In Quiet Presence, I Remember Who I Am


One tremendous benefit that I receive in reading the Scriptures and practicing Quiet Presence is hearing the truth and embracing it again for myself. I always have a false narrative in my head that says, “God has a problem with me. I am a failure. I am a big pile of mistakes. Shame. Shame. Shame.” Alone with my Abba (and in the faces of my friends), I am again reminded of the truth, and the ugly lie comes unraveled. It is in that place that I can again embrace the fact that I am the beloved son in whom my Father delights. From ear to ear, I grin because my sins are separated as far as the East is from the West. Back to hell with the Serpent’s deception. Onward to heaven, I stride as the apple of God’s eye. Condemnation is not for me. God has not set a trap but planned a course for my life. I am cherished and sung over with loud songs! I am not cursed. I am blessed. I am not a mistake. I am elect, chosen, called, knit, and held together by design. I am created for good works, and I will walk in them by grace and with the help of many others. Heaven rejoices in the truth, and so I will too! Fire for the Serpent and a feast for the King and his son. My cup runs over and over and over. Abba, I belong to you. Amen.

Evening Grace


For the one who blew it today at work, evening grace is for you.

For the one who yelled at your kid, evening grace is for you.

For the one who misses someone who is no longer with us, evening grace is for you.

For the one who went back to that addiction, evening grace is for you.

For the one who can’t get words of rejection out of your head, evening grace is for you.

For the one eaten up with regrets, evening grace is for you.

For the one who feels as lost as can be, evening grace is for you.

For the one who fought with your spouse, evening grace is for you.

For the one who is on the brink of a breakdown, evening grace is for you.

For the one who received dreadful news today, evening grace is for you.

For the one whose anxiety robbed you of another day, evening grace is for you.

For the one whose closet skeletons haunt your every moment, evening grace is for you.

For the one whose friend walked out on you, evening grace is for you.

For the one struggling to make ends meet, evening grace is for you.

For the one who has more questions than answers, evening grace is for you.

For the one whose past follows you from town to town, evening grace is for you.

For the one who is hanging on by a thread, evening grace is for you.

There is never a moment in which we are not the beloved children of God. Evening grace for us all. Amen.

Yes, God Still Wants You!


One things I enjoy most about being a pastor is being with people. Yes, the study is a sacred place. But that’s not all there is to pastoring. Not by a long shot! The study exists in order to best serve the people. In the study, I prepare, I think, I pray, I ask questions, and I sit very still. In the study, I train my soul to enjoy being unhurried and my mind to be completely present. These things are invaluable when it comes to being with people.

Out in the city-parish, the day can go from a mountaintop (“We just got engaged!” “We bought a house!” “We’re having another baby!”) to a valley (“It’s not working out.” “I can’t believe I did ______.” “I’ve been trying but I don’t see any changes”).

I recently had breakfast with one of my dear friends in our church who is absolutely brilliant, creative, and has a quirkiness about him that makes him an outstanding fit for Seattle and an even better fit as my friend. In a moment of real honesty he said, “After all I’ve done wrong, I wonder if God really wants anything to do with me.” He put down his green coffee cup and then looked away.

As he sat as still as the green mug on the marble table, fixing his eyes on anything except mine, I could empathize. That feeling, questioning, and doubting creates a sickness that only true ragamuffins really can know. I’ve felt that way one more than one occasion and chances are, you have too.

Rather than rattle off a simple answer to ever so complex question, I chose to just sit there, not saying anything with him for a few moments. In the noise of a Seattle cafe, we were quiet; listening for the voice of God. Yes, amidst salmon toast, pastries, and coffee racing by, a girl in her Madball hardcore hoodie doodling in her journal, a UW study group gathering at the next table breaking out books and laptops, there we sat like desert fathers in a cave, asking the big question.

A minute later, my friend, looked up at me and I asked him, “Well, what do you think? Does God want anything to do with you or not?” He sat up straight, rolled his shoulders back, clasped both hands around the green cup, and with humble confidence, he nodded his head and said, “Yes. He does. He does want me! I don’t know why but He does!”

What relief to a tired soul! Though I could have added much more to his answer, I chose not to do so. He’d made the discovery for himself! He believed for himself! He dug down deep, thought about Who his faith is in and swam out in the Lake of Grace. That was a mountaintop for him and I’m glad I got to hike up there too and and take in the view of God’s mercy again. He smiled from ear to ear and we finished our breakfast talking about work, family, and the weekend ahead.

Perhaps you’re wondering about whether or not God’s sick and tired of you because you blew it again. I’d encourage you to pour yourself a cup of coffee in a nice green cup, and give yourself a moment to think again about the one who “loved you and gave himself for you” (Gal. 2:20).

To be unloving is to be out of touch with God. So the generous, cherishing Divine Love, the indiscriminate delight in others, just or unjust must be our model too. To come down to brass tacks, God loves the horrid man at the fish shop, and the tiresome woman in the next flat, and the disappointing Vicar… and the contractor who has cut down the row of trees we loved, to build a row of revolting bungalows. God loves, not tolerates, these wayward half-grown, self-centered spirits, and seeks without ceasing to draw them into His love. And the first-fruit of His indwelling presence, the first sign that we are on His side and He on ours, must be at least a tiny bud of this Charity breaking the hard and rigid outline of our life.
— Evelyn Underhill, The Fruits of the Spirit, 15.

In Silence and Solitude


The longer I reject silence and solitude based on being "more productive"; doing some other work, laboring in some other part of the vineyard of the Kingdom of God, the more I actually prolong my growth in the grace and knowledge of the Lord Jesus. He has said "Martha, Martha," and is not afraid to say, "Alex, Alex."

In rejecting silence and solitude, I remain ignorant of the life that which God loves, sustains, and will one day glorify.

In silence and solitude, I am not retreating from the world or my responsibilities. Rather, I am becoming whole and thereby enabled to better love, serve, and engage those around me with an uncluttered soul.

In silence and solitude, I am not seeking to put my head in the clouds as much as I am seeking to get the clouds out of my head and my heart.

In silence and solitude, my primary objective is not to rattle off a list of requests as much as I am seeking to listen to the voice of my Tender Father. If there is a request made, it is simply, "Please, Abba, above everything, Help me hear you again." Silence follows as I open the eyes and ears of my heart. 

In silence and solitude, I get to know myself. My fears, my doubts, my sadness’s, and my feelings of happiness all surface. In silence and solitude, my emotions are acknowledged, my memory is redeemed, and my focus is regained.

In silence and solitude, I get to understand the life that God loves enough to save is my own and not a pretend or a future version of myself. 

In silence and solitude, I remember all of my family and friends who have continually enriched my life and acknowledge that that I owe each of them my sincerest expression of gratitude.

In silence and solitude, I learn that the busy and loud city of Seattle is no match for the “busy” and “loud” within me.

In silence solitude, I remember that I am more at home with Jesus than in Woodstock, Georgia, London, England, or Seattle, Washington. 

In silence and solitude, I am reminded that I am not the sum total of my upbringing, my life choices, or the victim of certain things that have happened to me. In silence and solitude, I am confronted with the fact that God meets me solely on the grounds of his gut-wrenching, life-changing, soul-satisfying love.

In silence and solitude, I am not allowed to despise myself, roll my eyes, or nitpick my neighbor's shortcomings. I am allowed to complain, but only with the cross nearby so as to couch my frustration in light of the forgiveness of my own sins.

In silence and solitude, I cut loose and drift away from performance-driven, people-pleasing, competitive religiosity. In this place, I learn to accept myself because the doctrine of justification by faith is real and final, and I can just be me.

In silence and solitude, I learn to give back to God that which is his, primarily, I give him myself. 

In silence and solitude, I remember that just as Caesar's face was on the coin, so God's image rests on me, and that is all I'll ever need.

Psalm 23 from Seattle


The Lord is my Tender Father.

I can’t think of a single need. 

He lets me sit on my patio, sip coffee, watch birds, and seaplanes overhead.

I listen to the city and look at the Western hemlocks. 

He gives my life meaning, and I know that I belong. 

He helps me trust my friends, 

and when I do, his name shines.

Be it in Georgia, England, Nevada, or Washington,

I am not coming unglued, because You stay with me;

You’ve provided a 10’ table of tacos, elote, chunky guacamole, 

And IPA from Ballard. I belly-laugh with my friends.

My enemies know that I’ve moved on, am happy,

and wish them well. I smile because I am healed.

Sweat drips from my head like oil, finishing my second lap at Discovery Park, and I have a family to whom I come home.

The kindness of God confronts me, and the Love of God strengthens me every single day of my life.

I will dwell with my Abba until times runs out and then again.

Does God Like Me?


My life of faith has been just that – a life of faith. I have soared at the mountain tops, and I have lost all hope in a valley of despair. I’m willing to bet that if you’ve been a believer for more than a year or so, we can relate to each other. Like you, my valley-moments are ugly. Though we may not struggle with the same things in the valley, we still need the same Jesus who is committed to us regardless of the circumstances in which we find ourselves. In the valley, I start asking questions, doubting convictions, and wondering about things that can send me unraveling.

Have you ever wondered whether or not God likes you? Maybe you haven’t. I sure have. Last week, I had my regular meeting with my Spiritual Director. I confessed that over my years, I’ve had this off and on struggle with feeling like “God likes me less and less each day.” Figuring out where that thought comes from within me has been challenging. Some may instantly suggest that it is demonic. While believing that spiritual oppression is very real, I’m not so sure that is what this is. Rather, through hours of prayer, meditation, contemplation, and counsel, much of it is bound up in various experiences throughout childhood on up to the present day. Like everyone, I’ve experienced loss, betrayal, disappointments. Unlike everyone, I’ve also battled various forms of depression throughout life.

I have no secrets, seek to walk in the light, and genuinely strive to follow Jesus with all my heart. I’ve got close friends who know the real me, love me, hold me accountable, and tell me the truth. I agree with Merton, No Man is an Island, and if it weren’t for my friends, I don’t know where I’d be.

Yet, with an open Bible, deep friendships, and a knowledge of the truth, I keep returning to doubting the fact that God actually likes me. I wish it weren’t the case. I thought that by the time I was nearly 40 years of age I’d have that fundamental question answered and settled once and for all. Heck, I grew up going to church, was active in my youth ministry, went to some schooling, and even wrote The Reckless Love of God! I know that God loves me! And yet, maybe sometimes I don’t know that as fully and completely as I’d like to think. It’s a daily thing, ya know?

In my weakness, doubt, pessimism, low self-esteem, and gospel-less self-hatred, I am tempted to believe that God loves me with an “I’ll-tolerate-you” kind of love. It’s a distant-love; a “stand-over-there” kind of love; a love that will put up with me but isn’t interested in me. My crooked teeth, weird quirks, and scatter-brained-self have got to be irritating. This might sound trite, selfish, or completely absurd to some, and I am genuinely okay with the fact that my struggles may seem strange.

As I delve deeper into my relationship with my Abba, I am confronted with painful realities. I am prone to believe things that are simply untrue. These are things I learned as a child, in adolescence, and on up to the present moment that stirs up fear, guilt, shame, and sometimes paralyzing anxiety. I mistakenly think God is like me and that his thoughts are not above my thoughts and his ways aren’t above my ways. Therein lies the mistake, the error, the sin that leads me to the lie that God doesn’t like me. God is not my peer, Jesus is not my homeboy, and the Holy Spirit is not my co-pilot. God is my Father, Jesus is my Brother, and the Holy Spirit is my Comforter, and the Divine Community is unlike me in every way. Leave the petty score-keeping out of the picture. This is gospel.

I understand the doctrine of justification fairly well, but letting that doctrine drip from the filter basket of my mind down into the carafe of my heart is where the real work of being born again happens. I know that God demonstrated his love for me, not in the air but down here, in history, in the dirt, nailed to a cross (Rom. 5:8). Beloved Brennan was right when he said, “No one can measure like a believer the depth and intensity of God’s love, but then again no one can measure like a believer the effectiveness of our gloom, our pessimism, our low self-esteem, our self-hatred and despair that block God’s way to us.”

Here I sit 23 years after I was waylaid by the love, Spirit, and ferocious mercy of God, and I’m more in need of Him now than the “hour I first believed.” I am still showing up to the table set with bread and wine, word and Spirit, hope and despair, confidence and doubt, sin and righteousness, repentance and belonging, happiness and sadness – casting all my anxieties on him because Peter says he “cares for me.” 

So with this struggle of God’s dislike of me, I have often felt an existential dread over being a grave disappointment to my Heavenly Father. As I confessed these things, I knew I was stepping out a little more into the light. I then asked my director bluntly, “What do you say to someone who on the one hand knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that God loves him and then that afternoon, doubts whether or not God likes him?”

His reply was simple and profound.

He looked out the window over the lake, leaned back in his chair, thought for a moment and then said, “Alex, that’s a profound and honest understanding of your own self.” He then asked, “Can you feel your heart beating as you sit there in that chair?” I thought about it and said, “Well, yes. Of course.” He then leaned forward, looked me in the face, and said, “Alex, His ‘liking’ of you can be felt in every heartbeat. You are the breath of the unnamed God who is and calls you into existence. Were it not for Him; you’d come apart this instant.” And there I sat, stunned and teary-eyed for the thousandth time, embracing the work of the Spirit, and believing that the fact that God wills me to exist is enough in this moment to know that he really is fond of me. After a moment of stillness, he said,

You are now in a place where you are free of primal visions of God bound up in your earthly father, failed pastors, and abusive friends. You are now positioned to allow him to speak for himself. He is Light, Life, and Love. The entire story of the gospel lets you in on the fact that He likes you.

That is good news!

That is freedom!

That is the truth!

Melting Anger into Compassion


Identity: “I am exchanging my anger in order to truly love people.”

Scripture: If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? – Matthew 5:46

Loving those who are like us or those who potentially could become like us isn’t nearly as difficult as loving those who don’t resemble us in any way.

They look different.

They smell different.

They think different.

They don’t laugh at the things you think are funny.

They think your music is weird and your food is bland.

They are simply unlike you. When people are unlike us, we can easily avoid, ignore, and dislike them. When people wrong us, our dislikes move into hatred, bitterness, and resentment.

Has someone wronged you? How long have you been carrying that anger around? Who is the person you are withholding love from? About ten years ago, one of my closest friends wounded me deeply. In my grief, I became angry. Really angry. I went to my Pastor Kris at Trinity Anglican Mission in Atlanta. We went to lunch and then sitting in his car afterwards, he said to me, “Alex, one day this anger of yours towards _______ is going to melt into compassion.” I’ll never forget that phrase… melt into compassion. The image of melting something seemed right. He didn’t say it would “vanish” or “disappear.” Instead he said “melt” which meant that it would take time, focus, and process. If you’ve ever moved from a place of anger to forgiveness and compassion, then you understand the kind of work that goes into melting anger.

Give yourself a few moments to become mindful that you are in the Presence of the Holy Spirit. Once you’re “there”, bring the anger and relational wounds into the room. Place yourself before the Crucified One, and begin to lay your anger down at his pierced feet. Let him love you as you are. As you sense his nearness to you and fondness of you, confess the anger, speak of the pain, and ask for his grace to help you then turn and extend it to the wrongdoer. Today is a day to let your anger melt into compassion.

The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image. If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them. Can this be charity?
— Thomas Merton, No Man is an Island, pp. 177-178.

I Will Remember You

We came to a stop and stood in the silent woods, listening. I tumbled pinecones and cicada shells with the toe of my shoe, then looked up at the patches of sky showing through the pine branches. Hands thrust in her jacket pockets, Naoko stood there thinking, her eyes focused on nothing in particular.

“Tell me something, Toru,” she said. “Do you love me?”

“You know I do,” I answered.

“Will you do me two favors?”

“You may have up to three wishes, madame.”

Naoko smiled and shook her head. “No, two will be enough. One is for you to realize how grateful I am that you came to see me here. I hope you’ll understand how happy you’ve made me. I know it’s going to save me if anything will. I may not show it, but it’s true.”

“I’ll come to see you again,” I said. “And what is the other wish?”

“I want you always to remember me. Will you remember that I existed and that I stood next to you here like this?”

“Always,” I said. “I’ll always remember.”

She walked on ahead without speaking. The autumn light filtering through the branches danced over the shoulders of her jacket. A dog barked again, closer than before... “Come over here,” I called toward her back. “The well might be around here somewhere.” Naoko stopped and smiled and took my arm. We walked the rest of the way side by side.
“Do you really promise never to forget me?” she asked in a near whisper.

“I’ll never forget you,” I said. “I could never forget you.”

— Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood, p. 9

On Being Childlike


Identity: “I am a child of God.”

But Jesus called them to him, saying, "Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it." – Luke 18:16-17

Of all things for Jesus to tell you to become like, he insists on you becoming like a child as a prerequisite for entering the kingdom of God. Think about that!  Jesus could have called you to become someone really powerful, a person to be reckoned with, someone of “significance” and influence. But he didn’t call us to become warriors, kings, or heroes. Instead, his first call you and I is to become childlike which is not the same thing as being childish.

Why childlike? Simply put; children are needy, dependent, and vulnerable. They cannot provide for themselves and therefore require others to provide for their basic necessities. Jesus’ instruction to you today is to remember your need for his gracious provision.

Neediness isn’t the only thing there is to being a kid. Children are also filled with wonder, questions, and adventure. Finding Rolly Poillies under rocks, digging around in creek-beds, wearing out slip n’ slides, afternoon popsicles, and getting grass stains are all part of the job of being a kid. My mom, who was an elementary school teacher for over 30 years is quick to point out, “Play is the serious work of a being a child.” She’s right. Perhaps taking a moment to recover the wonder that is your life would be good for your soul today.

Lastly, children keep time very different than we adults do. Kids usually aren’t thinking a whole lot about yesterday and they’re really not too hung up on what’s coming tomorrow. More often than not, their only real concern is the “right now.” Yes, they had ice cream yesterday. Yes, they’re going swimming tomorrow. However, it’s the right now that really matters. In a word, children are in the present. Yesterday is behind and tomorrow isn’t here yet. Be a kid today. Be yourself. Be present.

God defines himself as ‘I am who I am’, which also means: My being is such that I shall always be present in every moment of becoming.
—  Hans Urs von Balthasar, Unless You Become Like This Child, p. 55. 

On Knowing Yourself


Identity: "I am getting to know myself."

Scripture: I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. – Psalm 139:14

I used to live in Newnan, Georgia. We had a small ranch house with a massive backyard. It was flat and lined with white oak trees down the left and woods to the right. One day, my old classmate from London, Tom Parkins, and I spent hours and hours blowing and raking leaves into the biggest pile known to man. At dusk, we were laying in the leaves, staring up at the sky, smoking our pipes, and telling stories about our school days across the pond. Then Tom asked a question that struck me like a lightning bolt. "Alex, you always go on and on about knowing God, and that's great. But I've never heard you say anything about knowing yourself. Do you know you?" At first, I said, "What on earth do you mean, 'Do I know me? Of course, I do! I've lived with myself my whole life!'" "Right," said Tom. That's why I have to ask you again, "Do you know the real you?" It was back then that I realized I had a massive hole in my theology. I had always equated honest self-reflection with mere selfishness, and therein was the problem.

Knowing myself is actually a command I am intended to follow. How else can I "guard my heart" (Prov. 4:23) if I don't know what it longs for or what makes it hurt? How else I "watch my life" (1 Tim. 4:16) if I’m constantly looking away either to God, the church, or someone else? Today, you have permission to take two minutes, center yourself, and then contemplate the mystery of your own life. Perhaps you will grieve. Perhaps you will grin. Perhaps you will be able to trace the fingerprints of your Heavenly Father who has always loved you.

“And men go abroad to admire the heights of mountains, the mighty waves of the sea, the broad tides of rivers, the compass of the ocean, and the circuits of the stars, yet pass over the mystery of themselves without a thought.” 
— Augustine, Confessions, 216.

Preserved by God


Identity: “I am preserved by God.”

Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. – Isaiah 41:10

Here we are. Hump day. Perhaps your day is set to be filled to the brim. I know mine is. You might be feeling physically, spiritually, emotionally, or relationally a bit low. “Spent” is a good word. So let’s lean into that for just a moment and see if we can’t leverage our weakness and grow in strength.

Feeling “spent” is a common experience not only on weeks that demand a bit more out of us but something that we encounter again and again throughout our entire lives. The call of God to faithfully persevere throughout our years is no small thing. Heartache, setbacks, temptations, paying the bills, and our own doubts continually put us to the test. To state the obvious: Perseverance is so hard.

That’s why we have to remember that she, Perseverance, has a twin sister known as “Preservation,” and she is a breath of fresh air to a tired soul. You see, at this moment and throughout life, God never calls you to merely white-knuckle the situations, days, weeks, months, years, and just get through it. He has promised to be with you, and He will preserve you even as you sometimes grow weary in persevering. His word to you today concerns you loosening your grip on today, on this situation, on your life, and allowing yourself the joy of being comforted and carried by his Spirit. After all, our burden-lifting Jesus doesn’t create white knuckles out of his followers. He brings joy, peace, comfort, and the best wine. He brings good news as he preserves us.

The Christian life is not a quiet escape to the garden where we can walk and talk uninterruptedly with our Lord; nor a fantasy trip to a heavenly city where we can compare blue ribbons and gold medals with others who have made it to the winners’ circle… The Christian life is going to God. In going to God Christians travel the same ground that everyone else walks on, breathe the same air, drink the same water, shop in the same stores, read the same newspapers, are citizens under the same governments, pay the same prices for groceries and gasoline, fear the same dangers, are subject to the same pressures, get the same distresses, are buried in the same ground. The difference is that each step we walk, each breath we breathe, we know we are preserved by God, we know we are accompanied by God, we know we are ruled by God; and therefore no matter what doubts we endure when accidents we experience, the Lord will preserve us from evil, he will keep our life.
— Eugene Peterson, A Long Obedience in the Same Direction: Discipleship in an Instant Society, 40-41. 

On Loving Your Friends


Identity: “I will love my friends.”

Scripture: A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity. – Prov. 17:17

I've heard it said, "A true friend walks in when everyone else walks out." There's something about the fact that when your life is an absolute mess, it serves to purify not only your inner-life but it also clarifies so many things about the relationships you have.

Some will see your mess and begin asking you obnoxious questions, seeking to provide some kind of theological or philosophical explanation as to why God appears to be “getting you back” or something like that (think: "Job's friends").

Others will find you in the gutter, see the blood and puss, and "pass by other the other side" because they can't fathom God's call on them to inconvenience themselves, stop what they’re doing, get their hands dirty, and become an active participant in the healing of your life (Luke 10:31-32).

Still, there are those who instead of questioning or ignoring your pain, will actually deride you, shame you, and insult you to your face; compounding the fracture and heartbreak (Prov. 15:4). I don't know which of these experiences hurt the most or if it is even possible to know.

Here’s what is sure: the immeasurable amount of gratitude you feel for the friend who knows how to show up the right way, how to handle not knowing every detail of your struggle, offering their own presence as you face the dark night of the soul, eager to listen to the silence with you. When that person comes to mind, they don’t just enter your mind. They become part of your soul and it is then that your soul fills with the peace that “surpasses understanding” (Phil. 4:7). That person is your friend because they’re acting like Jesus.

“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”
— Henri Nouwen, Out of Solitude: Three Meditations on the Christian Life, 38.

Our Father

Identity: “I have a Father and Family.”

Scripture: “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.” – Matthew 6:9

I was in my 3rd course in Greek, translating the Sermon on the Mount. When I got to chapter 6, I was stunned by something I’d seen in English my whole life but for some reason it remained hidden on the surface. In Greek, it looks like this, Πάτερ ἡμῶν. Literally “Father of us.” Seeing this gripped my soul. When the disciples asked Jesus how to pray, his first word was not “GOD!” or “HOLY!” or “I” or even “SIN!” Rather, he began with the simple pronoun “Our.” Our Father.

Before I say anything in prayer, I am reminded that I am not the only child in God’s family.

I am not the only one with needs.

I am not the only one with desires.

My faith is not a privatized, individualized relationship between me and God only. I belong to a family and Our Father loves all of his children. In prayer, I am reminded of you before I can even speak of me. That is the power of “Our” in “Our Father.”

Today, as you take a moment of prayer and begin to pray, remember the saints who have enriched your life and your faith. Remember your global family with different skin colors, ethnicities, and cultures, and with gratitude and reverence, proceed from the “Our” to the tender “Father.”

We must lay before Him what is in us, not what ought to be in us.
— C.S. Lewis, Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer, p. 22.

Rejecting Self-Rejection

IMG_6149 2.jpeg

Identity: “I am a beloved child of God.” 

"See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.” 1 John 3:1

I’ve yet to meet a Christian who is oversaturated in the love of God. Satan, our critics, certain family members, old friends, and our flesh rails against this most basic truth spoken over every believer.

You are a beloved child of God. Self-hatred often hides in the same hearts who simultaneously believe that “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son.” For me, personally, this has been my biggest struggle throughout my faith. We can be so hard on ourselves as our unrealistic expectations pummel us into the ground. Others get grace, forgiveness, mercy, and love, but we withhold these things from ourselves. Jesus calls us to self-denial (Luke 9:23-24) but never to self-hatred. To spurn your soul is to spurn that for which out of love, Jesus died. To reject self-rejection and to “accept that we are accepted” (Tillich) is an incredible demonstration of faith in “the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal. 2:20).

Over the years, I have come to realize that the greatest trap in our life is not success, or popularity, or power, but self-rejection. Success, popularity, and power can, indeed, present a great temptation, but their seductive quality often comes from the way they are part of the much larger temptation to self-rejection. When we have come to believe in the voices that call us worthless and unlovable, then success, popularity, and power are easily perceived as attractive solutions. The real trap, however, is self-rejection…As soon as someone accuses me or criticizes me, as soon as I am rejected, left alone, or abandoned, I find myself thinking: “Well, that proves once again that I am a nobody.”… My dark side says , “I am no good …. I deserve to be pushed aside, forgotten, rejected, and abandoned. Self-rejection is the greatest enemy of the spiritual life because it contradicts the sacred voice that calls us the ‘Beloved.’ Being the Beloved constitutes the core of our existence.
— Henri Nouwen, You Are the Beloved: Daily Meditations for Spiritual Living, 12.

Accepting and Embracing My Limitations


Identity: "I am limited by design."

"Yet you have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor." – Psalm 8:5

God distinguishes himself from humanity in many ways. Perhaps the most obvious in which he does so has to do with what theologians refer to as the "incommunicable attributes of God." This means that there are specific attributes that God does not share (communicate) with anything in creation. Visualize omnipotence (all-powerful), omniscience (all-knowing), and omnipresence (present in all places).

Our anxieties and frustrations skyrocket when we reject our human limitations and seek to be like God in these ways. We are not all-powerful. We are not all-knowing. We cannot be everywhere. When we accept and embrace our limitations, we are free to be what we actually are rather than strive after a make-believe version of ourselves. More than that, we can then view our families, friends, neighbors, and coworkers rightly; not expecting the impossible from them! Above all, God likes us this way. It is "good" (Gen. 1:31). He designed you with your limitations in mind. You're supposed to ask questions. You're supposed to ask for help. You're supposed to be present in only one place at a time. Today God's call to you is to embrace and enjoy the life that your limitations afford you as you look to God and lean on your neighbor to meet your needs.

Take more time. Cover less ground.
— Thomas Merton, Seven Storey Mountain, 202.

Jesus and Me


I have a daily battle with a false Jesus who is the result of my own self-projections and the actual Jesus of the Scriptures. Today I decided to write these out for myself. Maybe they’ll be of help to you as well.

 False Jesus  Actual Jesus

Jesus rejects me. Jesus accepts me.

Jesus hates me. Jesus loves me.

Jesus tolerates me. Jesus wants me.

Jesus resents me. Jesus likes me.

Jesus blames me. Jesus affirms me.

Jesus mocks me. Jesus celebrates me.

Jesus harasses me. Jesus comforts me.

Jesus bullies me. Jesus protects me.

Jesus leaves me. Jesus helps me.

Jesus avoids me. Jesus welcomes me.

Jesus scares me. Jesus strengthens me.

Jesus bribes me. Jesus encourages me.

Jesus shuns me. Jesus greets me.

Jesus guilts me. Jesus acquits me.

Jesus bothers me. Jesus notices me.

Jesus tests me. Jesus serves me.

Jesus fails me. Jesus honors me.

Jesus ignores me. Jesus sees me.

Jesus hurts me. Jesus heals me.

Jesus overlooks me. Jesus changes me.

Jesus forgets me. Jesus remembers me.

Jesus condemns me. Jesus forgives me.


Abide in Jesus Today


Identity: "I am at home with Jesus."

"Abide in me, and I will abide in you…" John 15:4

The words to meditate on today come from Jesus' words during the Last Supper with the disciples. In a borrowed room, Jesus called the disciples to "abide in him [Me].” He was about to depart back to the Father and yet, he wasn’t going anywhere. This invitation to “abide” is still God's invitation to you today. As you travel, eat, laugh, walk, talk, work, and spend the day, you still get to abide with Jesus. The invitation to abide with him means that he wants you to make your home within him. Think of your living room. Jesus’ desire for you today is for you to feel welcome, comfortable, relaxed, unhurried, and happy in Him. Yes, today will be filled with people, errands, responsibilities, and a million other things both planned and unplanned, and still above everything Jesus wants your soul to be comfortable and at peace in Him.

Give your self 60 seconds to be still, pay attention to your breathing, and gently say to your soul, "Though the world is hurrying around, my soul is at home in you, Jesus. Help me to live in and share your love with those around me. Amen.”

“The grace of God means something like: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn’t have been complete without you. Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can ever separate us. It’s for you I created the universe. I love you. There’s only one catch. Like any other gift, the gift of grace can be yours only if you’ll reach out and take it. Maybe being able to reach out and take it is a gift too.”
— Frederick Buechner, Beyond Words: Daily Readings in the ABC's of Faith,139.

Childlikeness: A Prerequisite for Heaven


Identity: “I am a child of God.”

But Jesus called them to him, saying, "Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it." – Luke 18:16-17

Of all things for Jesus to tell you to become like, he insists on you becoming like a child as a prerequisite for entering the kingdom of God. Think about that! Jesus could have called you to become a warrior, a king, an activist, or anything else. Instead, he called you to become childlike which is not the same thing as being childish.

Why childlike? Simply put – children are needy, dependent, and vulnerable. They cannot provide for themselves and therefore require others to provide for their basic necessities. Jesus’ instruction to you today is to remember your need for his gracious provision.

Children are also filled with wonder, questions, and adventure. Perhaps taking a moment to recover the wonder that is your life would be good for your soul today. Lastly, children keep time very different that we adults do. Kids usually aren’t thinking a whole lot about yesterday and they’re really not too hung up on what’s coming tomorrow. More often than not, their only real concern is the “right now.” Yes, they had ice cream yesterday. Yes, they’re going swimming tomorrow. However, it’s the right now that really matters. In a word, children are in the present. Yesterday is behind and tomorrow isn’t here yet. Be a kid today. Be yourself. Be present.

God defines himself as ‘I am who I am’, which also means: My being is such that I shall always be present in every moment of becoming.
— Hans Urs von Balthasar, Unless You Become Like This Child, p. 55.

Randy Alcorn on those in Heaven Right Now

Discovery Park is as close to Heaven as I’ll get in this life :)

Discovery Park is as close to Heaven as I’ll get in this life :)

Randy Alcorn, who wrote a fantastic book on Heaven made 21 observations about Revelation 6:9-11, giving us some insight about what the saints in Heaven are experiencing right now!

1. When these people died on Earth, they relocated to Heaven (v.9).

2. These people in Heaven were the same ones killed for Christ while on Earth (v. 9). This demonstrates direct continuity between our identity on Earth and our identity in Heaven. The martyrs' personal history extends directly back to their lives on Earth. Those in the intermediate Heaven are not different people; they are the same people relocated—"righteous men made perfect" (Hebrews 12:23).

3. People in Heaven will be remembered for their lives on Earth. These were known and identified as ones slain "because of…the testimony they had maintained" (v. 9).

4. "They called out" (v. 10) means they are able to express themselves audibly. This could suggest they exist in physical form, with vocal cords or other tangible means to express themselves.

5. People in the intermediate Heaven can raise their voices (v. 10). This indicates that they are rational, communicative, and emotional—even passionate—beings, like people on Earth.

6. They called out in "a loud voice," not "loud voices." Individuals speaking with one voice indicate that Heaven is a place of unity and shared perspective.

7. The martyrs are fully conscious, rational, and aware of each other, God, and the situation on Earth.

8. They ask God to intervene on Earth and to act on their behalf: "How long…until you judge the inhabitants of the earth and avenge our blood?"(v. 10).

9. Those in Heaven are free to ask God questions, which means they have an audience with God. It also means they need to learn. In Heaven, people desire understanding and pursue it.

10. People in the intermediate Heaven know what's happening on Earth (v. 10). The martyrs know enough to realize that those who killed them have not yet been judged.

11. Heaven dwellers have a deep concern for justice and retribution (v. 10). When we go to Heaven, we won't adopt a passive disinterest in what happens on the earth. On the contrary, our concerns will be more passionate and our thirst for justice greater. Neither God nor we will be satisfied until his enemies are judged, our bodies raised, sin and Satan defeated, Earth restored, and Christ exalted over all.

12. The martyrs clearly remember their lives on Earth (v. 10). They remember at least some of the bad things from earth, since they even remember that they were murdered. (Heaven's joys are not rooted in ignorance, but perspective.) - PLEASE LET THAT SINK IN.

13. The martyrs in Heaven pray for judgment on their persecutors who are still at work hurting others. They are acting in solidarity with, and in effect interceding for, the suffering saints on Earth. This suggests that saints in Heaven are both seeing and praying for saints on Earth.

14. Those in Heaven see God's attributes ("Sovereign…holy and true") in a way that makes his judgment of sin more understandable.

15. Those in Heaven are distinct individuals: "Then each of them was given a white robe" (v. 11). There isn't one merged identity (ala Nirvana) that obliterates uniqueness, but a distinct "each of them."

16. The martyrs' wearing white robes suggests the possibility of actual physical forms, because disembodied spirits presumably don't wear robes. The robes may well have symbolic meaning, but it doesn't mean they couldn't also be physical. The martyrs appear to have physical forms that John could actually see.

17. God answers their question (v. 11), indicating communication and process in Heaven. It also demonstrates that we won't know everything in Heaven—if we did, we would have no questions. The martyrs knew more after God answered their question than before they asked it. There is learning in the present Heaven.

18. God promises to fulfill the martyrs' requests, but says they will have to "wait a little longer" (v. 11). Those in the intermediate Heaven live in anticipation of the future fulfillment of God's promises. Unlike the eternal Heaven—where there will be no more sin, Curse, or suffering on the New Earth (Revelation 21:4)—the present Heaven coexists with and watches over an Earth under sin, the Curse, and suffering.

19. There is time in the intermediate Heaven (vv. 10-11). The white-robed martyrs ask God a time-dependent question: "How long, Sovereign Lord…until you judge the inhabitants of the earth and avenge our blood?" (v. 10). They are aware of time's passing and are eager for the coming day of the Lord's judgment. God answers that they must "wait a little longer" until certain events transpire on Earth. Waiting requires the passing of time. (This seems to refute the "no time in Heaven/ instantaneous resurrection" theory, as well as soul sleep.)

20. The people of God in Heaven have a strong familial connection with those on Earth, who are called their "fellow servants and brothers" (v. 11). We share the same Father, "from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named" (Ephesians 3:15, ESV). There is not a wall of separation within the bride of Christ. We are one family with those who've gone to Heaven ahead of us. After we go to Heaven, we'll still be one family with those yet on Earth. These verses demonstrate a vital connection between the events and people in Heaven and the events and people on Earth.

21. Our sovereign God knows down to the last detail all that is happening and will happen on Earth (v. 11), including every drop of blood shed and every bit of suffering undergone by his children. Voice of the Martyrs estimates that more than 150,000 people die for Christ each year, an average of more than four hundred per day. God knows the name and story of each one. He knows exactly how many martyrs there will be, and he is prepared to return and set up his Kingdom when the final martyr dies.

God's Lamb: A Good Friday Story


Once upon a time, there was a Lamb. However, this was no ordinary Lamb. This was God’s Lamb, and God loved his Lamb with all of his Being. They were bound in Spirit. Every day the Lamb was the joy of God and God was the Smile of the Lamb. Being God’s Lamb meant that the Lamb was perfect, completely clean, blameless in every way. Even the mightiest angels trembled in the presence of God’s Lamb. The Lamb called God his “holy Abba.” The Lamb didn’t just try to act like God, he was God. God would hold this Lamb in his arms, and the Lamb would hold God in his heart. This Lamb was unlike every other lamb. God’s Lamb needed no shepherd because he was the Way. He needed no witnesses because he was the Truth. He needed and no protection because he was the Life. The Lamb’s food was simple: the words of His Abba was plenty – milk and honey.  

God not only loved his Lamb in Heaven, but He also loved his people on earth too. However, the people were in danger. They had broken God’s heart through sin. They had broken friendship with each other. They had become so bad that they even broke their own selves. They didn’t know who they were anymore and were left hopelessly scrambling to make meaning out of life. They needed not only to change their minds, but they also needed brand new hearts to beat, fresh air to breathe, and new blood in their veins. They needed the Lamb, and so that’s what Holy Abba and His Lamb decided to do. Without conflict, they agreed that the Lamb would come and take away the sin of the world.

When God’s Lamb arrived amongst the people, everyone did not rejoice as we might expect. Some did. They were called the “ragamuffins.” They were the ones who had been too bad and couldn’t seem to get their act together no matter how hard they tried. Eventually, they just quit trying. But when the Lamb listened to them, they felt heard. And when the Lamb spoke to them, they felt loved. They loved God’s Lamb.

But not everyone loved the Lamb. There were wolves out in the country, in the city, in the synagogue, and in government. The wolves said that the Lamb was too puny, too kind, and too gentle. “If he’s really from God, shouldn’t be tougher than this? Shouldn’t He have more money, more fame, and come from a town better than Nazareth? He doesn’t look like he came from God. Besides, all his ‘truth-telling’ is getting really old.”

Finally, one night, the wolves came for the Lamb. They found him in a garden. They could tell he’d been crying, shaking, knowing they were coming for him. When they found him, he spoke, and the wolves fell back as though they’d come upon a Great Lion. But as the Lamb stepped into the torch and moonlight, they saw milk and honey in his beard, and they seized him.

That night, the Lamb didn’t sleep. Instead, the wolves abused him, and with a leash, they dragged him around, mocking him, hitting him, spitting on him, and calling him names. One wolf pulled the hair from the Lamb’s chin and cheeks. Yet, the Lamb had done nothing to deserve this.

The next morning the wolves kicked God’s Lamb down the streets of Jerusalem and outside of the city. One wolf kicked the Lamb so hard that he couldn’t walk up the hill anymore. So they dragged him up the dirty hill. 

And at the top of that hill that morning, they nailed God’s Lamb to a tree. 

The hungry wolves surrounded the Lamb with grumbling bellies and angry faces. Saliva dripped from their jagged teeth and gaping jaws. The bruised and bloody Lamb hung like a wind chime in the sunshine. Suddenly, fear ran through the wolves. Not because the Lamb was scary. The Lamb looked defeated. But what made the wolves afraid was the way the Lamb looked at them. He could see past the teeth, the growls, the fur, and scowls. He could see inside them and knew everything about them… and they knew He could see their hearts.

Then the Lamb rolled his head back and looked up into Heaven and bleated “Holy Abba, forgive them. If you will, they can become little lambs and our family will grow.”

And so God watched his only Lamb die. 

Someone came and took his Lamb and buried him.


On Sunday morning, the Lamb was alive again! 

And so, God’s Lamb took away all the sins of all the wolves.

And ever since that Good Friday when God gave His Lamb, every wolf can become God’s sheep.

This year I decided to write a short Good Friday story for Tovah and Jude.