God? Do I revel in something profane when I splash around in the mud and sing praise at the same time?

I am convinced we pray, not to change ourselves, but to change reality. We cannot bend God to us, yet he condescends to our offering of prayer. And he moves in our reality. He bends things to his righteous ones.

Are you hurting? Pray. Do you feel great? Sing. Are you sick? Call the church leaders together to pray and anoint you with oil in the name of the Master. Believing-prayer will heal you, and Jesus will put you on your feet. And if you’ve sinned, you’ll be forgiven—healed inside and out.

Make this your common practice: Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you can live together whole and healed. The prayer of a person living right with God is something powerful to be reckoned with. Elijah, for instance, human just like us, prayed hard that it wouldn’t rain, and it didn’t—not a drop for three and a half years. Then he prayed that it would rain, and it did. The showers came and everything started growing again. (James 5:13-18, The Message)

Can I, Lord, be righteous for one day? Can you hear my prayer? It rises on thanksgiving and glows into the heavens with petition. I need you to stop the rain. I need you to bring the deluge. I need you, I need you.

In my prayers I find delight. I fold it back and find you—the joy of my salvation. I am carving up this trail of life with my big wheels of hope and faith. You bend for me and all I can do is sing.

Where To Find Refreshment

I need refreshed.

Two nights ago, I headed over to Brian's house. He's a good friend (in the medieval-transcendental sense of the word) and he's also my worship pastor. We sat on the back deck with his wife, fireflies and candles lit the dusk and a cranky possum joined us from his noisy treetop perch.

We three drank the dragon's milk of friendship, played guitar and sang "Amazing Grace" and started writing a new song and talked about "hallelujah". Then we sang it. "Hallelujah," over and over.

I found my way home; it was late. I took the pixies to the potty. Half asleep they draped over my shoulder and I whispered, "I love you." Then, I found sleep. The next morning I found an email string from a group of friends—each post in the string, a translucent prayer held together by the gossamer strands of Holy Communion. I cried for the despair and death we all of us face each day. I hollered at the cynicism, the bastard god who daily rages against belief—I hate her.

"Further up and further in," my friends! As we sing and hold, pray and cry with those we love. For what are we if not givers of love—killing ourselves daily in love to those we hold most dear.

"The sun doth not only enrich the earth with all good things," writes the old Puritan theologian Thomas Goodwin, "but glads and refreshes all with shedding immediately its own wings of light and warmth, which is so pleasant to behold and enjoy. And thus doth God, and Christ the Son of righteousness."[1]

It is God who spreads his wings, the avian Spirit wrapping you and I in pinions of celestial peace and holy warmth. Beneath his cowl of light our days unfold. Some days we linger in shadows; others, we sing and dance in the light of His High Noon.

The days I need refreshed, I listen to friends—friends who ask how they can pray for me, friends who play guitar with me, friends who write with me, friends who start bonfires for me. I find in them, God's light of renewal, his comfort transmitted through all the good things. "He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge …"[2]

[1] Reeves, 87-88. Reeves's little book Delighting in the Trinity is a book everyone should read—short, intelligent, and beautifully written.

[2] Psalm 91:4, NIV

When Your Mother Suffers

Long shadows stretched over the newly paved 178th St. near Shore Acres Drive in late July, and this meant the day was nearing its end. 

"Don't you think you should be getting home by now?" he smiled.

We'd been discussing my mother's arrival after a long trip. She should be home by now, and I should be home to see her. 

Late July in Grand Haven as a budding youngster means rising out of bed some time in the mid to late morning, with the sun streaming through the windows, offering light and life to the cave of slumber now faded with the flood of dawn. Then, it's grabbing a piece of fruit and getting a run-and-jump start on a BMX bike, hitting the trails, swinging on vines in the hills, and taking the raft out on Lake Michigan on days where you can see the bottom from thirty feet up, and the sand ripples together in wavy, congruent lines like the rings of sawn tree stumps. 

Late July in Grand Haven means riding all day, all over town, never caring for a bite to eat, because, "Who has time to eat?" Late July in Grand Haven means folks go on vacation, and maybe your mom goes to visit relatives in Chicago or some other big city. 

That was 1985. Late July in Grand Haven.

"Your mother's been in an accident."

"Is it bad?"

"Yes. Go take a shower; we need to go to Indianapolis."

Indianapolis? How did Mom end up there?

The Crash

Mom lives at Sanctuary on the Shore, a nursing home only a mile or two from where I grew up. She's in a wheelchair, and has only one leg. Her brain is damaged, she has diabetes insipidus, and suffers with bipolar as well. (As long as she's on her medication, she's "alright.") There's been some serious weight-gain over the years, sitting in that wheel chair and eating chips. Her favorite? Diet Coke with a ton of ice in the glass. 

You know something? She was more beautiful than Barbara Streisand in her hey-day.  But it was the accident when she was 40 which served as the progenitor of her demise, and it was the accident that killed another Mommy who had four children of her own. 

"I remember seeing headlights," she told me a couple years ago. That was news to me.  I had always thought she didn't remember. Huh. What do I remember? Seeing my mom in a hospital bed in Indiana hooked up to tubes and machines pumping life into her, and the shock I felt in looking at her swollen, black and blue and yellow face, and at her bloated, bruised body; and then her lifeless eyes open like a dead cow's, she rolls her head toward me, fixing her gaze upon me. Her body heaves up and down under the will of the machines' beeps and sighs. Mom? Her head turns away as her eyes close.  

This morning we were asked, "So, what are the issues that bother you when we talk about predestination?" (We're studying Romans in church.)  I have a couple: If all things are under God's eternal decree and command, how is God not the author of sin and evil?  If God knows the future, how do humans make free choices? 

The sovereign power of God as it relates to how things work in the world, especially regarding suffering and evil is a mystery, obviously (duh). Some get around it by denying omniscience (Cicero and Open Theists). Some deny free will (many--not all--Augustinians and Calvinists). Some affirm both (compatibilists). Some don't bother about it at all because it makes the head swim (pragmatists). Some try to resolve it with modal logic (scholastics and analytics). Others deny Christ because of it (apostates and rebels).      

"Don't you think you should be heading home by now?" That was John. He was older--in his 20's, and he smiled at me through his John Lennon specs. His feathered hair wore like a kind and gentle hat.  

"My mom went to visit my gramma a few days ago. She left this morning to come back."

"She's not home yet?"

"No." 

"Where'd she go?"

"Chicago." 

"And she left this morning?"

"Yeah." 

"And she's not home yet?"

"No."

"You're mom should be home by now." 

 "Yeah."   

"Don't you think you should be heading home by now?"

Pedals pushed hard in gyroscopic fear on that BMX bike, with a huffed and puffed worried flash to home. He's right. My mom should be home by now.    

There's my dad, on the phone with the police, his head on the freezer door. Now he's talking with my mom's parents, and he's leaning against the wall, face in.  

"She left long ago," they said. 

That's when I grab the little golden cross from my bedroom and start rubbing it between my fingers and thumb. Something to provide solace. Or maybe good luck.  Maybe an answered prayer. Never really prayed before, and not sure I know how to. The stars are out now, and it's dark all over. Where's my mom?

Hope Trumps Evil

How that does indeed fit with the predestination of God? "He comforts us as we comfort others with the comfort we receive from him" (2 Corinthians 1:4). That's a perfect circle if there ever was one. But does he actually send the pain, only in order to comfort us through it? Odd. But is he not in control of all things, as surely that nothing happens by chance? 

Hard to figure out. Sailing between the Charybdis of determinism and the Scylla of human autonomy ... not sure how to do it at this point.  

Just now, my daughter shows me a leaf with a flower attached to it. She's written on it, too. "I'm making a card for Jade. She's vomiting really hard." My daughters (8 & 6) came home from church today to find out that one of the neighbor girls next door is sick. So they decided to make some cards for her.  

They took green leaves from the trees and put flowers on them, and wrote her little notes on the leaves. "I hope you get well soon." Signed, "Nylah."  

"Hope" was missing the "e" and instead had a macron (long-vowel marking) over the "o."  Interesting. She's bringing someone some comfort, because she has been given comfort by God. How did they get the flowers to stick on the leaves? God, I love my daughters. 

Mom's speech is usually slurred due to her medication and normally, she "doesn't feel well." That's been the story for 20 years. Just now, she told me she woke up this morning and said to the Lord Jesus that she was ready for whatever he gave her today--whether to stay there in that place, or to throw off the garment of this temporal body and wait for the resurrection. 

"Whatever the Lord wants, Chris," is what she told me. I'm 41. How would I like to live the next 30 years the way my mother has lived hers?  God, no. It's what philosopher Marilyn McCord Adams calls "Horrendous Evil." 

Horrendous evil is evil that happens to someone that renders their life meaningless or simply unable to live. 

One example of horrendous evil is knowing that you are personally responsible for the death or disfigurement of a loved one. Or maybe it's being responsible for the death of someone else's loved one and then suffering mental and bodily damage to the point of being made inoperative in most of life. Or maybe it's being 13 years old and having this happen to your mom. Our hometown newspaper reported that she had been found naked. Naked. What? How? 

On the other hand, Adams says that such evil is capable of being "engulfed" and "defeated" by the love and power of God, because of his overwhelming presence. This seems to push off the "problem of suffering" to the next life, so I'm not sure how that helps us here and now. 

Still, knowing that Christ was tortured means that when we suffer, we are suffering with him and he with us. And perhaps the knowledge of the beatific vision (presence of God in the next life) aids us in coping with evil here and now. And maybe a get well card made by a little girl from a tree and a flower is a little way of defeating the evil, bit by bit.  Maybe with every good deed, every act of kindness, every act of forgiveness and reconciliation, there is the defeat of evil: with every act of faith.  

In His Hands

It's raining outside, and it's a real downpour, like liquid spikes made of crystal. Steady rain on a Sunday brings the soul into restorative sleep, and my mom's response is the restorative rain of faith: trusting the Lord for good or for ill.

"My life is in your hands," she told the Lord this morning. That's what she told me, in her crackling, slurred voice, her 68-year-old voice. 

"Honey, I told him, 'Lord, my life is in your hands.' Are you there? Honey? Hello?"

"Yeah, Mom. I'm here. I'm just listening to you." 

Her faith leaves me numb and speechless. It's not a bad kind of numb, but a good kind. Still, I can only listen at this point.

So, my mother is comforted by the Lord and the little Vietnamese girl next door is comforted by my daughters, and I am comforted by the downpour of rain outside and by my mother's faith. It's an act of the will to have the faith that is comforted by these things, and it's something that is like a buoy, keeping us afloat, as we await the rescue ship, for surely it is coming, and we must hold on. 

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*Read more from my friend Chris at his blog. It's here ...  

Stop Fussing

Sometimes Wormwood crawls into my brain and begins to whisper obscenities and lies. "Do more," he says. "It's not enough and you'll probably fail. You need more money. You need more accomplishments. You need … you must … go and get."  

How do I respond? In my weakness, I fuss and worry.

I like to think of myself as not much of a fusser. Truth is, in the quiet, my heart beats fast and I lay awake. Do you really have me, Lord?

Then Paul sneaks up beside me and says …

Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life.[1]

Then, Jesus climbs next to me, agreeing with Paul …

Well said Paul, he says. Tim, Don’t fuss about what’s on the table at mealtimes or if the clothes in your closet are in fashion. There is far more to your inner life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body.

Look at the ravens, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, carefree in the care of God. And you count far more.

Has anyone by fussing before the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? If fussing can’t even do that, why fuss at all?

Walk into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They don’t fuss with their appearance—but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them.

If God gives such attention to the wildflowers, most of them never even seen, don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you?

What I’m trying to do here is get you to relax, not be so preoccupied with getting so you can respond to God’s giving. People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep yourself in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.[2]

Paul concludes …

Tim, this is how we should live if we follow Jesus. So, if you’re serious about living this new resurrection life with Christ, act like it. Pursue the things over which Christ presides.

Don’t shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with the things right in front of you. Look up, and be alert to what is going on around Christ—that’s where the action is. See things from his perspective.[3]

God I need these words. I need to settle down. I need to relax in the peace of Christ. 

[1] Philippians 4:6-7, The Message

[2] Luke 12: 22-32, The Message

[3] Colossians 3: 1-2, The Message

His Leaking Brilliance

On Tuesday night I sat with several friends in a basement. Musicians and worship leaders all, we spent the evening in quiet prayer and song-giving-to-God. Spontaneous prayers emanated as several players picked and keyed. I sat with eyes closed and listened. 

I didn't want to leave. It was as if Jesus had walked among us, sat down and picked up a guitar just to be ​with us. I find my soul yearning for times like this more and more. I'd rather sit with friends in quiet worship than imbibe in entertainment. I'd rather walk in the woods with him, than busy myself with, well, busy-ness. 

And do not think I am describing an experience brought on by emotion. Yes emotion was part of it, God evokes our deepest emotions when we draw close to him. It is a by-product of standing in his presence. We fall down as dead like John standing before the Shining One. But what draws me to God, to the worship of God, is God himself. ​

Worship, Our Omnibus

Worship acts as a vehicle. We close our eyes and at once our imaginations transport us into the presence of God. If we're somehow able to cut through the noise of the morning, the noise of stress and the noise of our own thoughts we can, in our mind's eyes, stand before God.

If we define worship as giving worth to God, then worship can mirror the gospel in that we proclaim God's worth through music and song and we live it daily in acts of service and love. And God is the center of that worth giving.

Think about what you sing to God when you worship him in song. Think about what you do during your day to ascribe glory to him. Why these words and songs? Why these acts?

His Being, Our Center

Because God is true. Truth, as J.I. Packer puts it, “… is the quality of a person[s]”[1] before it is something that can be proved or disproved. Packer, of course, is speaking of God’s qualities. We inherit truth from God because he is truth. Augustine says, “And ‘your law is truth’ (Ps. 118:142) and truth is you (John 14:6).”[2] We receive God's moral stamp of truth when we enter the world and live as ambassadors of his truth, which is rooted in his very being. It's that shard of moral purity stuck in our souls that frustrates us so much. It wars inside of us our whole lives.

Because God is good. When we say God is good we describe his being; "in him we live and move and have our being. The early church apologist Athenagoras says, "Goodness is so much a part of God that, without it, he could not exist."[3] His goodness creates for us a moral origin—it is this perfect morality that pain and suffering shatter against. For no matter how much they rise to conquer us God overwhelms them, causing good to come from even the blackest of circumstances. This is who we worship, our good God.

Because God is beautiful. The concept of beauty vexes even the greatest minds among us. From Aristotle to Aquinas to Lewis, we all of us fall at the feet of the beautiful. Some say beauty demands form first—that we must behold something in order to know beauty exists at all. Others, like C.S. Lewis, remind us that the forms of beauty we behold point to something else, the thing behind the thing. It's not really the thing we desire at all. We see beauty, and we long for God.[4]

His Leaking Brilliance

When we close our eyes and find ourselves transported during our church gatherings to the throne room of God, this is the God we worship. He is altogether true. He is altogether good. He is altogether beautiful.

When we step from the church building and into our everyday, when we begin our day in quiet, then move to serve our friends, our spouse or our co-workers, when we sit down for coffee with one of our friends in order to work through a problem that demands forgiveness, these are our spiritual acts of worship.

This is the God we worship. He is altogether true. He is altogether good. He is altogether beautiful.

And it is this "all of him" that we encounter in the everyday, that constitutes his brilliance (glory). When we center our lives around him, his glory follows. It shapes us and with it, we shape the world. 

It's a kind of magic, this worship of ours. Give worth to him today and watch his brilliance grow and compel you toward heaven itself. ​

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[1] J.I. Packer, Knowing God. (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1973), 113.

[2] Saint Augustine, The Confessions. (Publisher: City, year), p. 61

[3] “APOLOGISTS,” New Dictionary of Theology, 38.

[4] For more on the perplexing concept of beauty see: The Weight of Glory, C.S. Lewis, Rainbows For a Fallen World, Cal Seerveld, The Glory of the Lord, Hans Urs von Balthasar

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We March Unaware

If you read C.S. Lewis's collection of essays God In The Dock you'll find Lewis's final interview conducted in 1963 at Magdalene College, Cambridge University with Mr. Wirt from the Billy Graham Association. These exchanges stuck out to me and I think apropos for this short piece.

Mr. Wirt: What is your opinion of the kind of writing being done within the Christian church today?

Lewis: A great deal of what is being published by writers in the religious tradition is a scandal and is actually turning people away from the church. The liberal writers who are continually accommodating and whittling down the truth of the Gospel are responsible.

Further on in the conversation Mr. Wirt asks Lewis about the use of the profane within writing as a means to make writing seem more authentic.

Mr. Wirt: Do you think filth and obscenity is necessary in order to establish a realistic atmosphere in contemporary literature?

Lewis: I do not. I treat this development as a symptom, a sign of a culture that has lost its faith. Moral collapse follows upon spiritual collapse. I look upon the immediate future with great apprehension.

Mr. Wirt follows up Lewis's response by asking if the culture has been de-Christianized. Rather than commenting on the greater culture, Lewis looks directly at the church.

Lewis: I have some definite views about the de-Christianizing of the church. I believe that there are many accommodating preachers, and too many practitioners in the church who are not believers. Jesus Christ did not say 'Go into all the world and tell the world that it is quite right.' The Gospel is something completely different. In fact, it is directly opposed to the world.

I find Lewis's ideas on ecclesial accommodation, spiritual collapse and feigned authenticity poignant even now, fifty years later. We live in the age of the marketing-savvy provocateur pastor, the liberated speech of the blogosphere and the land where the obscene and profane point to shame and mock.

"The 'frankness' of people sunk below shame is a very cheap frankness." 

Perhaps most surprising is our general lack of humility. Here I take Richard Fosters definition of humility as being aware of the truth of things: I am aware of the truth of others and myself and of the situation in which I find myself.

Humility demands we understand our position before God. Without him we are raging rebels bent on destroying. With him we become Christ himself—the archetype of the humble servant.

We seem to forget who we are or worse, fabricate a humility and authenticity by way of our crassness and snark, writing it off to the gods of the hip and the real. And in the midst of our forgetfulness we ramshackle shame and stand blind to the notion and importance of hiddenness.

Part of our awareness of self lies not in our pathological need to expose everything in our lives in the name of "being brave" and "getting it all out" but in the realization that shame helps us see ourselves as we truly are. It helps us stay humble.

"When men attempt to be Christians without this preliminary consciousness of sin," writes Lewis in The Problem of Pain, "the result is almost bound to be a certain resentment against God as to one who is always making impossible demands and always inexplicably angry."

Lewis does not claim to be a 'worm theologian.' On the contrary, he does not even believe in total depravity. He does not think we should be afraid of our true selves. He suggests that in order to know our true selves we must learn through the lens of shame and right position before God.

The Alter of Self promoted by our culture looks inviting. It says that shame is a dangerous game—liberate yourself and find your true voice.

But Christ says something completely different. He says, "If you lose your life, you will find it." Perhaps it is time we return to lostness. A lostness in Him and in so doing, finding the trueness of ourselves.

The Prayer Series // Christ My Storm

A Pin Oak stands in my front yard, another in the back. They rise over the roof of my two-story house, their branches willow down in tangled rigidity.

In spring, the oaks receive their leaves last. In the fall, they golden, but well after the other trees have lost their plumage. The brittle-browns fall throughout winter; a leafy remnant whips on when the spring push begins.

In the summer the oaks blanket the ground with shade. When I prune them I always hold a couple branches—their slender bones, dense and heavy.

But the thrashing spring storms do not relent. By mid-April the brittle-browns disappear, giving way to the tiny-glories. I watch the buds frost the mammoth skeletons, dressing them in God's finest.

How like the Pin Oak am I? Clinging to the old season until shaken by the Wind of God, thrashing me towards his glory.

We must, through life, embrace the storm of Christ. We all of us live forever in a state of release and reaching—shedding the brittle-brown within us, clothing our dry bones in God's finest:The Way Everlasting.

This inner renewal looks like daily spring. When we gather as the Family of God we flutter and bounce, all glory given to Christ and his supremacy. When we in our homes love one another and entertain we flutter and bounce, our hospitality and possessions reflecting the principles of release and reaching—we give without condition, we serve until we die.

"Those who obey his commands live in him, and he in them. This is how we know that he lives in us: We know it by the Spirit he gave us." (1 John 3:24)"

How the Pin Oak catches the wind, first in its bare limbs, then in the applause of its plumage. Lord, teach us to release and reach that your glory and your supremacy may blow through us into your world.

All praise and glory to God, Amen.

The Prayer Series // Hear My Heart O Lord

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I know, Lord. I know. But I can't see that far. I know you hold it all, all of it. But I want to hold it before I believe it. Can I do that? Can I hold it first?

I know you're capable to supply the need. And, I don't mind asking. But my belief wavers. My mind cries out, and scrambles to the closest worldly anchor—well, for a time they feel like anchors, all those things I think I control. And when I consider this and that, I doubt, I doubt, I doubt—my direction, my calling. What if my faith veers me and I don't know it? What if my intentions, which I think true, are really clouded with pride?

Oh my God, why do I stumble over my own feet? Why do I foster a spirit of fear—the bedfellow of doubt? Where does fear fit in with my relationship with you?

Forgive my selfishness and worrying heart. Forgive my shortsightedness. Even though I stumble over my weak heart I cannot fall far from your mercy. Your graciousness picks me up and I, once again life.

Your words to Isaiah comfort me. Your arm is not too short to save. I create the barrier, I build the wall—me and my sin. I lose sight of Your vision for me, how you desire my triumph. I sit making mud pies when the vineyard sprawls just beyond the bend. Why can't I see?

But you opened my eyes, O Lord! I see the veil hiding me from you. Of course You hear me. Of course You possess the strength to save. Your beauty, to me, is your steadfastness. You can't disown yourself. Even when I stammer in my faithlessness You remain faithful.

And there you are, O Lord, my God, dressed in your armor: your breastplate of righteousness, helmet of salvation, garments of vengeance, your cloak of zeal. You come riding to me, to me! You come on the intensity of a flood that you cause with your breath!

You are my Warrior God. You shoot the shoots of deliverance with strands of love and kindness following behind. You stoop to feed! I eat and I am filled. You bends to help, even when I can't help but to wallow in my pride and doubt and muck.

"Make a promise to me now, reassure me somehow … I have a feeling in my soul and I pray that I'm not wrong, the life I have now it is only the beginning. Feels like I'm born again! Feels like I'm living!" (Lyric, Mac Powell)

Sleeping At Last // An Interview with Ryan O'Neal

A few weeks ago I was able to catch my friend Ryan O’Neil of Sleeping At Last and ask him about beauty, his craft and the intersection of the artist and the church. Not only is Ryan a superb songwriter and performer, but he's one of the nicest guys you'll ever meet: sincere, fun and unveneered. 

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Ryan's Yearbook project earned him very little sleep as well as a song placement ("Turning Page") in the third Twilight film. If you haven't checked out his Yearbook project, do so immediately! In the meantime, enjoy this little interview and share with your friends.

Tim: Ryan, thanks for sharing your time and thoughts. Let's jump right in. How do you define beauty?

Ryan: Beauty is hope. The overwhelming feeling of awe. The cause of goosebumps. Light. A combination of things that resonate deeply somewhere within our souls. Beauty is the remnants of God.

Tim: How does beauty factor into your artistic rubric? That is to say, is beauty part of or the lone indicator that your art is "good"?

Ryan: I've always been inspired by very visual and emotional music, so beauty became the goal and the mile marker, right when I started writing songs. When I was really young and falling in love with music for the first time, I would notice that on many of my favorite albums, there would be one or two songs that would be so beautiful that they would give me goosebumps. I loved that and it stuck with me as a goal as I began to write my own songs—I wanted to write only songs that delivered goosebumps.

So even now, I still use the goosebump test ... if a song I'm writing gives me goosebumps at one time or another, that's how I know I'm on the right track. If it doesn't, I toss it away.

"Turning Page" can NOW be purchased on iTunes as a single!! (+ the instrumental version!!) - http://bit.ly/turningpage Featured on FOX's SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DANCE, & The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn - Part 1 Sleeping At Last performs "Turning Page" live at Electrical Audio Studios in Chicago, IL.

Tim: How do you reconcile the tension of commercial viability (making a living at what you do) and your own artistic integrity? Or is there even a tension?

Ryan: I'm really fortunate in that the opportunities to make my music more commercially viable have come without the requirement of compromising my music in any way.

Maybe that's a result of me being very, very stubborn in my music from an early age. Not sure, but I've never felt the persuasion to write anything but the music I want to write.

Tim: What obstacles do you encounter during your creative process?

My self-consiousness gets in the way pretty often, and trips up my inspiration from time to time. I also psych myself out pretty good sometimes. For example, if I'm about to begin writing a song, a voice in the back of my mind will whisper something to the effect, "Do you even know how to write a song anymore?" or "What if this song isn't any good?"

Thanks to being stubborn, I'm mostly able to jump those hurdles over time, but without fail, I always derail a little when it happens.

Tim: Briefly describe your "Yearbook" project. Why did you choose to do that? What can you say about focusing too hard on a work you're involved in? Is it possible to be too critical with a song? What makes a song fail in your opinion?

Ryan: "Yearbook" was the concept which challenged my (at the time) very slow song-writing schedule. Rather than writing a few songs a year and releasing one full-length record every few years, I decided to commit to the Yearbook project, which consisted of writing, recording, and releasing three songs every month for one year, thirty-six new songs in total.

I knew that it would be a very difficult year, but I also knew that even if it went terribly wrong I'd come out a better songwriter for the experience of the project. Thankfully, I was able to complete the project and I feel very proud of it. In fact, I learned that there's something really special about diving in headfirst and not having too much time to over-analyze everything.

It meant the songs were most true to their source of inspiration, which perhaps made the songs even more genuine.

So that was a really special surprise. The only criteria I had for each of the songs was that I had to be really proud of it. That small rule really held the whole thing together.

As for the downsides of such a life-consuming project, it required me to lose a bit of balance in the other areas of my life: family, friendships, health (exercise, nutrition, etc.). Being so consumed in any "job" will make those other aspects of life balance more challenging, so the project made it difficult to find that balance.

As for the end of the question, "What makes a song fail?" I'd say not being truly proud of the song, knowing it is not in line with my own best quality in my writing. And there were a few songs that I tossed out because of that feeling. Not being proud of a song, for me, is often directly related to something about the song not being genuine, something forced or an approach I caught myself applying from an outside intention rather than from following my intuition.

So, every once in awhile, I'll have to be honest with myself and trash a song that required a lot of work but just didn't end up being true.

Tim: We are called to be "makers" according to the so-called "creation mandate." What is the relationship between your art and your calling? How do you see yourself fulfilling your calling through your art?

Ryan: I believe that God gives us passion and abilities for very specific purposes. I am beyond thankful that I found music so many years ago and that I've been blessed enough to get to call it a "living" ever since. It's literally my dream job and what I believe I was put on the earth to do.

The struggle that comes with that is to do it well, to love people well both inside and outside of music, and to live a life that is balanced and constantly able to calibrated differently, if necessary.

Tim: How is truth related to beauty, in your opinion?

Ryan: The beauty of beauty is that it comes in all shapes and sizes. But I feel like beauty is a direct result of truth. Whether that's a personal truth, or a divine truth, beauty is absolutely intertwined with truth.

Tim: What can the church do better with its artists? How do you see churches working to foster deeper interest in the arts? Or do you?

Ryan: Due to the fact that artists are, more often than not, extremely sensitive people, love and nurture from people closest to them results in massive and vital encouragement. To push forward in the arts is a vulnerable and sometimes foolish-feeling pursuit of which to dedicate one’s life.

So, having a community of people rooting for you in a profession, which is so lacking in guarantees literally means the world. It makes artists brave, which in turn encourages bravery in their art.

If nothing else, that is "church" at its best: a community, which nurtures and encourages others to live bravely.

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Check out Sleeping At Last here!

This interview was used by permission from the Catalyst Conference. You can read this interview, and others, in the recent edition of the Catalyst Groupzine.

*Cover photo by Jeremy Cowart

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