the joy of friendship

It wasn't but three years ago that I was typing these notes on my Facebook account: open access to the hearts of 600+ "friends." I was tagging people in posts that I thought would be personally meaningful, and a few of them generated some rather heated discussion.

Since that time, I've had many conversations with God about purity in my relationships. This entire idea of love not being envious, boastful, proud, rude, self-seeking, or easily angered...God would have us consecrate this area from the commonality of the world as well. It grieves me to recall how often my friendships were all of these things -- and I received the same attitude in return.

I have fewer friends today. In an average week, I probably interact with ten people in which I hold a mutually vested interest and love. I think this is okay. I know the sincerity and care in which my words will be weighed and the sincerity and care in which I will place into theirs. I have friends that pray for me. I have friends for which I pray.

The ministry and mission of Christ will always offer an endless demand for meeting needs, with an underwhelming number of laborers because His road is narrow. I've had to learn the blessing of saying "yes" and the necessity of saying "no."

One of our young adults in St. Louis was offended by the notion that I might have favorites in my life. Many ministers feel the burden to provide equal care to every congregant, regardless of the fruit that is being produced. But Christ himself retreated to His inner circle: not because He didn't love the rest of creation, but because He received the blessing and joy of true, unselfish friendship.

This post is an ode to the handful of laborers that I call friend...

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God, I praise you for blessing me with the love, admiration, and trust of my friends. I want to take time to thank you for:

*Lifelong friends that know what I'm thinking by my expression alone
*New friends that share a similar longing for Your fullness
*Church brethren that listen to my needs and pray for me in my brokenness
*Long-distance friends that I see four times a year, but seem as close as ever
*Childhood friends among whom I first experienced the Gospel
*Divinely appointed friends that enter my life at exactly the right time
*Temporary friends that help me sustain a season of life
*Sisters-in-Christ that encourage my purity and the guarding of my heart
*Spiritual war comrades that share a testimony of victory
*Family that spurred my faith when I was ready to throw in the towel

Friends, you are all so amazingly awesome. I pray that I can be the same blessing to you as you've been for me. Every conversation, written letter, late-night text, and silent embrace is greatly appreciated. Near or far, it's a privilege to share life with you.

reunion

I put in a four hour shift this morning to make time for my dad's family reunion. Work went well, and I more than survived being the man in charge -- one of the entitled girls called me mean, and the others had a great morning, so it probably means I was doing the job correctly :)

To give you some background, I haven't spent much time with my dad's family since my great-grandmother died in elementary school. All of the other generations would gather at her house during their spare time, and I have few recollections of this time, aside from the look of the house and the game of solitaire that one of my great uncles always seemed to be playing. During this season, my aunt or older cousin used to watch my brother and I from time to time; my aunt affectionately (I think) referred to me as "motormouth."

Many years have passed, and there have always been a lot of skeletons in my dad's closet. To me, he was always the over-protective disciplinarian that never understood that I had emotional needs -- that I felt unloved. We started doing these reunions last year, and it's painful to watch him in silence as his cousins describe how abusive my grandparents were to him. He nods his head to verify their stories (and how he received the worst of my grandmother's beatings), but its clear there are many uncried tears in my proud father: tears with which I would love to empathize.

It's more "God" than "coincidental" that He has geared my heart towards freedom from this level of pain, and it reminds me how well some function in society with a myriad of wounds. To the outsider, my dad is a quiet, hard-working man, who is prudent with his money and raised his children to be model citizens. Nothing society requires of him is lacking or corrupted. But functioning is not satisfying in itself, and my dad's life is a grand reminder of the residue left by deep, untreated pain and unforgiveness.

I don't know that I will ever be allowed the blessing to see my dad in an emotionally honest place, but I do love him, and I thank God for the grace He's allowed in understanding my dad's story, even when he resists being understood. We may only have so many reunions left here on earth, but I welcome the warm (and often cold) stories of reality.

unexpected blessings

Night staffers have a propensity for developing an inferiority complex at my workplace, primarily because our work goes unnoticed until it is done wrong. Adding to our irritability are the number of required meetings and trainings that are scheduled around the salaried staff. Obviously, the agency is not going to schedule a meeting for 2am, but a little more consideration for our sleep cycle would be appreciated.

This morning, our unit scheduled an off-campus retreat, and every staff was required to attend. Our coordinator was kind enough to give us last night off, but trying to readjust a consistent sleep pattern in one evening is difficult. So I ventured to work this morning on four hours of sleep, knowing that I have to be back at ten this evening.

It was by supernatural intervention that I showed up in a good mood. Local weather was calling for the possibility of thunderstorms, and I wouldn't know until I arrived if we were going to the beach or finding an indoor alternative. In blind faith, I left my house with my bathing suit and flip-flops on, even while a steady drizzle pelted my car.

We took a vote when we arrived, and the residents unanimously decided to go anyway. When we arrived, the rain ceased and the air had cooled to a comfort I hadn't felt all week. The lake breeze was just what the doctor ordered. We ate our sack lunches and headed into the sand.

I'm exhausted now, and in need of a couple more hours of sleep, but I'm thankful for the time spent with the girls: building sand castles, looking for seashells...being the butt of their jokes. It's not often enough that they get to feel like real kids having real fun. Having our entire team there made it feel more like a family and less like a job (of course having a 13:7 staff to resident ratio certainly contributed to the lack of stress :)

After we returned, I unlocked the door as one of our residents was waiting to hold it open. Already ten steps past the door, she spoke loudly enough for three others to hear: "Ladies first!" My tired mind was short on wit, so I turned around, smiled, and said, "I've got nothing." She smiled back in victory.

As I approached the staff desk to grab my things, I realized how good of a time I had with the girls, and how blessed we were to see a side of one another that isn't noticed in the daily routine or a crisis intervention. Thankfully, God knew exactly what my heart needed, even when my physical fatigue was stating otherwise.

red pills and word vomit

Agent Smith: Do we have a deal, Mr. Reagan?

Cypher: You know, I know this steak doesn't exist. I know that when I put it in my mouth, the Matrix is telling my brain that it is juicy and delicious. After nine years, you know what I realize? Ignorance is bliss.

Agent Smith: Then we have a deal?

Cypher: I don't want to remember nothing. Nothing. You understand? And I want to be rich. You know, someone important, like an actor.

Agent Smith: Whatever you want, Mr. Reagan.

From The Matrix (1999)

Cypher was one of a few in the movie exposed to the reality of the human captivity. After choosing to accept the "red pill" and leave the facade behind, he discovers that reality requires him to address the gravity of the situation. The humans in captivity are unknowingly dependent on his team to set them free. The work is not glamorous -- it is survival.

When Cypher is given the opportunity to betray his team and return to the ignorance of the matrix, he asks for his knowledge of the truth to be taken away. He determines that it was better to live bound and happy than to be free and burdened.

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My relationship with God has been a never-ending exposure to the truth and gravity of the worldly condition. At eighteen, I lived in a happy bliss: adhering to a "higher" moral code than others, but fully willing to explore certain joys that gratified my flesh. Had I progressed in this manner, I would have likely attained many of the luxuries the world covets, and sought little else to satisfy my eternal needs.

When the Holy Spirit filled me in the fall of '97, I willingly accepted the door that led to His grace and truth. The slow building of my spiritual discernment allowed me to keep one foot in the world as I explored the mystery of God. But as I began to see with eyes that knew the hearts of men, His love for creation prevented me from turning away any further.

Nine nights out of ten, I am eternally thankful for being ruined.

It is on the lonely nights -- the nights inhabited by only my Father and my relentless enemy -- that I begin to doubt. I ask myself, "What would have happened had I left the truth alone? Would I be out dancing with friends? Would I be sharing a meal with my kids? Would I be independently wealthy, with the means to fund my own institutional ministry?"

"Would I be happy?"

Cypher died before returning to the matrix, but his enemy never intended to fulfill his end of the bargain. He had already come to the point of no return. It makes me think of Judas Iscariot after his betrayal of Christ: given the silver he had "earned" to return to normal life, he couldn't shake his exposure to the Son of God. Whatever happiness Satan had offered was empty and lethal.

Christ doesn't offer me the option to return to my ignorance, even though it may often seem appealing to my flesh. I honestly believe that this is what the writer of Hebrews eludes to in 6:4-6.

It is impossible for those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, who have shared in the Holy Spirit, who have tasted the goodness of the Word of God and the powers of the coming age, if they fall away, to be brought back to repentance, because to their loss they are crucifying the Son of God all over again and subjecting him to public disgrace

I recall hearing the arguments regarding eternal security with this passage, but I think we shortchange the writer's intent if we consider this a word about salvation. I believe that the writer understood that those fully exposed to the wonder and truth of the Holy Spirit cannot shake what they have tasted. This isn't about praying a prayer. Truly standing in the presence of the Almighty ruins the believer's ability to live according to the worldly facade. To know the truth -- to be filled with the Spirit -- and consciously reject it for the deception is impossible. An attempt to do so leads to a worldly misery and a spiritual grief known to few men.

I present this because there are days when the enemy would try to deceive me in this way. He asks me what life was like before my redemption, and how many friends I had. He asks if I would have willingly chose Christ and stood on the mountain of God had I known what I was accepting.

This is not elementary spiritual warfare. He is battling for my soul, and he intends to kill me.

My favorite passage in Jeremiah acknowledges this very battle. The NIV titles this passage "Jeremiah's Complaint," which I find a little callous. Jeremiah firmly speaks the truth of his ruin, the ensuing fallout, and what he must do as a result:

O Lord you deceived me, and I was deceived; you overpowered me and prevailed.

I am ridiculed all day long; everyone mocks me.

Whenever I speak, I cry out proclaiming violence and destruction.

So the word of the Lord has brought me insult and reproach all day long.

But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in his name," his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot. (Jeremiah 20:7-9, emphasis added)

Jeremiah admittedly had no idea what he would bring upon himself by following the Lord. His decision had made him an outcast to the world.

Like Jeremiah, I didn't fully count the cost when I walked into this journey. But God's word and His truth is so wonderful and life changing, that I have no option but to release it to a world that despises Him. Satan would have me regret my decision, but my understanding of this world and of the war I wage does not allow me to seek the ignorance that was stripped from my eyes. This is also a matter of life and death, and the captives are depending on me and others with open eyes to release them from their sentence. I must release the fire within my bones and preach of the wondrous grace of my Jesus.

weeping prophet

I have nothing profound to contribute today. This word sums my feelings pretty well:

You understand, O Lord; remember me and care for me. Avenge me on my persecutors.

You are long-suffering -- do not take me away; think of how I suffer reproach for your sake.

When your words came, I ate them; they were my joy and my heart's delight, for I bear your name, O Lord God Almighty.

I never sat in the company of revelers, never made merry with them;

I sat alone because your hand was on me and you had filled me with indignation.

Why is this pain unending and my wound grievous and incurable?

Will you be to me like a deceptive brook, like a spring that fails?

Therefore this is what the Lord says:

"If you repent, I will restore you that you may serve me; if you utter worthy, not worthless words, you will be my spokesman. Let this people turn to you, but you must not turn to them. I will make you a wall to this people, a fortified wall of bronze; they will fight against you but will not overcome you, for I am with you to rescue and save you," declares the Lord.

(Jeremiah 15:15-20, emphasis added)

RE: running from redemption

Do I want to address my greatest wound? No -- I've done it before. There's always the possibility that I will get hurt again, and I've already been through this process at least three times.

Can I really ask others to address their greatest wounds without bucking up and making myself vulnerable to pain? A resounding no. How do I reconcile these answers? I haven't the foggiest.

Do I like what my flesh is capable of when responding in defense of my wound? No -- I hate myself when I presume the worst of God's plans. And I hate that history defies my desire to presume the best.

I wish there was some master key to unlock my heart. Something or some word is not connecting. God has spoken a lot of truth into my life, both through His voice and the words of others. But something is still bound, and I have no idea how to find it.

I need His grace in the worst way. I need Jesus to reveal my deepest lie. There's a lot of good in my life...no doubt. But what if this is as good as it gets in my current state?

the problem with standards

NOTE: This post is not about a particular woman, but was formed through a collage of conversations over the past five years.

A simple statement made in passing: easily disgarded as "nothing," but carrying the weight of romantic frustration. I am supposed to receive it as a joke...

"So you plan to find someone there that meets your standards?"

I know what she meant by it. She's suggesting that I'm virtually unattainable. There's some truth to that -- I'm not trying to be attained. I'm an old-fashioned guy in that way. But each female friend holding unreciprocated feelings for me has had something snarky to say about my standards. And then they've tried to attain me.

My job has trained me in the subtle arts of emotional manipulation. My senses jump to red alert when I am made to feel guilty for trying to live a holy life. The second move is equally vindictive: she plays the victim to my "judgment" -- for having considered her below my standards. I have never been so cold as to imply this to any woman, yet in a matter of seconds I have been branded a prude and a Pharisee.

Naturally, this is coupled with a compliment: "You look really nice today."

I shouldn't let it bother me, right? I should shrug it off on the inside the way I do on the outside. Why does this get under my skin?

It's a culmination. It's years of being treated like a second-rate minister in the church because I am single. It's listening to much younger men talk about loneliness and rejection like I've never been there, or that they deserve better than their circumstances. It's spending time with Christian women that would rather be entertained by a man than led.

The pressure builds up under the surface of my patience, and a volcano is about to blow. So when she now mocks my pursuit of righteousness -- this, my sister in Christ...

AHHHHHHHHH!!!

The thing is, for all the jockeying and attempts to apprehend me, they've always liked the idea of me better than the implications. They say they trust me, but do not follow. They like that I'm different than other guys, and then ask me to compromise. They expect me to defend my convictions about church and birth control, so that they can convince me that I'm being impractical. This is supposed to woo me?

I know that I ask a lot. It would be so much easier to own the common standards of most church-going men. Few would think less of me. I could cure my periodic loneliness and live a justifiably simple life in the eyes of men.

But if there's a chance...if one woman would resist the American dream for a spiritual adventure, if one woman would be blessed by the family that God allows us to produce and raise, if one woman would encourage my leadership and follow me to uncertain places, if one woman would maintain her own ridiculous standards to wait for me in purity...if one such woman could love me, I would ask her to share this life.

intensity

The glory of God gives life; those who see God receive life. For this reason God, who cannot be grasped, comprehended or seen, allows himself to be seen, comprehended and grasped by men, that he may give life to those who see and receive him. It is impossible to live without life, and the actualization of life comes from participation in God, while participation in God is to see God and enjoy his goodness.

-- St. Irenaeus

One adjective has been used to describe me most often. I would prefer "eccentric" -- it makes me sound mystical and original, but nobody has ever used this word to describe me. My peers shy away from "scary" or "overwhelming" because it's not proper American to hurt someone's feelings with the truth. Thus, we settle somewhere in the middle...

ANTHONY: I don't understand why he doesn't like me.

FRIEND: It's not that he doesn't like you. He's just...a little intimidated.

ANTHONY: I don't get it. It's not like I pretend to be perfect. I'm all about being up front with my struggles.

FRIEND: Yeah, but that's part of the issue. He's not used to people being comfortable sharing that stuff.

ANTHONY: Well it's not exactly comfortable for me. How am I to expect others to share if I bury everything inside?

FRIEND: I don't think you should bury everything. You could just relax a bit and be a little less...

ANTHONY: ...Intense?

FRIEND: Yeah, intense.

I promise folks, I've tried to tone it down. When I'm not doing so hot with God, my intensity is barely a simmer. But it's like His glory creates this surge: it makes me write twenty posts a week and speak like a fire hose.

Fire hoses are real good at getting things wet. If the Spirit of God prompts me to speak like a fire hose, I can only hope that someone is in good need of a flood, because everyone in their peripheral is catching it too. I have a couple friends that have said they wished I gave them time to digest -- that I spray too much at a time. How can I explain that this is me living?

Certainly, there is a time for digestion. I've revisited Ephesians 4:7-13 again. You should too :)

But to each one of us grace has been given as Christ apportioned it. This is why it says:

"When he ascended on high, he led captives in his train and gave gifts to men."

(What does "he ascended" mean except that he also descended to the lower, earthly regions? He who descended is the very one who ascended higher than all the heavens, in order to fill the whole universe.) It was he who gave some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers, to prepare God's people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ.

Observation #1: All of these gifts work together to prepare God's people for service.

Observation #2: We cannot expect to reach maturity without this preparation.

I don't necessarily care to make implications in scripture where they have not been overtly stated, but there seems to be some practical significance to the order in which Christ gave His gifts. We can all agree without a stretch of interpretation that ignoring any of these gifts would deter spiritual maturity in the body, right? Right. So where are the apostles and prophets in most American churches?

Since we can agree that scripture requires the full-function of these gifts to prepare the body for His service, let's break it down as if God finds these missing gifts to be good and useful (and I kind of think He does):

Apostle is the big picture guy: he sprays his fire hose and the people don't know precisely what hit them -- they only know that they're all wet. Prophet preaches a message of repentance and consecration, and asks the believers to seek holiness and set themselves apart from the world, because this best represents what God desires in the big picture. Once the believers are set apart, Evangelist calls the lost to Jesus, and has this wonderful consecrated body at his disposal to disciple the new believers. The Pastors and Teachers have been anxiously waiting for this moment, because now they can patiently filter the fire hose into small enough sips for the new believers to grow.

What's not to like about that?

My friend and brother Michael is a pastor to the nth degree. What happens if there is no fire hose to start the work? What ministry will he warrant without being set apart himself? Which new sheep will he shepherd without the evangelist?

When Michael is seeing, hearing, and comprehending the Almighty God, his pastoral instincts are in full throttle. When a believer is struggling and needs gentle encouragement and truth, he is all over it. When I am seeing, hearing, and comprehending God, my fire hose raises its intensity. Different gifts, different graces...both necessary to build the body to useful functionality and a spiritual maturity.

There's a time to digest and a time to gasp for breath. Strap on your wet suit: a flood's a comin'.

here's to legacy

In my difficulties sleeping this week, I buried myself in everything I could from the Lord. After I finished singing some old school camp songs, I took my pillow to the basement since I knew it would be cooler. Faithfully sitting on my couch was George:

George is my oldest and dearest possession. I received him for Christmas at 14 months and he's been my constant ever since. He's lived a hard life. He had to lead an entire mob of stuffies on my first big kid bed. At some point of curiosity, I stuck him in our almost empty wood burning stove, sometime around age four or five. He had to be put in the washer to clean off the ash. That's how he lost a good portion of his lips. You can see part of George on the day of his birth, to the extreme left -- fully lipped and riding my Fisher Pricemobile:

This one has nothing to do with George, I'm including it because this is my blog, and I never remember being this cute (my brother always carried the good-looking gene). Yes, a toddler picture is what I'm working with:

Further hope that my kids will be adorable :)

Thinking about George and our childhood fun led me to consider how little remains from that life. Most people come and go (at least in my life), so the best I can do is leave as great an impact as God would allow within a passing moment. During my last week as a camp director, I was having an incredibly emotional moment when one of my favorite staff walked over to switch the normal dynamic of our relationship. As I grieved over how little I had actually accomplished in my years of ministry, she drew a rather authoritative tone and said:

"Anthony Marks, if most believers did for Christ in a lifetime what you have done in five years, we would change the world. Do you hear me?!?"

I heard her, but I don't have the luxury of believing her. I'm reminded of D.L. Moody, who couldn't rest at night without having shared Christ with someone that day. He didn't share out of a law or an obligation, but rather because he couldn't imagine bearing the best gift known to creation and keeping it to himself.

So if I make the humble estimate that I impacted 1000 kids and teens through my time at Prairie Camp, I still only hold the peace and assurance of five to ten that remain in contact. The remainder? A first-class lesson in trusting that my ministry was pleasing to Him.

That's all I get. But then, most of the time, that's all we're given. Hebrews 11 reminds us of those we read about today -- the great giants of the faith -- that died long before their lives helped transform ours. Hebrews 12 directs us to consider these men and women in the completion of our own race. I have to figure, a small percentage of our legacy will be known within our lifetime.

There are two within this "cloud of witnesses" that spur me today...

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My Grandma Kohli was widowed before my birth, and my dad's parents were absent, so I only knew and loved one grandparent. This was fine with me; she was a real keeper! She had this contagious laugh that made me want to do goofy stuff in front of her, and I'm pretty sure she was the only adult that didn't grow tired of my eccentric nature...at least she never showed it :) She was the queen of the Thanksgiving dinner, and she made a point of getting the entire family together.

In the middle of my self-absorbed adolescence, she died of cancer. I wish I had known what I would be missing. I was thinking it would be awesome to speak with her adult-to-adult and pick her brain on being the spiritual head of an extended family.

But then I realized, the beauty of Grandma was that her faith was best expressed with the heart of a child. Spending the night as a 7-year-old was the perfect way to know her and to know her Jesus. I think God took her when her grandchildren had grown too old to appreciate her in that way.

I was a believer at 16 -- in fact I was beginning a week of church camp when she died. But I can remember sitting in that old sanctuary with her pastor delivering her passing wish: "Virginia knows where her children are, but her final prayer was that her grandchildren would know Jesus."

Best I know, of the eight of us, it's just me. During those couple years after her death, it could've gone either way if Jesus hadn't chased me. Sometimes when I am snared in sin, I think about Grandma's prayer. I like to picture a fully alive version of Grandma cheering me from heaven.

I acknowledge how shortsighted I am about my camp kids. Would Grandma have loved the assurance that we would all be following the Lord? Absolutely. But I don't think she would dwell on the wanderers. I think she would look at my life and be pleased with me as her legacy. I think Christ is warmed by her heart and humility and would consider her one of the greatest in His Kingdom.

I know that I am blessed to have been her grandchild and to have known Jesus as a result.

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"Grandpa" Leon was already progressing in years before he came to know his Jesus. A retired school bus driver, he braved the Indiana heat to be the resident grandfather to hundreds of boys. He had this way of finding the outcast and loving them to Jesus. Grandpa Leon prayed for every child at bedtime with his gentle hands, and hugged us as if we were the most important kids that God ever created. For years he shared his gripping testimony during our Thursday night campfires, and many came to know Jesus because of his unashamed evangelism.

I was thankful to get to know him as a "peer." During my first few summers, I was privileged to work with him in the dorm, laughing at how secure he was in crossing generational lines. In an era of ministry where generations are purposely dissected, Leon labored through silly children's songs and camp games to love us to Jesus. He used to yell at us if we weren't being loud enough during the bus rides. To him, the choirs of heaven likely sound like forty kids screaming at the top of their lungs :)

Byron, Dan, and I attended his funeral after he died, and the service seemed so humble for the spiritual legacy that we knew this man had. But those who worked with him the longest shared their joyful stories with tears. He is my spiritual hero, and I pray my life is a fitting continuance to that which he has sown.

running from redemption

A couple years ago, I posted here and here about the transformation I received through one simple prayer: "God, allow me to see what you see."

I'm super thankful that He is God, and I am not. I cannot fathom how He does it. He allows me to peer into the hearts of a few, and the stark contrast between what He sees and the shame mankind bears is enough to break my heart. I think I understand as fully as I can in this flesh why God is determined to toss us in the fire. He cannot rest while we reflect something other than the glory He intended at creation.

Around the time of the initial prayer, I upset a woman I had previously served with by suggesting her push to "leave the past in the past was masking a wound that had not been healed. Since Jesus had forgiven her sins, she argued that her prior life was irrelevant, and God wouldn't have her digging up old hurts that bring her shame.

To some degree, this justified my position. If Christ has truly set us free, why would the admission of a forgiven past bring forth shame or embarrassment?

My persistence in presenting a complete history as a testimony of His grace has gotten me in trouble. This woman is not the only one to cut me off for suggesting a need for healing. I am amazed how vocal Christians are in offering grace to new believers, and how unwilling we are to disclose the measure of grace we have received. Rather than encouraging a new believer by presenting ourselves as a work of transformation, we project ourselves as lifelong adherents of a law.

But why should it matter? Why dig up a painful past?

First, our salvation does not immediately rid our lives of destructive patterns of behavior. For example, a woman who was sexually abused prior to salvation does not instantly gain an understanding of how to trust men. She has lies to dispel, and spiritual truths to be revealed to view herself, her sexuality, and trustworthy men through a clear lens. The work of salvation has offered her the gift of His Spirit, but the work of consecration can redeem her wounds as a testimony of His grace and healing.

Secondly, it is difficult to think ministerially while nursing internal pain or shame, whether saved or not. How often do we disqualify ourselves from His service because of a fear or insecurity established while living in darkness? Personally, this has occurred too often to count. What happens when we allow God to bring our wounds to the surface for healing? He is able to take the same circumstance that led to our fear and redeem it as one more reason to shout of His grace.

Our God is not a sadist, nor am I. He does not have us experience pain without a plan for restoration. But He gives greater weight to the big picture, and He does not desire for any believer to be satisfied with salvation alone. Our lives were meant to reflect the wonderful love of our Creator: a love that cannot ignore the potential of a life fully redeemed. Let us accept the fullness of His grace, for we are not condemned on account of the forgiven past He still longs to heal.

So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way, we do so no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting men's sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ's ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ's behalf: Be reconciled to God. God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

As God's fellow workers we urge you not to receive God's grace in vain. For he says,

“In the time of my favor I heard you, and in the day of salvation I helped you.”

I tell you, now is the time of God's favor, now is the day of salvation. (2 Corinthians 5:16-6:2)

trust me...please?

As a blogoholic and a sincere -- though flawed -- student of Jesus, I am responsible for the words that I publish. The internet's content is growing at such an exponential rate, we can easily fall victim to the dangerous mixture of opinion and truth. This often leads us to conclude that everything is of equal merit or that nothing can be trusted as an authoritative word. I wonder how most believers determine what content holds spiritual weight.

This concerns me as a writer, because I like to be taken seriously. The insecure part of me wants to assure that I am more than a capable communciator; I want to properly handle God's Word. The insecurity stems from my own skepticism: many will consume garbage as truth with a skilled enough delivery -- I cannot help but ask, "Am I that guy? Do I lead people astray?"

I must trust that my discernment is accurate and appraise every thought according to His Spirit. As much as my flesh wrestles to maintain control over the reader's understanding, I am painfully aware that greater minds than mine were never granted the certainty of a proper reception.

Who then can be trusted?

In the Gospels, the Pharisees used their appointed authority to captivate the masses with their rhetoric. Christ was sent with the Father's authority to cut to the hearts of men. The Pharisees demanded the obedience and respect due their position. Jesus spoke in cryptic narrative to confound the religious establishment.

How might He redeem my own preferred medium?

I can clearly distinguish the words of my flesh from those of the Spirit. Through my flesh, I aim to convince -- I want to be trusted. I think to myself, "If I construct a sound argument, my writing will be respected and my words understood."

But the Spirit speaks truths that need no argument. They are not presented to be accepted by those who can physically hear or see, but by those with open and burning hearts. His message is not dependent on the position or name recognition of the vessel, for its authority is from heaven and not subject to the wisdom of men.

I pray that this blog will capture this Voice. I resign my desire to be trusted -- I will deliver phrases that communicate His character and truth, regardless of the fallout. I place in His hands the right to be "liked" or applauded. I give to Jesus the firstfruits of my given talents.

a lonely place

I worked the socially debilitating Friday-Monday stretch, and all I could do was anticipate a free evening. Now that it has arrived, my home is uncomfortably quiet. I don't understand: God has spoke to me in a profound splash this week, and everything should be wonderful. His presence has been a mighty comfort most every moment of my week. So why at bedtime do I feel this void? I know if I was at work, I'd be busy enough for all this to subside. What more can my spirit want?

He is no less present now than He has ever been, and yet it seems He allows these moments to stir my heart for longing. But I'm kind of sick of longing. What progress is in it? How much would He have me pray for her? It's emotionally exhausting, and yet my body cannot rest.

I just feel that I need to be honest here. In the big picture, nothing has changed. God is leading me into an apostolic work for His Bride, and I'm totally ready to follow in faith. It's good. But something -- some grace -- is lacking, and I know it whenever He allows me to recognize it.

I'm growing old and weary of waiting for you, and I know that you must be nothing short of amazing. I know that we will stir one another's fire for His call upon our lives and that we will never enjoy doing apart what we could be doing together. So whenever my grace arrives, so will a new joy. We will sing a new song before the Lord because of His goodness.

God, I need few reminders that this is your covenant with me, but if you must stoke the flame, remain with me this evening in a strong way.

scattered among us

This passage makes me mad. I don't disagree with Paul's assessment, but it makes me really angry:

But mark this: there will be terrible times in the last days. People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God -- having a form of godliness but denying its power. Have nothing to do with them

They are the kind who worm their way into homes and gain control over weak-willed women, who are loaded down with sins and are swayed by all kinds of evil desires, always learning but never able to acknowledge the truth. (2 Timothy 3:1-7)

Be aware.

Scripture says a lot about darkness, and warns us not to get caught up in the ways of the world. For many Christians, the easy thing to do is separate themselves completely from the world's activity. If our faith's goal is to protect ourselves from some contagious quality of sin, we should be able to fulfill our purpose by quarantining ourselves to Christian circles, right?

We forget that our enemy lurks there as well.

This warning to the young pastor is unique in that Paul describes a seed of Satan planted within the midst of Christian culture. This isn't the thick darkness that hides in back-alley workplaces, urban slums, or adult video stores. This could be the guy sitting next to you on Sunday morning. He could be an active member of your singles group. His voice may sound amazing in the worship band. He may offer an extensive commentary on this week's Sunday School topic.

Do you know the people that commune with you? You may or may not. The more piercing evaluation is this: does your local body allow these lovers of themselves to commune with you?

When I lived in St. Charles, I had a huge burden for a co-worker that had lost her faith in high school. She did the youth group thing and dated a youth group guy, as every good church girl should. The relationship eventually turned possessive and abusive, and he took advantage of her in ways that she still cannot express without shutting down in tears. A couple years later, he continued to stalk her as she went off to college, and she refused to cut off communication because of what he might do to her or himself (a common response from a victim).

One evening, the church boy got drunk at our open-mike night, carving slanderous and threatening comments about her all over the bathroom wall. She was deathly frightened, and was finally convinced by our coffee crew to erase him from her Facebook and get a restraining order.

The girl still cannot accept the existence of her God. The boy would still be openly accepted in the sanctuary of the megachurch they attended. Brothers and sisters, this is a dire problem. In a Moses moment of rage, I told my co-worker that I would "beat her ex's ass" if he ever returned to our shop. I'm about the least violent person you will ever meet, and I'm not prone to profanity. I had to seek forgiveness for my vengeance later. But I have no tolerance for self-serving, manipulative people worming their way into the Body.

Paul's suggestion is not popular in the church today. We want to be tolerant enough to help people through their problems. However, if we are to maintain the purity of His Bride, we must discern and recognize the wolves that have no intention to repent or seek consecration in their lives.

When we began our discipleship movement, we cautioned young believers from our experience: "Satan will bring you as many disciples as God." Within the first year, we booted three "believers" from our church according to the discipline process described in Matthew 18. Each of them slandered the church in the aftermath, while desperately trying to be reunited without repentance. They called the weakest members of our Body to raise dissension and gain a foot back in the door. Trust me Church, the enemy is relentless, and we must be on guard against his work in our fellowship.

This requires diligence in accountability and discernment with those worshiping among us. Thankfully, Jesus reminds us in John 15 that we can know those that abide in Him by their fruit. Scripture is full of warnings to the churches, asking them to avoid particular people because of their detriment to the Gospel. We cannot assume that the enemy is any less at work today.

heartbroken

In my line of work, most every child has a heartwrenching story. Sometimes, we spend so much time around kids that have been abused that we become desensitized to the stories.

This week, we received a young girl that had experienced more sexual and emotional trauma by age seven than I have ever seen. She's obviously got a mess going on inside her head, and we're certain to encounter her rough days, but the unprofessional human in me just wants to find a good family that can give her a God-sized hug and protect her from harm. I'd take her myself if I was married. I can read the charts and gain a vivid picture of how awful her life has been and how much of a handful she's become, but then I look at this girl just wanting to do normal 10-year-old things with a family that loves her, and I'm hurting inside.

I need God to intervene in a mighty way.

foolish, but alive and well

I have not been called to the wisdom of this world, but to a God that's calling out to me. And even though the world may think I'm losing touch with reality, it would be crazy to choose this world over eternity. -- Mercy Me

Boy, do I feel crazy sometimes.

I've had this "old" song being overplayed in my head for a couple weeks now, and it has served as a constant reminder of Paul's words in 1 Corinthians. I love the way he wrote that book. There's all of this loving rebuke about church practice, marriage, and love that Christians enjoy diving into on a Sunday morning, but Paul doesn't write any of this until he offers the church an uncomfortable context:

For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written:

"I will destroy the wisdom of the wise; the intelligence of the intelligent I will frustrate."

Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Were is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not know him, God was pleased through the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believe. Jews demand miraculous signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those whom God has called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength. (1 Cor. 1:18-25)

Can we agree that Paul meant his epistle to be read in that manner? I can hear him now: "I'm going to tell you a bunch of stuff that is going to sound crazy, and the establishment is not going to accept it. Not only can they not accept it, but the wise are going to become frustrated that they can't understand why you do these things. Do them anyway!

"Be fools, dissociate from immoral "believers," honor God with your body, seek the good of others without regard to your own freedom, treat the unpresentable gifts with greater honor, subject every gift to love, bear the likeness of one from heaven..."

What?

I cherry-picked a bit, but you may understand my point. Paul's teaching on the church contains all sorts of foolishness that we have neglected. We like to honor our presentable leaders...a lot. We enjoy the sensuality of our bodies (until we commit the "real" sin). We should be able to do the things God has given us freedom over -- those that struggle need to deal with it. We should "love" the immoral brother enough to tolerate the corruption of his heart and worship alongside him.

What a mess we've made in our wisdom! There is no distinguishable difference between these attitudes and the ways of the world. We defend our practices to the death, because giving them up would make us one of the crazies.

Yes, that is correct.

I didn't become crazy overnight. I didn't seek to be crazy. I did little more than follow God's plan for my life, and the crazy found me. I make the large majority of my churched friends uncomfortable, and the rest are becoming crazy with me. We have to answer to our families and friends as if we have a clue what God is doing. They ask for signs and look for numerical proof of our success. They try to reason our practices through the filter of the world. I've got absolutely nothing to give them. They're given the same two choices that I was: be frustrated with the cloud separating them from the Spirit, or leap down the rabbit hole with no feasible return.

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FAMILY AND FRIENDS: So you're moving to Missouri. Do you have a team you're working with, or have family out there?

ME: Nope. He told me to go.

THEM: That's neat. Where is your church located? [That's weird.]

ME: That's kind of difficult to answer.

THEM: Can I visit? [I wonder what goes on there.]

ME: I'm not going to say that you can't. But everyone that gathers is committed to being in discipleship, and it may not be the best way to understand what we do.

THEM: If you have no place and it's hard to visit, how do you get lost people to come? [Unbelievers will never want to come.]

ME: We're not trying to get lost people to come.

THEM: That doesn't make sense. [That's not how we do things.]

ME: We don't feel that it makes sense to worship with people who don't know the God they're worshiping. We find communion in the Spirit when believers are of one heart and mind. I think using our gathering time as an evangelistic tool makes us unevenly yoked and divides God's interests with the world's.

THEM: If you're not bringing them to church with you, how does anyone get saved? [I love that our pastor brings people to Jesus.]

ME: We go to them and try to meet their spiritual needs.

THEM: I don't understand. [Is this some kind of cult?]

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After facing some rejection back in my home state, I was placed in a spiritual funk. Being crazy didn't seem worth it, and most of my friends stopped asking to hang out. But trying to reconcile my sanity with my ruined state has been impossible. When God transforms and the Spirit of God is present in your life, you have no choice but to cling to the foolishness of the Gospel.

This past month of obedient living has been the most alive I've felt since leaving St. Louis. It hasn't been void of doubts and fears, but there is rest and peace when the Spirit is working in me and through me. Every conversation seems to raise my spiritual antennae, and God is bringing people in my life that desire to be set apart. I'm thankful that He is providing a remnant to support me in my lonely place. I know that I cannot rely on mankind to be my inheritance, but I am sincerely blessed when God allows me to share in His work with others that are of great comfort and encouragement.

This is only the beginning, and acting in obedience will only get crazier. I spent my entire life gaining the world, only to lose it, so that I might walk in the foolishness I enjoyed as a child.

He's wanted me here all along.

We have not received the spirit of the world but the Spirit who is from God, that we may understand what God has freely given us. This is what we speak, not in words taught us by human wisdom but in words taught by the Spirit, expressing truths in spiritual words. The man without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him, and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually discerned. (1 Cor. 2:12-14)

finding God in the mundane

"Let the seeking man reach a place where life and lips join to say continually, 'Be thou exalted,' and a thousand minor problems will be solved at once. His Christian life ceases to be the complicated thing it had been before and becomes the very essence of simplicity." A.W. Tozer -- The Pursuit of God

In the fall of 2003, I had no idea what I was doing. After finishing my undergrad, I had served as a youth ministry intern at a local church, only to be turned off by the office politics. The purity of my heart for ministry was gone, and I wasn't sure that it could be fixed. The "profession" was irreparably tainted, my dream job had since been removed from the table, and I was working on a master's degree that seemingly had no further purpose. All of my friends were getting married, and even if I did want to work for a church again, every head pastor was looking for a married couple. Stuck managing the coffeehouse outside my once beloved campus, I felt completely void of purpose at a very young age.

I was scheduled to attend a 3-day seminar on spiritual formation for my graduate work, and received the appropriate time off of work to accommodate. I woke to a gloomy November downpour, packed up my laptop and textbooks, and headed towards Bethel.

Running about ten minutes ahead of schedule, I decided to stop at the coffeehouse to make myself a fruit smoothie. I would stay out of everyone's way -- I planned to enter through the backdoor, use the blender, stick some money on the counter, and head to class. It didn't work out that way.

Immediately upon arrival, I was hammered with a laundry list of meaningless responsibilities. My co-worker wasn't used to working mornings, so the line was backed up when elderly customers had to express what they wanted from the menu. The cash register had came up short from the night before, and we were running low on products before the order arrived. The order arrived while I was present, and I was roped into making sure that everything was kosher. When I was done attending to consumer needs and employee insufficiencies, I made my mango smoothie and headed to class fifteen minutes late.

There are few things I hate more than being late to a structured event; my dad was embarrassingly early to everything I ever did as a child, and I caught his anxiety. I walked into class expecting the stares of every other student and the disdain of our visiting professor.

The teacher was on faculty at Asbury, and was finishing prayer as I entered. I took a seat and he informed us that much of our seminar would be in practice of spiritual formation. We immediately began an exercise of sharing how God ministered to us in the little things.

Still angry and flustered, I paid half-attention to the first couple testimonies: something about what God was doing in marriage or finance or employment. I clearly had nothing to share.

One of the women in our class -- Lisa was her name -- worked successfully as an assistant at a law firm and took the ministry classes purely to learn. She began describing the stress of the office environment, and how the only way she could relieve the stress was to get away for a while. She explained that she had found refuge in attending our humble coffeehouse for lunch, and that she was always blessed by the kindness and servant attitude of its employees. She looked at me personally and said, "Thank you."

Tears began welling up in my eyes. For all the seeming lack of appreciation I received at my church for "doing my job," God allowed me the grace to unknowingly minister to a grateful lay person who found her only refuge in my mundane tasks. Choked up, I shared with the class how little I wanted to be there that morning, how nothing was going how I had planned. The teacher prompted a few men to lay hands on me in prayer, and we "practiced" our first lesson in spiritual formation.

The class ended up being amazing, but more importantly, God gave me fresh perspective on what I deemed as ministry. The service industry provided me an opportunity to live as light to those in perpetual darkness; in the big picture, it was essential for me to understand that God is present and active at all times. Our plans regularly fail us and the little things pile up, but God desires our entirety to demonstrate His Glory. When we become aware of His presence in our everyday tasks, we can respond to the Spirit's promptings in exciting and unexpected ways.

replacing the veil that Christ removed

If not to re-establish the intimate communion with our loving Creator, then why did our Father go through such extreme measures to remove the veil?

When Moses came down from Mount Sinai with the two tablets of the Testimony in his hands, he was not aware that his face was radiant because he had spoken with the Lord. When Aaron and all the Israelites saw Moses, his face was radiant, and they were afraid to come near him. But Moses called to them; so Aaron and all the leaders of the community came back to him, and he spoke to them. Afterward all the Israelites came near him, and he gave them all the commands the Lord had given him on Mount Sinai.

When Moses finished speaking to them, he put a veil over his face. But whenever he entered the Lord's presence to speak with him, he removed the veil until he came out. And when he came out and told the Israelites what he had commanded, they saw that his face was radiant. Then Moses would put the veil back over his face until he went in to speak with the Lord. (Exodus 34:29-35)

This is one of those passages that drives me to anger. Perhaps it is unfair to cast judgment upon a group of people that regularly demonstrated ignorance towards their God, and maybe I'm being naive here, but why wouldn't I want to see every ounce of His Glory that He allows?

This measure was a response to fear. They were afraid of what they had never seen. They were afraid to catch a glimpse of the supernatural. They worshiped before a cloud of smoke while Moses and Joshua entered the tent to meet with God personally. They made a god with their own hands -- they had no inhibitions about dancing in its presence.

How grieved God must have been! He delivered His people and called them His own. He made a covenant with them and promised to bless. He provided food from the ground and water from a rock.

God is far beyond our physical understanding of time, but how much jealousy engulfed Him as generations of His people turned to other gods and asked for a king -- to be like other nations? All God has ever desired was to father and protect a people that were set apart. This remnant would know His Glory and worship His mighty works and great love. They would stand as a beacon of light to other nations that did not serve their Creator. And they couldn't even look Moses in the face.

His desire has not changed. God wants us personally. He would prefer that none of us go astray. But He wants to be chosen. He wants to be worshiped in our obedience. Rather than keep His Son on earth for eternity, He longs for His people to demonstrate His Glory. He wants to ask the enemy if he has considered His servants and their blameless testimony of His grace.

He sent Jesus to remove the veil.

Therefore, since we have such a hope, we are very bold. We are not like Moses, who would put a veil over his face to keep the Israelites from gazing at it while the radiance was fading away. But their minds were made dull, for to this day the same veil remains when the old covenant is read. It has not been removed, because only in Christ is it taken away. Even to this day when Moses is read, a veil covers their heart. But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we, who with unveiled faced all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit. (2 Corinthians 3:7-18)

If y'all wonder why I get so frustrated with Christianity's fixation with men, look no further than God's intent with the cross. So many are satisfied with their salvation, and while I am sure the Lord is grateful for an eternity with His children, how can He not be grieved when so many deny themselves the opportunity to turn to Him today? There is freedom to be claimed, glory to be reflected, and transformation to occur!

The greatest privilege God has ever granted His people was the opportunity to live as Christ among an unbelieving world. And we would choose to replace the veil and wait to read or absorb what somebody else has heard from the Lord? No! I will seek Him with all my heart. I will follow Him until I am given my heavenly body. I will worship Him through consecrating my life, through fulfilling the sanctity of His marriage covenant, through living as an ambassador of grace to the lost, through leading others to a personal understanding of His mysteries, through meeting the deepest needs of my community.

I'm tired of hiding a radiant face. I'm sick of pretending that God is elusive or distant. I want to share the audacity of Moses: to request as much of the Lord as He will allow in my life. I want His presence to overwhelming, that others might know that He is pleased with His child and has set me apart for a noble purpose.

What good is it to be ruined and yet lying in pieces? What do I gain by hearing from the Lord and wallowing in my fear? I welcome the design that He would construct, and pray that my life would be an honorable sacrifice.

fruit of the _________?

One summer late in elementary school, I attended my church's VBS and memorized the "fruit of the Spirit" from Galatians 5. We were taught a song about them, which provided as effective a mnemonic as my musical brain needed. For close to twenty years, I've had the fruit rattling in my brain, ready to recite to anyone that may inquire:

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. (Galatians 5:22-23a)

I recall evaluating myself according to the list: "I'm pretty good with love and faithfulness, and above the curve with self-control...patience -- ugh." I approached the fruit as a discipline; if only I could will myself to experience joy, it would be a habit within time.

This was tough enough, but I found an even greater struggle with the accompanying "bad list":

The acts of the sinful nature are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.

I doubt my experience is unique. Most of us were introduced to a Christian lifestyle of making good choices and limiting the bad ones. By this measure, I sucked as a Christian. I couldn't will myself to produce the fruit, even with my best effort, and too often my life was plagued by the bad list.

A few years ago, a respected brother was asked to speak at our district youth camp. He encouraged the kids to bulk up their spiritual muscles, cast away their fear, and return to the world as extreme "warriors for Christ." Naturally, many campers were moved by the sermon and responded with quick, but genuine commitments. I approached the speaker afterwards and asked how the campers would make such a leap. I had the unique perspective of having seen the same teens make the same stand when motivated by other highly-skilled speakers.

These stories correlate because I would have been the kid that couldn't hold it together between the mountaintop experiences. I was properly inspired and knowledgeable of scripture, yet still was a total screw-up. The majority of my peers faced the same discouragement, so I came to the conclusion that Christianity was little more than a wishful philosophy. Satan would always tempt me with the bad list, and Jesus would appreciate my best effort with the fruit.

In my evangelical upbringing, I rarely heard about the Holy Spirit. When He was discussed, the Spirit was described as the conscience in my head, sort of like a mental WWJD bracelet. When temptation came into conflict with my knowledge of what was right, the Holy Spirit would hound me until I made a good decision.

So why did I keep making poor choices?

Shortly after college, I began studying scripture for myself, and committed to slowly meditate on Paul's writings. I hadn't yet found freedom over my sin, but I stumbled across passage after passage describing the characteristics of those filled with the Spirit. I began to pray for His help, even though I didn't know what I was asking.

The first change occurred in my human interactions. God started giving me a "sixth sense" for the spiritual climate: in particular, the motives of man. I hated it. I felt judgmental and didn't know what to do with it. I maintained my distance from other believers because of what I felt I "knew" about them, and became alarmed when my intuition was repeatedly verified.

Corporate meeting times became equally frustrating. I received discernment on what He was wanting to accomplish, and experienced grief when opportunities were missed. I felt like a fool in trying to describe these promptings, and feared sharing them with others. But I also learned that they could be trusted.

Over the next few years, it became obvious that my life had changed. I couldn't describe it as a response to a major event or pinpoint when it began. Others began describing the fruit they saw in me, and co-workers were bewildered by what they described as a supernatural restraint towards immorality. I longed to communicate that this Spirit was present in all who believe, but it was easier for them to attribute my transformation to something I had accomplished.

When we lack the context of the "good and bad lists," we draw the same false conclusion that Paul was arguing against in Galatians. Because our flesh and the Spirit are naturally at conflict, holy living is less about willing ourselves away from destructive behavior and more about living according to a Spirit with the authority to set us free! Being a "warrior" without the Spirit is inherently doomed to fail, as the Law has always condemned us to death. Ephesians 6:17 reminds us of the one offensive weapon we are given to fight the enemy's schemes. His Spirit is more than sufficient.

We would all do well to equip what our Jesus has given us. "By faith we eagerly await through the Spirit the righteousness for which we hope." (Galatians 5:5)

So I say, live by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the sinful nature. For the sinful nature desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the sinful nature. They are in conflict with each other, so that you do not do what you want. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under law.

The acts of the sinful nature are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires.Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. (Galatians 5:16-25, emphasis added)

when God isn't fair

How simple life would be if justice for me was justice for you. I'd like to think that God should work this way -- He should play by the same rules with every man and woman. And at the risk of sounding like the youngest child that I am, there is little that seems fair about God's justice.

If only I had a clue. I stew about like one of Job's buddies, convincing myself how God should operate. In reality, I am reasoning what life would be like if I was God. The law could suit my desires. The unrighteous would receive what's coming to them. Abusers would never be able to conceive. Authoritarians would never be given the position to lead. Everything would be right if God saw the world the way I do.

My pride so easily succumbs to a false charge of injustice. Men disrespect their wives and children are scarred by selfish parenting. God won't even grant me the opportunity to prove how good I am. I could be the prime model of the Christian husband and father if given the chance. He's clearly not paying attention.

You see, God has given me a prerequisite -- one I've often tried to dismiss -- and I'm supposed to trust that it shouldn't matter that He hasn't given the same command to others:

Almost four years ago, I sat with my discipler and informed him that I wanted to commit to a life of singlehood, and all I needed was for God to remove the desire to marry. I believe that my heart was sincere and genuinely submissive; I was ready to be content with God alone.

Terry looked at me with all the concern of a loving parent and explained that God wasn't going to take that from me. He reasoned how contradictory it would be for God to remove the physical representation of His covenant from one that spiritually expresses himself through a romantic heart.

I couldn't argue with the logic, but this did nothing to provide an explanation for why God would have me wait. If He acknowledges that my flooding heart is good, then why waste a moment in sharing it?

The second answer was harder to swallow: "God is not going to allow you to lead her until you accept His call to lead the church. She's going to be a strong woman, and she will need a man that is willing to be stronger in leading, serving, and protecting her."

My initial conclusion was that this was total B.S. I had long since decided that I would marry some tame, soft-spoken, meek woman of God that would gladly pass on the chance to lead and hang on my word. I mean, opposites attract...right?

Except when they don't. I had to recollect the excruciating history of ex-girlfriends to discover that every one of them was as crazy reckless as I am. What the hell's the matter with me? Shouldn't I be able to logically determine the appropriate characteristics of my own wife? If some 20-year-old kid can figure this stuff out, why is it such a mystery to me?

I had to consider: what if Terry is right? What if the continual suppression of my spiritual gifts disqualifies me from His most amazing blessing? What if she needs this from me? What if she's confident, stubborn, and dangerously romantic and needs the guy who can love and guard that heart all at once? What if we both need a partner that can keep up with everything God is doing?

Terry's words scare the crap out of me. It's a tough expectation for me to step away from my fear. Would God be so cruel to present me an ultimatum? I know that I'm looking at it all wrong...would my Father be so good as to tie this awesome blessing to one faithful act?

If so, God must be as anxious as I am. While I stare in the mirror and convince myself that I can't, my Father comforts me with the truth: "I AM." It's no longer an argument of what is fair or just, or even whether I am fit to lead. The intimate act He craves is for me to allow the demonstration of His glory through my weakness.

are you REALLY ready for God's love?

I know that we're fine with the world's love. We love the kind of love that places us in control, where we can receive the joy and security of being thought of by another, but own the leverage to say when we've had enough. I've always thought that the worst kind of relationships were those when someone was more blessed by their beloved than their beloved was by them. It puts the one with more invested on the ropes, and nobody would choose to be subject to someone holding the upper hand -- not unless they felt they deserved it.

The 21st century does not appreciate neediness. The most unattractive people to the world are those that infringe upon our independence. We want to be loved by another, but not in a jealous way. We want to be loved by another, but not exclusively. We want to be loved by another, but have the freedom to divide our own loyalties among many options. We want our space!

When we take such a view of love, our real problem isn't with one another, though I find this rejection of God's intent for "one flesh" to be the primary catalyst for divorce. Our greater conflict is with the Creator of love Himself. Like it or not, our God is one that loves us jealously, exclusively, and expects our full loyalty in return. When we sneak around His love to establish other options (idols), He gets angry like the husband who wonders why his wife is still exchanging e-mails with her ex. When we run from Him, He comes chasing after us with the recklessness of one who cannot afford life without us.

Are you ready for His jealous love? Are you ready for God to own your heart? These are the same question.

I love the book of Hosea. I love that God comes across a little bipolar, because pure love can make our heart do crazy things. I love that He offers His beloved free will, but waits to pounce on the first indication that His love is reciprocated. Pure love will not be attractive unless you know that you desperately need your Beloved like he desires you. When this is understood, all measure of worldly restraint is out the window.

You should ask yourself, "Am I ready for this love?"

"Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her. There I will give her back her vineyards, and will make the valley of Achor a door of hope. There she will sing as in the days of her youth, as in the day she came up out of Egypt. In that day," declares the Lord, "you will call me 'my husband'; you will no longer call me 'my master.'" (Hosea 3:14-16)

When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son. But the more I called Israel, the further they went from me. They sacrificed to the Baals and they burned incense to images. It was I who taught Ephraim to walk, taking them by the arms; but they did not realize it was I who healed them. I led them with cords of human kindness, with ties of love; I lifted the yoke from their neck and bent down to feed them...How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, Israel? How can I treat you like Admah? How can I make you like Zeboiim? My heart is changed within me; all my compassion is aroused. (Hosea 11:1-4,8)

But I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt. You shall acknowledge no God but me, no Savior except me. I cared for you in the desert, in the land of burning heat. When I fed them, they were satisfied; when they were satisfied, they became proud; then they forgot me. So I will come upon them like a lion, like a leopard I will lurk by the path. Like a bear robbed of her cubs, I will attack and devour them; a wild animal will tear them apart. (Hosea 13:4-8)

Return, O Israel, to the Lord your God. Your sins have been your downfall! Take words with you and return to the Lord. Say to him: "Forgive all our sins and receive us graciously, that we may offer the fruit of our lips. Assyria cannot save us; we will not mount war-horses. We will never again say 'Our gods' to what our own hands have made, for in you the fatherless find compassion." I will heal their waywardness and love them freely, for my anger has turned away from them. (Hosea 14:1-4)

when church happens

Last night, Byron arranged for the two of us to meet with Jon and Mark for supper, primarily to discuss God's prompting on their heart to leave their ministry credibility behind and start house churches. We ate a wonderful meal that Jon's wife prepared and settled to the living room.

These are my favorite moments. While I have been wrestling with God's anointing to lead for some time, I know that the Spirit has empowered me to reveal God's purposes to those that are hungry and seeking, and to see the "ripeness" of these two men to hear the word of God fueled my fire for obedience. And isn't it always like that with His gifts and purposes for our lives? We feel completely inadequate because we perceive the task through our own weakness, but when we are filled with the Spirit there is nothing else we'd rather do than His work.

I shared that being a "house church" wasn't the point; that there are many house churches that cling to the same idolatry of the world that the established church has. The point is allowing Him to build His Body around sacrifices that serve Him: the consecration of His people, the appropriate use of His resources for going and meeting the needs of the broken, and engaging in a pure worship offered in the joy of His presence rather than for self-promotion or demonstrating talents.

I've been honest with the last two church starts that I've been a part of: God hasn't wired me to find my joy in the week-to-week operations of the Body, lest I cling to the community and resist being used to start new works. He has allowed me to receive my blessings through the difficult and sometimes lonely ministry He has given me: to call His people out of retreat and into spiritual holiness. Outside of my personal time with Him, this is the only ministry through which He has allowed me to experience an overwhelming joy.

I could sit around coveting the fulfillment that most would receive through their local community, but I would be denying His anointing, and any fulfillment received otherwise would only be in meeting the needs of my flesh. The corner that I need to turn is perseverance; I need to find my rest in Him alone, and stop reaching out to the products that fulfill the world to hold me over. When I see Him on the move, I thirst for His Spirit, and if I would stop grieving the Spirit by rejecting His anointing, I would never go dry...I would never be alone.

Church happens when the interaction and sacrifice of believers speaks of the Lord's fame and glory. Oh how amazing it would be, to present His Bride to the world and speak solely of the wondrous mysteries of Christ!

grieving the loss of purity

I do not suppose it makes much sense to grieve the loss of my wife's sexual purity before we meet, but I find myself doing just that. My flesh would love to cling to an arrogant pride that says I deserve a virgin bride, but I cannot be naive. The older I get, the greater an anomaly it becomes; the greater the anomaly, the more selective we all become.

Thankfully, God has worked on my heart in this area, and has taught me much about redemption and what it means to be pure. That is to say, if He determines that a righteous woman is redeemed from her sexual past, I would be a fool to deny a gift He has granted. I must trust that God can establish a holy union of trust and security within His anointed relationship, regardless of the past that either of us bring to the table.

But if my heart is honest, I cannot deny that a difficulty remains. The women I have dated with a sexual past have not been interested in rehashing painful events for the sake of healing, and my passion for redemption will always call for that. For me, there is no experience beyond His grace, but I do expect that God would heal us to the extent that we would live as a testimony of such, rather than pushing our core pain to the depths for the enemy to use for condemnation at the least opportune moment. And I expect nothing less of the redemption of my own sin.

This is why I grieve. While I acknowledge the potential for my Father to be so good as to bless me with a virgin bride, I must allow for the statistical likelihood that we will face the greater challenge, even while I will feel inadequate to identify. And I know that I will recklessly address her pain, because I know it is better to demonstrate His glory and grace than to hide in shame. Leaving such a difficult choice in her hands will be excruciatingly vulnerable, because I will knowingly be leading her into discomfort. If she rejects my loving intent, we are certain to marry into insecurity. If she accepts the narrow path, I must watch her dive into the pain. Am I prepared to be the man that He requires and place the fragile wounds on the altar?

It seems so unnecessary. If abstinence was understood as an act of worship towards a personal God, I am convinced that men and women would purpose chastity in their hearts. But because sexual purity is presented as an uncommon expectation of a lawful and distant Father, we are too willing to miss the loving act of protection in His word. So much grief could be avoided without the complications of premarital sex, but I only seem to hear the lessons of those who did not wait and regret it. Perhaps I should be bolder about my virginity, but I fear casting guilt upon the redeemed who have worked beyond their mistakes. This is why I find healing so necessary: if our pasts could be communicated as a testimony of His grace, we could engage in honest discussion without fearing an undeserving shame.

I'm not sure what I can do the next time around, but I know that I need His wisdom. As much as I grieve for my own suspected loss, I shed more tears for the men and women that struggle to find the forgiveness that disarms Satan's lies.

still fighting my credibility

This passage has drawn a lot of my attention this week:

As you come to him, the living Stone -- rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him -- you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For in Scripture it says:

"See, I lay a stone in Zion, a chosen and precious cornerstone, and the one who trusts him will never be put to shame."

Now to you who believe, this stone is precious. But to those who do not believe,

"The stone the builders rejected has become the capstone,"

and,

"A stone that causes men to stumble and a rock that makes them fall."

They stumble because they disobey the message -- which is also what they were destined for.

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness and into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.

Dear friends, I urge you, as aliens and strangers in the world, to abstain from sinful desires, which war against your soul. Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us. (1 Peter 2:4-12)

I try to wrap my mind around this term "holy priesthood," wanting to understand what else God would desire of my heart. I think of the awesome description of the holy priesthood described in Ezekiel 44:15-31, and while I love to claim this as my goal, I keep bumping into that one thing that prevents me from living completely set apart for my Lord. My struggle continues to be with my credibility.

I have a co-worker that has walked the less traveled road, and she's the butt of a lot of jokes behind her back. While I don't necessarily agree with all of the measures she has taken, I've come to realize that she's never concerned herself with being credible among her peers. She's a 40-year-old woman that still lives with her parents, her entertainment interests are off-beat, her social interactions are awkward, and she has recently become engaged to a man that will be blessed with the gift that she has never given herself to another man.

It occurred to me that it doesn't bother her in the least to be different. Maybe she's become so used to being the outsider that it's a comfortable place, but I have recently become greatly convicted by how I have treated her in my own heart. God has also allowed me to recognize another slice of pride in my life.

You see, I have no problem admitting my sexual purity, my disinterest with technology or entertainment, or my reasons for abstaining from other common acts with other believers. If anything, the church's seeming disinterest with being set apart from the world only makes me feel comparably more holy.

But God is not interested in comparisons, nor is He interested in demonstrating His glory to those that have acquired as much of God as they care to receive. He desires to manifest His glory to the lost, so that they may recognize their sin and come to honor Him with holy lives. When I straddle my faith for the sake of credibility, becoming "Radical" Anthony for the complacent believer and "Cool-in-the-know" Anthony for the lost, I sacrifice the holiness that He desires to demonstrate as the standard.

This is the trap: we think that the lost will not recognize our faith without identifying on some pop culture or social level -- in reality, what we communicate is that they can come to Christ and sacrifice none of the common things in their life. Clearly, if the common things are our bridge to credibility among the lost, we cannot with confidence express that the lost should place Him before these things.

I have come to realize that it is a much better thing to be rejected in holiness than accepted in my camaraderie. No testimony speaks louder than from the man who denies himself of common rights for the sake of a purer life. This isn't about a legalistic approach to following God. This is about a willingness to express to God through my life that the filler isn't necessary. Outside of my love for God and the overflowing love for mankind, everything else is worthless. I need to stop justifying the "usefulness" of common things, and begin pursuing Him without regard for who notices.

They are to teach my people the difference between the holy and the common and show them how to distinguish between the unclean and the clean...I am to be the only inheritance the priests have. You are to give them no possession in Israel; I will be their possession. (Ezekiel 44:23,28)

something short of holy

Our camp director used to share a variation of this parable:

Some kids from down south were traveling towards Michigan on a school trip. None of them had known the pleasure of snow before, and were eagerly anticipating the chance to ski, skate, and drill one another with perfectly formed snowballs. The bus driver, who had been to the destination, was excited on account of the kids, understanding how much of a blast they were about to have.

As the bus traveled into northern Tennessee, a few kids looked out the window and caught a glimpse of some snow off the side of the road. "Stop and let us play in the snow!" they screamed. The bus driver tried to explain that the roadside snow was dirty and undesirable, but the kids kept insisting he stop. The bus driver said, "Okay, those who want to get out can, but you are delaying the trip." A number of kids exited the bus and covered one another with the roadside snow. When they returned, they fell asleep on the bus, satisfied that the trip had been a success.

Hours later, the bus passed through Indianapolis, and some of the kids that were still awake marveled at the clumpy drifts forming in the cornfields. Some of them exclaimed, "Stop and let us play in the snow!" Again the bus driver recommended that they wait just a few more hours, and that any detour would delay the real destination. Still, many of the children insisted on stopping, and the driver let them out to jump around in the empty fields. They also returned after their interest was satisfied and promptly fell asleep.

Only a few kids were still awake as the driver rolled into Michigan, jaws dropping to the floor in wonder of the fresh blankets of snow that covered the hilly terrain. The lakes were frozen solid with thick sheets of crystal clear ice, and they could see a myriad of locals building snowmen and creating snow angels. The bus driver cheerfully announced their arrival at the winter resort, but sadly only a handful of children were interested; the others had already "seen" snow. The few that had waited patiently exited to a wonderland of snowy fun that kept them occupied for hours.

On the ride home, each child called their parents to tell them how fantastic their trip was, and how they had experienced the best of winter there was to offer, regardless of which point the child had exited to play in the snow. Each child was fully convinced that it couldn't get any better.

How do you respond when God promises you His best? Do you accept something slightly less than holy and convince yourself you've received the real deal, or do you wait for His perfect approval? Do you fudge your own desires into the journey for His destination, or do you keep the path clear of distractions? What wonderful things does God want for your life, and are you committed to accepting His perfect blessing even if you've already played in the dirty snow? Are you worth enough for His best?

being found (and being sent)

The early morning sunrise would be more magnificent were I not sleep-deprived and intent on calling it a night. The humid air rests peacefully for a change, hours ahead of the looming sweatfest of the Hoosier summer day. This is the finest hour: dew cooling the thirsty grass beneath a faint cover of fog, dividing pinks from blues.

I have witnessed the authority of my Lord in the casting of demons. I have known the joy of Christ in the laughter of a child. I have felt the presence of His Spirit on my knees in worship. However, this demonstration leaves the Fatherly impression of being safe, as if He and I are the only ones awake, and He's assuring me, "I've got this."

I am wonderfully relieved. The heaviness of my spiritual responsibility is weighted only by my fear -- my fear is founded through my underappreciation of His personal interest. How could I be so dull? Why would I presume to care more about the burden on my heart than the One who placed it there, as if the lost are not infinitely more important to Him? Do I think He would allow me to screw up His plans?

Driving with Him in the quiet of the morning is easy, and I could become easily content with just the two of us. But soon the world will wake -- they will look to meet their fleshly desires, and I know I will lack the stomach for it. And I must cry out and interrupt this current rest to offer my God to the world. Certainly, He belongs to me no more than He belongs to anything. But I belong to Him, and He asks me to share His grace. We must place a blissful retreat on the backseat, for He must make Himself known.

Through the pinks and the blues,
Through the fog and the dew,
Through the redemption of you,
He will do just that.

cramming the big picture into small frames

Specifics are fantastic -- specifics are necessary. Specifics are the details to God's Church that translate our big ball of theology into actual practice. They are the youth worker having an afternoon heart to heart with a disconnected 15-year-old. They are the college student giving a little of her weekend to serve the poor in the city. They are the husband and wife visiting the elderly woman next door to make sure everything in her home is functioning properly.

Specifics are not just important, they are observed. Through specifics, His Church is given its face. We've all read the books: we need more specifics. We understand that our faith and theology are rendered useless to the world without the church engaging in more specifics. I would venture to say, 95% of Christ's followers are either passionate about a specific or are searching to find what specifically they should be passionate about, and most of them would not be worse for it.

Nothing renders Anthony Marks more useless than becoming tangled with specifics.

Let's recount the past ten years and assess the situation: I've been a youth pastor, a church planter, a camp director, an educator, a mental health worker, and a store manager (both retail and food service). I've been passionate about churched kids, ending domestic abuse, sexual purity, spiritual freedom, worship, drama, urban restoration, Christian-owned businesses, and a smidgen of politics (even while disregarding it). At each stop, I've convinced myself that I could make a life of that sort of ministry, with that particular passion and call.

Thankfully I have spiritually wise and discerning men around me that are willing to reiterate the message I need to hear:

"Knock it off!!!"

My mistake is based out of a common sin: I want to be like everyone else.

I don't get to be. I will never be able to be. His Church suffers when I am. The quicker I accept that God has placed a greater anointing on my life, the quicker my life will bear fruit -- and I will experience the joy of serving. It seems like a simple enough contract between God and I: He gives me the call to lead, He empowers me to live within that call, and I walk in obedience.

He's made good on His end of the transaction.

I've been scared to obey because I might screw up. When God lays the big picture on my heart, it's easier to digest if I chop it up and chat about specifics. I can become "Chameleon Christian" and absorb the passion of the person sitting across from me. If they care about youth, I can care about youth. If they want to feed the poor, I can help feed the poor.

It requires the confidence of the Spirit to deliver the unabridged message He has deliberately placed on my heart: "Your passion is a small part of something SOOOOO much greater, and I'm going to tell you about it!!!"

And then I would allow God to speak like a rushing fire hose. People would hear of His never-ending pursuit of a holy people, set apart for only His purposes. They would hear of the eternal declaration of His Glory -- how He must be glorified. They would hear about His decision to include us in the grand scheme of redemption, to reconcile the broken and sick of the world to Him. They would hear about the church's one function: to serve as an earthly representation of this Christ that must be glorified, that all may know and acknowledge Him as King!

Everything else is details! All the specifics that people write incessantly about are discredited outside of the big picture. Within the big picture, God would have the everyman represent Him through the details, but specifics are nothing but works outside of the holy life! If we have the audacity to make our passion the big picture, we essentially offer the lost an incomplete Gospel, which is no Gospel at all!

I would share all these things if I were walking in obedience...