musings from mitch

GRATITUDE AND AWE

2011-04-08T10:28:00.000-07:00

(10/27/10)
(Site B53, Linville Falls Campground, Blue Ridge Parkway)

It’s about 9:30pm, and I think the rain has finally passed. A few moments ago as I walked to the restroom, I looked up through the holes torn in the thin blanket of low-lying fog that hung over the campground and saw what seemed like a million stars in a black cloudless sky. It was a sight that was particularly striking to me. We never see that many stars back in the Charlotte metro area. There, as in so many other highly-populated areas, a nightly burglary takes place in the skies above, as our society’s crass, noisy light robs us of a precious treasure – the stunning, delicate beauty of countless stars and galaxies stretched out to remind us just how small we really are. It is a sad depiction of much of our lives on this planet, as we allow the man-made and mundane to drown out the miraculous and majestic.

Tonight I finished reading “Leading With a Limp” by Dan Allender, PhD, who is president of Mars Hill Graduate School in Washington. This book is a thorough, insightful look at the advantages as a leader of acknowledging and even embracing one’s weaknesses. Throughout the book, Allender refers to different pairs of words – some of them contrasting, some of them co-related. I think I want to reflect on a few of them over the next few journal entries, beginning with Gratitude and Awe. Allender introduces the word pair this way:

What exactly does it mean to grow character? Character is grown to the degree that we love God and others. Love that is true and eternal begins with worship of the God who redeems people by his unexpected and unreasonable grace. We grow in character, then, to the degree we are captured by gratitude and awe. (1)

GRATITUDE
In essence, gratitude is the act of being thankful. It is the acknowledgment that someone has given you something or done something nice for you. Allender continues:

I know that every breath, each heartbeat is a gift. Not a single molecule of what I see is deserved or earned. The matchless gifts of my wife, of beauty, of the sun, land, water, and air that surround me make any presumption of ownership or entitlement completely laughable. All is a gift.” (2)

As I have been driving around up here in the mountains over the last few days, I can’t help but be grateful to you, God. Grateful that You created all of this beauty for us to enjoy. Grateful that I am still healthy enough to hike up and down these mountain trails. Grateful that I am wealthy enough to own a reliable SUV to drive up here (my Xterra, “Rex”). Grateful that You know me and hear me and see me and love me and call me to follow You.

Gratitude is recognition of YOUR GOODNESS.

AWE
Allender defines awe like this:

Awe is the capacity to bow in the presence of something or someone more glorious than ourselves. It is the proper posture of a creature before both the Creator and the Creator’s greatness as expressed through creation… We prostrate ourselves before greatness because we were built to admire and honor glory. (3)

Awe is my default response as I gaze at the beauty of these mountains. Awe is almost inescapable up here. On my way up here on Monday, I saw a double rainbow, one of which was perhaps the most brilliant I have ever seen. A few moments later, I saw a complete rainbow as I drove through the town of Linville Falls, NC. Yesterday, I stood at the rim of Linville Gorge and watched as fog rose from the trees and began to combine to form clouds. I have seen trees whose fall colors were so bright, they looked as if they had been set ablaze. And as I sat at my campsite picnic table this morning, I watched and listened as two tiny chipmunks gathered nuts in their cute little cheeks, taking occasional breaks to chatter and chase each other around and up and down the nearby trees. God, You are Creator of both huge and small. As my pastor, David Henderson puts it, “All of this was Your idea.”

Awe is recognition of YOUR GREATNESS.

While gratitude focuses on what You have done for me, awe focuses on what You have done, period. Both are correct responses to You, and both are necessary postures for us as followers of You and as leaders of others. And the absence of either can work to our detriment.

The absence of gratitude is entitlement – the feeling that I deserve or have earned something, and expect it from God. It is the act of exercising and pleading my “rights,” even though I laid all of them down at the cross when I became a follower of Christ. The absence of awe is complacency – the practice of moving through life without looking up; without acknowledging the miracles that we experience every day we live, no matter where we may live.

Gratitude and awe help to keep us both humble and God-focused, as we declare with our lips, heart, and lives that You are God and we are not… that we are finite and You are infinite. As simple and elementary as it may seem, we must always be mindful of one of the first prayers we learn as a child: “God is great… God is good.” Gratitude and awe enable us “to confess daily our desperate need for a greater wisdom and glory than we have today. We will one day apprehend God face to face; today we are given a gracious glimpse of his back. Each encounter with glory stirs a deeper desire for more. Therefore, we are called to be lifelong learners.” (4)

God, forgive me when the pace of my everyday life robs me of gratitude and awe. Help me to focus myself on You – Your goodness and Your greatness.

ENDNOTES:

1. Dan Allender, Leading With a Limp (Colorado Springs: Waterbrook Press, 2006), 144-145.
2. Allender, Leading With a Limp, 146.
3. Allender, Leading With a Limp, 147.
4. Allender, Leading With a Limp, 148.

STRENGTH AND WEAKNESS

2011-04-08T10:15:00.000-07:00

(10/28/10)
(Rough Ridge, Tanawha Trail System, Blue Ridge Parkway)

It is a new day here in the beautiful North Carolina mountains. The rain is gone, and the sky is that lovely “Carolina blue” (as all the Tarheel fans love to boast), with a few puffy white cumulus clouds and wispy strokes of cirrus clouds brushed across the blue sky canvas. I have climbed to one of my favorite vantage points in the Blue Ridge Mountains, Rough Ridge, a series of rocky outcroppings emerging from the side of a steep slope near Grandfather Mountain. I am perched here on this rock high above the Blue Ridge Parkway enjoying the sun’s warmth on this chilly October day.

In this journal entry, I want to pick up where I left off yesterday, commenting on certain pairs of words that Dan Allender, PhD refers to in his book “Leading With a Limp.” Another word pair that he focuses on is Strength and Weakness. In the chapter about a leader's need to be a character and to grow character, he states:

To be a character requires gratitude for one’s uniquely carved being. Do we delight in the strengths that are fearfully crafted into our characters? Do we bless now these strengths wondrously serve others?... Our calling, however, is often shaped as much by our weaknesses as by our strengths. We tend to run with our strengths and avoid those people and tasks that expose our weaknesses. But the story of God is not a saga of human potential; it is the revelation of the kindness and passion of the Father who seeks and redeems sinners. Therefore our strengths may help us with certain tasks and opportunities, but it is our frailty and sin that make known the glory of God’s story. (1)

We all possess both strengths and weaknesses. Allender refers to us as “glorious ruins, bent glory.” (2) And we must believe that God intended it to be this way. But why? Why can’t we just have all strengths – equally skilled at everything? Well, first of all, that would be really boring! If I was good at everything, where would be the drive to improve, to better myself? If we were all strong in all areas, where would the need be for each other? That brings me to a second reason for strengths and weaknesses. I think that God wants us to depend on others… and on Him. He wants us to realize that we simply can’t do everything – we need each other to accomplish what he tasks us to do.

I am reminded here of Jesus’ reference to the body – how we are all different parts with different strengths and functions, all working together to accomplish a single task. For example, our eyes see an apple on the counter in the kitchen. Our brain confers with our stomach and decides that we want it. Our brain, multiple muscle groups, and the balance centers of our inner ear all work in harmony to get us up from the couch. Our legs convey us to the kitchen, our arm and fingers cooperate to grasp the apple, and our mouth takes a bite of it. I could go on, but the process gets a little messy from that point forward! You get the idea, though.

Since God creates us with predetermined strengths and weaknesses, does that excuse us to work solely in our areas of strength? While a privileged few may enjoy the luxury of doing that, most of us do not have that option. Therefore, we must better ourselves to compensate for our weaknesses, or at least learn to live with them. However, by the same token, we are not asked to deny our strengths, either. God gave them to us for a reason.

Allender’s primary purpose of writing “Leading With a Limp” is to challenge leaders to acknowledge their flaws and weaknesses, to embrace them, and even declare them openly to others at times. Why? Because when God accomplishes the remarkable by using the unlikely, it demonstrates His power and brings Him glory. From “Star Wars” to “Rudy” to the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy to “Slumdog Millionaire”, filmmakers know the power of an inspiring story featuring an unlikely commoner triumphing against all odds and accomplishing what seems impossible – essentially the David and Goliath story retold over and over again in cinemas across the globe.

STRENGTH
Acknowledging our strengths and working in them demonstrates our gratitude to God. Allender states it this way:

…we must not deny or hide from the reality of our unique dignity. We are made in the image of God, and we are uniquely woven with awesome beauty. We may be remarkably handsome or bright, possess great musical ability or a hysterical sense of humor. We may possess remarkable abilities to encourage others or to read the nuances of relationships. Whatever marks us with glory, we are meant to prize it and use it for the sake of others. (3)

I think that God smiles when we operate to the best of our ability in one of our areas of strength. I think His response would be similar to that of a father, who smiles while watching his child excitedly run to their room with the new crayons he just gave them, and emerge soon thereafter to give him the new piece of art they just created. You can be assured that, no matter the quality of this new “masterwork,” it will be gracing the refrigerator door! God wants us to make full use and bring to full redemptive potential every gift that He provides to us – in fact it pleases Him when we do, as we show our gratitude to Him over and over again by creating art for Him, whether it be a stirring poem, a brilliant invention, or an inventive business marketing plan. (It makes me wonder if God has anyone’s Excel spreadsheets currently tacked to His refrigerator door!)

WEAKNESS
Acknowledging our weaknesses, on the other hand, demonstrates our dependency on God. As Allender says:

… we must also not deny or hide from the reality of our depravity. Each of us has a unique way of hiding shame and blaming others for our failures. We must admit the truth that we are a mess and that we mar everything we do with some stain of the Fall. (4)

We acknowledge our dependency on God by declaring to ourselves and to others that we are not able on our own to accomplish a task for Him. Therefore, when a favorable outcome occurs – when we find success – we can keep no glory for ourselves. It all goes to God. And we must know that God is pleased with that, as well. I can imagine His response being similar to that of a father when his child asks for $5.00 so they can go buy him a present. When the child presents the gift to him, the father is no less touched by the child’s love and devotion, even though he essentially just financed his own gift. That is why we can sing from our souls with worship artist Chris Tomlin, “Not to us, but to Your name be the glory!”

Most importantly, it is central to our faith to remember that God loves us with an all-encompassing love. He loves us when we are victorious, and He loves us just as much when we are frail. He loves us when we beam with confidence and when we shrink in cowardice. He loves us through all the rise and fall and glory and failure and joy and sorrow. His love for us never dims.

As Brennan Manning professes in his amazing book, “The Furious Longing of God”:

… the God I’ve come to know by sheer grace, the Jesus I met in the grounds of my own self, has furiously loved me regardless of my state – grace or disgrace. And why? For His love is never, never, never based on our performance, never conditioned by our moods – of elation or depression. The furious love of God knows no shadow of alteration or change. It is reliable. And always tender. (5)

And so, we must furiously chase after God, folding together both our strengths and weaknesses as we strive to find and follow His will for us. As Allender says:

We can expect nothing more or less from ourselves and our leaders than to know Jesus better through their brokenness as well as our own. We must demand of ourselves and our leaders to limp and fall forward into the strong arms of grace. (6)

I close with the words of Paul in II Corinthians 12 [speaking at first in the person of God],

9 “…My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. 10 … For when I am weak, then I am strong.

ENDNOTES:

1. Dan Allender, Leading With a Limp (Colorado Springs: Waterbrook Press, 2006), 149-150.
2. Allender, Leading With a Limp, 162.
3. Allender, Leading With a Limp, 163.
4. Allender, Leading With a Limp, 164.
5. Brennan Manning, The Furious Longing of God (Colorado Springs: David C. Cook Publishing), 35.
6. Allender, Leading With a Limp, 199.

AS THEY WERE GOING...

2010-08-05T21:52:00.000-07:00

(8/2/10)
(At Home in Concord, NC)

Hi God. Everything is quiet here now. It’s 10:00pm and Kim has just gone to bed. The TV is off, and the only things I hear are the sound of my own breath and the low “whoosh” of our central air conditioning (for which I am ever so grateful on this hot, humid summer night!). I am sitting here in our great room on our old worn-out sofa… the one that swallows you whole when you sit down due to the sagging springs underneath the cushions – which is why we should probably call it sitting “in” our sofa, not sitting “on” our sofa. Buster is sleeping in one of his favorite spots… just above my left shoulder on top of the sofa cushion.

I have wanted to sit down and write in my journal for several days now, but this is the first time I have actually taken the time to do so. A few days ago, as I was preparing Sunday’s multimedia slides for our guest speaker’s message, one particular phrase from a Bible story he mentioned stood out to me as I read it.

The story, found in the gospel of Luke, is one that I have heard many times – and have even taught on it a few times – throughout my life. It’s the story of Jesus healing the ten lepers. It goes like this (my paraphrase):

Jesus was walking toward Jerusalem when ten lepers yelled out at him from a distance. (They had to do everything from a distance, since they were considered societal outcasts due to their disease.) They called out, “Master, have mercy on us!” Jesus instructed them to go and show themselves to the priests… which they did. As they were on their way, they noticed that they had been healed. One of the ten stopped in his tracks, ran back, knelt at Jesus’ feet, and thanked Him. Jesus asked (rhetorically, of course), “Weren’t there ten of you? Where are the other nine? Stand up and go. Your faith has healed you.”

Now, here is the phrase that jumped out at me – it is a small detail of the story that I had never noticed before now. Luke 17 says:

14 He looked at them and said, “Go show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed of their leprosy.

Did you catch it? The verse says that “… as they went…” they were healed. When they took those first few steps toward the village, they were still lepers… still outcasts… still hopelessly stricken by the AIDS of their day. If a miracle of God hadn’t intervened, they would have looked completely foolish. They no doubt would have caused quite a commotion in the village. They would have been ridiculed, cursed, and screamed at as they made their way through the town on their way to the temple. And in addition to that, they probably would never have made it to the priests at all – the temple guards would have surely lost their jobs if they had let ten diseased lepers anywhere near the priests that day. But they didn’t let their "fears of the worst” deter them. Why? Because they were in a state of total desperation. I mean, what could have been worse than this life they were forced to live? Thrown out of town due to leprosy… even required by law to verbally announce their approach by crying out “Unclean!!” And so this desperation drove them to risk looking foolish – to risk ridicule and embarrassment – if it meant finding a better life than the one in which they were hopelessly trapped.

And “while they were on their way,” so the Bible says, they were healed. In other words, they had to step out in complete faith – even at the risk of looking like complete idiots – before they received their answer from God. I think that Jesus painted a beautiful portrait of the kind of faith that He asks of us – the kind that drives us to simply step out and go where He asks us to go, swallowing our pride and casting aside any worry about “what people might think” or “whom we might offend” or “what if Christ doesn’t come through this time.” It is the kind of faith that says simply (as Jesus said to the one leper who returned to thank Him in verse 19), “Stand up and go.”

This kind of reckless faith is conceived and incubated only in a desperate heart. Like the Prodigal Son, we must come to the end of ourselves… i.e. the death of any naïve notions that we can accomplish anything at all by relying on our own intellect, wiles, and resources. When we realize – like the lepers did – that Christ is our only hope, then we also realize that the path He points us toward is the only path toward true contentment and healing for us. And that drives us to “stand up and go…” even if it doesn’t seem to make sense… even if we can’t see a good outcome ahead… even if we can’t see anything at all.

God, my desperate heart cries out to You. I will go where You are pointing, even when it doesn’t seem to make sense… even when there is a distinct risk of looking completely foolish. I will be Your fool, O God. I would rather be God’s fool than anyone else’s sage.

PERSPECTIVE

2010-08-05T20:26:00.000-07:00

(4/26/10)
(Site B53, Wilson Creek Valley Overlook, Blue Ridge Parkway)

I’m sitting here in my SUV at this overlook, watching a storm pass over the mountain on its way east toward the North Carolina piedmont. (This is the same storm that chased me down from Beacon Heights about a few moments ago!) I am looking over into Wilson Creek Valley, where just a few moments ago there were only light gray clouds visible. You could barely make out the outlines of some of the low-lying hills through the clouds. But now the wind has blown the clouds further down the mountainside, and more and more of this amazing vista is emerging from beneath the gray.

It shows me once again Your perspective, O God. You look down on all of it. You see what is coming, what is here, and what has passed. You see in detail and you see panoramically. Nothing escapes Your gaze. Thank You for seeing me and knowing me. Thank You for choosing to love me and to be interested in my tiny little life.

Over the past two weeks, I have heard three references to the Bible story of Jesus feeding the five thousand. I have begun to think that perhaps there is some significance to that “coincidence.” So I just finished reading the story again – one that I have heard hundreds of times since childhood – and the words seemed to leap off the page and spring to life again as I read it. Here is the way it is told in Mark 6:

35 Late in the afternoon his disciples came to him and said, “This is a remote place, and it’s already getting late. 36 Send the crowds away so they can go to the nearby farms and villages and buy something to eat.” 37 But Jesus said, “You feed them.” “With what?” they asked. “We’d have to work for months to earn enough money to buy food for all these people!” 38 “How much bread do you have?” he asked. “Go and find out.” They came back and reported, “We have five loaves of bread and two fish.” 39 Then Jesus told his disciples to have the people sit down in groups on the green grass. 40 SO they sat down in groups of fifty or a hundred. 41 Jesus took the five loaves and two fish, looked up toward heaven, and blessed them. Then, breaking the loaves into pieces, he kept giving the bread to the disciples so they could distribute it to the people. He also divided the fish for everyone to share. 42 They all ate as much as they wanted, 43 and afterward, the disciples picked up twelve baskets of leftover bread and fish. 44 A total of 5,000 men and their families were fed from those loaves!

Here are a few things I notice about this story:

(1) The disciples don’t immediately turn to Jesus and expect a miracle. They begin by thinking in finite terms – which, I must admit, I probably would have done also. I have a tendency to turn to supernatural intervention as a last resort instead of a first option. And I think God wants us to use the good brains He gave us sometimes. I think it pleases Him when we do, actually. But in some instances – 5,000 hungry men and their families, for example – I think it actually seems more logical to turn to the guy that just a little earlier had calmed a storm with His voice!

(2) Jesus says, “You feed them.” The disciples say, “With what?” And then Jesus answers with another question (and I paraphrase), “What do you have?” God wants us to use what He gave us: compassion, organizational skills, imagination, drive, brains, sense of humor, artistic talent, wealth, etc. When we are willing to place these in the hands of Jesus, then the miracle can commence.

Just think about it. Jesus could have quickly solved this dilemma by having fish sandwiches magically appear before each person there. With just a word from His lips, He could have turned the rocks on the hillside into bread – even Satan himself knew that Jesus could do that trick. But He didn’t. He used the disciples’ work. And here’s some more food for thought: do you think it was easy to get 10,000 people (remember: 5,000 men and their families) organized into orderly groups of fifty and a hundred… without a P.A. system or a megaphone? I can just picture the disciples organizing the crowd… spreading the instructions by word-of-mouth… calmly answering bewildered questions and resolving disputes… entertaining the hungry children until the baskets of food arrived. These ordinary men used what they had and rose to the occasion. And Jesus used what they had – not just the food that they found, but also the skills that they possessed – then added what only He could do; and through this collaboration, they accomplished the extraordinary. And He wants to use us – our finite, flawed, fleshly selves – to accomplish the truly remarkable and inexplicable. The equation is FINITE + INFINITE = MIRACLE.

(3) In the end, there were twelve basketfuls left over. Jesus provides more than enough to help us help others and accomplish His purposes. He will give us courage, wisdom, strength, and compassion enough to do whatever He instructs us to do (just like He instructed the disciples that day on the hillside). All we have to do is obey Him.

The first time I heard this Bible story referenced was last week when I attended a worship service at All Souls Church in Knoxville, TN. The pastor pointed out that this story exemplifies how Jesus will help you finish well anything that He calls you to do. The disciples didn’t come back after feeding the first 1,000 and say, “Ummm, Jesus? This is so embarrassing, but... we just ran out of food.” Jesus will provide more than we need. He will totally provide for us if we are doing what He instructed us to do.

The second time I heard this story was when Mark Batterson referred to it in his encouraging book, “In a Pit With a Lion on a Snowy Day.” He is talking about trusting God even when the odds are stacked against you. Batterson quips that the odds against Jesus and His disciples were 5,000 to 7! He says:

The truth is this: “To the infinite, all finites are equal.” There is no big or small, easy or difficult, possible or impossible. When it comes to God, there are no degrees of difficulty. There are no odds when it comes to God. All bets are off. (1)

Batterson asks a few sentences later, “How big is your God?” (2) My answer to this challenging question? Well, most days it is this: “God is big enough to handle anything, empower anything, and fund anything He calls me to do.” It is all a matter of perspective – and I can achieve the extraordinary when I see things through God’s instead of mine.

The third reference to this story was toward the end of Batterson’s book where he quotes an email he received from one of his church members named Kim:

What limits are you listening to? “I’m too old.” “I have a family to think about.”… “What if I fail?” “It’s too expensive.” The list goes on forever. Remember this: we serve an unlimited God with unlimited resources. A God who looked at a few loaves and fishes and saw a banquet for five thousand people. (3)

God can fund my “big idea,” whatever it may be. He can provide everything I need. I just need to trust and follow Him.

I will trust You, O God. Thank You for Your provision, Your presence, and Your power. My declaration of total faith in You is the same one that Paul wrote in Ephesians:

13 I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.

ENDNOTES:

1. Mark Batterson, In a Pit With a Lion on a Snowy Day (Colorado Springs: Multnomah Books, 2006), 33.
2. Batterson, In a Pit With a Lion on a Snowy Day, 34.
3. Batterson, In a Pit With a Lion on a Snowy Day, 156.

SOLITUDE AND CAMARADERIE

2010-08-05T13:05:00.000-07:00

(4/29/10)
(Site B53, Linville Falls Campground, Blue Ridge Parkway)

I have reached the end of an amazing eight-day vacation here in the mountains. It has been just what I needed! I feel so much better – more rested, more grounded, more patient, and more eager than I have in a long while. And as I sit here in my tent now and reflect over the past eight days, I can see that I have made a significant discovery during my sabbatical here in the North Carolina mountains. More about that later…

I must be really honest right now. As I was preparing to leave, I counted up the days that I would actually be by myself up here in the mountains (due to my wife Kim, my stepson Michael, and his friend Huan coming up for the weekend; and my twenty-two-year-old son Nate coming up for a couple of days later in the week), and I must admit that I had mixed feelings. While I was genuinely happy they were all coming up here, I was just a little grumpy about it, as well. “Only three days to myself out of eight? That’s not enough! I need more time alone!” (Actually, it ended up being about four days total – half of the total time. I don’t know why I was being such a grouch about it!)

Kim and the boys arrived about a day later. It was so great that first night when they arrived – watching them all (Kim included) having fun throwing various things into the campfire just to watch them burn… and the boys chasing each other around the campground shooting Nerf darts at each other… and Kim happily relaxing by the fire – I soon found that all my grumpiness had melted away. The next day we went out and explored. We visited Grandfather Mountain, walked across its famous “Mile-High Swinging Bridge” (which thankfully – or sadly, depending on your perspective – doesn’t really swing all that much anymore) and scrambled out onto the rocks to enjoy the incredible view. Later, we returned to the nearby Blue Ridge Parkway, and the boys and I hiked up to Beacon Heights, a massive rock outcropping with a panoramic view of Wilson Creek Valley… one of my favorite spots. I enjoyed the scenery and the crisp breeze while Michael and Huan staged a video-game-like “battle” with their walking sticks, waging war to see who would rule the rock.

We capped the day off with a drive to Valle Crucis, NC to shop at Mast General Store – a must-see if you are ever anywhere near Boone. Mast is “a blast from the past” (please pardon the unintentional rhyming slogan) – the quintessential general store situated in a hundred-year-old building; complete with creaky, uneven floors, ice cold sodas sold in real glass bottles, and a bottle cap checkerboard perched on an old barrel next to a pot-bellied stove. Don’t be mistaken, though… this isn’t like the “corporate nostalgia restaurants-slash-gift shops” that you find scattered around interstate exits… this is real nostalgia. Stepping through its doors is somewhat like stepping back in time – its sights, smells, and sounds transporting you back to a simpler, slower life… with the illusion only broken when you have to whip out your debit card to make your purchases!

When we awoke the next morning, a rainy Sunday greeted us. We decided to take the boys to Linville Caverns just a few miles away. We were all prepared to hear the typical twelve-year-old complaints, like “Awww… do we have to?” and “Man, this place is lame!” However, we were surprised to find that the boys were really excited when they found out we were going there. Kim and I exchanged smiles and winks as we witnessed the boys’ wonder and genuine enjoyment of the caverns. And just a few short hours later, instead of breathing a big sigh of relief, I found myself really sad as they drove away that afternoon. The campsite seemed so quiet. I felt a dull, empty ache in the pit of my stomach. It took me the rest of the evening just to reset and begin to enjoy myself again.

My son Nate arrived late Monday evening. The next morning ended up being mostly rainy, but we didn’t let that deter us. We just threw on our ponchos and had fun anyway, beginning our day with a hike up to Linville Falls. After lunch, even though the weather forecast was still a little “iffy”, we decided to hike up to Rough Ridge near the Linn Cove Viaduct (the oh-so-photogenic S-shaped bridge on the Blue Ridge Parkway). On the way up the trail, the weather was really chilly, but the view of Wilson Creek Valley was stunning from up there. Nate had never been all the way up to the upper view before, and he just loved it.

We sat there for a while, enjoying the spectacular view and a healthy snack. Then we noticed some thick gray clouds rolling their way over the mountainside behind us, coming closer and closer. We decided to pack up, put our ponchos back on, and get moving. Just as we got back on the trail, the precipitation began… but it wasn’t rain… it was sleet! It began slowly, but then the storm intensified to the point that the ground became white with the sleet and snow (yes, snow had begun to fall, as well). We found ourselves caught in the middle of an all-out winter storm… in North Carolina… the last week in April! But instead of complaining, we laughed and yelled and acted like complete idiots! We chuckled, “What a great story we will be able to tell now every time we hike this trail!” It was one of those amazing moments that you just can’t script – and we were living it. We finished that day with a late-night visit to a nearby laundromat to wash the mud out of our clothes.

The next day, we arose early and drove the expressway through Asheville to access the southern end of the Parkway so that we could enjoy a few of our favorite hikes there. After a detour due to ice, we finally arrived at Graveyard Fields, one of the most atypical and unusual features found on the entire Parkway system – a stark open area of fields and trails, right in the middle of lush forests on all sides. We hiked a total of three miles there, visiting both the lower and upper falls (both beautiful) of Yellowstone River. The sky was an amazing shade of blue, with no clouds in sight. We had a wonderful, refreshing time there.

I then took him to one of my new favorite Parkway views, Black Balsam Bald, which looms 6,214’ above and just behind Graveyard Fields. We enjoyed a half-mile hike to the summit, and were blown away by the 360-degree view. We couldn’t have picked a more perfect day to take this hike! During that entire morning, a U.S. Forest Service plane had been circling overhead, dropping fire retardant material on some mountainsides on the far side of the Parkway. While we were standing there on the summit of Black Balsam, we looked over to our left and were startled to see the plane headed right toward us – we were both at the same altitude! We actually gazed down on the airplane with wonder as it swooped below us and dropped its payload of fire retardant on the trees.

After hiking back to our SUV and heading south on the Parkway a few more miles, we hiked up to Devil’s Courthouse (a tough hike!) and ate a quick lunch at a picnic table there, overlooking the incredible view. We continued south from there, past Richland Balsam, the highest point on the Parkway (6,047’ – milepost 431.4), wound our way back to the expressway and drove back to Linville Falls. That night, two tired adventurers pulled back into the campsite and quickly retired to the comfort of their tents!

The next morning (well actually, this morning), Nate had to leave by 9:00am to get home in time for work. As we hugged goodbye (yes, the Hunters are “huggers”), I told him I was really glad he could come up – and I meant it from the bottom of my heart. Those two days had been truly legendary. (Or in the current lingo of a twenty-two year old, EPIC!) Moments like these are priceless treasures – you don’t get many of them, so you must savor them and lock them away in the deepest recesses of your heart and memory for safekeeping. I fought back tears as he backed out of the parking space, glanced back and smiled sadly as he threw up a final goodbye wave, and drove away.

It was at that moment that I realized something really huge. While solitude is important – even crucial – to one’s well-being and spiritual health, life was not meant to be experienced alone; I have found that companionship can be just as invigorating and refreshing. While I have enjoyed some truly amazing times up here alone with You, O God (and will again), the absolute sweetest, holiest moments are the ones we share with those we love. I see now that, like so many other components of our complex lives, there must be balance between solitude and camaraderie, silence and laughter, reverence and raucousness. And I have just enjoyed four fantastic, unforgettable days of each – exactly half-and-half! Thank You for Your love and Your amazing presence. But also, thank You that I am not alone. I get to share and savor a truly rich life with some truly amazing people. I can’t wait to get home to them tomorrow!

ON WAITING AND GOING

2010-02-06T13:50:00.000-08:00

(10/22/09)
(Linville Falls Campground Site B53, Blue Ridge Parkway)

I’m sitting here at the picnic table on this chilly morning (about 40 degrees!). I just finished a bacon & egg breakfast that was delicious. To me, a trip to the mountains that didn’t include the consumption of bacon at some point would be a complete waste of time.

I’ve come up here for a few days of rest and solitude after a grueling summer and early fall. Throughout all the chaos and busyness, I kept thinking about being up here. And now here I am. I spent the first couple of days just decompressing and de-stressing. No agenda… no goal… just rest.

And that’s not too hard to accomplish when you’re in a place as beautiful as this. Due to high winds and snow last week, many of the fall leaves have already… ummm… fallen. There are still pockets of brilliant color, though – especially when you park at a scenic overlook and look down into the valleys. The colors are a muted mixture of brown, brownish-yellow, and deep red. Linville Gorge, as seen from Wiseman’s View, is especially lovely – perhaps because the trees deep in the gorge experienced less effect from the harsh winds of last week there.

I was reading Psalm 37 yesterday. It contains many encouraging verses that embolden and drive me as I seek to passionately pursue whatever is next for me. But as I take a closer look, I notice that this psalm contains two verses that seem to contradict each other:

7 Be still in the presence of the Lord, and wait patiently for him to act.

23 The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives.

So here’s the contradiction – in verse 27, the Lord “directs our steps”, which means we’re walking… we’re acting… we’re going somewhere. But in verse 7, David tells us to “be still” in the presence of the Lord, and “wait patiently for him to act”. So how do I wait AND go at the same time?

As I have journaled about before, “be still” (in the context of this passage) doesn’t mean “freeze” as much as it means “be quiet”. In other words, stop talking and LISTEN. As one writer said, we want to do so many things “for” our heavenly Daddy sometimes, when all He really wants for us to do is climb up on His lap, whisper, “I love you, Daddy” into His ear, and fall asleep in His arms. I think we try too hard to earn His love and acceptance sometimes – at least I know I do.

The “wait patiently” part can be a challenge sometimes for me, as well. I don’t “wait” very well. I want to act… fix… strategize… and, as my wife well knows, I can be quite stubborn sometimes. I think that there must be a listening phase before the acting phase. There must be a time when we still ourselves (quiet ourselves) before God and say, “What do You want me to do?” And then, through the Bible, through books, or just through feeling and sensing His leading, we figure out what path we need to take.

And then, as we step out in faith, He will direct our steps… as we’re going. If we just sit and wait for the certified letter from God to arrive with the entire plan mapped out for us, we will miss what He has for us. God expects us to use what He has taught us – to step out and act on it. God then opens the doors and “points” to them, if we will stay attentive. He directs our steps as we walk – as we do something.

God wants us to live a great life in Him – to experience joy and fulfillment as we honor Him with our lives. He is interested in us and our future. He “delights in every detail of our lives.” And as David says earlier in this psalm:

4 Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you your heart’s desires.

He wants us to live a life totally obsessed with Him and consumed by Him. He has so much He wants to show us, if we will just listen… and follow.

God help me to be quiet and listen to You. Help me go when You say go. Help me to run hard and courageously for You. Guide my steps as I move… as I go… as I act. Take me… lead me, O God.

PRAYER ON A RAINY DAY

2009-08-13T22:08:00.000-07:00

(6/17/09)
(Site B53, Linville Falls Campground, Blue Ridge Parkway)

Hi God. It is evening, and I am sitting here under the canopy beside my tent, listening to the rain patter on the tarp overhead. Rain has been my almost constant companion over the last few days. It rained HARD right after I set up camp last week. It has rained every day for the last four days (some days more than others). Today, it has been almost constant – it stopped for a while around midday, but other than that, it has really poured today. I cooked dinner at my campsite in the rain tonight (and couldn’t cook breakfast at all this morning – I just gave up and went to Hardee’s!). On Dugger’s Creek Trail today, I read a placard with a quote from John Muir (more on that later) in which he talks about – you guessed it – RAIN. And finally, I’ve been listening to one of my favorite artists, Patty Griffin, as I drove around today, and the first song that played on my iPod (not kidding) was entitled – wait for it – “RAIN”!

I must say, however, that I don’t really mind the rain that much. As an elderly man that I passed today on a Linville Falls trail reminded me, “A rainy day in the mountains is better than a sunny day in the city!” Amen! I remember how dry it had been up here for the last year or two during the drought. Many streams had been reduced to trickles, or had dried up completely. I also remember the small (thankfully) forest fires that were breaking out here last year due to the dry conditions. It has been so good to travel around over the past few days and see water everywhere – tricking from tiny brooks that had long-since dried up, gurgling and laughing as it danced over rocks in countless mountain streams, and dripping from moss-covered rock ledges that lined the sides of walking trails and roadways. One downside: unfortunately there have been a few more bugs to deal with, but that’s a small price to pay for the return of ample water here in the mountains!

Now back to the quote from John Muir, the great American conservationist. Here is the quote in its entirety:

“Every rain cloud, however fleeting, leaves its mark, not only on trees and flowers, whose pulses are quickened, and on the replenished streams and lakes, but also on the rocks are its marks engraved whether we can see them or not…”

Rain is essential to life on our planet. Without it, Earth becomes another Mars – dry, barren, and lifeless. Rain indeed leaves its mark here, from replenishing Earth’s vegetation to powering streams, waterfalls and rivers that wear down the very rocks that form their boundaries and give them their personalities. (Like the Linville River today after all the rain – the low-pitched roar of the falls was awe-inspiring, and more than a little bit scary! After witnessing its power, I can envision how water can change rocks over time.)

And who sends the rain? You do, God! Rain was Your idea. As my pastor, David Henderson, says, “all of this was Your idea”. The Earth is Your garden. Psalm 65 says:

9 You take care of the earth and water it, making it rich and fertile. The river of God has plenty of water; it provides a beautiful harvest of grain. 10 You drench the plowed ground with rain, melting the clods and leveling the ridges. You soften the earth with showers and bless its abundant crops.

Psalm 104 adds this imagery:

12 The birds nest beside the streams and sing among the branches of the trees. 13 You send rain on the mountains from your heavenly home, and you fill the earth with the fruit of your labor.

Psalm 147 says this about You, God:

8 He covers the heavens with clouds, provides rain for the earth, and makes the grass grow in mountain pastures.

As I walk down the hiking trails up here and hear the birds singing and the drips as the wind shakes loose large droplets of water from the leaves overhead, I can’t help but think that You must enjoy walking through the woods up here, too. I imagine this must be one of Your favorite places here on earth!

So what about the drought over the last two years – or the floods and wind damage that occurred here when the hurricanes blew through in the fall of 2004? Were You sleeping or away on vacation? Psalm 135 says:

6 The Lord does whatever pleases him throughout all heaven and earth, and on the seas and in their depths. 7 He causes the clouds to rise over the whole earth. He sends the lightning with the rain and releases the wind from its storehouses.

Well, OK then. In other words, this is Your earth, and You can do with it what You please. As Francis Chan says:

As much as we want God to explain Himself to us, His creation, we are in no place to demand that He give an account to us… to put it bluntly, when you get your own universe, you can make your own standards. (1)

So I really can’t grumble about the rain up here this week. None of us really has a right to complain when rain washes out one of our “little events” here on Earth. Rain is just your irrigation system turning on – much like TV’s hilarious “Funniest Home Videos” that feature people getting caught on a lawn or playing field when the sprinklers come on! (I’ll try to remember that next time one of my events gets rained out!) You may choose to part the clouds and spare an event, but You may not. It doesn’t have anything to do with our faith or lack thereof, or Your sanctioning or disapproval of our event (even if it’s for a great cause), or of Your care for us or Your nonchalance toward us. I think we are trying to read too much into it – it’s just Your sprinklers kicking on!

And so, let me just say that it has been so much fun playing in your sprinklers here in your garden over the past few days, God. Thank You for sharing Your garden with us. Thank you for sharing Your rain with us. Thank You also for raining down Your love on us even more abundantly. You are an awesome God!

ENDNOTES:

1. Francis Chan, Crazy Love (Colorado Springs: David C. Cook, 2008), 33-34.

ENCOUNTER AT BEACON HEIGHTS

2009-08-13T20:54:00.000-07:00

(6/18/09)
(Site B53, Linville Falls Campground, Blue Ridge Parkway)

Here I am at the end of a long, but awesome, day. I hiked a new trail today – Green Knob Trail near Julian Price Park. And I also hiked an old favorite, Beacon Heights Trail near Grandfather Mountain. During that particular hike, I had a very unique experience.

When I arrived at Beacon Heights, the rainstorm that had begun as I was completing my Green Knob hike was still going strong, with sheets of rain and strong gusts of wind. I parked the car at the trailhead and decided to wait it out and see if the storm would pass so that I could hike up to Beacon Heights. While I watched the storm pass, I finished Francis Chan’s “Crazy Love”. After the rain and wind subsided, I rolled my windows down a little as I finished up the last few pages of the book.

As I was reading, I began to hear a whining, whistling sound, haunting and almost melodic, as if multiple “notes” were sounding at once. I recognized it as the wind whistling through something, but couldn’t figure out what it was. I left my car to see if I could satisfy my curiosity. To my surprise, I discovered that the sound seemed to be coming from the summit of Grandfather Mountain. Then I realized what it was. The wind was blowing quickly over the summit of Grandfather, and the “singing” sound was the wind whistling through the Mile-High Swinging Bridge up at the top of the mountain! It was an astonishing experience!

With the bad weather now cleared, I then hit the trailhead and hiked up to Beacon Heights. As I was on my way up the trail, it hit me. The Mile-High Swinging Bridge was designed and built by men. And then today, God brought the wind and created something extraordinarily beautiful. As I reached the outcropping at the top, I realized that God works that way sometimes. We, the Creator’s creations – made in His likeness – use the capable, smart brains that He gave us to dream up creative ideas – anything from building structures to composing songs to writing prose to making scientific discoveries. And then God adds what only He can to create something truly astonishing and noteworthy. He adds the intangible, the supernatural, the God-sized part of the equation (like the strong wind blowing through the bridge), and makes art. It is my belief that this synergy doesn’t always occur – sometimes our ideas are left to survive or fizzle based on their own merit, without God’s direct intervention. But in those “God-moments”, we can really sense Him moving and working, as His Spirit “blows” through us.

Walking across the rock outcropping at the top of Beacon Heights, I noticed a chuck of rock that protruded upward like a table, with a hollowed-out area at the top in which water had pooled in several places. There was another piece of rock right next to it, at about knee-height. I thought to myself how this looked like a natural “altar” and “font” (like those found in some liturgical Christian churches).

Feeling the urge to do so, I dipped my finger in the “font” and crossed myself, then knelt at the “altar” and prayed for a few moments. It was a very special time of dedication to God and recommitment for the days and weeks to come.

Thanks, God, for such an inspiring way to end my time up here with You! It has been an amazing time that started out confusing but ended with an incredible encounter with You. I love You God, and I look forward to seeing You add Your wind (Your Spirit) to my ideas and creativity. Blow through me, O God, and create Your art in me. Take me and use me, O God. I am Your servant.

RISK

2009-08-13T19:50:00.000-07:00

(8/13/09)
(At Home)

Hi God. It is great to be able to sit down and spend a few quality moments with you. It feels so good to just stop and breathe (and I don’t just mean physically).

As I was finishing up Francis Chan’s book, “Crazy Love”, one passage seemed to sum me up perfectly:

I wrote this book because much of our talk doesn’t match our lives. We say things like, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,” and “Trust in the Lord with all your heart.” Then we live and plan like we don’t believe God even exists. We try to set our lives up so everything will be fine even if God doesn’t come through. But true faith means holding nothing back. It means putting every hope in God’s fidelity to His promises. (1)

As part of the refrain of Nickel Creek’s poignant song “Doubting Thomas” says, “Oh me of little faith”. This “faith-flaw” has followed me and characterized me for years. I give money only when I can get all the numbers to add up right. I carefully calculate my commitments to You so that I don’t have to risk “my” dreams or “my” plans in the process. I feel like I don’t really take many risks at all, even though my church’s slogan is “Love loud… risk often”. And though I have made progress in this area, more often then not, I tend to play it safe.

On the surface, playing it safe has its advantages. You can keep everything in your life a lot “tidier” – no messy relationships with questionable people who make questionable choices… no uncertainty or stress over how you’re gonna get the bills paid after showing generosity to someone… no worries about the future and what it will look like (all of that has already been mapped out in advance and planned to the nth degree). However, playing it safe also has its price – because playing it safe, God, leaves You no room to work. How can You possibly show us Your power if we never risk anything? RISK INVITES GOD TO SHOW US HIS POWER. Risk (for God’s gain, not our own) is the ultimate act of faith. When we risk, we invite God into the process – we actually dare God to show up.

I am reminded here of stories of spiritual giants from the Bible, like Moses lifting his staff to part the Red Sea (Exodus 14); like Elijah soaking the offering on the altar with water, and then asking God to consume it with fire during his “showdown” with the priests of Baal (I Kings 18); like Daniel boldly standing for God, even though he knew he was risking a “death sentence” in a den of lions (Daniel 6); like Peter stepping out onto the water to walk toward Jesus (Matthew 14); and like Peter healing Aeneas and raising Dorcas from the dead (Acts 9). When we risk to the point that we will look like complete idiots if You don’t show up, then and only then are we really operating in the realm of faith.

When we trust in our own abilities, imaginations, skills, and powers, we limit our outcome to merely what man can do. But when we take a risk – something that may look absolutely foolish to the world around us – we open up the possibility of a God-sized outcome. When we operate in the realm of faith – when we risk for Your Kingdom’s sake – we see what You are capable of. And You are capable of more than our wildest dreams.

And so, I frequently find myself in the same faith-posture as the father of the demon-possessed boy that Jesus encountered, as recorded in Mark 9:

21 “How long has this been happening?” Jesus asked the boy’s father.
He replied, “Since he was a little boy… 22 Have mercy on him and help us, if you can.”
23 “What do you mean, ‘If I can’?” Jesus asked. “Anything is possible if a person believes.”
24 The father instantly cried out, “I do believe, but help me overcome my disbelief.”

God, I believe that You can do amazing things when we walk in amazing faith. I believe that Your actions are sometimes limited by our lack of vision. I believe that I could see more God-sized things accomplished if I took more risks for Your Kingdom’s sake. So if I believe these things, then what’s the hold-up? It is the other side of me – my unbelief. Unbelief drives me to play it safe, to carefully measure out my “risks”, to hide behind my plans and schemes.

I think that Jesus’ actions after that father’s confession of belief/unbelief are interesting. He refrains from giving the father a stern verbal rebuke for his lack of faith (one is not recorded here, at least). Jesus also refrains from refusing to help the boy – on the contrary, He heals him immediately. He shows grace, mercy, and compassion to the father and his troubled son. And since I suffer from the same dichotomy of faith as this father did, it is good to know, God, that You operate with grace, mercy, and compassion, even as we struggle to find faith.

And so, God, help me to be a man of strong faith, a man of outrageous courage, and a man of bold action. Help me to take big risks for Your Kingdom, so I can see what big things You can accomplish through a life totally yielded to You. Show me Your power, O God.

I believe… help me overcome my disbelief.

ENDNOTES:

1. Francis Chan, Crazy Love (Colorado Springs: David C. Cook, 2008),168.

WORTHY OF OUR PRAISE

2009-06-06T09:33:00.000-07:00

(4/16/09)
(Fern Forest Lot #6, Linville Falls, NC)

Hi God! A very exciting “first” for me today – I am sitting underneath a grove of laurels in a camp chair… on “my” property!! (Well, actually, Your property!) It still hasn’t completely sunk in yet. God, your goodness and grace just astound me. There’s no way this could have happened without Your intervention. This is the first miracle to happen in this journey… and I’m certain it won’t be the last.

I’ve been reading a little book by Donald Miller called "Jazz Notes", which is actually (unbeknownst to me when I bought it) a collection of mostly excerpts from his book "Blue Like Jazz" – a favorite of mine – plus a little bit of new writings intermingled with the excerpts. A couple of passages have resounded in my soul, and I’d like to give my “take” on them.

It comforts me to think that if we are created beings, the thing that created us would have to be much greater then we are, greater than our under-standing. If we could understand everything about God, would we be in awe of Him? Would we consider Him worthy of our worship?

When we worship God, we show our adoration and praise to a Being our minds and life experiences don’t give us all the tools to understand. For example, God is eternal. Eternity is something the human mind can’t grasp. (1)

I think that this sheds new light on the phrase that shows up in so many worship songs – “worthy of (my/our) praise”.

There was a time when I used to sing this phrase without really examining its true meaning. I have since come to realize that this proclamation to God is an acknowledgement that many things that we worship aren’t truly “worthy of our praise”, especially when compared to God.

We middle-class Americans praise many things, from our favorite soda to our favorite football team to our favorite pizza toppings. We even go so far as to declare these things (and many others, in today’s vernacular) to be “awesome”, which literally translates as “awe-inspiring”. (I say it pretty often, myself!) Now don’t get me wrong – I’ve had some pretty great pizzas in my day, but I’m not sure I was exactly “awed” by them. And none of them (even the ones with double cheese) have evoked an emotion that even comes close to the way I feel about You, God! You, and You alone, are truly worthy of my praise. I tend to misdirect and misappropriate my worship, praise, and devotion far too frequently.

Truly, my brain can’t wrap around anything close to a concept of who You are, how powerful You are, how far You can see, and how much You love us all. And I have no concept of eternity whatsoever – I can’t even start to figure that out! Louis Giglio, founder of the Passion movement, puts it this way:

Life is the tale of two stories – one finite and frail, the other eternal and enduring. The tiny one – the story of us – is as brief as the blink of an eye. Yet somehow our infatuation with our own little story – and our determination to make it as big as we possibly can – blinds us to the massive God Story that surrounds us on every side. (2)

I heard a Christian speaker once who asked his audience to imagine a large telephone pole laid on its side at the front of the stage where he was speaking. Then he asked them to imagine a tiny vertical scratch on the pole. He said that the pole was all of eternity, and our life was the width of the scratch! He said that we get so caught up in our lives within the scratch (i.e., in our “scratch-houses”, our “scratch-jobs”, our “scratch-cars”, etc.) that we forget that we’re all just tiny scratches in this telephone pole of eternity.

It’s impossible to imagine a God that even extends out past the ends of the telephone poles on either side! But that’s how big You are, God. That’s why You are worthy of my praise – because You can’t be measured – You can’t be put into a neat little formula. To attempt this would actually be an insult to You. Worship is an acknowledgement that we cannot fathom Your greatness, we cannot grasp Your mercy, we cannot measure Your power. Miller says:

Too much time is spent charting God on a grid. Too little time is spent allowing our hearts to feel awe. So, by reducing Christian spirituality to formula, we deprive our hearts of wonder. (3)

And so, to truly worship You, God, involves faith. We must accept that which we cannot prove with postulates and formulas. We must rely on something we can’t even fully grasp. We must believe in the supernatural (literally: “above natural”). As Miller says, “You cannot be a Christian, can’t truly worship God, without being a mystic.” (4)

God, I will have faith in You, even when it seems illogical to do so. I will follow You, even when I can’t get it all to add up in my finite mind. I will trust You, even when I can’t understand You. Because as I trust You, as I follow You, as I have faith in You, I begin to understand Your power, Your heart, and your nature better and better – I begin to see You more clearly the more time I spend with You. Like Miller says:

I am early in my story, but I believe I will stretch out into eternity, and in heaven I will reflect on my early days, the days when it seemed sometimes like God was down a dirt road, walking toward me. Years ago, He was a swinging speck in the distance. Now He is close enough that I can hear His singing. Soon I will see the lines on His face. (5)

I too, God, can hear your singing sometimes. Faintly, amongst the bustle of life, I hear Your song. And the song is calming to me. It is encouraging. It is joyful. And I want to hear more of it.

I trust You, O God, with my future. I don’t know exactly what it holds, but I know You will be there, and I know that You love me, and that I will know You better then… so I am not afraid. I will walk with confidence and faith. I can’t wait to see what You have waiting for me! You are worthy of my praise, both now and forever. I love You, Abba!

ENDNOTES:

1. Donald Miller, Jazz Notes (Nashville: Thomas Nelson Inc., 2008), 99.
2. Louis Giglio, i am not, but i know I AM (Colorado Springs: Multnomah Books, 2005), 9.
3. Miller, Jazz Notes, 108.
4. Miller, Jazz Notes, 100.
5. Miller, Jazz Notes, 10.

SPECKS OF DUST

2009-03-28T15:05:00.000-07:00

(3/17/09)
(Windy Gap Retreat Center, Weaverville, NC)

I was thinking about a question earlier as I was walking up to this secluded spot to sit down with You – “What is it that draws me to the mountains? What is up here that isn’t in Charlotte?” As I was reading Brennan Manning’s book, “The Importance of Being Foolish”, I think I realized the answer; or at least a portion of it: the mountains readily offer something that is more elusive and scarce back home – wonder. Manning suggests in his book that we have lost our sense of wonder in this tech-savvy, media-driven, information-overloaded culture. He says:

There was a time in the not-too-distant past when a thunderstorm caused grown men to shudder and feel small. But God is being edged out of his world by science. The more man knows about meteorology, the less inclined he is to make the Sign of the Cross during a thunderstorm. Airplanes now fly above, below, and around entire storm systems. Satellites reduce these once-terrifying events to photographs. What ignominy (if a thunderstorm could experience ignominy) to be reduced from theophany to nuisance! (1)

It is this loss of wonder that lulls us back into living life in the natural, at the expense of seeing the supernatural at work in our world. We worry instead of pray. We scheme instead of trust. We struggle instead of rest. We see the world instead of God. As Manning states later in the book, “It is impossible to consider God with heart and head filled with earthly business.” (2)

When standing in the presence of the mountains (and other overwhelmingly large natural wonders, such as oceans, canyons, or gigantic forests), we come face-to-face with our own relative smallness. We are forced to admit that we are a tiny part of a huge, living, breathing planet – which is itself a tiny speck of dust in a gigantic universe – all designed, held in place, and fully known by this God that we speak of and serve and worship.

The biblical psalmist David captured this sense of wonder and awe in Psalm 8:

1 O Lord, our Lord, your majestic name fills the earth!

3 When I look at the night sky and see the works of your fingers – the moon and the stars you set in place – 4 what are people that you should think about them, mere mortals that you should care for them?

David must have felt what I feel when I drive down the Blue Ridge Parkway, when I hike up to Beacon Heights, or go up to Wiseman’s View and look over across Linville Gorge at Table Rock. It is this unavoidable sense of smallness – and it is precisely this sense of smallness that eludes us when we are submerged in our everyday worlds… because in our everyday worlds, we are big (or at lease, we see ourselves that way). We are important people with important jobs and important ideas and important lives. But when we stand on a precipice overlooking an amazing mountain vista, we see ourselves as we really are – tiny as ants - specks of dust.

I am reminded of a reference made by Donald Miller in his book, “Searching for God Knows What”:

I remember seeing that made-for-TV miniseries with Shirley MacLaine called Out on a Limb. There’s a part in the movie where Shirley MacLaine goes out for a walk on the beach and starts twirling around, saying, “I am God, I am God, I am God,” right there in the waves. I heard a lecture by novelist Frank Peretti in which he wondered what that must have sounded like to God. He leaned up to the microphone and squeaked out, in a very little voice, “I am God, I am God.” He got a big laugh out of that from the audience. What he was saying was that Shirley MacLaine must have sounded very small to God, on account of she was standing way down on earth on a beach, twirling around. (2)

I can imagine MacLaine’s voice sounding to God like the tiny “whos” crying out in unison trying to be heard, “We are here, we are here, we are here!” in Dr. Seuss’ children’s classic, “Horton Hears a Who”.

David’s wonder then migrates to an entirely different place as he continues to compose Psalm 8:

5 Yet you made [humans] only a little lower than God and crowned them with glory and honor. 6 You gave them charge of everything you made, putting all things under their authority – 7 the flocks and the herds and all the wild animals, 8 the birds in the sky, the fish in the sea, and everything that swims the ocean currents.

I see emerging here three miracles that take my wonder (and must have taken David’s, as well) to an entirely new level.

The first miracle here is that You acknowledge us at all. Beyond our comprehension - yet there it is in black and white. And there is it in flesh and blood – every day of our lives. You see us. You know us. You want us to know You. You want a relationship with us – US… the tiny speck on the tiny speck. That alone is an amazing fact that is difficult for our finite minds to grasp. The God who created the moons of Jupiter and the Crab Nebula and the Sombrero Galaxy stoops down to count the hairs on our head.

The second miracle is that not only do You see all of us little specks of dust, but You put us in charge of this larger speck of dust, Earth. We are created in Your image – in other words, You created us and designed us to relate to You. And You have given us a position and an intellect just above the animals and just below You – “middle management”, so to speak. You have entrusted us with caring for and enjoying this world You created. You have entrusted us with Your precious artworks. We are caretakers of this garden of Yours called Earth. [This fact is both encouraging, considering what this implicates about our position with You; and disheartening, considering what a mess we’ve made of Your “garden”.] Amazing that You would lavish such love and trust on us little dust specks.

The third miracle is that You cared enough for us to make a way for us when we messed up this world of Yours, betraying the trust You had placed in us, and elevating ourselves to a false place of “importance”. You sent Your Son here as a speck of dust to walk among us, to teach us, and to give His life to save us. Your unfathomable love and care for all us little dust specks drove You to make the ultimate sacrifice to be in relationship with us.

Thank You, Abba, for seeing us, for listening to us, for knowing us, for caring for us, and for giving to us – US… the tiny dust specks on the tiny dust speck. You are truly an amazing God!

9 O Lord, our Lord, your majestic name fills all the earth!

ENDNOTES:

1. Brennan Manning, The Importance of Being Foolish: How to Think Like Jesus (New York: HarperCollins, 2006 [2005]), 16.
2. Manning, The Importance of Being Foolish: How to Think Like Jesus, 128.
3. Donald Miller, Searching For God Knows What (Nashville: Thomas Nelson Inc., 2004), 35.

WORSHIP AS WONDER: THE TIGHTROPE

2008-06-10T08:05:00.000-07:00

(8/7/07)

Hello, God! Everything has gotten really quiet here this evening. Kim and I ate dinner and watched a few episodes of one of our favorite TV shows together. Now, she has turned in for the night, and I have decided to just turn off the TV and spend some time reading and writing in my journal. I should do this more often – there’s usually not anything much good on TV anyway… I just sit there with a blank stare and surf up and down the channels (over 100 channels, and I can’t find one thing that interests me). I’m such a creature of habit.

When I read “Blue Like Jazz” by Donald Miller, one passage that resonated in my soul was the following:

"My friend Jason and I went on a trip to Joshua Tree and Death Valley, and he had a map folded across his lap nearly the entire trip. Even when I was driving, he had the map out, following along with his finger the trajectory of the car, noting how close we were to certain towns, certain lakes. Jason liked to know where we were on the map (and so did I, as a matter of fact). But I was afraid to tell Jason about the universe, how scientists haven’t found the edge of it, of how nobody knows exactly where we are on the map.

"I think we have two choices in the face of such big beauty: terror or awe. And this is precisely why we attempt to chart God, because we want to be able to predict Him, to dissect Him, to carry Him around in our dog and pony show. We are too proud to feel awe and too fearful to feel terror. We reduce Him to math so we don’t have to fear Him, and yet the Bible tells us fear is the appropriate response, that it is the beginning of wisdom." (1)

When we think about You, God – when we try to wrap our brains around who You are – there is a delicate balance we try to maintain between awe and familiarity… a thin tightrope we walk anytime we try to define Your nature and decode the way You relate to us as humans. If we spend our entire existence in awe and fear of You, we may feel that we cannot approach You at all. We may, in “reverence”, keep You at a distance, confining You to religious sculptures or impersonal recitations and rituals, too terrified by your “Godness” to consider the thought that we could actually interact personally with You. However, if we fault too far toward familiarity, casually considering You as our “friend”, we run the risk of denying You your deity, and the respect and fear that You so rightly deserve.

God, I confess to You that I have fallen off both sides of this tightrope at one time or another. I get so blown away by your unfathomable power and the enormity of all You have created that I forget that You know my every thought, my every word, my every action – and that You still love me immeasurably. Or I shrink You down into one of my “buddies” that I take camping in the mountains with me, and then wave goodbye to when I leave to travel home… totally forgetting that You are the Maker and Master of the mountains. (In my defense, I must add here that these moments of misconception are not intentional – they are, in most cases, attempts to get my perspective right by focusing on your vastness or your intimacy.)

I long to become a better “tightrope walker”. Instead of the performers out on the tightrope that always look like they are one false move away from tumbling off into the abyss below (mostly well-calculated theatrics in reality, I’m sure!), I want to be like the performer I saw in an old vintage black and white film, who actually carried a chair out there and confidently sat down on the tightrope. I want to find a confident balance between awe and familiarity, understanding to my deepest core that You are both awesome and intimate. And I want to be so confident in that balance that I can rest on it instead of struggling to maintain it. In response to both facets of your nature, I will approach You in wonder… wonder at your wisdom… wonder at your vastness… wonder at your mercy and love. Donald Miller says, “I don’t think there is any better worship than wonder.” (2) I wholeheartedly agree.

ENDNOTES:

1. Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2003), 204.
2. Miller, Blue Like Jazz, 206.

LESSONS AT GRAVEYARD FIELDS

2008-06-03T14:21:00.000-07:00

(4/22/08)
(Linville Falls Campground, Blue Ridge Parkway)

Hi, God. It is late at night, and I am about to end what has been a busy but satisfying day.

I left early this morning (well… early in vacation terms) and drove south to pick up the Parkway just south of Asheville – a large portion between here and Asheville is closed for repairs right now, so I had to detour over to I-40. I have never driven the southernmost portion of the Parkway in its entirety, so I decided to do that today. And it was a gorgeous day for it – warm weather (even at the high elevations), blue sky with puffy white clouds, and some absolutely beautiful scenery!

I saw the Yellowstone Prong Falls (all three of them), hiked through Graveyard Fields, and climbed up to Black Balsam Knob for a stunning 360-degree view at 6,214 feet. It was an amazing day – and I am really tired, so I am gonna make this short.

As you are hiking around the 2.5-mile Graveyard Field Loop trail, you have an option of taking a 1.4-mile side trip to the Upper Falls of Yellowstone Prong – a hike that my guidebook said would be more strenuous and treacherous.

As I was trying to make my decision, I ran into a guy who knew a lot about this particular area. I asked him if the side trip was worth the effort. He said, “absolutely,” and then proceeded to tell me to be sure to scramble up the falls once I got there, because the best feature was hidden at the top of the falls. I thanked him and took off.

Even though the loop hike around Graveyard Fields had been really enjoyable, I was already winded from hiking it; and I began to really get tired about a half mile into the side trip. Just then I passed two ladies who told me I was close – about ten more minutes. I quickened my pace, encouraged by the news that I was almost there.

Upon my arrival at the falls, I was so glad that my newfound friend had given me that advice about scrambling up to the top of the falls. While the lower portion of the falls were pretty – a rushing flume of water dancing down a large, wide, relatively smooth rock face – I would have probably questioned if it had been worth my time and perspiration. After scrambling to the top, however, I was thrilled to find a 40-50 foot delicate cascade of white, lacy water that was the starting point for the waterfall – a feature that could not be seen from the bottom. I sat and enjoyed an apple as I marveled at the beauty of this spot.

As I descended, I told a mother and her two small children that they were close – about ten minutes away. I also told two other couples about the wonderful hidden cascade at the top of the falls.

So where am I going with this whole narrative?

The life of a Christ-follower is a journey. At some points along the journey, we are going to wonder if it is even worth the effort. God will send experienced people into our path to reassure us. At some points, we will be uninformed, misinformed, or just plain confused, and stand a chance of missing something really special or important. God will send knowledgeable people into our path that will warn us, guide us and instruct us. At some points, we will get tired and discouraged. God will send encouraging people into our path to admonish us and invigorate us. And at yet other points along the journey, God will send us into the paths of others to do the same three things for them.

Thank You, God, for all those You have sent into my path during my long journey to reassure me, to instruct and guide me, and to encourage me. So many faces and names flash before me that I could not even begin to list them all here. You have used each of them to shape me into who I am.

And thank You for all the times that You have sent me into someone’s path to reassure them, to instruct and guide them, and to encourage them. I pray that, in each encounter, I have fulfilled your purposes for me – and yet even as I write these words, I know that, as a flawed follower, I certainly have not always done my part. Forgive me for the times You sent me into someone’s path, and I walked right past them. Forgive me for giving incorrect or misguided counsel at times. Help me to enthusiastically encourage, reassure, and guide all those who I encounter.

Thank You for the journey. Even when I am tired (like now) and my body aches (like now), it is always worth it to walk the journey with You!

RESTORATION: THE THREE HOUSES

2007-10-08T14:39:00.000-07:00

(9/28/07)
(In My Backyard)

I find that there are times when I am talking and counseling with someone that certain analogies and symbolic stories will just arise spontaneously… word portraits that perfectly convey whatever idea I am trying to communicate at the time. I truly believe that these come from God because of their spontaneity and their appropriateness to each particular situation. When I was visiting a friend in jail the other day, one of these word portraits emerged during our conversation. The imagery was so striking and compelling, I wanted to revisit it and journal about it.

Without divulging anything confidential about my friend, let me just say that he made a series of mistakes some months ago that cost him his job, his family, and his freedom. He is now left with nothing – no material goods, no income, no autonomy, and only a handful of relatives and friends that even maintain contact with him. (Reminds me of the early days of my “dark period” at the end of the 1990’s… except for the jail sentence part.) However, even though my friend’s situation may seem dire, God is doing some incredible things in his heart and soul during this period of imprisonment. He now has clarity and wisdom that is sometimes astounding to me. As I was describing to my friend God’s process of divine transformation at work in his life, this word portrait emerged:
___________________________________

In a county seat town not too far from here, there is a street that emerges from downtown and enters a ten-block stretch that is lined with grand old Victorian-era houses. As I look down the street, I imagine a faded old postcard with a colorized picture of this street in its heyday – proud new homes of the well-to-do featuring small, well-groomed oaks, white picket fences, and azaleas in full bloom, providing color, life and beauty to a street bustling with horse-drawn carriages, ladies decked out in full Victorian attire, and the occasional passing trolley car. But now, nearly one hundred years later, it is the “Internet-era”, and the scene is quite different. Yes, most of the houses are still standing guard over the street, but now the oak trees are gargantuan, with massive limbs arching over the street and forming a cool late-summer canopy. The street is still bustling, but now with minivans, bicyclers, iPod-clad joggers, and the occasional passing city bus. On the right side of the street stand three houses, each with its own story to tell.

The first house must have been a showplace back in its day, with its prominent two-story bay window, its wide front porch, and its round cupola with a high-pitched spire of a roof crowned with a weather vane. But its day has long since passed. The house has fallen into an extreme state of disrepair. The clapboard siding has lost any sense of paint color whatsoever, and has gradually taken on a depressing, dark gray hue. The boards making up the floor of the porch are bowed, uneven, and rotten, daring only the most adventurous to risk life and limb by setting foot on them. Most of the shingles are missing from the cupola’s once-grand roof, the weather vane badly rusted and peeling. And the bay windows? While a few of the panes are still intact, most are either cracked, shattered, or missing altogether… some have been hastily covered with boards, while others have been left gaping open. The shrubs that once were undoubtedly well-trimmed and brimming with life and color are now wildly-overgrown drab masses of gangly limbs, twisted vines, and last year’s fallen leaves. Children (and even some adults) tense their muscles and quicken their pace when walking by the house, because there are even rumors that it is “haunted” (it certainly looks the part).

The second house is a mess, as well. The columns that once supported the roof of the massive L-shaped porch, which anchors the front and right side of the house, are all missing – unceremoniously replaced by bowed, unattractive 2X4 planks that strain under the weight of their burden. Some of the siding from this house has been removed altogether, uncovering the inner framing beneath, like bone and sinew exposed by a gaping wound. Unlike its unfortunate neighbor, this house has no windows at all – even the frames are missing – leaving behind stark rectangular holes staring blankly toward the street. The shingles from its roof are completely missing, as well; only ancient faded gray tarpaper remains to help protect it from the elements. But there are telltale signs present that set this house apart from the one before it. A construction company’s sign has been posted near the sidewalk. A large, rectangular waste container has been parked in the yard. Two contractor’s trucks are parked in the driveway, and the sounds of circular saws and hammers can be heard through the window openings. This house has a new owner, and the restoration process has begun.

The third house is once again a beautiful Victorian-era masterpiece, fully restored to its former glory, but with updates and improvements that make it even better than when it was brand new. With its pastel paint, its gleaming white trim, its manicured green lawn, and its flowers in full bloom, it is a marvelous symphony of colors and textures. A closer inspection of the house reveals the tremendous attention to detail the new owner has employed in the restoration process – intricate white woodworking around the windows and under each gable, period-accurate roof shingles and brass weather vane, and beautifully-restored and inviting double front doors. This house is now attractive to all that encounter it, and is immeasurably valuable to its owner and to the community.
_____________________________

I then told my friend, “You were once the first house. You are now the second house. God is in the process of making you into the third house.” (I would also say that I am still in the “second house” stage, although a little farther along in the restoration process than I once was.)

Like those grand old houses, we are created in beauty, with a purpose and an identity, a masterpiece planned and designed by the Architect (God). We are proud, shiny, and new – nurtured and loved and contented. The Builder (also God) hands over to us the keys to our "house". As the years drag on, however, we can tend to lose our way. We become like “neglectful owners” of our houses. Flaws, damage, and decay are allowed to linger on unchecked and unattended-to; or worse, they are buried under yet another coat of paint or layer of veneer, while the problem remains, quietly becoming bigger, more difficult and more costly to address and repair with each passing year of neglect. The years of inattention and lack of care gradually take their toll, until ultimately we find ourselves to be nothing but ghosts of our former selves; sad, drab shells that barely resemble what the architect originally designed. We become vacant, derelict houses with no visible signs of life outside or inside.

However, when we are bought back by our new “Owner” (also God), things begin to change. Our new Owner sees beyond the rotten wood and peeling paint, and sees the true worth in us – untapped potential, strength and beauty. He sees the house that we can be. And then the restoration process begins. Restoration is always accomplished in two phases: deconstruction and rebuilding.

I know that a house is an inanimate object, unable to feel pain – but that being said, the deconstruction phase of restoration must certainly be a “painful” one for a house. Layer after layer is pried away, removed, and discarded. Long-hidden flaws and decay are exposed and dealt with. Any surfaces that are allowed to remain are stripped down to their barest essence. The house is reduced down to its very core – foundation and framing. It is only then that true restoration can begin.

When our new Owner begins His work of restoration in our lives, the same process of deconstruction begins. Granted, the amount of stripping necessary varies according to the amount of decay and damage present. Be assured that our new Owner will do only what is necessary to assure the quality of the final product. His process of deconstruction is neither vindictive nor sadistic. It is a pure expression of love. Our Owner is not a ruthless vandal bent on destruction for His own pleasure, but rather a careful artisan doing what he must to produce something of greater worth and value. If He must strip us of almost everything in order to rebuild us, He will do so – but it is an act of care and love.

This “stripping” process can be as subtle as changes in speech, attitudes, and world-view. It can also be as drastic as it was with my friend (and in some ways, me), with almost everything that constitutes our life being “pried away” violently. In each case, stripping is absolutely necessary, however. Remember, God (our Owner) is not in the “reupholstering” business; He is in the “restoration” business… two totally separate disciplines. He will not allow our flaws, damage, and decay to remain covered over with glibly-patterned cloth or expensive-looking veneer. He cares about us too much to allow that – He sees the hidden true worth inside of us. He wants us to be people of integrity.

It is also encouraging to know that our Owner does not just leave us stripped and vulnerable. When He feels we are ready, He begins the next facet of restoration – rebuilding. This is the part the Owner truly delights in. As Paul says in Ephesians 2:10:

"For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." (NLT)

He is rebuilding us, not just for His pleasure, but for a reason – so we can finally fulfill our mission and purpose; so that we can do what we were designed to do. The house is given new walls, siding, paint, fixtures, and trimwork. Life, beauty, and value are restored, better than ever… better than brand new. Our lives are given new energy, new direction, new attitudes, and new purpose. Life, beauty, and value are restored, better than ever… better than brand new.

Thank You, my Owner, for seeing the hidden worth in me. Thank You for buying me at a great price. Thank You for the restoration process that You have begun in me. Thank You for stripping me down to my bare framework so that You could begin to rebuild me better and stronger than ever before. Thank You for being a loving artisan in my life, bringing order, worth, and beauty.

I was the first house. I am the second house. I am becoming the third house…

THE WAS, THE NOW, AND THE WILL-BE

2007-09-13T19:02:00.000-07:00

(7/12/07)
(In My Backyard)

Hi, God! I finished Brennan Manning’s Ruthless Trust today. This book has been a huge blessing to me – both encouraging and intensely challenging. In chapter 10, Manning talks about how God can use broken people (and we are all broken) to fulfill His mission… how His love for us is unconditional and constant, through our most triumphant moments and our darkest days.

"Israel Schwartz was sad because he wasn’t like Moses. One night, an angel appeared to him and said, 'On Judgment Day, Yahweh will not ask you why you were not Moses; he will ask you why you were not his beloved Izzy.'

"From infancy, we are taught to compare ourselves to others in terms of intelligence, talent, charisma, and physical appearance. Infants appear in television commercials, beauty pageants are held for six-year-olds, IQ tests are administered in third grade, and Little League mania rules many a home. SAT scores, class rankings, and success in the stock market – along with competitions and rivalries in every arena of life – compel us to measure our worth, for better or worse, on a scale that does not exist in the mind of God. The slightest crack is unacceptable, inducing a deepening sense of inferiority." (1)

I confess to You, God, that much of my perception of where I stand with You is measured by my rating of my performance. I worry that I am not doing as much as I should for You – that I am not working as hard as I should for You. I also confess that much of my perception of where I stand with You is measured by my comparison of myself with others. I worry that I’m not reading as much as Christian X, that I’m not praying as much as Christian Y, and that I’m not serving or giving as much as Christian Z.

God, help me to break free from these chains I have clamped around my own ankles, and to run and dance freely for You, as “Your own beloved Mitch”. Help me to firmly grasp the concept that it pleases You when I do what You built me to do, and live a life that syncs up with the way You designed me. I don’t need to compare myself to others to measure my performance. In fact, the only standard for measurement that I have to evaluate myself is this question: “Am I using the gifts, abilities, characteristics, and personality traits You gave me to help others and to tell them about You?”

In a way, I believe the “game of life” is more a golf game than a tennis match. In tennis, you are locked in a one-on-one struggle against an opponent – talent vs. talent, stamina vs. stamina, strategy vs. strategy. You are competing against your opponent, sizing up your abilities against theirs… and if you come up short, you lose. In golf however, while you do compete against others in matches sometimes, there is another level of competition going on, as well (even when you are playing alone!). I am grateful that my dad taught me how to play golf at an early age – and I can still remember him saying that in golf, you are only competing against yourself. Why? Because golf is a game of self-evaluation, self-adjustment, and self-control.

“Can I learn from previous mistakes on the putting green and shave off a stroke (or two) by making better judgment calls when lining up my putts?”

“Can I learn my own tendencies and acknowledge the flaws in my swing, and then adjust to make them work to my advantage, instead of letting them destroy my game?”

“Can I graciously and eagerly accept and apply constructive suggestions from trusted friends and knowledgeable professionals who identify certain areas of my game where some adjustments and discipline would improve my score?”

The game of golf constantly forces us into self-evaluation and self-adjustment; a process that must occur if we hope to succeed, rather than repeat the same dismal mistakes over and over. And, as it is in the game of life, we will enjoy the round of golf a little more if we learn to laugh at ourselves, find pleasure in our little victories, and learn from our fellow golfers rather than compare ourselves to them.

God, I want to “be all I can be” (as the U.S. Army slogan used to say) – all that You designed me to be. I don’t need to worry about what gifts you did or didn’t give to the person next to me – they are just as responsible and accountable to You for their gifts as I am for mine. You designed and created me (I am Your “handicraft”… and You are pleased with me.

Deep inside me, as I write these words, I feel my spirit heave a deep sigh of relief! You love me for who I am… what I am… where I am… right now. God, help me to live in the “now”, not in the “was” or in the “will-be”.

All we can do about the “was” is learn from it and grow because of it. After all, You even take our past mistakes and make good things happen because of them. I am encourages by what Manning says about the sins of our past. He first quotes St. Augustine, and then adds another insight:

“'All things work together for the good of those who love God, even our sins.' A key promise made by alcoholics recovering with the help of A.A. reads 'No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others.'” (2)

Thank You, God, for a miracle no less spectacular than water to wine – taking the dung from the worst moments of my past and using it to fertilize and enrich the flowers of my present and future spiritual experience. The depth of Your mercy and Your love amazes me.

All we can do about the “will-be” is entrust it to You. (I started to write here that we could “prepare for it” – but we really can’t, can we? We can guess, postulate, theorize, and project… but we can’t predict, so we can’t really adequately prepare.) We must simply trust that the faithful God of our “was” and the active God of our “now” will be the dependable God of our “will-be”, as well. I do not know what paths I will have to walk in the future, O God, but I do know I will not walk them alone. I know You will be there as much as You are here right now… and that helps me walk with confidence… with faith and hope. And as Manning says, “faith + hope = TRUST”.

I will trust You God in the “now”, no matter what. I will trust Your wisdom, Your timing, and Your process for me. You have been amazing, You are amazing, and You will be amazing. You are God, and I praise You now… right now.

ENDNOTES:

1. Brennan Manning, Ruthless Trust: The Ragamuffin’s Path to God (New York: HarperCollins, 2002 [2000]), 141-142.
2. Manning, Ruthless Trust: The Ragamuffin’s Path to God, 146.

INFINITY AND INTIMACY

2007-07-15T10:25:00.000-07:00

(7/01/07)
(In My Backyard)

Hi God. I am sitting here in the backyard as the sun is beginning to sink behind the rooftops of my neighborhood. Buster is diligently sniffing around the yard in search of some small animal he can terrorize in some way. It’s good to spend some time with You as this day winds down.

I’ve been thinking about an idea that Brennan Manning discusses in his book, Ruthless Trust. At the end of my last journal entry, I was marveling at Your perfect balance of the infinite and the intimate. When I read chapter 6 of Manning’s book, I see that he has entitled it “Infinite and Intimate”. (How timely… God, You do stuff like that all the time.) In this chapter, he shows that the perfect example of this concept is found in Your incarnation here on earth – Your son, Jesus Christ. Manning ends the chapter with a caveat advising us to broaden our concepts of God and Christ:

"The towering importance of the above caveat – that transcendence must be conjoined with immanence, that divinity must be coupled with humanity, that heaven must be balanced with earth, and that God’s distance must be complimented by his nearness – is essential if we are to grasp the true meaning of the glory of Jesus." (1)

After reading this, I came to the realization that Jesus Christ is the very embodiment of the whole concept of Your infinity and intimacy (about which I have been journaling a lot recently).

Christ demonstrated His infinity with His miracles – changing water to wine, healing paralytics and lepers, quieting the storm, and ultimately overcoming death itself. He also demonstrated His infinity with His wisdom – His teachings to the multitudes, His brilliant responses to the snide questions from the Pharisees, His words of comfort and words of challenge to those who sought out His counsel.

Christ demonstrated His intimacy through His compassion – His forgiveness toward the adultress, His acts of healing to countless hurting ones, His acts of acceptance to Zaccheus, Mary Magdalene, and many others with “questionable occupations”. Christ also demonstrated His intimacy through His conversations – insightful and frank one-on-ones with Pharisees and prostitutes, rulers and lepers, women and children, priests and tax collectors.

Several chapters later, Manning adds these words from Christ himself, recorded in the gospel of John:

9b Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father!

Then Manning makes this observation:

"Jesus is the human face of God with all the same attitudes, attributes, and characteristics of his Abba… In order to have any understanding of Abba – not of his essence, which remains unknowable, but of his character – we must look to Jesus." (2)

Through tracing the life and ministry of Christ, we see a personification of Your nature, God… of Your character… of Your heart. Since He was God in the flesh, walking among us, He is the ultimate example of Your infinity and intimacy – God of the Universe stooping down to brush away the tears of the broken, to hold the hand of the child, to embrace the lonely and the forgotten. Christ is a beautiful portrait of who You are, O God.

Thank You for Your power and Your gentleness… for Your omniscience and Your compassion… for Your holiness and Your grace… for Your infinity and Your intimacy.

ENDNOTES:

1. Brennan Manning, Ruthless Trust: The Ragamuffin’s Path to God (New York: HarperCollins, 2002 [2000]), 85.
2. Manning, Ruthless Trust: The Ragamuffin’s Path to God, 109.