black snow

as a transplant from Tennessee, I have learned a few things about Chicago weather over the past 4 years.  one is that winters are LONG and HARD.  the snow, the wind, and the freezing temps will tend to linger on through March and even April at times.  once you feel like it's over, there's another cold front that comes your way and snaps you back to reality.

yesterday was one of those days--sunny and 55 degrees.  everyone rejoiced.  people rode in their cars with their windows down (me).  runners hit the pavement.  men everywhere fired up their grills.  any excuse to go outside was taken advantage of and  I was no exception.  so, as soon as I got home, I threw on my running gear and headed out the door.

one thing to note is that as I mentioned before, the winters are HARD.  this winter was exceptionally so.  (by the records it was the hardest in like 20 years or something--not just by own personal experience, which will also testify to that.)  that means there was lots of snow.  so much so, that as it gets plowed from the streets and parking lots, there are huge mounds that are formed on the sides of the streets.  despite having temps above freezing for a few days, there were still some remnants of the snow mounds that remained at the bottom.  as I was running and dodging lots of puddles of water from this melting snow, I had quite the obvious observation.

the snow that's left is dirty.
black.
grimy.
and horribly unpleasant to look at.

unlike any form of snow that falls from the sky, this snow has sat there for MONTHS and turned a shade of brown that it never should have.  it has absorbed every ounce of exhaust from the cars that have driven past.  it has picked up the dirt and grime off the street as it was slung onto it from day to day.  it has soaked in the toxins from the environment around it.

this snow is an eye sore and it needs to go away.

but wait.  isn't snow white and fluffy and the thing of "winter wonderlands?" isn't it pure and spotless?  isn't it even represented in Scripture as something that cleanses us?

yes.  it's true.  in its natural state.

snow is clean until it's been corrupted by the environment around it.  it's not spoiled until the wear and tear of the winter--the cars and the smog and the CO2 soak in, making it black and yucky.

and the thought hit me.  I think people are like that too sometimes.

ever meet someone who is your same age, but looks 10 years older?  from time to time at my job, I will have a client who fits this description.  I am always amazed that we could have graduated the same year of high school and yet seem so utterly different.  almost every single time, I find out it's the wear and tear of life that has gotten to them--the amount of struggle, pain, addictions, or issues they have gone through that have smudged off their luster a bit.

although outside appearances may be one indication, it's truly our hearts that are most impacted.  ever meet someone who had it all together on the outside, but were crumbling away internally?  once the heat turned up, and the outside veneer seemed to fade away, what was truly underneath finally showed. and that was dark, dirty, and a little worse for the wear.

honestly, we are all like these snow banks.  we have been affected by sin, brokenness, and a corrupt world around us.  those things can't help but rub off on us over time.  so, when the spring comes and the temps soar, and the outside cleanliness is gone, the inner guts are revealed--and unfortunately, they are nothing but eye sores.

thank God for newness and cleansing that can only be found through Christ.  if it were up to me, I'd keep shoveling on new snow to keep anyone from noticing the black grossness beneath.  thankfully, I don't have to resort to that.  ya know why?  because that black crap gets taken away and replaced with new cleanness.  there's no need to cover and hide, b/c it has all been taken care of through the cross.  Jesus' blood has cleansed me in a way that my own efforts never could.

the Israelites in the Old Testament had a system in which they must make sacrifices for the cleansing of their hearts.  the problem was, these sacrifices were never quite enough--the snow always melted and the blackness resurfaced.  yet, when Jesus came, He served as the ultimate cleansing sacrifice.

"The blood of goats and bulls and the ashes of a heifer sprinkled on those who are ceremonially unclean sanctify them so that they are outwardly clean. How much more, then, will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death, so that we may serve the living God!" Hebrews 9: 13-14

"Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean;
wash me, and I will be whiter than snow." Psalm 51:7
may this season of Lent be a time that we reflect upon the cleansing sacrifice that only He can provide.  thanks be to God for the newness that is found in Christ!

lessons from music and poetry

This morning at work, we had a professor from Wheaton College, Dr. Jerry Root, speak to us about the topic of Evangelism.  He's a very wise soul, one that you could sit and listen to for hours.  In the span of our time together, he spoke not only about evangelism and sharing the Gospel, but about all sorts of life lessons and faith applications.  One little snippet was a quote he shared from C.S. Lewis (he's a C.S. Lewis expert and scholar…to be expected).  He talked about how we have the tendency to re-read books from time to time, and how it's not the lack of knowledge of the content or plot that keeps us reading them, but rather it's something in the book that tugs at our hearts and creates in us some sort of longing for "other," ultimately a longing for heaven.  (Side note, Dr. Root also shared a story from the movie "The Notebook" and tied it to our deep relational need for God.  We need more men in the world like him. :))  Hearing all this today while also re-reading "Searching for God Knows What" by Donald Miller has gotten me to thinking.

Books and movies tend to capture our emotions, sweep us away in a story, and touch the longings of our hearts.  The same can be said for music, poetry, and art as well. I would even go so far to say that all of humanity has a certain form of appreciation for the arts in some capacity.  There's nothing quite like a beautiful song, a dramatic plot, or a carefully placed brush stroke to catch our attention and tug at something deeper within us.  And what is at the core of us, but our longing for God, for purpose, and for relationship? Yet, when it comes to our faith, we so often conceptualize it through the concrete and tangible--lists and rules, structure and organization.  We want to know our spiritual performance, measure our religious growth, and assess our relational status.  Yet, these structural concepts are not the things of sonnets or love stories.  These don't speak the language of artistic masterpieces, rhythmical melodies, or a lingering kiss.

So, what gives?

Here's the thing.  Let me share a little from my personal experience.  I have never been "good" at feelings.  Someone asks me how I feel, and my immediate response is "I think…"  So, when it comes to my faith, the graph chart approach works really well.  Break it down into something measurable, and I'm set.  Want me to check off a list of to-do's and then mark my progress on a timeline?  Sure, that would be great.  I spent the majority of my childhood and early teen years in this mindset.  Do this, don't do that, and get a gold star in heaven. Yet, turn the tables and ask me to "feel" and relate?  That's much more uncomfortable and unknown.

But the truth is, our faith IS relational. It's dynamic and ever-changing. There's a definite time and place for structure and discipline (believe me!), but it cannot be the basis of our faith.  We need the stuff of poets and lovers.  We need a close, intimate relationship with God, the One who loves us more than human words could ever convey.  No amount of structure or rules or formulas could ever replace or fabricate that.

May we be encouraged this week to bask in His presence and be overwhelmed by His love.

"See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!" 1 John 3:1

small Light, dark world--so let it shine

During this Christmas season, my thoughts should be preoccupied with a Baby in a manger, wise men following a star, and a virgin birth in a little barn out in a far-off place called Bethlehem. Although these things are components to what I've been wrestling with, mostly I've been mulling over the concept of Light.

Perhaps John was thinking similarly when he penned these words:

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was with God in the beginning. 3 Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. 4 In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." John 1:1-5

That Light came in the form of a tiny little Babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and laying in a manger, and it hasn't stopped shining since.  

The thing about light is that it's quite persistent.  It only takes a teeny tiny little spark to start a fire.  One small candle can illuminate even the darkest of corners.  

And the Light didn't end when that little Baby grew into a Man and suffered a cruel death on the cross. Instead, it persisted through even the darkest place of all--DEATH, and came back shining even brighter.  Now, this same brilliant Light lives inside all of His followers, as we seek to carry it to the corners of the earth, so that all may be illuminated. 

The Light is persistent and unstoppable, but the darkness is also cunning and tenacious.  It seeks to send strong winds, snuffing out flames wherever possible.  The lurking shadows and creeping fogs attempt to fill crevices and corners, spreading the darkness to reach even the most brightly lit places.  

The darkness will not win, in the end, however.  Light is always more powerful.  The darkness will meet it's final destruction one day, when all things will shine under the illumination of the True Light. Yet, things are not over yet.  Our work is not done.  There's a role for each of us to play as "light bearers."  How do we carry this Light into a dark world? 

Recently, I have heard too many stories of fellow Christians becoming prey to the sin and shame that only comes with the dark.  Secret struggles, shame and fear, and much more can be found lurking in the shadowy corners and recesses of our lives.  It's time to shed Light on these.  It's time for us to step out in faith, allow these areas of our lives to be exposed and cleansed, and to hold out our Light for others to see.  

This can only come through true recognition of those dark corners and an attitude of repentance.   Too easily we refuse to call sin for what it is.  It taints us, keeping us away from God, while also leaving its mark of destruction on both ourselves and those around us.  (See, sin never just affects us.)  It's time for us to rid ourselves of the shadows, and to walk in the Light.  

Light came to the world over 2,000 years ago.  That Light "shone in the darkness," and defeated sin and death on the cross.  Now, that Light shines in us.  A challenge is set before us this season.  How will this truth impact your life?  

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven."  Matthew 5: 14-16

There's only one way to wash yourself clean
So let the dirt fall and get on your knees
There are a million scars for every mistake
Oh but we are not chained to the secrets that we've made
Oh but we are not chained to the secrets that we've made

So come let it
Come let it
Come let it
Come let it shine

"Come Let it Shine"--All Sons and Daugthers

Merry Christmas everyone!  May we celebrate the Light.  

independently connected

i've been thinking about friendship, community, and relationships lately.  (part of this may be due to the fact that I am reading "Four Loves" by C.S. Lewis. darn you, Lewis--you make me think!)
...

it's interesting how inextricably woven together we are as human beings.  yet, on the same hand, we find ourselves fiercely independent of each other.

we need each other.  we need laughter and hugs and a listening ear.  we need long talks and a hand to hold.  we need confession,  exhortation, and correction.

yet, we need autonomy.  we need space.  we need to "own" our own decisions and feel like we are staying true to our sense of self.  we need solitude and peace and quiet.

we are connected, yet separated.  our minds, actions, and wills are our own.  we learn and grow from one another.  we become better versions of ourselves.

but ourselves we will always be.

our decisions are just that...they are "ours."  we can pray for one another. we can offer insight, guidance, and sometimes a good ol' smack in the face.  yet, our realm of control only extends so far.  each person must lie in the bed they have made.

connected, yet separate.  and that's ok.  it's actually a beautiful thing.  longing for relationship, yet still finding ourselves alone with our own thoughts at the end of the day.  loving, laughing, and listening, yet still solitary.

the truth is, we'll never feel complete.  we'll never feel fully "known" or connected to others.  and that's ok too.  just like anything else, relationships and community can get off-kilter.  instead, this tension, this vacuum, is meant to instill hope, an anticipation for the future.  the hope that one day things will be different.  when every tear is wiped away, and when we can finally see "face to face."

"now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known." 1 Corinthians 13:12

and for that day we wait.  til then, we walk this path alone...yet, together.

Maybe we aren't made for this much awareness.

As I scroll through my newsfeed, I can be bombarded with information regarding a tornado that swept through Central Illinois, a typhoon that hit the Philippines, someone who locked their child up in a cage, multiple people’s battles with cancer and disease, childlessness, joblessness, break-ups, and the list goes on.  On the internet I can get updates on national disasters and local injustices, all within a click of the button.  I am more aware of the pain and tragedy in the world than I was even 10 years ago.  The question I have to ask myself is, “am I the better for it?” 

I think about how things were in my grandparents’ time.  They grew up in the Great Depression; they were no strangers to injustice, pain, starvation, and suffering.  They lived through World War II and heard first hand the destruction that humanity was capable of.  They were familiar with the roads that evil, disease, and unemployment can take a society down.  And all of this occurred while technology was advancing.   They had newspapers and telephones to pass information on the world’s occurrences.  Information was received much more rapidly than even their parents had experienced.  Yet, things were relayed so much differently during their time.  News travelled fast in the small town where my grandparents lived because everyone knew each other’s business (good or bad).  Word spread from person to person.  You got a phone call from your neighbor down the street and you heard the intonation in the person’s voice as they shared the tough news.  Or you read it on the headlines of today’s newspaper.  You saw the images printed in black in white, perhaps after several days had already passed and it would’ve e been considered “old news.” 

We have a much different experience today.  Instead, we are bombarded with hundreds of pieces of information each minute.  Many of them are negative.  And as much as I am all about raising awareness to the issues going on in the world, I start to wonder if we were made to handle all of this.  We reach a certain point where we become anesthetized to the suffering around us.  The headlines on the evening news are tragic, yet we only give them a cursory glance while chatting with our children over the dinner table.  We could justify this response by saying that those people are “half a world way,” yet even when tragedy strikes next door, we are hardly impacted.  Children are being shot in gang wars in the streets just 30 miles away and we are unaffected.  And what about those headlines that are even closer?  What about our “friends” on our news feeds?   We encounter tons of information from our “friends” daily on social media sites such as Facebook, yet how often are we actually affected by someone else’s suffering when they post about it online?  We may take a second to pause and pray or let the news sink in, yet it doesn't seem to carry the same effect as it did years ago.  Perhaps we have gotten so over-informed that we truly aren't informed at all.  Is there such a plethora of information that we have to sort through on a day to day basis, that we have begun to ignore the most important pieces around us--the lives of others that are impacted right in front of our eyes (literally)?  Could it be that the human mind (and heart) is meant to only process so much?  Are we handicapping ourselves by taking in too much information?   

I can't begin to know the answers to these questions. Yet at the same time,  I can't help but notice the effects of information overload in my own life and ponder its aftermath.  At what point will we say, "something has to change?"  Until then, we can each be intentional about noticing the truly noteworthy news in our world, and pausing to feel the pain, suffering, and burdens of others who have been affected by tragedy around us.    

gym thoughts: some things can't be replicated

Today I went for a bike ride after work.  The rain had just stopped and the pavement was still smelling like fresh moisture.  The clouds in the sky were turning blue, purple, and red while the sun was setting over the tree line.  I followed the pavement to my favorite trail and marveled at the tall prairie grass that was beginning to turn brown as autumn approaches.  I saw squirrels, rabbits, and birds.  Geese were walking around the marshland, searching for sustenance.  Gravel was crunching beneath my bicycle tires as I listened to the sound of crickets in the woods around me.  I had to pause to thank God for His beautiful creation and allowing me to be a part of this wonderful sensory experience tonight.

I couldn't help but contrast this rich moment with my experiences exercising at the gym.  Just last night I was on a mechanical stationary device whose sole purpose was to help me increase my heart rate by moving my legs up and down in a repetitive motion for 20 minutes.  All of this takes place in a sterile environment while watching TV and listening to Top 40.  Three times a week I walk into an indoor exercise room where I "clock in" and do my duty to help ensure that I don't die and early death due to cardiac arrest and high cholesterol.  I had a moment where I realized that not only do I subject myself to doing repetitive motions on a man-made device in order to participate in physical activity, but that I also think that it's NORMAL to do so.  Something is just missing.

Perhaps it's the fact that I am not actually going anywhere while I'm moving.  I am not feeling the wind as I run, or my feet hitting the pavement.  I don't see the sunset over the horizon, or the suicidal chipmunk that runs in the middle of the path.

Or perhaps its because I'm a slave to a machine all day, every day.  I sit in front of a machine at work.  I check a machine throughout the day to see if someone has tried to contact me.  I drive a machine to and from home.  I am so inundated with machines, that at times, you start to wonder if you ARE one.

Or perhaps my discontent with the gym comes from the lack of dynamic opportunities.  I don't walk away having felt like I experienced much of anything (besides other people's body odor).  I don't feel like I participated in something "bigger" than myself.  Sure, I feel healthier.  I feel stronger, and those things cannot be discounted, but there's something to be said about being in creation and realizing how truly small we really are.

So, will I go to the gym tomorrow?  Probably.  But will I long for something different?  Definitely.  In the meantime, I will keep attempting to lower my cholesterol.

I'm A Qualifier

I have recently been reading through some of Paul's letters in the New Testament--you know, the "General Electric Power Company"--Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians.  Well, throughout this process various passages have caught my attention that have never stood out to me before.  Colossians 1:12-14 was no exception.  The passage says, "...giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light.  For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins."  

The word "qualified" really grabbed my attention. I thought it was interesting that Paul used this word in particular.  I recently ran in the Chicago Half Marathon, and perhaps sports analogies were on the brain, but I thought immediately about what it means to "qualify" for something.   There are lots of things we have to qualify for in life, in order to "get ahead."  You must "qualify" for the Boston Marathon.  You muse have the work experience necessary to "qualify" for a promotion.  Your ACT scores must "qualify" you for college admission.  In all of these examples, you must meet a certain standard in order to be able to attain the positive outcome.  There are certain qualifications that must be met.  

In this passage, Paul says that we have been "qualified to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light."  What standards would be necessary for such an inheritance?  How would we go about qualifying to be a part of this kingdom?  The word "light" seems to give us a big clue. It would seem like I need to be good, pure, and clean.  "Light" isn't rusty, rotting, or dirty.  It isn't broken down or corrupt.  It's shiny, bright and new.  So, that leads me to believe that I am immediately disqualified.  My abilities to produce things of light seem quite low.  If left to my own devices, I will not be able to meet these standards.  

It's interesting that Paul doesn't describe God as just overlooking our abilities to meet the qualifications.  He doesn't say that God ignores our faults and weaknesses.  He isn't like the coach who turned a blind eye while his player used performance enhancing drugs.  He isn't like the supervisor that promoted an employee simply based on politics.  Nor is he like the professor who let his student cheat during an exam.    Instead, he gives us what we need to meet the qualifications.  

How does that work?  Don't I need to be perfect to meet the qualifications? Well, yes.  You do.  

The Greek word for "qualified" means to "make sufficient, to render fit." And God has done just that.  He  offered up the perfect sacrifice of His Son, Jesus Christ, so that we might qualify.  We have now been imputed with His righteousness, so that our shortcomings, faults and failures no longer keep us from fulfilling the standard.  We have been made "fit" for the kingdom.  

Thanks be to God for this indescribable gift!  So, the next time that you feel that you just don't "qualify" and are tempted to be discouraged, remember this truth.  God has not just turned a blind eye to your shortcomings, but instead He has "qualified" you for an inheritance in the kingdom of light! He has given us all we need to meet the standards for the most amazing qualification we could ever hope for.