Hang On Little Buddy

As I left the store today, I saw something hanging beneath the bottom of my side-mirror and for a moment, thought someone had stuck gum on my precious bug! I could feel myself begin to boil at the thought . . .

However, as I approached the car, I flipped my head upside-down to get a better look and saw this teeny snail, hanging on for dear life. (I'm sure there were a few people cracking blonde jokes at the sight of me). I wasn't too sure what to do with him, so I decided to leave him to meet his fate.

As I drove home on the freeway at a fairly good clip, I found myself praying for the little guy. I was elated when I pulled in the driveway and he was still clinging. Amazing!

Which got me to thinking about how hard I cling to the Lord.

Yikes.

Reality is, this past year has shown me how shaky my walk with the Lord can be. Sometimes I was amazed at the strength He gave me. Walking through Don's heart attack, surgery and recovery, I was filled with a deep peace and was so aware of His presence.

But then there are days when I find myself "losing it" and yelling at the dog, the cat, and various inanimate objects for the stupidest reasons. (And I don't even own a cat).

They say you can judge the size of a person by the size of the things that make them mad. Well, I don't see that in my own life. Besides, I know my true size —I joined weight watchers last week and became sorrowfully aware.

No, much like my weight, the size of my Christian character can fluctuate madly.

It appears that the Lord gives me an extra measure of grace when I am called to walk through fire, but when it comes to something silly—like thinking someone stuck gum to my car—I believe my off-the-chart, emotional reaction relates more to the size of my morning devotional than to the size of me. How much time I have spent at His feet, getting a fresh filling of the Holy Spirit and yielding myself to Him before starting my day is what makes all the difference in how I react to the bumps along the way.

Anyhow, these are the random thoughts that came to me as I hung my head upside down, snapping a few shots of my tenacious, tiny friend.

Is it just me? Or do you too struggle with being a bit of a flake . . . or even a fake? As I write this, I am repenting and filled with complete awe that the Lord chooses to use me in all of my imperfection.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, it's okay. Life's a bumpy journey and none of us are "there" yet. We're just cruising down the highway of life, clinging to the Lord for dear life.

Just Hang on Little Buddy. Just hang on.

Best Seller or Insomnia Cure?

Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God. Hebrews 12:2 (KJV)

I love a great story. Don’t you? Personally I prefer autobiographies or biographies. Full of truth, grit and the kind of grime only found in a life well lived. This requires two things: someone who has actually lived an amazing life, and an author who can convey all the action and details without adding or taking away from the truth.

Sometimes I wonder how my life would read. Would people get past the first chapter? Or would they toss my story unfinished in a goodwill box, having found it lacking any character development or significant conflict.

It’s a tough question to ask, but a relevant one. How are our lives unfolding? Are we living brave, exciting lives or are we boring our readers to sleep? A few years ago I know that my life was quickly becoming an insomnia remedy and decided to shake up the story line. The first thing I did was sit down with the author of my faith. It made good editorial sense.

“Lord, I really don’t think we are doing a good job at captivating people by my story. I mean, it’s a well written, safe book, and I know my name is written down in the great library of heaven, but beyond that, it’s a bit of a snoozer. Definitely not shaping up to be a best seller . . .”

Now here’s the thing, my author is famous for writing the biggest, most successful book ever. Once he saw me on my knees, willing to accept any and all twists to the plot, he did not disappoint.

Who is the author of your faith? Are you allowing Him to write and take your story wherever He thinks it should go? Or are you holding tight to the synopsis you planned out for yourself twenty years ago? Tear it up. Let Him develop you into the character He wants. Live your best story.

Spooky Judgments

Living on the cold, Canadian prairie meant that my four-year-old daughter’s Halloween costume had to fit over her big, puffy snowsuit. We found an adorable clown outfit which worked well with the large rainbow afro wig that was her favorite dress up item and headed out the door.

We weren’t out for very long as she didn’t embrace the concept of knocking on strangers’ doors and taking candy – the two very things we had trained her to never do. Back in the warmth of our kitchen, we sat at the table, sorting through her goodies. She was unusually quiet.

“Mommy,” she said, finally breaking the silence, “If Jesus was born to give us Christmas, and died for Easter, what did He do to give us Halloween?”

Wow. Seriously?

“Um, no, this isn’t a Jesus holiday . . .”

Pushing the candy towards me, she got up from the table, “Yeah, I thought it was the Devil’s thing – I don’t want to do it anymore.”

And that was that.

I had grown up in a Christian home and would go trick-or-treating with our pastor’s daughter every year. It had never been an issue to me. But, now my own daughter – at the age of four – felt convicted and didn’t want to participate.

How could I argue? So for our family, we stopped trick-or-treating, but struggled for years on whether or not to still hand out candies. Some years we did, other years we withheld. Our church held alternatives and some times we would attend, other years we stayed home. We would ‘feel’ our way through prayer every year and act accordingly. When we do pass out goodies, we try to stick Bible verses on each candy or include a Christian tract – when else do we have our neighbours come knocking on our doors? Best to take advantage!

Paul said in 1 Corinthians 9:22, “To the weak I became weak, that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some.”

I don’t judge friends and family who choose to participate in Halloween; everyone needs to be true to their own convictions. We have noticed however, that the last ten years or so the merchandising and commercialism of the holiday has taken off big time. Celebrating Halloween for our family is definitely a no-no. We do not hang up decorations or promote ‘spooky’ haunted houses. As Christians, we are fully aware of the spiritual realm and it is not to be taken lightly.

Just remember that non-believers are watching and being divisive or judgmental is not going to win anyone to Christ.

As for the one who is weak in faith, welcome him, but not to quarrel over opinions. One person believes he may eat anything, while the weak person eats only vegetables. Let not the one who eats despise the one who abstains, and let not the one who abstains pass judgment on the one who eats, for God has welcomed him. Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand. Romans 14:1-4 (ESV)

To trick or to treat . . . or not . . . that is not the question. The question is regardless to what we choose; will they know we are Christians by our love?

A Wonderful Thing

Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Isaiah 41:10 (ESV)

Sixty-three times in the King James Version, the Lord says, ‘Fear not”.

Call me crazy, but I get the feeling that He wants us to trust him and . . . not fear. Pretty sharp, huh?

Easier read than done. When I think of fear, I am reminded of the popular Winnie the Pooh series books I would recite to my girls when they were little. I’d cringe whenever I came across Piglet. I could be such a nervous willy-nilly like him; always fussing with fear of unknowns. No, I much preferred Tigger.  He just bounced through life completely in a joyful state of oblivion.

Something that has brought me from the Piglet side to the Tigger team, is a little card stuffed in my Bible. It’s my faithfulness ledger. I say ledger because each entry is not long or poetic, but short and to the point. I write down the various times that the Lord has come through for me. The big ones and the small. Of course it doesn’t include everything – I would need a library to contain all his blessings and times of protection, (many of them unknown).

Now, when I begin to roll a fear around in my head, I stop, read a few reminders of his faithfulness and the tumble cycle of anxiety stops. I think it’s because you can’t praise and worry at the same time. You either bounce in faith or worry in doubt. Start your own faithfulness ledger today and join me on the Tigger team – because a Tigger’s a wonderful thing.

Brennan Manning

I had never heard of this man until tonight; when I went to close down my computer and saw numerous tweets about his passing.

Always curious, a few clicks later I was sitting in the dark, moved to tears about this man's honesty in his writing. The confession of his faith and his desperate need of his Savior and His Grace.

An excerpt from his latest book is below. Normally I do not promote something or someone without doing a boatload of research, but for this passage alone I just had to share. Plus, his face . . . especially his eyes, remind me of my Dad. Also Irish, perhaps we're related somehow waaaay back?


Some have labeled my message one of "cheap grace."  In my younger days, their accusations were a gauntlet thrown down, a challenge.  But I'm an old man now and I don't care.  My friend Mike Yaconelli used the phrase unfair grace, and I like that, but I've come across another I would like to leave with you.  I believe Mike would like it; I know I do. I found it in the writings of the Episcopal priest Robert Farrar Capon. He calls it vulgar grace…

My life is a witness to vulgar grace—a grace that amazes as it offends.  A grace that pays the eager beaver who works all day long the same wages as the grinning drunk who shows up at ten till five. A grace that hikes up the robe and runs breakneck toward the prodigal reeking of sin and wraps him up and decides to throw a party no ifs, ands, or buts.  A grace that raises bloodshot eyes to a dying thief’s request—“Please remember me”—and assures him, “You bet!”  A grace that is the pleasure of the Father, fleshed out in the carpenter Messiah, Jesus the Christ, who left His Father’s side not for heaven’s sake but for our sakes, yours and mine.  This vulgar grace is indiscriminate compassion.  It works without asking anything of us.  It’s not cheap.  It’s free, and as such will always be a banana peel for the orthodox foot and a fairy tale for the grown-up sensibility.  Grace is sufficient even though we huff and puff with all our might to try to find something or someone it cannot cover.  Grace is enough. He is enough.  Jesus is enough. 

Bungee Run

As I leaned forward to switch off the stereo, the van crossed over the center line just enough to startle me. Navigating through bitter, angry tears, I slowly meandered my way to work. 

“I don’t want to be fettered or tethered or whatever that word was,” I said, crying out to the one I was desperately trying to avoid. “Can’t you just leave me alone?” 

I don’t know what I was thinking when I put in the old CD I found in the backseat that morning. No, that wasn’t true, I did know why. I was grieving for my mother who loved traditional hymns and I thought it would bring me comfort.

The song was turned off, but the words still hung in my head, beckoning to be addressed:

‘O to grace how great a debtorDaily I’m constrained to be!Let that grace now like a fetter,Bind my wandering heart to Thee.Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,Prone to leave the God I love;Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,Seal it for Thy courts above.’

At this point in my life, it wasn’t so much about wandering as it was a flat-out-full-on run. I did not want to be bound or tied to a God who allowed so much hurt and disappointment. I wanted to be free. To be free to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. My mother had served God her whole life and was now wasting away from Alzheimer’s. I had no use for Him.

For months I had been avoiding church and most of my Christian friends. God and I were in a tug-of-war and I didn’t need anyone else pulling on His side. I began to hang out more and more with the girls at work who sympathized with my predicament and soothed me with their non-confrontational attitudes. But now that darn song was pounding on my head and heart, demanding to be played again. 

To be considered.

Gravel sprayed up as I pulled off the side of the road. Putting the car in park, I rubbed my throbbing hands together, suddenly aware of the death grip I must have had on the steering wheel for the last few miles.

I switched on the car stereo . . .

Once again it was the third verse that got to me. It made so much sense. As I mulled over the word, ‘fetter’, I pictured my daughters at the school fair only a few weeks previous. There was an inflatable bungee run that had belts that were tied around the girls’ waists. They would run as fast as they could towards the end of the bouncy lane but just when they would almost reach the finish line, the springy tether would pull on them and they would go flying backwards to where they started.

God had a bungee cord around me. I could feel it. The faster I ran, the more tension I could feel and the harder I would fall. He was not letting go.

Turning the sound up to a near deafening level, I put the song on repeat and let the words wash over me again and again.

Who was I kidding? My wandering heart was fettered, and I did love Him. 

Finally surrendered, my shoulders dropped as my hands raised . . .

“Here’s my heart, Lord, Take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above.”