Seasons & Destinations (Further Up & Further In)

This has been a long season. Not the summer, although the change from summer to fall is definitely in the air, but the season of my life. I find myself in a season of transition. Not a bad thing, or a good thing, just a transition thing (thingy) (thingamajig).


Last year, some good friends of ours felt called by God to move their family back to the West Coast, to work with a church there. This meant a major lifestyle change, location change, focus change, etc. Because these friends of ours were part of the leadership of our church, it meant a transition for us. I helped them to move, driving their UHaul over the mountains and out to California last July. On my trip out, with my brother John accompanying me, I developed a keen sense of envy for their move. The sensation grew stronger the closer I got to their destination. Arriving, I found myself wishing very much that the West Coast was MY destination, not theirs. I didn't question whether or not they made the right choice in moving out there, even though I know the move was a difficult one. I questioned God. I questioned why THEY got to go and not me; not my family. God calling my friends' family to that church in California gave them a destination, but it also placed me and my family (and the whole church) into a season of transition. 

Earlier this year, as some of you may know, my bass player Jason and his family decided to move back to Florida. This was also a difficult decision for them, and for myself and the band, it meant more transition. 

In addition to those changes, I took on a seasonal job with a friend from church. This launched my family and I into a drastic season of transition, as it meant me being gone for lengthy periods of time from home. The fact that I already travel so much for work meant that the seasonal job (in Chicago) increased the time away from home exponentially. 


Suffice it to say, the last year or so has been a LOT of transition. I've been desperately swinging around for anything to grab on to in terms of direction for myself and for my family. I've watched good friends leave and head into new seasons of their lives that are fulfilling and challenging, and I've felt envy for those friends. 

In all this, I have been asking the Lord a lot of hard questions. Hard for me, anyways, because I haven't liked the answers. Not hard for Him. He knows the answers already. I may find them out, or I may not. Ever. 

Having coffee with a friend a month or so ago I had a small revelation of sorts. A bit of an "Ah-ha" moment. I realized that I had been spending all of my time focusing on finding direction, finding answers to my questions, that I was ignoring the ACTUAL relationship with the Lord. I had been placing my need for answers, my desire for change, my hopes, my selfishness ahead of the Lord. 

It was a small sting, a little prick of conscience, but it made me wake up to what I was focused on, and I'm grateful for it. I realized that I don't need to have answers in this season. I need to have God. I know and I trust that God is fully in control of the direction of my life, no matter how much transition, or how long the season. Any answers I seek will be revealed when and how the Lord wants them to be. 

For many of you, this is not a new revelation, or a big one. That's ok. It was for me. It's still hard to sit still and wait, but the burden has been lifted off me. The burden of the future, the burden of answers, has been taken care of. For now, and for the rest of eternity, my role is simply existing in a relationship with the Lord that brings Him glory. I know I will fail magnificently at it most days, but thankfully God and His grace, timing, and direction are SO much bigger than my ability to screw up. 

So I will dig in, continue to dream, continue to hope, and continue to seek Him first. 

Further up and further in!

Renew

The Bible talks of transforming ourselves by the renewing of our minds in Romans 12:2. What does the idea of renewing our minds look like today? For me, sitting in a hotel room in Las Vegas, surrounded by people bent on doing the very opposite of renewing their minds, it comes as a realization. I have no strength in me to carry out any sort of renewal. All the renewal has to come from the Holy Spirit. 

According to John Piper, that is the exact function of the Holy Spirit, to renew our minds. He does so 2 ways, from the outside in, and from the inside out. The external method is through guiding and directing our thoughts and our focus towards Christ-honoring and worshipful things. The internal method is to shape and mold our hearts to be receptive to a lifestyle of worship as a response to God's love for us. 

I pray tonight that the Holy Spirit would continue the work He is doing of renewing my mind, both externally and internally. 

God bless.

Last of the Fire Eaters

When Billy Graham passes away, in the not-too-far-off future, who will be left to stand for the truth? We live in a world where truth is continuously twisted, distorted, abused, manipulated, and stretched. We are all guilty of this on some level, including Rev Graham himself. But he was someone whose life purpose was simply to speak the truth. That's all he cared about, and all he lived for. It was, he felt, why God created him. 

In the history of some of the native tribes, there were people referred to as the "fire-eaters". These were people who were acknowledged by their tribes to be not only wise in mind, but people who spoke very powerfully and eloquently, and (most important), spoke truth with weight and conviction. These elders were consulted by the chief and the leaders of the tribe in the decisions. The crowd in a frenzied argument would hush and settle down immediately to listen to the "fire-eater." 

He who speaks with Fire. 

In light of his recent, and likely last public message, I can't think of a better epiteth for Reverend Graham. He was one who spoke  truth with Fire. Will he be the last great Fire-eater? 

Only the Lonely

I travel a lot for work. Those of you who are around me a fair bit in my circle in KC know this to be an understatement. I'm sure compared to an airline pilot or the Canadian Ambassador to Guyana, I don't travel that much. But for a husband and father of 5, I am gone an awful lot. 

Thing is, I actually really enjoy what I do for a living. There are 2 great regrets that I have as I examine my chosen "career" path. First, that the work requires so often that I am gone from my family. Not just gone, mind you, but gone for more than a day or two here or there. I am currently doing a job for a company that has me located in Junction City, KS. I am in my second week, and will be here a full month by the time my contract ends. I get to travel back to KC on the weekends, but that's it. 

The second great regret is that I have not had opportunity to earn my way with a pair of drumsticks in my hands. 


This is not only a disappointment, but a surprise as well. I fully and realistically expected that drumming and percussion would be the only marketable skill that I had in my repertoire. I keep telling myself that I wouldn't want drumming to become work, that it would spoil it for me, etc etc, but in truth I'm just bummed that it has never worked out. I never got that break, that open door, that phone call or email. I've had lots of close calls, but none have ever placed me in a position of making money with my drumsticks. 


Ironically, that's not what this blog post is about at all. Like I said, I do enjoy what I do, despite having to leave my family and beautiful (patient, saintly, wonderful) wife at home often. One of the main things that I enjoy about the work I do is that it is a good balance of technical know-how and relationships. I am a creature of relationship. Its what I was made for, and it's what I thrive on. I enjoy cultivating relationships with everyone that I work with. So it is with some surprise and dismay that I find myself in a very foreign position. I am lonely. 

Let me explain why this is foreign to me. Priscilla and I will be celebrating 14 years of marriage this September 4th, which means that she has been the central focus of my entire existence for close to 16 years now. Together we have 5 children, whom now all compete with my wife for their place in that focus. I am deeply involved with my band, Death & Desire, a brotherhood of 3 men determined to grab our little corner of the musical sphere by the throat and put it in a death grip and make it listen to what we have to say. I'm also very connected to a ton of close friends via different circles; music, church, work, etc. All of those relationships mean the world to me, and I try very hard to maintain and deeply commit to each of them. I try to keep the entire clock of cogs and gears and arms and wheels running in top shape, and at top speed. I love to fill my schedule with as much playtime with kiddos, dates with pretty wife, coffee/beer/moroccan/sushi with friends, playing drums at church, etc, etc, etc as I possibly can.

I really do honestly take a Carpe Diem approach to relationships in my life. As you can imagine, this makes for quite a busy schedule, brimming with connectivity and relationship. That is why this feeling of loneliness is so foreign to me. 


Last December, I felt God asking me to take some time to go and be in solitude on a sort of personal retreat. I did so with some trepidation because it was the first time I can remember in my life where I conscientiously sought out solitude. And it was wonderful. Because I wasn't alone, I was with the Lord. It was a great and amazing and perfectly humbling time, and I can't wait for the next time. 


But it also was not lonely. This is. Lonely is a feeling that jumps on you out of nowhere. It catches you totally off guard and brings sudden tears streaming down your cheeks as you go through the familiar ritual of saying goodbye to your family. Lonely squeezes your ribcage when you are driving down a highway at dusk and points out how alone you are. Lonely makes everything from fog to a song on the radio stab your soul with sharp stinging needles. I don't like lonely. Lonely sucks. 

I should pause for a moment here and give mention to the guys that I'm working with on this job. They are really great guys. I get along very well with them. We have eaten numerous lunches and even a couple dinners together already, and I am enjoying building relationship with them. But they head to their respective lives directly after work. I don't see them, and that is ok, because they are not like me with regards to relationship, and they don't need to be. 


But lonely still sucks. I'm not built for lonely. I'm built for speed. For life. For relationship. For the humming, whirring, clock of my existence, even with all its grease and mess and terrible maintenance. I'm built for more than lonely. 


Yet this seems to be where God has me, at least for the moment. Lonely. I know I'm not alone. He is here with me, just as He was in the little cottage on Lake Pomme De Terre in central Missouri. He is here. And I think, just maybe, He's wanting me to learn a thing or two about being lonely. 


Life will roll on. My weekends are already totally full, trying to desperately juggle all the pieces of my clock. I look forward to it. But I'm praying that I can learn from, and maybe even embrace a bit of, lonely.  

Truth

"A fundamental mistake of the conservative side of much of the Western church is that its basic goal is to get people into heaven rather than to get heaven into people."

-Dallas Willard

Holy Holy Holy

So I’ve been reading The Pursuit of Holiness by Jerry Bridges, which has been kicking my butt every time I pick it up. It’s so chock full of amazing insight into the Holy character of God, and following in His footsteps. One thing that Bridges establishes right from the get-go is that God’s perfect holiness is something we can never attain, but that we should nonetheless be headed in that direction. To quote, “God does not accept the excuse ‘Well, that’s just the way I am,’ or even the more hopeful statement, ‘Well, I’m still growing in that area of my life.’ No, God’s holiness does not make allowance for minor flaws or shortcomings in our personal character.”

Wow. Taken out of context, this quote could pretty much destroy someone’s attempts at personal growth. “Why bother? I’ll never be as holy as God. In fact, I’ll never be holy enough to merit anything but death.” True, but that is the wonder of God’s grace. His Son covered our sin, our shortcomings, our minor flaws, our everything. Because of Him, we can stand in front of God and be recognized as holy.

Obviously Paul was clear that this isn’t an excuse to abuse that grace. Yet in a way, I think that is exactly what happens when we accept the compromises in our lives that echo the quote above. There are areas in all of our lives that we write off or excuse through similar statements. Whether these are made publicly, or voiced quietly inside our minds at night in our rooms, these are statements that do 2 things. First, it acknowledges that we accept compromise. Second, it turns us away from the offer of grace that God has extended through Christ.

This is the great dichotomy of the Christian life, that we know we will never be anything other than sinners deserving of death, yet we will never see that death because of Christ’s great sacrifice for us. He died for our sins, whether or not we accept Him, or choose to follow Him.

As I’ve spent time processing the weight of this book with God, I’ve realized that I have a tendency to see evidence of this in others’ lives. There is a point of (almost) righteous indignation that allows me to point a finger at someone else who I see as accepting compromise in their lives. Someone who says, “that’s just the way I am” in effect questions God’s ability to change them. In its own way, it is a terrible compromise. But, it’s also not a damned bit of my business. Here is the point where the Holy Spirit gently reminds me of the log in my own eye, and I’m forced to look at my own life, my own choices, and yes, my own compromises. For all the huffing, puffing, and posturing, I am chief among sinners. I have so many areas of compromise in my life that it twists me into a dark, festering, wounded ball of self-loathing and guilt. Yet when I examine these areas, I end up wanting to hold on to the compromises like Gollum to the One Ring. And, like sad Gollum, these compromises continue to corrupt and distort the longer I hold to them.

Yet I think that true freedom comes from the revelation that God never intended for us to strive for holiness in our own strength. First, He sent His Son to die for us, opening the door to Love, vibrant, shaking, terrible, awesome Love that covers all. Second, He sent the Holy Spirit as a comforter, encourager, lifter of our heads. There is SO much wrapped up in the gift of God’s grace. But he does require holiness. He does require growth. His Character is such that He can only demand it. So, despite He completing 99.999% of the work, there is still a conscious action that we must take.

We must commit. We must pursue living with no compromise. We must try to live holy lives, focusing each day not on our flaws and shortcomings, but focusing on the gift given to us. We must pray and seek God’s grace, His Mercy, and His Love, but we must seek His Face in the light of His Holiness. As Bridges says in the book, “The holiness of God is an exceedingly high standard, a perfect standard. But it is nevertheless one He holds us to. He cannot do less.”

And so we press on. Through Christ, and with the guidance of the Holy Spirit, we truly can “be holy, for I am Holy.”

Easter Sunrise Service

Easter has always been a wonderful time of year for me, because growing up in Nigeria, we celebrated Easter in a wonderful way. Good Friday was a holiday, but a solemn one, with a contemplative service in the evening. 

Easter Sunday morning was one of my favorite traditions of all time, because we had a sunrise service out by the dam. It was so cold, and I remember seeing cars pulling up in the darkness, and families getting out their lawn chairs and blankets, setting them up to the east, over the other side of the reservoir.

 I always remember the begrudging attitudes I had when getting up, not wanting to be up that early, but combined with an excitement for the day. I don't remember much of the content of the actual service, but obviously the gist of it isn't hard to imagine. What I do remember were the sunrises themselves. I may be totally biased, but I remember those as some of the most magnificent sunrises anywhere that I have ever seen.

 I don't know if the sunrise did the service justice, or the other way around, but either way, they worked perfectly in tandem. There is no greater metaphor in my mind for Christ's resurrection than a sunrise. And so, with every sunrise that I see, I'm reminded of those Easter Sunday services, shivering in a blanket by the edge of a dirty brown reservoir in Jos, Nigeria. And more than that, I'm reminded of the power of Christ's resurrection. The power He gives to us through His Holy Spirit. And I'm reminded that, if He conquered death and paid for our sins all in one deft blow, there will be many more sunrise reminders, just for me.