Sunday, December 30, 2018

Postcards of Faithfulness



Pick your favorite news source. It doesn't matter. Left, right or in between, you come away mentally exhausted, wondering if the world is as entirely messed up as they say it is. Until you take a walk into life, in your neighborhood, your village coffee shop, your local school, and are reminded once again that "they" aren't telling the whole story. Goodness, kindness, and decency amidst differences are all around us. All carrying the DNA of heaven, whether they know it or not. The Psalmist, writing in the midst of a world of strife, got it right long, long ago:

"Yet I am confident I will see the LORD's goodness while I am here in the land of the living."
- Psalm 27:13, New Living Translation

Less than 48 hours until 2019, with its new dreams, hopes, goals. But before turning the page, it's good to reflect on the last 12 months of the LORD's goodness in the midst of it all, whether mostly peaceful or mostly rough-going, and to remember the postcards of faithfulness that God delivers our way when we are least expecting them but always just when we need them most. Postcards that often became Vitamins (and Instagrams) for the journey....

For all who Believe, our day may be over when we crawl into bed at night, but it’s jaw-dropping comforting to think that just when someone else’s day is beginning somewhere on the other side of the planet, God doesn’t just tuck us in for the night, forget us until morning, and go focus His attention on that one. Even while we sleep, our God is fully awake, and fully engaged: “He holds you firmly in place; He will not let you fall. He who keeps you will never take His eyes off of you and never drift off to sleep. What a relief! The One who watches over Israel never leaves for rest or sleep.” (Psalm 121:3-4, Voice)






Just as God continually makes Himself known through creation, so, too, does He often speak through things like donkeys and through people who may or may not have any clue they are being His messengers. Whatever it takes to get our attention, He speaks to us everywhere. Even downtown. You just have to be paying attention, and be ready to be surprised. And take notes. Heaven is all around us..."


Reckless love. It can be hard to get around what the dictionary says about "reckless": “without caring about the consequences of an action.” That just seems so, well, un-God-like. But wait…Jesus did risk everything—ministry, reputation, influence, friends—by ignoring social and religious standards by publicly talking to, loving, and touching lepers and other to-be-ignored outcasts of the day. He knew it could all unravel, but He knew that before the beginning of time. But He still came from Heaven to earth. Jesus never flinched, never hesitated, never cared about the possible negative response to His actions, because He knew his Father’s missionand that recklessly, outrageously trumped all common sense and other people's opinions, even if they rejected him.


You don’t have to be an evangelist to be a harvester of things that truly matter. But you do have to team with the Master Gardener to prepare the soil of your own heart first, and rake up debris of complacency and the dirt that simply comes from walking through this world, so that God might plant a harvest of righteousness—one who is “right with God”—within you. And it all starts with the ministry of the interior so that you can begin to see and sense and feel like Jesus in His "harvest" declaration as you go about your day.







You have put things in my hands since day one that bring pleasure to both of us. Even in the routine.
A camera…to see new angles of Creation and reflections of You.
Two different kinds of keyboards with the same purpose…to find words and notes that point Up.
A kayak paddle…to be still and know when all around is 24/7 noise.
A baseball bat…to run free, to remember joy, to know that celebration and mission is always better with teammates.
Freshly tilled soil…maybe as a subconscious assurance that the whole earth is still full of Your glory.
And so even if it all seems routine all over again today, let me turn it on its head with this: “Are there different ways to do what you’ve always done to help someone—even yourself—see or feel the goodness of God even on this plain old vanilla kind of day?”


Sometimes, the best soundtrack for the race—the Journey, the Walk—is not your favorite downloads on shuffle but the music of encouraging voices who’ve done this before and done it well, and are cheering you on through every peak and valley and pothole and twist and turn and straightaway. It’s a soundtrack without any catchy tunes, but with a steady, ageless rhythm, and all of it able to get your feet and heart in sync like none other: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, who by faith have testified to the truth of God’s absolute faithfulness…Continually be encouraged by the example of others; never ever say, “Not me, I can’t do it.”




Some “do somethings,” like boating, hiking, or swimming, are refreshing and relaxing. Others, like mowing lawns, weeding gardens, and still having to punch in for the 9-5 are obligatory. But then there are the “do somethings” that try to tell you that you aren’t being productive unless you, well, do something. It's good to remember, though, that Jesusthe greatest "do something" Person of all timealso took time to rest from the weary road, to take a long drink of cool water, to get away from the crowds. And it is a really good thing that He told the enemy of our souls"Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes out of the mouth of God." Words like these: “Better is a handful of quietness than two hands full of toil and a striving after wind." (Ecclesiastes 4:6, ESV)


The hills and the mountains are magnetic attractions for just about everyone, perhaps because their beauty is more than skin deep. Like everything else God has created, they contain His deeply embedded fingerprint, and He desires that all would see it, touch it, grasp it. In a sense, the hills and mountains are a 24/7 compass, displaying God's unshakeable character, reminding all who look Up of His incomparable strength, and displaying a jaw-dropping beauty that, when combined, can help the traveler on life's journey to keep going no matter how many miles-and-miles are ahead. Because Someone greater has the perfect road map.




Continually choosing praise to GOD will, no matter what kind of day or week it has been, push Truth out of your inner-most being and into the murky atmosphere where it ignites mysteriously supernatural fires within. Their praise-fueled flames begin to seer the mind of the accuser’s lies, burn cobwebs of complacency out of weary hearts, and then warm them once again with a peace that passes all understanding and a hope that does not disappoint—even though the troubles may still be real. It happens every time, and we are always the most surprised. No one knows how that all works. He just does.
SEPTEMBER - "Let It Out"






Where there is death, and darkness, and a seemingly hopeless situation [the healing of Jairus' daughter Luke 8:41-56], Jesus, in so many words, tells the atmosphere to leave. He sends the mourning friends who are focused on the negative out the door, and fills the void with the incomparable goodness of Himself. More than a beautiful story of hope in a hopeless situation, Jesus’ raising of Jairus’ daughter gives insight—with fanfare accompaniment—into how we should pray about and how we should look at and speak to the dark situations of our own life and the world around us.


The season of Arrival [Advent] can mean many things, and one of them is surely this: Whether we live in a city of millions or a rural town of hundreds and feel alone or insignificant in our longing for Arrival, it’s good to remember that Jesus has never been impressed by huge crowds but instead moves into and through enlarged hearts of a remnant few. Many of the greatest revivals in history, in the most unlikeliest of places, began with one man or woman saying “I will follow, come what may,” or two or three unnoticed ones praying together in their homes at night.






Just as it—just as He—had done countless times before, the whole atmosphere and attitude shifted to their rightful place when words that “magnify” came out of my mouth. How does that happen? It’s a mystery, really, from a God beyond figuring out. But there is this unshakeable goodness: There is no “I” in He, and down through the ages, that has made all the difference to countless millions of worshipers who were “not feelin’ it” when they stood up to sing but felt everything within them shift when they looked Up and opened their mouths anyway.


To all who have come this way in 2018, a happy and blessed 2019 be yours. Keep looking Up, keep on singing, and keep on believing that the postcards of faithfulness will never run out...




Sunday, December 16, 2018

The Goodness of Desperate Worship

Photo: Desiringgod.org

“And Mary said: ‘My soul magnifies and exalts the Lord, And my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior. For He has looked [with loving care] on the humble state of His maidservant’…”—Luke 1:46-48, Amplified

Just about every musical interpretation of these famous words from scripture is joyful and triumphant. A resounding anthem of faith that has stirred and encouraged men and women at Christmas and all year long. But it’s good to remember that though Mary was chosen of the Lord, she was human like us. And so I wonder if, just maybe, instead of belting out an anthem from the opening downbeat, Mary’s voice was shaking and a bit subdued at first. Think about it. Everything within her must have been screaming thoughts like these:
“My life is crazy right now. People are beginning to press in with their opinions, demands for answers to the unexplainable or, worse, saying absolutely nothing but walking by with a suspicious or even judgmental smile. I really don’t feel like singing. I’m tired of it all already. A part of me would rather stay home. But somehow, through it all, in spite of myself, I still believe. I surprised myself with the words that blurted out of my mouth in that knee-knocking encounter with the angel of the LORD: “let it be to me according to your word.” His word. That’s it—His Word! That is what I’m holding on to, not because it is some magical pixie dust but because it—because GOD—has never failed. Even when I’m not feeling it. He is always true. Even when my belief wavers. He speaks with an enduring, everlasting love. Even though the piercing negative words from others are weighty. And so, I will open my mouth and tell my soul once more—and anyone else who wants to listen—as with a turbo-charged magnifying glass what is true about my God and His love for me, what really matters, and what alone is always trustworthy. It’s not that He is small, He’s just small in my own eyes at the moment. But then I remind my soul: His mercy extends forever and ever to all who will believe. He has performed mighty deeds over and over again. He has brought down that which needs to be brought down. He has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things. He has remembered His promises—every single one of them”…
And so Mary started singing. And with each passing line, a crescendo, as though a train coming from a distance and then roaring by. And with each magnification, perhaps a dance. Arrows of declaration awakening her heart and splitting the darkness that sought to press in. Faith was stirred once more. The temporal is still real but is put in its proper place. That which is eternal takes its rightful place in perspective—the perfections of heaven touching earth with hope, healing, deliverance, provision, and love beyond a fleeting emotion.

Why is this detail of Mary's song in the Bible? As a critical piece of the Christmas story, for sure. But maybe also as a reminder that God totally gets us all year long—that everyone, including pastors and worship leaders and musicians, and even the mother of the Savior of the world—would sometimes rather stay home than stand up and worship because, to be honest, “My life/day/week is crazy right now. People are pressing in with their demands, and I’m not just feeling it.”

Until, as it did once again in the middle of this week, just as it—just as He—had done countless times before, the whole atmosphere and attitude shifted to their rightful place when words that “magnify” came out of my mouth.

How does that happen? It’s a mystery, really, from a God beyond figuring out. But there is this unshakeable goodness: There is no “I” in He, and down through the ages, that has made all the difference to countless millions of worshipers who were “not feelin’ it” when they stood up to sing but felt everything within them shift when they looked Up and opened their mouths anyway. 

So be it, Lord, this morning. And especially in the middle of the week.




Sunday, December 9, 2018

A Carol in the Sky



"Information may inform the mind, but revelation sets a heart on fire." —Matt Redman

It may not look all that special to many, but this is one of my favorite photo-capturing moments of the year. Not just because it was late June and it was warm, but because it was one of those routine moments in life when you’re focused on doing one thing (running laps) and then God taps you on the shoulder with a “Hey, check this out!”

The sky in New Hampshire may not get as “big” as it does in the wide open spaces of, say, Texas, but it can still speak at jaw-droppingly fortissimo. In so many words that evening: stop looking down at your feet, and look Up and wake up the wonder. I remember even now that the run that evening was maybe the most effortless ones of them all this year. Perspective shift—what’s on my mind to what’s on His mind—will do that. 

There wasn’t much to the caption of that photo except for #differentkindofbreathless. And that said it all...


“The celestial realms announce God’s glory;
the skies testify of His hands’ great work.
Each day pours out more of their sayings;
each night, more to hear and more to learn.
Inaudible words are their manner of speech,
and silence, their means to convey. 
Yet from here to the ends of the earth,
their voices have gone out;
the whole world can hear what they say.”
—Psalm 19:1-4, Voice


C.S. Lewis once said of Psalm 19, ”I take this to be the greatest poem in the Psalter, and one of the greatest lyrics in the world.” Coming from a giant like Lewis, that's an amazing statement. But maybe it's because they are the lyrics to the greatest song of them all: “Promise,” to the tune of “faithfulness.” Written and composed by the Creator (no need for a copyright because no one could even come close anyway).

King David begins by looking Up and worshiping, perhaps remembering a time of being out under the open skies tending his dad’s sheep…the stars, the moon, the constellations, the clouds, the blazing sun—seeing the beauty, perfections, and constant light that God created to reflect His glory 24/7.

These heavenly bodies of light and beauty and ever-changing color palette are all created by God for the whole world to see as a type and shadow of His promises that are ever-faithful and with us every day. A continual, glorious reminder that light exposes what we really need to see. Light breaks through darkness. Light gives direction and guidance. It gives hope. Light burns away impurities. And, in the case of lightning, it strikes its target with a holy fire accuracy. 

And it is not a jolting transition, really, when David suddenly moves in Psalm 19 from the cares of the world, to seeing a humongous and perfectly faithful God once more, to seeing and remembering and speaking the perfections of God’s Word and His promises. They are perfect promises that bring light into dark places…they give strength…they can always be trusted…they bring us wisdom to guide our steps…they help make us content because they are always good…they give us hope….

Maybe Lewis is right because we need this Psalm 19 reminder every single day. The constant barrage of the “stuff” and stresses of daily life can get us running routine laps—we get so focused on what’s right in front of us, and get distracted by responsibilities, and by buttons and gadgets and all sorts of bright and shiny objects, and so without even realizing it,  God becomes small and far away. Our faith wanes a bit. We keep running, exhausted with each step…

…Until God taps us on the shoulder once more with a “Hey, check this out!”, just as He did this week during a different kind of run through the neighborhoods surrounding downtown, some six months after that beautifully warm June night. It was symbolic that the route began straight up a long hill—not unlike the week of “stuff” and stresses of daily life. It would have been easy to keep staring at my feet, wanting desperately for this hill to be done. But to see to the top of the hill, you have to look up. And what I saw was a December evening sky that may be icy cold but that can still speak at jaw-droppingly fortissimo: A patented tinge of orange-blue-pink hovering on the western horizon while above are constellations in high definition.

I wanted to stop and stare, but I kept going and stared anyway. Perhaps, as it should be, as He designed this journey all along. And maybe it was the running by home after home decorated for the season, but a strange and wonderful revival began to flow through my veins. One that I had to write down when I got home so that June and December would never be fleeting, looking Up moments ever again:



To all who come this way today, Selah.