The art of being victorious

There’s an old southern hymn that goes

On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand and cast a wishful eye to Canaan’s fair and happy land, where my possessions lie. I am bound for the promised land, I am bound for the promise land; O who will come and go with me? I am bound for the promised land.

Since February, I’ve been meditating and thinking about death and the resurrection. I’ve stood at the pulpit many times, I’ve stood at gravesides many times and preached the resurrection. I’ve preached on how we will be raised imperishable; how we’ll be raised immortal. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable and the mortal with immortality, then the saying will come true–Death has been swallowed up in victory!

O what a saying. And each time I say it, I see the comfort in the people’s eyes. I see them knowing the comfort of the resurrection. But now, since February, since my grandmother (who truly was like a second mom to me) passed through the gates of glory, I cry when I preach on the promise of the resurrection.

At the same time, I cheer, I smile, I get excited about the victory. Where O death is your victory!?! Where O death is your sting!?! Death has been defeated. I have nothing to fear after this life. It doesn’t bother me any more. I know to whom I belong. I know who is truly victorious.

Thanks be to God, for he gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ! Amen.

The reason why I’m able to stand and look out and see the victory is because of Jesus. Now, I know this is getting a bit preachy. I know that. But it’s also been weighing on my soul.

I heard a song this morning on the radio called I will rise. And I began crying. I don’t fully know why. My grandmother’s birthday is coming up in a month. The first one that I will miss and can’t call her up and wish her a happy birthday. But that day also has another importance to me. It is the anniversary of my baptism.

I was baptized on June 12, 1994 at a tiny little church in Camarillo, CA. I didn’t know the true significance of it until years later. On that day, I symbolized how I had died. I died to my old self. I died to the old ways of living. I died in Christ as he died upon the cross. And I rose victorious with him from the grace. As he rose, so did I. I am raised in him, I am raised with him. And in him I am victorious.

In being victorious, I know with assurance that I can do anything, be anything, live anything in Christ. In fact, I can do all things through him who gives me strength. Why? Because, I am victorious.

Because of Christ I am victorious over ADD. It affects me. Yes, but I don’t let it get me. I know that it isn’t the end all. It doesn’t define me. Christ does.

Because of Christ I am victorious over dyslexia. It affects me. yes. But it doesn’t define me, Christ does. His victory is my victory.

I know with assurance that I will stand beside my grandmother, stand next to her in the presence of the glory of the Lord. Singing praises. Singing “Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord God almighty, worthy is the Lamb that was slain.” Worthy is Christ to be praised and worshiped. Why? Because in him I am victorious. Over it all. And there will be that day, when I cross the stormy banks of the Jordan, cross into the promise land and worry no more about ADD, worry no more about dyslexia and be whole and complete.

And now, today, I stand firm victorious in Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior.

God and the buffalo

Back in early March I took a spiritual retreat down to a place in Kansas called Buffalo Ridge (and yes, God is in Kansas…so is the CRC. There’s a great church in Olathe, KS…same town where I stopped for Waffle House and had some great biscuits and gravy). While I was at Buffalo Ridge, I walked with a buffalo. And as crazy as I am, I talked with the buffalo. Now, a few things I learned later on made me feel a bit stupid. But at the same time, I learned something about God. Or at least was reminded about something important concerning God.

At Buffalo Ridge, they have a herd of buffalo in an acre or three pen. When I was there, most of the buffalo had been sent out to…well, be burgers. The rest remained and wandered the pasture. There was a prayer path marked out around the pasture so that one might meditate on God’s great creation while being in the presence of one of his majestic creatures.  One particular beast kept charging at the fence. Scared the snot out of me at first. But when she kept doing it, I started to be more at ease. And then as I walked, she walked along side of me. Snorting. Each snort spouting steam on the chilly March morning.

I later learned that this particular beast was known simply as Stupid. She apparently thought I had food for her and the more I talked with her, the more I she thought I’d give her some food. She’d charge when she was upset I wasn’t giving her food.

That being said, Stupid was still one of God’s creations. Not just that, but a very big (as in bigger than a Buick creations). A buffalo can cover 20 feet in 3 seconds flat. And to be honest, it was a bit frightening at first walking along side of a buffalo.

Some months later, I’ve been reflecting on my time at Buffalo Ridge and sometimes thinking about going back there in the summer or spring time to feel the warm sun more than the cool wind. But I’ve also been reflecting on Stupid and God.

Now, I want to be clear, I’m not calling God stupid. But one things I realize about Stupid is that she is still a wild creature. Sure, she was in a fenced off pasture. Sure, she thought I had food and wanted some. But she was still wild. She was gentle, yes. She was majestic, yes. She was a site to behold, yes. She walked close with me, yes. Was she tame? No. Not in the least. With her girth, build and might I add horns, she could do damage at any moment. She was beautiful to behold but not tame. She was wanting to walk beside me but she wasn’t tame.

So many times, when we reflect on God, we see him as one who walks beside us, who is majestic and amazing. But we forget one thing. God isn’t tame. He isn’t tame in the least. He is like a mighty lion. Majestic, beautiful, frightening while at the same time empowering. But a lion isn’t tame.

What do I mean about God not being tame? Well, to be honest, I don’t fully know. If I knew I wouldn’t be writing a blog post, I’d be writing a kick butt book on it. But I do know this, you can’t box in God. You can’t fence him in.

We try to though. We try to fence him in, to block him in, to control him. If we do so, then we feel comfortable and at ease. Then we can control how he walks with us. But in so doing, we loose something. We loose seeing him in his true grandeur and awesomeness.

When I was in Yellowstone last year, I saw a number of buffalo (or bison as my son and daughter kept correcting me). They weren’t tame either. And they did as they wished. When they walked across the road, you stopped. You payed attention. And if you didn’t respect them you’d get hurt.

Much the same way in following God. To tell the truth, when you don’t listen to him, you can get hurt. You can’t harm yourself. When you place him in a fenced in area, block him in, you don’t listen to him, you listen to yourself.

Don’t fence him in. God is greater than you’d ever imagine. Don’t fence him in. He’s awesome times a gagillion. And if we don’t see that, then we begin to fence him in. Let him out of the fenced pasture, let him go and you’ll see his might and awesome.

He is a God who isn’t tame. Gentle? Yes. Loving? Yes. Willing to walk with us? Yes. Tame. No.

A prayer walk to remember

I took my daughter with me on my prayer walk Monday morning. She’d been sick on Sunday and so stayed home from day care on Monday. Monday morning she was feeling well. Well enough to come with me on my prayer walk.

Me: “Do you want to come with Daddy so we can go pray in the woods?”

She: “Yeah.”

And so we headed to my favorite spot where my prayer bench resides. As we drove there, we didn’t speak much. Of course, she’s 3 1/2 but usually she’s a chatterbox. We did make faces at each other through the mirror as I drove. We waved at my son’s school as we passed by and she looked out the window, seeing all the cows in the pastures.

This was something new for me, to tell the truth. I was sharing something important to me with someone else. I was sharing my own personal devotional life with my daughter. Once we left the car, she took my hand and we walked to the trail.

Me: “Now, remember, always stay on the trail.” Good advice from someone who knows why.

She: (mostly to herself) “Stay. On. The. Trail.”

And so we walked the grassy path, our shoes becoming wet as we kicked up the dew and remnants of Saturday’s rain off the grass beneath our feet. Soon, she was no longer walking, but instead residing upon my shoulders, looking around and exclaiming how she could no longer see the road nor the car.

Soon we came to where the trees covered the path, dismounting from my shoulders, she walked joyfully along the trail. I praised God for such a moment, seeing my daughter enjoy walking down the trail. Seeing her hop and skip and dance on the dirt path. All the while she kept repeating to herself “Stay. On. The. Trail.” I had to smile and thank God for that. I was teaching her something here.

Eventually we started making our way to the prayer bench.

Me: “I want to take you to my favorite place.”

She: (once again riding shotgun on my shoulders) “You are!? It’s my favorite place too.”

Me: “It’s the place where I like to go and talk with God.”

She: “God lives in your heart”

Me: “Yes, yes he does.”

We came to the prayer bench. She ran and sat down, looking out over the Missouri River. I came and sat down next to her, silently praying. The reason why I came was to show my daughter how to pray. She snuggled up to me for a bit as I prayed. And then, as any 3 1/2 year-old might, she got up and danced. She twirled, she hopped, she shuffled her feet in the grass and dirt. And she smiled. Joyfully.

And then she stopped.

She: “Daddy, I wanna go now.”

Me: “But I still want to talk with God for a bit and to enjoy him.”

She: “Daddy, God lives in my heart.”

Me: “Yes he does, and He’s also all around. This is His world and we live in it.”

She: “No daddy, He lives in MY heart.”

Her God, my God, is personal to her. She knows her God and loves him, knowing that he is always with her.

Out of the mouth of babes, I guess.

I smiled and she once again took her place upon my shoulders. We then made the trek back to the car and headed happily home.

The Art of Doubting

Doubt.

Do you believe it. Do you believe in the doubt?

Doubt we think is something we can’t have. We think we’re not allowed to doubt. We’re not allowed to question. If we question then there’s something wrong with us. That our faith must not be strong enough. It’s as if there’s an either/or in our lives. Either you believe or you don’t. If you have doubt, you must not believe.

Then there’s St. Thomas the doubter. Thomas’ doubt is recorded at the end of the Gospel of John. Jesus appeared to Mary. He appeared to the disciples. Yet Thomas wasn’t present for any of these times. He didn’t get to see Jesus risen from the grave. He wasn’t there when Jesus appeared to the disciples who were hiding behind closed doors. He wasn’t there. And he’s asked to believe that Jesus was risen. He can’t. “Unless I see him, unless I touch his wounds, then I won’t believe,” is his mantra.

And so, Christ appears to him. Shows him the wounds. Thomas touches them and cries out ‘My Lord and my God.” Thomas had his doubts, Christ showed him the truth.

And we struggle with this. If we could do the same thing, then there would be no way that we would doubt. We would in no way question our faith, question what we struggle with, question why bad things happen to good people. We question why we struggle. We question why our faith feels so weak.

And we doubt.

And we doubt and wonder if our faith is strong enough to handle following Christ.

There is an art to doubting. And St. Thomas showed it. He gave a challenge in his doubt and his challenge was met and he was moved. With Thomas one thing we do see is that it is okay to have a strong faith and a strong doubt at the same time. In John 11, Thomas was ready to die with Christ. And he was with Jesus the whole time. He learned from him. His faith was strong enough that in his doubt, he challenged Christ.

When we doubt, we question what we believe. We question what we think. And we question God’s movement. And that’s okay. If you read through the Bible, there is always that struggle. Why, God? Why? Where are you God? Will you hide your face from me?

Even in the darkest moments of doubt, we’re able to have a faith that lets us know we’re never alone. He will never leave us nor forsake us. And in our doubt we hold on to that promise. Even when things look bleak and we wonder, we’re able to remember that blessed are those who believe and have not seen. For we don’t walk by what we see, but by the faith that we have.

And so, if there’s doubt, that’s okay. Allow that doubt to exist. Challenge that doubt. Christ may not answer right away. It might take time for him to reveal to you what he is doing. But he will answer you. And he will let you know that you’re never alone.

Only the Penitent

I’ve been wanting to do this one for some time now. Sometime back, I made reference to Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. It’s a wonderful scene towards the end of the movie where Indy, his father and the rest along with the Nazi’s are  in the cavern, trying to enter into the tunnel which leads to the cup of Christ, the Holy Grail. Each person who enters in, leaves minus a head. They can’t even get through the first level without loosing their heads.

And so, Indy goes in. His dad is the expert about the Holy Grail. His dad studied and studied about the Holy Grail. And his father instructed Indy in all that he knew. And so, Indy is forced to walk through this tunnel of head lopping in order to retrieve the Holy Grail.

There’s a hint in how to enter the tunnel. Only the penitent man shall pass. That has so much wrapped up into it. Only the penitent man shall pass. According to the Miriam-Webster Dictionary penitent means one who is expresses humility and/or sorrow for sins committed.Traditionally, the idea of being penitent is to have a regretful pain and sorrow for sins that have been committed towards someone or towards God.

Okay, all the Word Nerd stuff out of the way.

One of the things that always got me about this scene in The Last Crusade is that Indiana Jones actually remembered something his father taught him. All throughout the movie, he kept telling people that this was his father’s area, not his. Yet when it came time, he remembered what his father had said. And this, well, it saved his life.

A penitent man kneels.

That’s the second thing I find interesting in this scene. The fact that in order to save one’s life from flying saw blades (that are way beyond the technology of the crusades) one must humble oneself. This can only be done by kneeling. True humility is acknowledging that you are dependent on something else to be alive. Of course here the trust is in the three brothers who set up these traps in the first place.

But penitents is more than that. It is more than kneeling to avoid flying saw blades (which, by the way, are way ahead of their time… just sayin’). It is kneeling out of remorse for one’s sins. That is why a penitent man was supposed to kneel. To ask for forgiveness. In The Last Crusade, one kneeled so not to be killed. They were unwilling to seek forgiveness. But in real life, we kneel, not just physically, but spiritually.

We kneel remorseful for we see just how great our guilt is. That is, we see how we’ve messed up. We see how we’ve done wrong, done other’s wrong, done ourselves wrong, and done God wrong.

When we kneel, we are able to also see something else. In order for Indy to see the coming saw blade, he had to look up. If he hadn’t've looked up, then he wouldn’t've ducked. We need to look up, to look up at God who is smiling down on us, receiving us through Jesus Christ. We look up as he sends down his grace upon us.

But we can’t look up unless we kneel first, in penitents.

So, where do you need to kneel? Where’ve you messed up and need forgiveness? Kneel down, look up and God will smile down his grace through Jesus.

Way to spiritual right now for a Friday…luckily I have rhubarb coffee cake. But that’s another post.

The non-walking prayer walk

I’ve been trying to go on prayer walks on Mondays. Mondays have become my day off and I’ve been trying to set aside time to go out into the woods and just pray. The last two weeks I haven’t been able to. Last week it was raining and that’s not a good idea to be out in the woods during times like that. That and I caught a cold too which isn’t all too good. Then this last Monday, I wanted to go out and walk in the woods but my knee and ankle were killing. Sadly, I made the decision that my bones might know a bit better than I and I choose not to go.

Instead, I took time to sit and pray. And that’s harder than walking and praying. As I walk and pray, I’m able to look around at God’s grandeur. I’m able to see His works and sing off key This is My Father’s World. I’m able to keep focused on my prayers by looking at what’s around me.

Not so when I’m sitting in my chair, head bowed, hands folded, eyes closed. I’m still. And I know that we’re supposed to be still and know that he’s God. But that’s hard. It’s hard. Because I have to really stay focused. And being ADD, I have a hard time staying focused.

In my prayer walks, I can spend up to an hour just in prayer alone as I walk the trails around me. It’s amazing thing, to pray for an hour. I never thought I could do that. Sometimes I just talk. Other times I just listen. Time goes by so fast. Each step I take I feel the prayer.

When I sit, time slows down. It seems like I’m struggling to carry a conversation. It feels like I just can’t pray like I do on my prayer walks.

And then I feel bad. I beat myself up. I feel like as a spiritual leader, I just don’t cut the mustard (how you can cut mustard is beyond me, but I just can’t cut it though). I feel like I’m failing some how because I can’t sit still and pray.

And I’m thinking I’m not the only one.

Prayer is the fundamental part of being healthy spiritually. There are times where we speak. There are other times where we listen. It’s the listening part that’s the hardest. I think it’s easier to listen while on a prayer walk because there’s so much to listen to. The birds chirping, the wind blowing, the leaves rustling in said blowing wind, the crunch of the leaves and grass beneath my feet, the bugs buzzing. It’s all there.

Yet, what I’m realizing is that sometimes, sometimes that’s the noise that keeps me from listening. Sometimes it’s helpful in hearing God in the world. Other times it gets in the way of my focusing on praying to my savior.

It’s in the silence that I hear his voice. In the silent, in the holy place, in His presence, I hear His voice whispering words of comfort, support, encouragement and direction.

What will come this Monday? Another prayer walk or time in silence? Or both?

What about you? How are your prayers? How’re you with the silent moments?

In the morning

There’s something about waking up early. Earlier than everyone else in the house. Earlier before the hustle and bustle, the get the kids out the door and get to work in time.

I was up early this morning. The house quiet. Opting not to make a fresh pot of coffee, I did a reheat made of coffee left from the day before. Not my brightest choice, but again, it was early. My mind still a bit hazy from sleep, a bit groggy from waking up and being part of the world around me.

I’ve been waking up early a lot lately. And I’ll say this, it’s changed my day completely. When I’d wake up later, just in time to get up and rush the kids around with breakfast, getting dressed and out the door, I’m able to do my PT exercises, ice my knee, enjoy a quiet breakfast and most importantly of all, pray.

I’ve mentioned on here a number of times just how important prayer is. How important it is to our spiritual health. It’s that quiet in the morning that helps me focus. That helps me keep my mind on one thing. My prayers to God.

Prayer within it self isn’t for God, it’s for us. It’s to help us see God in motion. It’s to help us lean upon his will. It’s to help us hear his voice in our lives. And he sounds a lot clearer in the early morning than he does in the hustle and bustle if I even get a chance at all.

I like how Psalm 90 puts it, asking God to be present in prayer in the morning

Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days. Psalm 90:14

So take time and start your day a bit earlier. You’ll be a bit tired at first, but more calm. And start it with prayer, you’ll have more of a connection with God during the rest of the day.