I am afraid of heights. For that reason alone the lofty images of flying in a modern jet airliner at 35,000 feet are terrifying to me. In the aperture of 1993 I found myself doing just that flying over the heart of South America returning from my missionary assignment on the international field and caring not one bit whether the plane would crash or not. My primal fear had been transformed into absolute cold indifference, because of the pain that I was carrying at the time. My personal suffering had managed to flood the receptacle of all my hopes, dreams, feelings and faith and leave me drowning in unfeeling, hopeless discouragement. So, I didn’t care if the plane crashed. I didn’t care if we dove straight down at more than terminal velocity into the Bolivian altiplano. My theological training, my pastoral experience and my faith in God felt useless. All of my degrees and personal knowledge felt like a lump of coal in my arsenal of faith. It didn’t even make a good rock to throw at it all. My hurt was so profound, I just didn’t care.
Upon returning to the United States and injecting myself back into church, albeit with a numb sense of disorientation, I found that most other people also didn’t care. To some I had become a persona non grata, a onetime shining light transformed into something irreparably broken. To others I had become a pariah who no longer had the grace of man and most assuredly did not have the grace of God, to whom the only thing they were able to say was, “God can’t use you anymore.”
Our churches are full of people flying at 35,000 feet who from the outside often look fine, under control and prospering, but who are carrying a load so heavy of pain, brokenness and estrangement that they don’t care if the plane in which they are riding goes hurtling to the earth only to crash and burn. Or they are so overcome by the power and deception of their suffering that they would choose to ignore the grace of their Lord and reject all of His good for the momentary pleasure of satisfying their feelings. They would consider discarding the way of Christ and replacing it with the way of man.
The depth of this experience is no trifle. The Christian experience does not inoculate us from the reality that the world without Christ struggles, has struggled and will continue to struggle with pain, suffering and loss. The reality is also clear that the church, not being immune from the experience, must confront it with the power that it has. Yet the church often fails in this confrontation, opting to isolate and insulate itself from those who are struggling with this dynamic, or, worse, excommunicating the aggrieved parties as the church hurls them to the dogs.
From the Introduction of Righter's Block.
http://www.crossbooks.com/BookStore/BookStoreBookDetails.aspx?bookid=52473#
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Signs of a real friend
A real friend will speak to your face and not behind your back. (Exodus 33:11)
A real friend will defend you when you are right and tell you when you are wrong. They will not stumble you, but strive to encourage you. (Proverbs 27:6)
A real friend will be there in your pain and joy and help you when you fall. They will seek to give comfort rather than demanding to be comforted. (Romans 12:15)
A real friend will care about what God has to say for both you and them, no matter the consequence, even if it means losing your friendship. (John 6:68)
A real friend will defend you when you are right and tell you when you are wrong. They will not stumble you, but strive to encourage you. (Proverbs 27:6)
A real friend will be there in your pain and joy and help you when you fall. They will seek to give comfort rather than demanding to be comforted. (Romans 12:15)
A real friend will care about what God has to say for both you and them, no matter the consequence, even if it means losing your friendship. (John 6:68)
Saturday, July 25, 2009
R.O.
He was yellow, that cat
His motor ready for the grade.
What fueled his machine
Only he would ever show,
And though he was quite yellow,
It was crimson that filled his tanks.
His mustard countenance
(Rust-oleum 27274)
Old, just like his hue,
Was his, so proud to wear
Even to the grave.
He became the threshold
Of his favorite watering hole
For just as life and in his death
It was dirt that filled his soul.
He was yellow, that cat
Yellow through and through.
With oil and grit and sweat and spit
The old 140H laid down in the road.
His motor ready for the grade.
What fueled his machine
Only he would ever show,
And though he was quite yellow,
It was crimson that filled his tanks.
His mustard countenance
(Rust-oleum 27274)
Old, just like his hue,
Was his, so proud to wear
Even to the grave.
He became the threshold
Of his favorite watering hole
For just as life and in his death
It was dirt that filled his soul.
He was yellow, that cat
Yellow through and through.
With oil and grit and sweat and spit
The old 140H laid down in the road.
Monday, January 19, 2009
The Course of All Our Doubt
A poem about our fight with the flesh and our victory in Jesus.
Wretched, broken, deplorable
Painted into the corner
Of the flesh in which I reside.
It is the course of all my doubt.
Who will save me?
Oh, who will save me?
Yes, who will save me
From this body of death?
Damaged, pained, miserable
Resigned to live the life
Of struggle one day at a time.
It is the course of all my doubt.
Who will save me?
Oh, who will save me?
Yes, who will save me
From this body of death?
Downcast, joyless, damnable
Chained to the carcass
Of this world of suffering.
It is the course of all my doubt.
Who will save me?
Oh, who will save me?
Yes, who will save me
From this body of death?
Wicked, worthless, despicable
Filled with the contents
Of all that is vile and common.
It is the course of all my doubt.
Who will save me?
Oh, who will save me?
Yes, who will save me
From this body of death?
Pathetic, hapless, pitiable
Grounded by the dirt
Of our existence without God.
It is the course of all my doubt.
Who will save me?
Oh, who will save me?
Yes, who will save me
From this body of death?
Wretched, broken, deplorable
Painted into the corner
Of the flesh in which I reside.
It is the course of all my doubt.
Who will save me?
Oh, who will save me?
Yes, who will save me
From this body of death?
Damaged, pained, miserable
Resigned to live the life
Of struggle one day at a time.
It is the course of all my doubt.
Who will save me?
Oh, who will save me?
Yes, who will save me
From this body of death?
Downcast, joyless, damnable
Chained to the carcass
Of this world of suffering.
It is the course of all my doubt.
Who will save me?
Oh, who will save me?
Yes, who will save me
From this body of death?
Wicked, worthless, despicable
Filled with the contents
Of all that is vile and common.
It is the course of all my doubt.
Who will save me?
Oh, who will save me?
Yes, who will save me
From this body of death?
Pathetic, hapless, pitiable
Grounded by the dirt
Of our existence without God.
It is the course of all my doubt.
Who will save me?
Oh, who will save me?
Yes, who will save me
From this body of death?
Saturday, January 17, 2009
New Year
So here we are 17 days into a new year and all seems the same to me.
The people I know are still as stressed as they were before the infamous changing of the calendar. The people I know are still worried about the economy, the world temperament, their home life, love life, and children (if they have them). The people I know are still happy with some, angry with others and unsure about all the rest. The people I know are want to voice their opinion, gossip a little here and there and generally be self-absorbed.
Nothing really changes with the flipping of the calendar's page.
In the last week, I have seen the grace of God played out with wonder. In the midst of the above people, I saw His outstretched hand caress the hearts of hurting believers who knew no way out of their pain in their own power. But, believe me, His power was enough. I saw this with my own eyes, heard it with my own ears and held the hands of those to whom this power was applied.
No one changes things, like God changes things.
So 17 days into the new year, I wonder if this truth can get through to others I know, like all those above, who still struggle with all those things. Some don't even know that they are struggling so (in fact, some think they are just fine) and I would fear for their new year, if it weren't for the One who possesses the power to change those who are powerless. He still loves the world so...
The people I know are still as stressed as they were before the infamous changing of the calendar. The people I know are still worried about the economy, the world temperament, their home life, love life, and children (if they have them). The people I know are still happy with some, angry with others and unsure about all the rest. The people I know are want to voice their opinion, gossip a little here and there and generally be self-absorbed.
Nothing really changes with the flipping of the calendar's page.
In the last week, I have seen the grace of God played out with wonder. In the midst of the above people, I saw His outstretched hand caress the hearts of hurting believers who knew no way out of their pain in their own power. But, believe me, His power was enough. I saw this with my own eyes, heard it with my own ears and held the hands of those to whom this power was applied.
No one changes things, like God changes things.
So 17 days into the new year, I wonder if this truth can get through to others I know, like all those above, who still struggle with all those things. Some don't even know that they are struggling so (in fact, some think they are just fine) and I would fear for their new year, if it weren't for the One who possesses the power to change those who are powerless. He still loves the world so...
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