Category "Life With God"

I Know Who You’re Not Supposed To Be

 

First, a story.

This story has 3 characters: the Property Owner, the Fig Tree, and the Gardener…

A man planted a fig tree in his garden and came again and again to see if there was any fruit on it, but he was always disappointed.

Finally, he said to his gardener, “I’ve waited three years, and there hasn’t been a single fig! Cut it down. It’s just taking up space in the garden.”

The gardener answered, “Sir, give it one more chance. Leave it another year, and I’ll give it special attention and plenty of fertilizer. If we get figs next year, fine. If not, then you can cut it down.” (Luke 13.6-9 NLT)

Stories like these are intended to make us identify with one of the characters.

Seeing yourself in this story, who are you?

I know who you’re not supposed to be.

You’re not supposed to be the property owner.

You didn’t plant the tree…

So it’s not your job to be disappointed, or to say “you’re just taking up space,” or to cut him/her down.

Maybe you identify with the tree.

Perhaps you feel like you’re just taking up space—struggling to be productive.

I have news for you: there is hope.

With a change of conditions and the right care and attention, things can turn around for you.

There’s grace for you. You have potential that has not yet been fully realized.

And, most importantly, you’re not alone.

Maybe you identify with the gardener.

This is the goal…

And who we want to be (like).

We want to be grace-givers.

We want to always believe there is potential.

We want to be people who say, “Let’s give them another chance!”

We want to be people who give special attention and care for those who are struggling.

We want to take it upon ourselves to make a difference and give people that extra help they really need.

We are grace-giving gardeners.

 

 

Grace & Mr. Perlman

 

The concert hall was bustling with warm, pre-performance hubbub before the announcer spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen, kindly take your seats now; this evening’s performance will begin in two minutes.”

People glanced at their tickets and hurried to find their rows. They edged their way down the narrow line of seats to find, at last, their allotted places.

Miracles often come without warning or fanfare, and this was no exception. There was no hint that they would all be on the threshold of an experience that they would never forget—a moment to celebrate decades later.

The purposeful din of the orchestra’s tuning faded and the lights dimmed, hushing a thousand conversations. The audience was eager for the concert to begin, ready to savor the talents of Itzhak Perlman, arguably the world’s greatest violinist.

Perlman is usually the last person to take his place on stage, for though his fingers are staggeringly nimble, his legs don’t work nearly as well. He was struck with polio when he was just twelve, and now he struggles across the huge platform to take his seat, his stumbling, ungainly walk aided by crutches and leg braces.

At last, he sat down, removed both braces from his legs, and placed his violin beneath his chin. He was ready—and in more ways than one. Perlman’s brilliance is no fluke. He practices for nine hours daily. And for forty-five minutes before every concert, he is alone in his dressing room, with two security guards at the locked door. They have explicit instructions to let no one in under any circumstances. “Mr. Perlman has finished practicing. Now he is praying. Do not disturb.”

And pray he must. The concerto is considered one of the most important and difficult works in the violin repertoire. Its technical demands on the soloist are huge. Brahm’s Violin Concerto in D Major is simply “unplayable” according to one virtuoso. That miracle night, Perlman was set to perform this extraordinarily challenging piece that would last over six minutes.

A few seconds into the solo, the sound of a string breaking on Perlman’s violin ricocheted around the hall. The unwelcome twang was an uncouth intruder among a myriad of perfect notes. The orchestra immediately stopped playing, their music tapering off chaotically. The crowd gasped. Protocol permits a musician to call for a pause, allowing time for them to hurry off stage to replace the string. It’s quite impossible to play a complicated violin concerto a string short.

Impossible, that is, unless your name is Perlman. With a wave he signaled the orchestra to continue. And then the unthinkable happened.

Instantaneously transposing the music for three strings instead of four, Perlman delivered the piece flawlessly, his dancing fingers producing sounds of unprecedented purity and passion. Six minutes later, spent and soaked in sweat, he lowered his violin. The crowd sat in stunned silence for eight seconds. And then they rose as one to their feet, a wall of wild cheering and thunderous applause. The orchestra joined in, banging their instruments in homage and shouting themselves hoarse. Perlman called for a microphone, motioned for silence, and then the man with two busted legs and one busted string spoke:

“All my life, it has been my mission to make music from that which remains.”

His brilliance was expressed through something broken. The shattered string, which could have stopped the music, only served to accentuate Perlman’s staggering talent. Greater glory came because the melody-maker used a temporarily useless instrument.

And that is precisely what God has always done with us, creating beautiful music through broken people. How desperately the world needs to hear the charming sound that is grace. There’s no shortage of harsh noise on this planet, but rather a famine of real music.

There is yet beautiful music to be heard in the universe. God longs for the joyous melody of his love to be heard, true music to the ear for those who have ears to hear it.

Though all of us need to hear this song, prodigals desperately need to hear it.

The prodigal-friendly church will be one with a compassionate heart that weeps for the prodigals. It will be a brave people willing to be instruments for music that is “unplayable”—unless the Lord plays it through them.

Most of all, it will be a church filled with ordinary, “three-stringed” people. Not a Stradivarius in sight, for God only uses the ordinary; nothing else is available. Tarnished trumpets. Big, fat double basses, varnish scratched, a tuning peg or two out of line. Strings encased in rust, brittle to the touch. A dented timpani that “boings” when a “bong” is expected. A flute that squeaks and drips spit. Cymbals that sometimes “zing” rather than “clang”.

He uses what he has, what remains. That would be us.

Through this motley assortment of dusty, junk shop castoffs, our God, the ultimate composer and musician, can transpose the music once more.

If you are a follower of Jesus, your place is not in the audience, waiting for someone else to play: the prodigal-friendly church will not come about because some leaders and pastors decide that it should be so. Rather, as each of us offer ourselves afresh as part of the orchestra, the dream of harmonious music making becomes a reality.

from Creating A Prodigal-Friendly Church, by Jeff Lucas.

 

 

Getting Your Jollies & Spilling Your Seed (PG-13)

I’ve seen some strange things in church under the label of being spiritual…

Shaking, moaning, crunching, roaring, shrieking, interpretive dancing—and the list goes on and on.

Generally speaking, whoever was participating in the weirdness really seemed to enjoy themselves.

It was good for them and they got their jollies from it.

But it didn’t produce new life…

People who don’t know Jesus weren’t being drawn to Him as a result of the antics.

In fact, it had the opposite effect.

It scared them, repelled them, and confirmed what they were already thinking: “this isn’t for me.”

I know this is crude, but I call these church antics “spiritual masturbation.”

Here’s what I mean: you had a good time and it felt good—but no new life came about as a result of the activity.

You got your jollies off and you spilled your seed.

The Bible actually talks about this.

A woman named Tamar had a husband who died before they were able to have children together. According to Jewish law, her husband’s brother should marry her and give her children. Onan (the brother-in-law) married her and slept with her, BUT…

“Onan was not willing to have a child who would not be his own heir. So whenever he had intercourse with her, he spilled the semen on the ground. This prevented her from having a child…” (Genesis 38.9)

What a slime-ball!

Onan was a selfish jerk—he got his jollies off and spilled his seed.

He had a good time, but he also prevented the possibility of new life.

And God was extremely displeased with Onan…

“The Lord considered it evil.” (Genesis 38.10)

onan spills seed

Think about it: churches that are full of Onans will cease to exist.

It’s not about “what feels good to me” or experiencing some kind of spiritual ecstasy.

It’s about producing fruit, bringing about new life, and growing God’s family.

I don’t want to be a jolly-chaser or seed-spiller.

I want to be a life-producer.

How about you?

_________________________________

TO DO

—Consider this evidence (or fruit) of the Holy Spirit’s activity in our lives:

“The Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” (Galatians 5.22, 23)

 

Not Everyone Makes It Over

Not everyone makes it over.

Some prefer the safety of the familiar—Rueben, Gad and the half-tribe of Manasseh chose to live on the East side of the Jordan rather than crossing over into the Promised Land.

Some want to go back.

Some find a new direction and go that way.

The point is—not everyone makes it over.

This happens in church life too.

We’re not where we used to be and we haven’t arrived… we’re somewhere in between.

We’re in this place of the “crossover.”

The crossover speaks of moving forward, advancing, following God and reaching out for what’s ahead.

It’s a place of adventure and new experiences.

And, not everyone makes it over.

Some prefer the safety of the familiar.

Some want to go back.

Some find a new direction and go that way.

At our church, we believe “There’s Grace For That.”

When Christians go from one church to another, they’re still Christians. And breaking ties with one local church doesn’t mean breaking ties with the Savior.

From a Kingdom perspective, it’s not a loss. We’re all still part of the same big Kingdom.

Of course we’re excited about what God is doing here in this place.

We believe our greatest days are still before us.

We want everyone to join us on the journey…

Yet we know, not everyone makes it over.

And we’re OK with that.

 

He Still Says “Come”

He knew Peter had a swearing problem that wouldn’t go away in 3 years—but He still said “Come”.

He knew Thomas had a doubting problem that wouldn’t go away in 3 years—but He still said “Come”.

He knew the Thunder Brothers (James and John) had ego problems that wouldn’t go away in 3 years—but He still said “Come”.

He knew Judas had a stealing problem and He knew Judas would betray Him in 3 years—but He still said “Come”.

He didn’t invite perfect people to follow Him.

He invited people.

He invited people, problems and all.

People who followed Him didn’t become perfect in a flash (or in weeks, months, years…).

Of course, many of them did change over time. That’s how God works. His grace changes everything.

His invitation, “Come,” isn’t exclusive to those who’ve already started changing.

He’s still inviting sinners and doubters and egomaniacs to follow Him.

He still says “Come”.

Our job is to sing the same tune, preach the same message, extend the same invitation…

“The Spirit and the bride (the church) say, Come! And let him who is listening say, Come!” (Revelation 22.17 AMP)

We Need to be Giving the Green Light

Jesus’ message is “come”.

He’s giving the green light.

“Everyone whom the Father gives me will come to me. I will never turn away anyone who comes to me.” (John 6.37 GWT)

All too often, we’re sending “red light” messages: “don’t come,” or “not yet,” or “fix yourself up first, and then come”.

We need to align our message with Jesus’ message.

We need be giving the green light.

We need to be say “come”.

Come now.

Come as you are.

You won’t be turned away.

Red Light Green Light

Remember the childhood playground game Red Light Green Light?

We might not be playing schoolyard games anymore, but we are sending red light, green light messages on a daily basis…

Grumpy face = red light.

Religious attitude = stop, back-up, get out of here.

Judgmental spirit = go away, never come back.

Joyful smile = green light.

Compassionate response = you are welcome here.

Giving grace = keep on coming, there’s always space for you.

Jesus is all about the green light.

When people brought their children to be blessed by Him, the disciples went all “red light” on them.

Jesus, however, said, “Let them come. Don’t stop them!”

He was all “green light” with them.

When blind Bartimaeus was yelling like a madman, trying to get Jesus’ attention, the crowd told him to shut up and go away—they gave him a red light message.

Jesus told Bartimaeus to come. That’s a green light message!

And here’s a pretty famous quote from Jesus: “Come to me all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11.28 NLT)

Again, that’s clearly a green light message.

I want to be like Jesus.

I want to be all about the green light.

I want our church to unplug the red light and shine the green light perpetually.

Green light. Come.

Green light. Welcome.

Green light. You belong.

Green light. There will always be grace and space for you here.

Sometimes the Jesus Crowd Keeps People From Jesus

It’s sad but true.

Sometimes the Jesus crowd keeps people from Jesus.

Maybe it’s our baptized in lemon juice attitudes and bitter beer face looks.

Maybe it’s our constant “no” messages (no hats, not skateboards, no food or drink in the sanctuary, no music written after 1980, no fun, no joy…)

Maybe it’s because we look down on people who don’t live like us, think like us or vote like us.

Maybe it’s because we’re heartless and cold toward those who are outside our group.

Maybe it’s because we are fake and hypocritical.

Maybe it’s our “holier than thou” swagger.

Mark chapter 10 describes how the Jesus crowd tried to keep people from Him…

First—parents brought their children to Jesus, asking Him to bless them. His disciples scolded them for “bothering” Jesus. Was Jesus bothered? Yes—but not by the children or their parents… He was upset with his disciples for trying to keep them away. He said, “Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them!” (Mark 10.14)

Second—a blind man named Bartimaeus heard that Jesus was nearby and he started shouting to get his attention. The Jesus crowd yelled at him, telling him to be quiet. Blind Bart just got louder. When Jesus heard him shouting, he stopped and told Bart to come. Bartimaeus came to Jesus and was healed.

This has been going on for a long time…

The Jesus crowd keeps blocking the path of those who want to come.

Here’s the deal: Jesus doesn’t want the path blocked.

He’s not bothered by them at all.

If anything, He’s bothered by the path-blockers.

Jesus is saying, “Let them come to me. Don’t stop them!”

In the final chapter of the Bible, we’re reminded of God’s desire for everyone to come…

The Spirit and the bride say, “Come.” Let anyone who hears this say, “Come.” Let anyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who desires drink freely from the water of life. (Revelation 22.17 NLT)

Let’s be in step with the Spirt of God—rather than blocking the path, we say “Come!”

An Alternative, not an Ultimatum

I love the chapter in Paul Scanlon’s book (The 15 Revolution) where he talks about barking dogs…

Quoting from the book:

I don’t want to ‘bark’ at my city or the people in it. I want to appreciate it, love it and learn to live amongst the people of my city as a revolutionary for positive change.

Jesus was not known for what he was against.

He was not known as the ‘Pharisee hater’ or the ‘Tax Collector’s worst nightmare!’

Instead, he was famous for the good he did for people.

He was called the healer, the one who spoke with authority and wisdom, the great teacher.

But most notably, he was called the ‘friend of sinners’.
?What a reputation to have!

And we, Christ’s Body in the world today, should have the same reputation.

The church is not a resistance movement; it is a replacement movement.

God so loved the world that he didn’t send us an ultimatum but an alternative.

Get There First

When the prodigal hit rock bottom, he decided to go home.

He left the pig farm and took the long “walk of shame.”

Broke, dirty, hungry, hungover and suffering from a migraine headache, he trudged home—rehearsing what to say.

His father—full of love and grace—was the first to see him coming.

His father ran out to meet him on the road.

His father got there first.

Imagine if this story had played out differently…

Imagine if the prodigal’s older brother got there first.

Instead of being met by love and grace, the prodigal would have been met by anger, judgment and rejection.

Today, people all around us are taking the “walk of shame.”

We’re surrounded by the broken, dirty, hungry, hungover, suffering prodigals of our day.

Here’s the question: who will get to them first?

Will they be met by anger, judgment and rejection or will they be met by love and grace?

Maybe the answer to that question is up to us.

Maybe it’s our job to get there first with love and grace.