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Pretty Please…

May 11, 2023 — 1 Comment

Untangling the “magic words” that can (mis)inform how you and I connect with God and experience purpose can lead us to some surprising places.

“Please” doesn’t seem, at first glance, like it could be an entangling thing.

But when it’s tied to an image of a God who “holds you over the Pit of Hell, much as one holds a Spider, or some loathsome Insect, over the Fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked [sic]” ala Jonathan Edwards’ “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” please can reinforce the idea we are not worthy or welcome in God’s presence; our trifling requests at best a nuisance and worst another cause for wrath.

But this is not the picture we see in Scripture — there, we find a God who welcomes us. Who invites us. Who pursues us. Who makes sure we know we are seen and we have purpose. We are made for dependence on him, and our dependency doesn’t surprise him:

THEREFORE LET US CONFIDENTLY APPROACH THE THRONE OF GRACE WITH BOLDNESS, SO THAT WE MAY RECEIVE MERCY AND FIND GRACE TO HELP IN OUR TIME OF NEED.

Hebrews 4:16, NET

When this reality hasn’t made its way to our heart, we find ourselves taking a “please (pretty please… with a cherry on top)” kind of posture and approach; maybe not uttered out loud, but still broadcasting we are convinced God is not inclined to act on our behalf, that we dare not approach or complain or ask or articulate without some magic word that lets God know we are unworthy to bring whatever it is we have before him. 

It reveals we have bought into a lie about how God sees us and what he wants from us.

What if you could boldly enter into God’s presence?

Not impertinently, but with a child’s casual and joyful connection in a secure relationship with their parent? To be first convinced of God’s love for you and his desire to see you grow up in strength, wisdom, and flourishing?

“One of my consistent prayers in these days has been a simple statement/request that I’ve sought to root in a deep awareness of God’s goodness and fondness for us: “God, I don’t know what I need. But you do. Give me what I need and don’t know to ask for.”

Please can be a reminder that God is God and I am not; that he can move and work in ways I don’t deserve and don’t comprehend. This kind of “please,” rooted in security and love, is a thing of beauty.

What would bold expectancy look like for you as you ask God to move on your behalf?

Lament

May 4, 2023 — Leave a comment
  • Mifflin Township, Ohio
  • Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
  • Ocala, Florida
  • Clinton, Maryland
  • Durham, North Carolina
  • Chicago, Illinois
  • Allentown, Pennsylvania
  • Washington, DC
  • New Orleans, Louisiana
  • Dumfries, Virginia
  • Baltimore, Maryland
  • Enoch, Utah
  • Miami Gardens, Florida
  • New Orleans, Louisiana
  • Dallas, Texas
  • San Francisco, California
  • High Point, North Carolina
  • Lee Township, Michigan
  • Huntsville, Alabama
  • Minneapolis, Minnesota
  • Albany, Georgia
  • Denver, Colorado
  • Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
  • Minneapolis, Minnesota
  • Cleveland, Ohio
  • Homestead, Florida
  • Phoenix, Arizona
  • Rockford, Illinois
  • Houston, Texas
  • Goshen, California
  • Fort Pierce, Florida
  • Sanford, Florida
  • Houston, Texas
  • Lynchburg, Virginia
  • Monterey Park, California
  • Baton Rouge, Louisiana
  • Brookhaven, Georgia
  • Shreveport, Louisiana
  • Tunica Resorts, Mississippi
  • Dodge City, Kansas
  • Chicago, Illinois
  • Half Moon Bay, California
  • Oakland, California
  • Red Springs, North Carolina
  • Lancaster, Pennsylvania
  • Newark, New Jersey
  • Los Angeles, California
  • Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
  • Austin, Texas
  • Andrews, South Carolina
  • Columbus, Ohio
  • Greensboro, North Carolina
  • Dallas, Texas
  • Lakeland, Florida
  • Durham, North Carolina
  • Texas City, Texas
  • Los Angeles, California
  • Huntsville, Texas
  • Colorado Springs, Colorado
  • Newport, Arkansas
  • Tucson, Arizona
  • Stockton, California
  • Corpus Christi, Texas
  • Elizabeth City, North Carolina
  • New Orleans, Lousiana
  • Laurinburg, North Carolina
  • Harvey, Louisiana
  • New York City, New York
  • New York City, New York
  • Lousiville, Mississippi
  • Paterson, New Jersey
  • East Lansing, Michigan
  • Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
  • Sweetwater, Tennessee
  • Buffalo, New York
  • El Paso, Texas
  • Baltimore, Maryland
  • Columbus, Georgia
  • Loris, South Carolina
  • Galena Park, Texas
  • Columbus, Georgia
  • Indianapolis, Indiana
  • Memphis, Tennessee
  • St. Louis, New Jersey
  • Linden, New Jersey
  • New Orleans, Louisiana
  • Chicago, Illinois
  • Colorado Springs, Colorado
  • Pine Hills, Florida
  • Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
  • West Palm Beach, Florida
  • Saint Paul, Minnesota
  • Detroit, Michigan
  • Memphis, Tennessee
  • Pompano Beach, Florida
  • Machesney Park, Illinois
  • Memphis, Tennessee
  • New Richmond, Ohio
  • Cocoa, Florida
  • Kansas City, Missouri
  • Los Angeles, California
  • Douglasville, Georgia
  • Cape Girardeau, Missouri
  • Shreveport, Lousiana
  • Bolingbrook, Illinois
  • Lake City, Florida
  • La Rivieria, California
  • Memphis, Tennessee
  • Memphis, Tennessee
  • Pine Bluff, Arkansas
  • Los Angeles, California
  • Miami Lakes, Florida
  • Dallas, Texas
  • Lubbock, Texas
  • Birmingham & St. Clair County, Alabama
  • Modesto, California
  • Dallas, Texas
  • Chicago, Illinois
  • Columbus, Ohio
  • Milwaukee, Wisconsin
  • Sumter, South Carolina
  • Trenton, New Jersey
  • Baltimore, Maryland
  • Shreveport, Louisiana
  • Williamston, North Carolina
  • Brooklyn Center, Minnesota
  • Minden, Louisiana
  • Hempstead, New York
  • Little Rock, Arkansas
  • Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
  • Milwaukee, Wisconsin
  • Nashville, Tennessee
  • Memphis, Tennessee
  • Baltimore, Maryland
  • Los Angeles, California
  • Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
  • Moreno Valley, California
  • Washington, D.C.
  • Fayetteville, North Carolina
  • Pueblo, Colorado
  • Atlanta, Georgia
  • Jackson, Tennessee
  • Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
  • Kansas City, Kansas
  • Virginia Beach, Virginia
  • Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
  • Park Forest, Illinois
  • New Orleans, Louisiana
  • Isle of Palms, South Carolina
  • Houston, Texas
  • Orlando, Florida
  • Louisville, Kentucky
  • Washington, D.C.
  • Trenton, New Jersey
  • Goldsboro, North Carolina
  • Fort Wayne, Indiana
  • Toledo, Ohio
  • Bridgeport, Connecticut
  • Detroit, Michigan
  • Houston, Texas
  • New York City, New York
  • Kansas City, Missouri
  • Detroit, Michigan
  • Los Angeles, California
  • Lousiville, Kentucky
  • Dadeville, Alabama
  • Biloxi, Mississippi
  • Māili, Hawaii
  • Houston, Texas
  • Baltimore, Maryland
  • Bowdoin & Yarmouth, Maine
  • Hartford, Connecticut
  • Rockmart, Georgia
  • Washington, D.C.
  • Winston Salem, North Carolina
  • Jasper County, Texas
  • San Francisco, California
  • San Jacinto County, Texas
  • Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
  • Columbia, South Carolina
  • Auburn, Washington
  • Bay St. Louis, Mississippi
  • Mojave, California
  • Lawrence, Massachusetts
  • Henryetta, Oklahoma
  • Lake Wales, Florida
  • Atlanta, Georgia

There have been 124 days in 2023, and 135 mass shootings in the United States.

Lord, hear our prayer.

“What’s the magic word?”

You probably can’t remember the first time you were asked that question—well-meaning but patronizing at the same time. It was probably asked by a parent, grandparent, or caregiver—a reinforcement and reminder that being well-mannered will get you things and being ill-mannered won’t.

(It doesn’t take too long to discover that some people are ill-mannered and still get all the things…. But that’s an aside for another conversation sometime).

“What’s the magic word?” 

Translation: “You forgot to say please or thank you.” Sometimes: “I am enjoying some small measure of power over you—I have what you want—and I’d like to be a touch passive-aggressive right now.”

What we learn is that there’s a specific order of things when we’re being polite. Please, followed by the request; thank you, whether that request is fulfilled or not.

These cultural norms aren’t bad expectations to have—they us a good shorthand when interacting with others and signal social awareness.

But social conventions can—some inadvertently and others purposefully—misshape the way we view and communicate with God and others, truly impacting our relationship with God, others, and our purpose. 

In our relationship with God and in the stuff of life—especially as we try to navigate our toughest moments like…

  • The death of a loved one
  • Job loss
  • Losing custody of a child
  • A suck-the-air-out-of-the-room diagnosis
  • An indignity or assault or other victimization
  • Wondering what has gone so horribly wrong
  • Being desperate for something, anything to change
  • A circumstance beyond our control; a problem beyond our solution…

—there are no magic words. There is no predetermined formula for how to make things new or set things right or find things better.

BUT I am convinced God wants us to experience what is new and find what is wrong set right.

Over the next few posts, we’ll look at some of the “magic words” we’ve been taught or become accustomed to and discover what it can look like to be free of them in our pursuit of wholeness and vibrant relationship with God.

Subversive Advent

December 2, 2022 — 1 Comment
image: Maria Eklind on Flickr (license)

 …he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.

Luke 1:51b-53, NRSV

You probably have a plan–or at least an idea–of what Christmas should be this year. You may even find yourself longing for the magic of Christmas past, when everything seemed possible and a deep-rooted wonder infused the season. And, you may be working feverishly to try to create that space of magic and wonder…if not for yourself, for others–with all of the stress, anxiety, and debt it seems to require.

What if you could have a life- and perspective-shifting, real encounter with God this season?

Our family is big on tradition, especially this time of year: we’re a cut-our-own-Christmas tree, fire up the hot chocolate, trim-the-tree-while-wearing-goofy-hats, road-trip-singalong, but-this-is-how-we-always-do-it kind of people. And this year, a lot of our traditional observances just aren’t happening: we aren’t anchored to a church family and are taking advantage of being a “ministry family” without ministry obligations for the first Christmas in forever. We are processing what it means that our plans for the future need to adjust as we seek God for a new place of ministry and investment. Magic, wonder, and the coziness of the season seems far away. It seems like nothing is the same, but there is also an expectancy that this season is and will be good.

I think that place–where things aren’t what we thought they’d be, the future is unknown, and nothing seems certain–is actually the perfect place to experience the deep wonder of the Christmas season and have a powerful encounter with Jesus.

The Scripture quoted at the beginning of this post is the prophetic worship of Mary, the mother of Jesus. The verses above are sung as Mary processes what it means that she is carrying the fetal Christ child; remember, she is an unwed, teenage mother who was visited by angels with the news that the whole destiny of her life and course of the world were changing. With her, we are invited to go into Christmas/Advent with an eye toward (and posture of!) restoration and justice. Throughout her song, she declares what God has already done through the sending of the growing baby in her womb:

  • Acted in and with favor
  • Done great things
  • Demonstrated strength
  • Scattered the proud
  • Deposed leaders
  • Exalted the lowly
  • Filled the hungry with good things
  • Sent the rich away empty
  • Come to aid
  • Remembered his mercy

Somehow, the story of the coming of Jesus is the story of the powerful losing their power, the lowly and forgotten being empowered, the poor finding more than enough, and the rich discovering the depth of their poverty. The reality of Christmas and Advent must move us to ask: Am I on the side of the proud or the humble? The powerful or the weak? The important or the forgotten? The rich or the poor?

And we are reminded,

Jesus is found among the humble, the weak, the forgotten, and the poor.

I wonder, what does it look like to sit with him there in this season… and reject the draw to power for the sake of power, and wealth for the sake of wealth? What does it look like to experience the awe and wonder found in the presence of this Jesus, in the spaces where our plans fail and our wishlists go unmet, but our deepest desires come to new life?

The Exchange

March 28, 2020 — Leave a comment

The very last words of the book of 1 John hang in the air like an unresolved chord: Dear children, keep yourselves from idols. Written in the swirling darkness of doubt, danger, fear, and grief, it’s as if this warning—to steer clear of false gods—sums up all the invitations in the little book leading up to that moment; invitations to belief, courage, love, and healing.

Christ followers, if ever we needed to hear those invitations or heed that warning, it is now.  

Before going further, let’s acknowledge that worship and sacrifice are closely connected. For most of human history, the worship of something almost always involved a kind of sacrifice to it. The Old Testament reveals this with clarity: rightful worship of God included a regular rhythm of sacrificial offerings (see Leviticus 1-7). King David once famously said, “I will not give the LORD that which costs me nothing” (see a more accurate quote in 1 Chronicles 21:24). The worship of false gods was abhorred, not least because of the human sacrifices involved.

No, not every sacrifice is an act of worship, but every act of worship is an act of submission. 

So now, let’s fast forward a few thousand years to the other night when, on national TV, an elected state official (from a different state than my own) gave concise, explicit voice to what has been more subtly broached in recent days from Washington, DC (I’m not including his name or his office intentionally–those things aren’t the point here). Speaking of the need to get the American economy moving again in the midst of the global coronavirus pandemic, this politician positioned himself as a proxy for senior citizens and asked himself,

“Are you willing to take a chance on your survival in exchange for keeping the America that all America loves for your children and grandchildren? And if that’s the exchange, I’m all in.” 

Based on context, it seems clear the “America” being spoken of here is the American economy which is in serious trouble. I don’t deny the premise that an obliterated economy can result in social upheaval and something altogether terrible–another awful, painful, costly part of what this pandemic may mean. But in a sense the question being asked was, “Are you willing to risk your life for the sake of the American economy?” His answer was yes. And the tacit expectation is that senior citizens should all feel the same way, that other Americans should feel the same way on behalf of the senior citizens and vulnerable people in their lives.

The politics and dystopian nature of that line of thinking aside, I have been most burdened by the Christians who have echoed and even championed this sentiment (the politician in question is himself a Christian author). (Some other time we’ll examine where and why the North American church has acted confusingly schizophrenic regarding what it means to be a people holding space for life.)

What the politician expressed (and what others have endorsed) can readily be seen as a call to sacrifice our elders and the infirm to the idol god of Mammon–in order to appease the gods of the Economy and the American Dream, some people just may need to die.

Christ followers, we must stand and proclaim otherwise.

The president has expressed the well-intended goal of getting the economy moving again by Easter, and having “packed churches all over the country” for Resurrection Sunday. One friend of mine celebrated this, expressing how good it would be for the church to have Easter back and for the country to be open again.

On the one hand, I agree: getting people back to work, quelling fears of global depression on the heels of global pandemic, and being able to worship in physical space with my friends and family on the highest holy day would be wonderful.

On the other hand, I am reminded of this: 

First, Easter never belonged to the church; it belongs to Jesus.

Second, the way of Jesus is the way of life–the way which is meant to lead people into the space of thriving and flourishing.

Christ followers, we must remind our leaders that life–every life–is sacred. We must remind our leaders that there is an account they will give for how they have used their power. We must live as people with eternity in mind, people who know that a packed church or a buzzing economy purchased with the lives of the sick, the weak, and the aged will result in hearing the chilling question first asked of Cain, “What have you done? Listen! Your brother’s (and sister’s) blood cries out from the ground.” 

Dear children, keep yourselves from idols.