Beyond Compare

Today, simply a selection from the Valley of Vision entitled "Year's End" . . .

O love beyond compare,

Thou art good when Thou givest

When Thou takest away

When the sun shines upon me

When night gathers over me.

Thou hast loved me before the foundation of the world,

and in love didst redeem my soul;

Thou does love me still,

in spite of my hard heart, ingratitude, distrust.

Thy goodness has been with me during another year,

leading me through ta twisting wilderness,

in retreat helping me to advance,

when beaten back making sure headway.

Thy goodness will be with me in the year ahead;

I hoist sail and draw up anchor,

With Thee as the blessed pilot of my future as of my past,

I bless Thee that Thou hast veiled my eyes to the waters ahead.

If Thou hast appointed storms of tribulation,

Thou wilt be with me in them;

If I have to pass through tempests of persecution and temptation,

I shall not drown;

If I am to die,

I shall see Thy face the sooner;

If a painful end is to be my lot,

grant me grace that my faith fail not;

If I am to be cast aside from the service I love,

I can make no stipulation;

Only glorify Thyself in me whether in comfort or trial,

as a chosen vessel meet always for Thy use.

My Myopia

Sometimes I just can't stand myself. I become so short-sighted and self-focused. Reading the Word, I find myself hoping eagerly that it will put me in a good light, that it will make me feel good about myself. It's appalling to discover myself thinking like the Pharisee, looking around and comparing myself to others who are "worse" than me. It reminds me of just how desperately I need Christ, how much I stand in need of mercy, and how amazing is God's great love in seeking me and saving me. After all these years, I'm still one ornery critter. One thing is for certain though: my capacity for praising the Savior grows in direct proportion to my understanding of how deep my fallenness is. Thinking of the adoption and justification that is mine through Christ opens my heart up wide and helps me see things the right way.

The Gift of Gifts

O source of all good,
what shall i render to Thee for the gift of gifts,
Thine own dear Son, begotten, not created,
my redeemer, proxy, surety, substitute,
His self-emptying incomprehensible,
His infinity of love beyond the heart's grasp

Herein is wonder of wonders:
He came below o raise me above,
was born like me that I might become like Him.

Herein is love:
when I cannot rise to Him He draws near on wings of grace,
to raise me to Himself.

Herein is power:
when Deity and humanity were infinitely apart
He united them in indissoluble unity,
the uncreate and the created.

Herein in wisdom:
when I was undone, with no will to return to Him,
and no intellect to devise recovery,
He came, God-incarnate, to save me to the uttermost,
as man to die my death,
to shed satisfying blood on my behalf,
to work out a perfect righteousness for me.

O God, take me in spirit to the watchful shepherds,
and enlarge my mind;
let me hear good tidings of great joy,
and hearing, believe, rejoice, praise, adore,
my conscience bathed in an ocean of repose,
my eyes uplifted to a reconciled Father;
place me with ox, ass, camel, goat,
to look with them upon my Redeemer's face,
and in Him account myself delivered from sin;
let me with Simeon clasp the new-born child to my heart,
embrace Him with Undying faith,
exulting that He is mine and I am His.

In Him Thou hast given me so much that heaven can give no more.

~From The Valley of Vision

Heaven Is The Face

Today is winter solstice here in my part of the world: the shortest day of the year, more darkness on this day than on any other. A lot of folks complain about winter, but I love it. I love the long dark evenings when homes glow with light from within and you have to bundle up in thick coats to go outside. I love the steam that comes up from my coffee or tea or cocoa and I love the expectation of holidays and food enjoyed with healthy doses of laughter with my friends.

As a little boy (well, even now...) I remember being filled with the wonder and mystery and expectation that this time of year brought with it - knowing something wonderful and beautiful was happening around me and that it was a whole lot bigger than I was. I remember feeling like I might burst if I took it all in at once.

For children, Christmas is a season of great expecation. I find that same feeling rising up in me when I think about the day I'll enter heaven. Think about it - it's almost too good to be true, yet, like Christmas morning, it will happen. Imagine children coming down the stairs and seeing a tree and lights and gifts and smelling warm aromas and thinking, "this is the best day of the year!"

Christmas used to make my heart ache and yearn. Now heaven captures me in the same way. I want it to come so badly. I wish it would get here soon. I know that everything I've ever wanted is there. Maranatha!

Steven Curtis Chapman's song "Heaven Is the Face" (kleenex advisory in effect):

Some Friends of Mine

I'm kind of excited right now because I'm reading something I've always wanted to read, and after that I've got another book to dive into that I'm very much looking forward to. I love reading and I love the books themselves almost as much as reading them. Kinda weird, I know. I treasure my little library and I've visited many of the authors more than once - some several times.

This year has been an interesting literary journey for me. Aside from the Scriptures, the pages of which I try to keep warm from turning, here's a short list of books that I've enjoyed in 2009: Touching the Void by Joe Simpson, Endurance - Shackleton's Incredible Voayge by Alfred Lansing, Shipwrecks of Lake Superior, Reclaiming Science from Darwinism by Kenneth Pope, Revival and Revivalism by Iain H. Murray, Bono by Michka Assayas, The Snowflake Man by Duncan Blanchard, parts of The Valley of Vision and All Loves Excelling by John Bunyan. I'm working on the Sound and The Fury by William Faulkner right now, and on deck I've got the Mortification of Sin by John Owen.

So what have you read this year that was good or useful? What's in your sights for next year? What are your favorite books of all time?

What Children Want Most

Behold, my first grade class (I'm the fella in the blue Star Trek shirt on the front row. Yeah, I'm cool like that):

My first grade teacher passed away last week. She had taught first grade for 37 years. I guess when something works well, there's no need to change it.

I distinctly remember NOT learning how to read in first grade. For me it just "happened". I do remember reading out loud for Miss Hehn (later Mrs. Purdon) about a dog name Spot and how he loved to run, and I remember being so proud. Not proud in the nasty, arrogant way adults are, but the face-beaming, heart-warming way that six year olds are when they've accomplished something. I credit Miss Hehn for that.

I also remember that I felt safe in Miss Hehn's class. I knew she loved me, and I trusted her. First grade was completely comfortable for me. Even at her funeral, the eulogy spoke of the countless times her students called her "mom" or "grandma" because she was such a comforting presence in class that they forgot where they were. I love and admire Mrs. Purdon for that.

In my church setting, I am a teacher. I am also a father. I guess the two are somewhat interchangeable, or should be. And what I've learned being a father and a teacher is that a most effective vehicle for delivering a lesson, whether in math or morality, is a loving heart toward the child being taught (we can talk about teaching adults another day...) I owe this, at least in part, to Mrs. Purdon as well.

Some time ago I read that if you're a father, your children's self-image is primarily derived from how they think you feel about them. I don't think I could agree more.

What children want most is to know that an adult loves them (oh, and by the way, discipline is included under the heading of love). I'd like to say "parents" in place of "adult" but there are so many kids who have no parents, or at least parents who will ever really love them. But I guess if I were to boil this down to something targeted at a male audience, I'd say that a child only wants to see their father smile at them.

I ask myself (ask yourself): When does my day brighten? My hope soar? My heart sing? When I remember that my Father smiles at me - that the One who chose me before the foundation of the world and sought me out and saved me through Christ loves me constantly and consistently and with infinite care.

Miss Hehn loved me and I thrived in her class. I'm trying my best to love my sons and help them to thrive. My Savior loves me and when I let myself believe it, I thrive.

Maker of the Universe

This is a post from the summer of '08, but I love the song and it's worth sharing again. . .

That song did it again. I haven't heard this song in a few years, having lost the CD (rats!), but I remember that every time I'd listen to it, I would be stirred by the first few notes and the stirring wouldn't stop until the song was finished. So this morning I find Phil's video for "Maker of the Universe" and the chills and tears began again as he sings the first two lines . . .



The Maker of the universe,
As Man for man was made a curse.
The claims of Law which He had made,
Unto the uttermost He paid.
His holy fingers made the bough,
Which grew the thorns that crowned His brow.
The nails that pierced His hands were mined
In secret places He designed.

He made the forest whence there sprung
The tree on which His body hung.
He died upon a cross of wood,
Yet made the hill on which it stood.
The sky that darkened o'er His head,
By Him above the earth was spread.
The sun that hid from Him it's face
By His decree was poised in space.

The spear which spilled His precious blood
Was tempered in the fires of God.
The grave in which His form was laid
Was hewn in rocks His hands had made.

The throne on which He now appears
Was His for everlasting years.
But a new glory crowns His brow
And every knee to Him shall bow.

Well Traveled, Still Wonderful

A blogging friend of mine sparked a thought process in my mind this morning.


Most of the folks reading this have travelled across these United States on four wheels (or maybe two if you're especially blessed) at a high rate of speed. In one day of travel your mind can be dazzled by the vastness of the Great Plains, overwhelmed by the majesty of the Rockies or the 'Dacks, and thrilled by the sight of the Atlantic or Pacific ocean. One of God's humble poets, Rich Mullins, wrote a beautiful song about our country. Funnily enough, the video was filmed mostly in Ireland ;)


One of my favorite lines from the song is, "There's so much beauty around us, for just two eyes to see, everywhere I go, I'm looking. . . " It's so true. And when we take the time to step from our vehicles and lace up our hiking boots, we begin to see things we never noticed at 70mph. There's just no end to the wonder that is all around.

In very much the same way, the Word of God is an endlessly delightful journey. Its vast expanse it's filled with amazing vistas all along the way. But like flying along the interstate in North America, sometimes our hearts and minds become dull to what seems familiar, though the sights are no less majestic. I might fly past a familiar Bible story or a passage that I've memorized simply through frequent use. It's in times like these that I'm learning to slow down, lace up my boots, and take a stroll, allowing the Holy Spirit to show me new wonders. It's refreshing and humbling to be reminded that I haven't learned all there is to know: "Oh the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!"

I know that the young trees I plant in my yard are better nourished by a tiny trickle of water from a hose that saturates the ground and soaks the roots, rather than a five gallon bucket of water dumped on it all at once. I should realize the same is true with my own soul - a good long soak near the streams of living water is often what I need. Furthermore, I shouldn't let the wonder of God's Word be lost to my heart, no matter how often I travel there.

The Proper Use of Sin

"They demolished the sacred stone of Baal and tore down the temple of Baal, and people have used it for a latrine to this day." 2 Kings 10:27

It's been a rough, tough, busy week. The vagaries of life have shaken me up and have, unfortunately, given me opportunity to demonstrate my sinful nature. I've been pouty, angry, unloving and selfish. Even so, I believe the Lord has been gracious and helped me to grow in spite of myself.

When Jehu and his posse cleaned up the Israeli countryside by razing the temples of Baal and annihilating the priests of Baal, they were completely thorough. The Scripture above is the best ending I can imagine for this religious cleansing. It's the end of all idolatry and false teaching. Down the toilet.

What on earth, you may ask, does this have to do with having a hard week? Well, it's comforting for me to know that someday my sinful proclivities are going to end up the same way as Baal and his prophets. In a steaming pile.

I hate my sin. I love my Savior. And I smile knowing that day by day, He is defeating sin in my life and assigning it to the ash heap.

Nothing But

In a time when so many cut the truth up like a jigsaw puzzle instead of dividing the Word of God carefully (oh wait, people have been doing this for centuries . . . ), it's so important to apply ourselves to the straight rule of Scripture instead of bending Scripture to fit our own preconceptions and misconceptions.

Thomas Murphy, writing in the 19th century, stated: "Be it, therefore, the inflexible purpose of every Christian, every church and every body of churches to cling with a grasp that will not be relaxed to the truth, the truth alone, to the whole truth - to the truth in doctrine, in worship and in practice . . . to the truth, and not to mere feelings, impressions, sentiments; to the truth, and not tampering with falsehood; to the truth: it is heaven-born; to the truth: it is from God, and He knows best what we should believe and do."

Besides being a sentence diagrammers nightmare, this statement is a fantastic rule to live by when people are so easily swayed by "impressions" and "sentiments".

It is, after all, the TRUTH that sets us free, not the half-truth or almost-truth. In our church setting, we constantly and consistently remind and encourage our teens to know the Word, since there are so many who preach a Gospel other than the one that is genuine.

Payson of Maine . . . and Me

Edward Payson, American Congregational preacher from Maine, early 19th century:

"I have sometimes heard of spells and charms to excite love, and have wished for them, when a boy, that I might cause others to love me. but how much do I now wish for some charm which should lead men to love the Saviour! . . . Could I paint a true likeness of Him, methinks I should rejoice to hold it up to the view and admiration of all creation, and be hid behind it forever. It would be heaven enough to hear Him praised and adored. But I can not paint Him; I can not describe Him; I can not make others love Him; nay, I can not love Him a thousandth part so much as I ought myself. O, for an angel's tongue! O, for the tongues of ten thousand angels, to sound His praises."

I know in my own life I have often been dull towards the Spirit of God and the glory of our Savior - still am, at times. But, mercifully, I also know the yearning feeling of wanting others to wake up and with eyes wide open see the beauty of Christ. It's almost unbelievable how many folks can coast through a meeting where the Truth is fervently, earnestly sung about and preached and remain as dull as dirt and completely unmoved. But it doesn't matter; for my part, I want to lift up my Redeemer with all that I am, as best as I can. No, I can't love Him like I ought, but I'm working on it.

It's Your Love

I love the musical artistry and the strong Truth coming out of Hillsong these days. I'm also fond of Hillsong because a good friend of mine will be spending most of 2010 there in their International Leadership College. Today I wanted very much to share a song, but I couldn't decide which one to post, so I'm posting two.

On Either Side of the Or

Which side of the "or" are you on today?

Read Luke 8:22-56 and pay careful attention in this relatively short passage to the staccato beat of these stories: Jesus calming the storm, healing the demoniac, healing the bleeding woman, raising the dead daughter. You'll notice there are people on both sides of every story, either being afraid OR believing - fearing OR trusting.

"We're going to drown!" Honestly, how many times have we screamed this, when Jesus was right there in the same boat with us. (And notice, please, that is was at Jesus' direction that they set off across the lake when they did. He knew what lay ahead - and He took a nap!) Why do we do that? Why do we profess to believe that God is in control and then lose control of ourselves when the sea gets choppy? My bank account is empty - we're going to drown! Cancer - we're going to drown! Difficult relationships - we're going to drown!

Jesus gets up, calms the storm and asks simply, "where is your faith?" It's like, "c'mon fellas, I'm right here." Put all of Jesus' comments from this passage together and what do you get: Where is your faith . . . go in peace . . . don't be afraid, just believe . . . stop wailing.

When it was all said and done in each of these vignettes in Luke 8, the storm is past, the demons have fled, the bleeding has stopped, and the dead girl has stood to her feet. WHERE IS YOUR FAITH, Jesus asks. Fear or trust. Be afraid or believe. Which side of the "or" are you on?

New Dogs, Old Tricks

"Often what modern innovators consider a new discovery, and wish to pass off as a scheme suited to remove all difficulties, is found upon examination to be nothing else than some ancient heresy clothed in a new dress."

This is a quote from an 1831 (yes, EIGHTEEN THIRTY-ONE) article in the Biblical Repertory from Princeton Theological Seminary regarding the "New Divinity" that was gaining a foothold in New England, especially in the state of New York. Charles Finney is the one name most closely associated with the movement, which featured a disbelief in original sin and the substitutionary atonement of Christ, a downplaying of the depravity of man, and an emphasis on the will of man as the main factor in salvation.

The brand of theology and soteriology Finney and others championed was nothing more than Pelagianism, a (then) 1500 year old heretical doctrine.

*sigh* Modern history is full of other examples of teachings that really aren't new. They're old tricks of the enemy, being performed by new dogs. "Modern apostasy usually mirrors some error from the past."

As Sergeant Phil Esterhaus used to say: "Let's be careful out there." Know the Scripture, know the Truth.


Their teaching will spread like gangrene. Among them are Hymenaeus and Philetus, who have wandered away from the truth. They say that the resurrection has already taken place, and they destroy the faith of some. 2 Timothy 2:17-18

Hearts of Fathers

Today (November 10th, if you happen to not be reading this "today") is my oldest son's 16th birthday. Interestingly, just yesterday I was reading in Luke chapter one where the angel Gabriel declares to Zechariah that his not-yet-born son John (the Baptist) would come in the spirit of Elijah and would "turn the hearts of the fathers to their children." When I read that, the words jumped off the page into my lap, scampered up my arm and lodged in my thought process. Again, I've read these words before a thousand times, but now they are quickened to my spirit and I wonder: what is it about the relationship between fathers and sons that it factors into a major spiritual awakening such as was prophesied in Malachi and realized in the life of John the Baptist, who paved the way for Christ?

I thought to myself (a la the Snapple commercial), "This is heavy stuff. Important stuff. Good stuff. I love this stuff." I mean, I realize that the father-son relationship is HUGELY important: so many spiritual parallels, so many grand opportunities and responsibilities. I get that. And now, suddenly, I am struck with the statement that in the spirit and power of Elijah, John the Baptist, in preparing the way for the Christ, will "turn the hearts of the fathers to their children." Amazing! I know these sterile words I'm typing aren't even coming close to expressing what I'm feeling, but there must be something significant about fathers in regard to spiritual revival. God has placed priority on it.

Well, I found a sermon by John Piper where he addresses this very thing. If you like Piper, go there and read it. If you haven't the time, and you're a father, simply take a minute and consider the "cool factor" here: one of God's priorities (and a powerful one it is) is for you, DAD, to play the man, love your God, love your kids, give yourself to them, teach them, nurture them and launch them into life!

Healer's Hem

I was remarking a couple of days ago about the poignancy of the various personal encounters with Christ as depicted in the book of Mark. I'm still reeling from reading those stories again, but reeling in a fantastic way - as if it were the first time I'd ever heard these accounts.

I'm so moved by the images . . .
. . . of Christ grasping the hand of the blind man and carefully leading him outside of the town, giving him back his sight - and he sees everything clearly. . .
. . . of Christ dropping to His knees and embracing armfuls of children . . .
. . . of Christ facing another blind man, asking him a question and knowing (perhaps even smiling about) what was going to happen next . . .

I'm like Bartimaeus today . . . Jesus, I want to see . . . I want to follow You down the road.

The Touch of Christ

I've been enjoying the book of Mark and the beautiful stories of Christ's compassion. I am deeply moved by how these stories mirror my own experiences with the Savior.

"...and all who touched Him were healed." Mark 6:56

Think about it - every time we touch our sweet Savior, from the first time on, we are changed and healed.

"People were overwhelmed with amazement. 'He has done everything well,' they said. 'He even makes the deaf hear and the dumb speak." Mark 7:37

Indeed, salvation has been accomplished - well and perfectly, bringing us back to our senses.

"He took the blind man by the hand and led him . . . his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly." Mark 8: 23, 25

The Messiah takes our hand in His and leads us out of darkness into His wonderful light.

"The boy looked like a corpse..But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him to his feet..." Mark 9:27

From oppression and death, we are lifted up by the blessed Christ and restored!

"He took a little child and had him stand among them . . . [t]aking him in his arms . . ." Mark 9:36

"And He took the children in His arms, put His hands on them and blessed them." Mark 10:16

All of my rest, peace and security is found in the arms of my Savior. I am an adopted child of the Father. Amazing.

Rest My Weary

Thirty-six hours from the time of this posting I'll be winging my way back East for a week of vacation in Vermont with my wife and two close friends. I doubt I'll be in front of a computer much, so this post will have the chance to age a little before it gets bumped down the page.

I never read a book without a pen. Provided the book is mine, I will underline, mark up and write notes and thoughts as I go. Sometimes it's fun to grab a favorite book off the shelf and flip the pages just to remind myself of what struck me the first time through. I did this the other night with John MacArthur's "The Love Of God."

At the beginning of chapter 8, JMac briefly tells the powerful story of George Matheson. After great loss in his life, Matheson found solace in God's unchanging love and penned the hymn "O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go."

O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee
I give Thee back the life I owe
That in thine ocean-depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
What profound comfort for the true believer! Though we are not immune from trouble, we are indeed immune to being lost by our loving Father. Wow - to be swallowed up in that knowledge and give my all and everything to Him in obedience!

The song in the video below is Steve Camp's own song along the same theme. I can't listen to it without weeping. Soli Deo Gloria! Be blessed.

Predestination: NOT A Bad Word

Here's an anecdote that vividly illustrates how some folks live in doctrinal paradigms:

A few months back I found myself teaching from Ephesians chapter one in a high school class on Sunday morning. Now, of course this is powerful stuff regarding election and predestination and God's glory.

All at once, one young man fairly burst out with, "you mean you believe in predestination?!" My response? "Well, yeah!"

What really struck me was the tone the teen took: it was as if predestination was a bad word, cursing, or some kind of heresy.

"You mean you believe in predestination?"

Well of course, it's a clear biblical doctrine. There need be no speculation about it whatsoever! It's a jewel of Scripture! Yes, I believe in predestination, because I believe the Bible!

Now, this young fella had no doubt been taught (or at least given the impression) by his folks and his denomination that predestination is a dirty word. I suspect that is because their doctrinal paradigm doesn't allow for this sort of thing (you know, that God has a sovereign plan and He has every right to do whatever He pleases - not that they would verbally deny this, because I don't think they actually believe it. How much is one allowed to put in parentheses, anyway? And now, back to our story...).

What struck me so forcefully about this whole situation was that such a clear Biblical doctrine was so easily tossed aside without a thought: just a knee-jerk Arminian reaction (and really, I suppose anyone could be knee-jerkish). I truly think this young person is sensible enough to see the truth the Bible teaches, if he'll stop and look at it. It's just so amazing sometimes what gets rejected for the sake of a precious paradigm.

Short Thoughts On Suffering

Why are we so surprised when life feels something akin to a ride through a meat grinder? The Christian life gets difficult and suddenly we're trying to figure out what went wrong and asking all of our friends to pray for us so that things will get better. What is it we expect?

"Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you." 1 Peter 4:12

I think it's remarkable that as soon as Jesus was baptized by John and received the acclaim and approval of the Father, "[a]t once the Spirit sent Him out into the desert." There was no hiatus between baptism and trial. As somewhat of an ancillary thought, I wonder if it was there, in the desert, that place meant specifically to be place of trial and testing, where Jesus our High Priest was "tempted in every way, just as we are - yet was without sin."

I guess I'm just pondering the certainty and necessity of suffering in the Christian life, as well as the tension between suffering and joy. Both are promised, but only joy is optional. I don't want to recoil with shock when suffering - whether from Divine discipline, seasons of growth, persecution for doing right, or whatever - settles in like smog.

The world is full of suffering, but for the Christian suffering has a refining influence, and that should be cause for joy and peace.

Shadows, Steam and Vapors

You should know that I had intended on writing about Fahrenheit 451 even before I saw this post today. My post, however, shall not be satirical, but observational.

Fahrenheit 451 has always been a favorite novel of mine. I've read it several times and Ray Bradbury's word craft is brilliant. I've read his short stories as well, and no matter what you think of Bradbury, he's an entertaining, insightful and gifted writer. So, to the point...

In a passage that comes late in the book, the character Guy Montag is trying desperately to escape capture by the authorities (his crime: becoming a book "sympathizer" and refusing to do his duty as a "fireman" and burn books). It's night time, and helicopters and mechanical hounds are on his trail. In a last ditch attempt at escape, he jumps into a river and floats downstream and away from danger using his valise as a flotation device.

As the current carries him gently along, he senses himself moving from a world of unreality into reality. Bradbury describes Montag as "going away from the people who ate shadows for breakfast, steam for lunch and vapors for supper." And THAT is the line that I underlined in my book.

What a perfect description of the life lived by so many people. Our lives are a vapor anyway, just a blip on the radar screen, and a life lived apart from Christ is as empty as the darkest vacuum.

My prayer for those around me who have not been redeemed is that the Holy Spirit would burn off and blow away the fog of deception that keeps them in darkness. After all, there was a time when I was blind, but God in His mercy healed me, gave me back my sight and brought me to my senses so I could see hear His voice, see the truth, taste His goodness and feel His forgiveness.

Those who oppose him he must gently instruct, in the hope that God will grant them repentance leading them to a knowledge of the truth, and that they will come to their senses and escape from the trap of the devil, who has taken them captive to do his will. 2 Timothy 2:25-26

Lux Exerit

For a proper beginning to this post, open the following link in a new tab or window and listen to "A Little Bit of Light" while you read . . .

A Little Bit Of Light - Album Version - Phil Keaggy

I've done it again and started reading a third book while in the midst of two others. Surely I'm not the only person on earth who does this. I suppose it's the paper equivalent of channel surfing...only more worthwhile.

At any rate, what I picked up was a biography of Vincent Van Gogh and it's fascinating. It's amazing to me to watch the growth and transformation of this creative, troubled, struggling man's art. He surely would have been an interesting character to know, had he allowed me into his world. He studied the work of many great men but disdained copying their techniques, he was dependent on his brother's monthly stipend for many years, he married a prostitute, and, much like Hosea, stayed with her for a very long time in spite of her repeated unfaithfulness. The stages of his life were characterized by searching and yearning for truth and love.

I don't know if the phrase originated with Van Gogh, but he had written in the margins of a Rembrandt etching the words "In medio noctis vim suam lux exerit" : In the middle of the night light spreads its power.

Now, as a Believer saved by grace, that makes me think of many things: the darkness of fallen man, the yearning for hope, the glory of the Savior, the power of God, the blessedness of redemption.

I for one am thankful that I've been sought out by the Savior and given hope, so much hope. Even in darkness, light shines - and it shines powerfully.

"Even in darkness, light dawns for the upright..." Psalm 112:4

Sarah Talks About Life

Today I'm offering up something written by a young lady in our church. Sarah is a senior in high school and demonstrates an amazing depth of wisdom for one so young. Rare is the teenager that looks far enough out to see the end of life and consider the consequences of choices and attitudes. Sarah also happens to be a vibrant and creative songwriter and guitar player (like, really wonderfully good! (: ). Honestly, we have a wagon load of outstanding young people in our church, and Sarah is just one example. So here is "life" just like she wrote it:

life.is.complicated. very very confusing and complicated. because it means so much more than what we think that is does.
High School conforms you to a way of thinking only in the moment instead of about the future. It makes you think that high school is all that life contains when in reality, there is SO much more, SOOOO much more. It makes people think they really know who they are, but they have NO idea.

The maturity of high school students is not very high (myself included). I HATE high school, I hate that we think life in high school is all about popularity, being homecoming king or queen looking cool in front of the "popular" ones. but I want to tell you that by the time i'm thirty i am not going to care how hot the guys thought i was because that isnt what life is all about.

Life isn't only about image.

Yeah, I guess to some people it is.....but look at how superficial and shallow that way of thinking is. and too me, it's more about what people think of me. And i don't mean the type of clothes i wear, my haircut, or even my looks. There is a difference of hygene and appearence.

Lets face it, no one is going to remember the one thing you said to them, the plays you made in football or volleyball. No one is going to remember that...but what people are going to remember is the way you made them feel and if you were a good person, if you out of all people would come up and say "hi, how are you" when no one else would. its about what you made THEM feel like. feeling invisible sucks, we've all been there. I hate that every school has invisible kids. I hate that those people have no one to turn to...and we are ALL guilty of turning away just because they are the slightest bit different.but life gets hard and sometimes we all need someone to turn too...but if no one is there what are they to do? Maybe the reason people say the hurtful things they do is because they are dying inside for a little attention, just a simple smile. I have had things that are said to me that make no sense and are hurtful and sometimes they are by my closest friends, but maybe instead of getting mad i should actually look and ask myself what i can do to help them. Maybe i should be the bigger person and be a friend to them even if they werent one to me. Because i am SICK of being self-centered. I am TIRED of only being concerned about what happens to me. Instead I wanna be someone who sticks out, not because she's "hot", not because she's popular, but because I care.

Ultimately life isn't about all the people you had sex with, it's not about how cool you looked while smoking, it's not about "last weekend when you got totally trashed". It's about being the best person you can be, it's about fulfilling the plans god specifically designed for you and being a light in the darkness. I refuse to be a thirty five year old stuck in high school memories.

High school is just a chapter in the book of life. We don't know when we're gonna die. It could be today...or tomorrow...or maybe even in 80 years. I honestly have no idea.
but what i do know is that i hope all the people that come to my funeral are able to say.... "that Sarah M. left a legacy on life. she loved and sincerely cared for all those around her. She STRIVED to bring a smile to everyones face because they deserved it and deserve someone to be there and care for them. Everyone does and Sarah wanted people to see that."

I don't know why i am writing this, but i think it's because there are other people that feel this way but are too afraid to share it and instead are conforming to the thoughts of every other high school student. I dont know about you...but i want to be different. I want to be a light because I am not ashamed of what I believe in. I hope this note makes you think about where your life is going and if your doing everything in your ability to make it the best it can be. No one deserves to be broken and I want to help and see every broken heart that there is....I want to help mend you back together...

October

Here in my part of the world, October is a cool sigh during the year, a time of new colors and aromas, a restful time. So, in celebration of my favorite month, I give you . . . some "October-y" stuff: a brief and beautiful song from U2 and a poem...

There was a night, last October,

the starlight pierced - do you remember?

The air was clear and cool and still.

It made the music of the stars more delicate and fragile:

the crystal sound of a string plucked,

the sweet tremor of a stellar chord struck.

And, oh, the moon was the descant

high and beautiful and distant

that made me want to sing along

but my voice was not that strong.

So I just stood and listened with my eyes,

longingly gazing at that

shimmering sky.

Comfort Is Overrated

Recently I returned from a 1500 mile motorcycle ride up to Lake Superior and back from my home in Kansas. I spent two days by that beautiful, cold, blue lake and a couple days travelling. It's nice to get away and be alone sometimes. It separates you from all your props and the conveyor belt of normal life. The thing is, when you're by yourself, you have to deal with yourself. 1500 miles is a lot of time to spend inside your helmet with your own thoughts. Frankly, I didn't like a whole lot of what I found. I spent 100 miles or so between Mason City, Iowa and Minneapolis, Minnesota sifting through my soul and letting the Holy Spirit show me places where I need work. The road to holiness is so often hard, and it seems sometimes like my hiking boots are heavily caked with mud. I've been pondering sanctification lately and the strange journey it seems to be. The older I get, the more disappointed I am with the sludge I keep finding inside and the new ways I find to show off my fallen nature. It's not as if I'm not making progress - God is faithful and has brought me far - but I'm not as good as I once thought I was or should be by now . . .

This kind of work that God does in our lives is never comfortable. But, I realized something after one particularly chilly and saddle-sore day of riding: comfort is overrated.

First, in terms of motorcycling, the fact that I may be slightly wet and shiver now and then and after a couple hours need to shift my seating position to keep my bum from going numb, just isn't really a factor in my enjoyment of the experience. I'll go riding again and again, because the goodness of travelling this way far surpasses the little inconveniences.

Second, in terms of spiritual growth, comfort has never made me any stronger or any wiser. Not once. Anything I've learned has been an outgrowth of difficulty or danger or depression or doubt or discipline. Comfort is nice, but it's overrated. Squirming a little under God's steady hand of discipline or in His refining fire is much to be preferred to not having Him working in my life at all.

So, I'm going to be happy to be comfortable, and I'm going to try to learn to be content when I'm not.

CAN

I was going to post something completely different this morning - and then a friend sent me this:



I can't help but weep as I think of how much I love my own sons, as well as how my Heavenly Father heroically carries my crippled self through life.

An Aptly Spoken E-Mail

Just recently I received an e-mail from my dad. I actually see my dad several times each week, so I expected this note to be what our e-mails usually are: business-oriented, work type stuff. Well, it started off that way, but then the man that I've just now started to really understand surprised me. He complimented me. More than that, his tone was such that I actually did a double-take to make sure the note wasn't from my mother (she does stuff like that all the time - no surprises, there...). Indeed, my father had definitely written the e-mail. He used words that were so personal and well, REAL, that they stopped me in my tracks. A thousand people could have written me 10,000 words and they wouldn't have meant as much to me as this one note from my dad.

Now, I don't want to leave the wrong impression - my dad is a great guy. Always has been. He is known and loved by lots of folks. It's just that I think maybe the two of us are changing as life rolls on, and so, considering our history, this e-mail was significant to me.

It affirmed my dad's love and approval - yes, approval - of me. I am nearly 40 years old and frankly, I don't need anybody's approval, thank you very much. But to receive it from my dad was . . . well, more profound than I thought it would be.

It just goes to show that no matter how old we are, our parents are hugely important figures in our lives (for good or ill) and the blessing a parent can give a child is timeless, and always beneficial. So now I have a few more thoughts to chew on when I head out on my motorcycle this week for a few days of solitary refinement.

Image Is Everything

On the topic of redeemed men and women being conformed to the image of Christ, Francis Schaeffer has this to say:

"Wherever one turns one sees mankind, meant to be the image-bearer of God - but what a distorted image! Marred and soiled, often speaking more of the devil than of God. Mankind's morality twisted, mankind's rationality contorted, believing all sorts of strange things, whether it be in the jungles of a primitive society or in the jungles of the modern university. Love, completely distorted. Man, created to be the image of God, to think, to act, to feel, to be rational and moral, to have real significance in the area of rationality and morality and beauty and love - and now look at mankind. The German concentration camps exhibited all this, but 'nice' people exhibit it too. The woman walking the street for her living, yes, but the nice people too. 'In the image of God,' yet how terribly we sometimes reflect that image. Yet God the Father has 'predestinated us to be conformed to the image of his Son,' this Son of God, this marvelous one." Excerpted from The Finished Work of Christ.

Our redemption is, of course, no small thing. Predestination is a powerful doctrine. And sanctification, the process by which we grow in holiness, is perhaps the most amazing. When I look around me at the rest of mankind, when I look inside me at my still far-from-perfected heart, I am amazed: amazed that God should choose me in the first place, and amazed that I've made any progress in holiness at all. Obviously, it is only by the Spirit's help. It's a huge encouragement for me personally.

Marks of True Renewal

A friend of mine (you know who you are) gave me the book Revival and Revivalism as a gift this year, and I'm enjoying it immensely. It's a thorough historical look at revivals in early American history, and it's surprisingly enjoyable to read; one might expect such a book to be rather didactic, but it isn't. It's so refreshing to read of true revivals in our history, and what should be the earmarks of a true revival.

One such "sign" is the absence of denominational boundaries. Here are excerpts from chapter three:

"True revivals rarely remain within denominational boundaries...Being a Christian was seen to be more important than being a Baptist or a Methodist or a Presbyterian...One mark of an outpouring of the Spirit of God is the presence of a stronger catholicity of spirit among believers. Only when churches put adherence to Christ first can the world begin to recognize the real identity of those who bear His Name."

The stories in Revival and Revivalism are refreshing. There is no hype, no gold dust, no craziness or dubious doctrine: only the Spirit of God bringing conviction, redemption and times of refreshing to men and women, young and old.

Eleventh of September

September 11th. After eight years. I still can't bring myself to listen to the rebroadcasts of those radio transmissions, the news reports, the TV documentaries . . . It's just too much.

No doubt Skillet released the video to their new song "Hero" this week on purpose. It's amazing and powerful. In fact, if you like this kind of music (I understand some people actually don't !!!!) go straight to youtube and watch it full screen.

The Road Beckons

New oil, new tires, well-worn gear, and the highway ahead . . .

Later in the month I will start up the Buell and head north to Ashland, Wisconsin for a couple days of solitary refinement.

I'll torque my way through every scenic route in northern Wisconsin and I'll take time to listen to Lake Superior patiently cleansing the shoreline.

I'll be traveling light: rain gear, minimal extra clothing, my Nikon D50, a book and a Bible.

I'll enjoy many quiet hours inside my helmet (and yes, road noise, wind and Buell exhaust notes are quiet according to my definition). I'll remember old songs and pray new prayers.

God willing, I'll return home to my family better rested, more centered, and closer to the kind of man God has called me to be for them.

"Look to the hills, Mat. They are quiet. The storms sweep over them and are gone, and most of man's troubles pass the same way. That is one reason I brought you here, just to learn that. Whenever you feel that things are getting too much for you, go the mountains or the desert - it smooths out the wrinkles in your mind." James Brionne, from "Brionne" by Louis L'Amour

West, Not Left

At 5:30 this morning, I woke up (unintentionally) and began thinking and then blindly writing notes on my hand so I wouldn't forget my thoughts when it came time to crawl out of bed an hour later. I had been dreaming about a friend. In my dream I was giving him directions, strangely enough, to his own house. As I crossed the fuzzy divide between reverie and wakefulness I began to think about how different people give directions.

Some folks are right-left navigators: Go here, take a left, when you get there, go right, and then after this far, take a left. Others are "compass" people: Go east on that street, then head north at the next street, the place you need will be on the west side.

The first method is OK, but the problem is that it only works from one starting point, because right and left are different depending on whether you're heading north or south. That is to say, right and left "change" depending on which direction your nose is pointing.

I like "compass" directions, because even if I make a wrong turn, or head to a location from a different route than the direction-giver, I know that North, South, East and West are still the same.

Alright. So all this is going through my head in the wee hours. Then I think: well, that reminds me somewhat of a Pyromaniac post I read earlier in the week!

People argue about directions all the time; everybody has their own "shortcut". When you're driving to Wal-Mart, the method and route are negotiable. However, when Heaven, Truth and eternity are the goal - there really is only one way. And furthermore, the directions Christians are handing out had better be accurate. The roadmap a preacher presents had better use compass headings that don't change, instead of nebulous instructions such as, "head up that hill, veer left at the windmill, then go a little right at the red barn, and you'll see it up ahead there a-ways." (Post-modern translation: feel good about yourself, form "god" in whatever image suits you, be nice and heaven will be waiting for you...")

People need to hear someone tell them, "Go west", not, "Go left". There's just too much room for error in "go left."

If a preacher, or any Christian, is responsible and wise and compassionate, they won't steer someone else wrong when it comes to directions as important as the True Gospel.

On Paying Attention

I need continual steering input to keep my life between the guardrails. The excerpt below helps keep the road signs in sharp focus.

Preserve me from a false estimate of the whole or a part of my character; may I pay regard to my principles as well as my conduct, my motives as well as my actions.

Help me never to mistake the excitement of my passions for the renewing of the Holy Spirit, never to judge my religion by occasional impressions and impulses, but by my constant and prevailing disposition.

May my heart be right with Thee, and my life as becometh the Gospel. May I maintain a supreme regard to another and better world, and feel and confess myself as stranger and a pilgrim here.

From "True Religion", page 65 of this book (please click the cover for more info):

Fear the LORD and Bless Your Children

When you're browsing your local Christian bookstore (if you're brave enough to enter in the first place...and how does a bookstore get saved, anyway?) or clicking around Amazon.com, you'll find an endless variety of books on parenting, and probably more books on being a good father than you can haul in a dump truck. It can be a little overwhelming.

Admittedly, I have a few of these tomes on my bookshelf. Some I've read, some I haven't. Some were good, some weren't. Naturally, all good parenting (Godly parenting) tips come from Scripture; God's Word is replete with parenting examples, both positive and negative.

But there is one verse in Proverbs that has meant more to me than perhaps any other:

"He who fears the LORD has a secure fortress, and for his children it will be a refuge." Proverbs 14:26

Those few short words speak directly to the kind of man I ought to be, the place of priority Almighty God ought to have in my home, and the promise that accompanies such a practice. Life can get complicated and convoluted. I'm so thankful that God has provided parenting directives that involve simple actions and simple trust. As I learn to acknowledge God in my work, my words, around the supper table or wherever, my children will be living under an umbrella of God's grace, a place of refuge for them.

Along with a plea that I might learn the fear of the Lord, the best prayer I can offer for my sons is simply that God would help me to be a Father like He is: patient, wise, firm, reliable and a lover of His bride.

No Place Like Home

It's August 27th again, and that reminds me of two things: Life and death. Pretty heavy for August 27th, but this happens to be the date of my fifth son's birth six years ago. This was the son that wasn't supposed to live. Matthias will be happily eating birthday cake tonight. It is also the date of Ericka's death five years ago. Ericka was a vibrant, sincere, Christ-loving young lady in our youth ministry who was killed in an automobile accident after school.

I must tell you that every day - I mean EVERY day - I am aware of the mercy of God when I hug my son (usually several times). It's really a profound thing that he is with us. If you want the details, you can read them HERE. I am utterly, completely, deeply happy to have him safely home.

Regarding Ericka, I'm really not that sad. I know it still hurts her folks and her sister, and the friends she was in school with. But you know, it's kind of a weird thing you feel when a true believer passes from this life and enters the next ahead of you. Sure, it's sad, even heart rending sometimes, especially when the person is as young as Ericka, however there's a smile on the face of my heart because I know she also is safely home.

Home. That's a beautiful, comforting word for me. I hope it is for you. And it's pretty cool to think that one day I'll be home in the place Christ has prepared for me, and I have a feeling it won't be that unfamiliar, even though I've never been there.

Tonight I'll walk through my front door, be greeted by Matthias as he runs and jumps into my arms, and I'll instantly be at ease. Some day there's going to be a similar homecoming . . . you get the picture.