A thousand voices echo through the hall, rising and falling in a crescendo of worship. Hands are lifted high in praise, voices strain and tears fall. A powerful wave of emotion sweeps through your body as you catch the tiniest glimpse of the meaning of the words you’re singing. I watched the drummer pound out the beat with every ounce of strength he had. Joy overflowed in my heart and I beat my hand against my leg to the rhythm.

God, how can I constantly miss you? I’m there, and I take the time, but somehow I’m just not there. My mind isn’t there and my heart isn’t there. You long for all of me, and I give you a time slot in my day. Take my life.

Better is one day in your court,
Better is one day in your house,
Better is one day in your court,
Than a thousand elsewhere.

It’s the foggy night air, and you just can’t see anywhere. My headlights shine into the mist, but it only gets cloudier.

I was having an e-mail discussion with someone about dealing with unsaved friends. We were discussing whether or not you should be doing questionable things with them. How good of friends can you be with an unsaved person? The other person made a remark that when the person is committing a sin we shouldn’t be around them. The person gave the example that Jesus never talked with a person while they were sinning. If they were sinning, he would reprimand them, and then talk to them. I pondered this for a few days and came to a very different conclusion. When is a person not sinning? At what point can you go up to someone, realize they are not sinning at that exact moment, and talk to them? I don’t think you ever can. Now Christians are a special case. Christians have the saving blood of Christ, and while they can still sin, there is a point when they are clean and without sin. I don’t want to get into that debate. What about the unsaved? Let’s say you want to share Christ with a prostitute. Obviously, you don’t share Christ while she’s committing her sin. But afterwards, isn’t she still in sin. Just because she’s not committing the act, doesn’t mean she’s pure. In fact, I’d say she’s living in a sinful lifestyle. So how can you ever approach a person when they’re not sinning?

It’s just an interesting thought and addition to an on going conversation of how Christians should relate to the world. A lot of people think we should be reserved and withdrawn. You never know when the world could pull you down. While that may be true, I think we have to realize that sin is sin. It’s pulling the whole world down. There’s no way to escape that. The choice is either hide in your little church shelter, or go out and fight the sin. Notice I didn’t say embrace or accept the sin. Somehow, I think the Bible is pretty clear on which option we’re supposed to choose.

Another thing I’ve noticed, is it just me, or is the way we refer to those who aren’t Christians kind of weird? Unsaved? Non-Christians? Unbelievers? Just a thought. Maybe I’ve been in Christian circles for too long.

So what do you believe? What’s your answer to life? And do you have anything backing up that answer? Sometimes that’s a difficult question to ask. Most of the time it’s an even more difficult question to answer. I claim to know the answer. But do I live it? Is it evident? Sometimes I really have to struggle with my answer. I have apathetic urges that tell me it’s worthless and that I’m nothing. Sometimes you just have to suck it up through those times. What am I saying? Am I saying Christianity is a sham and you have to do it all yourself? No. I’m saying Christianity isn’t easy. It’s not a walk in the park. It’s difficult. It can hurt. Sometimes it feels like you’re all alone. You want God to reach out and save you, you want the light to shine down from heaven. But sometimes it stays silent. Sometimes it stays dark. God doesn’t follow scripted plots and sitcom resolutions. But he is always there for you. He gives us so much more than life.

The alarm went off this morning, and I really wanted to shut it off. I hit the snooze instead, and pushed the decision nine full minutes away. It screamed again, and I smacked it–this time forced to make the decision. Do I sleep in on a Sunday morning, or do I get up and go to church? I’d already made the choice to sleep through Sunday School. Now I was flirting with skipping the whole thing. But I got up. I wiped the crud from my eyes and took a long shower. It’s funny how long, hot showers are the worst thing you can do when you’re getting up way too early.

Continue reading Why I Get Up For Church →

A conversation from a long time ago came back to me tonight. I’m not too sure why, but it was a conversation in a Sunday School class, or something like that. Our teacher was also a deacon, and was sharing with us stories relating to how we need to be in the world and not of it. I guess he was trying to share examples from his own life. He was telling us about a pizza place down the road from the church that also had a bar. It seems the deacons had themselves a dilemma. They wanted to go there for the pizza, but what about the bar? What if other people saw them walk in to the bar? That guy’s a deacon at the church, and he’s going into a bar!? Of course these random passerbys who witness the deacons enter the bar, yet don’t actually go in to see the deacon abstaining from alcohol (whether or not the deacon actually needs to completely abstain from alcohol is a whole other issue, one I’m not about to address).

Continue reading Three Deacons Walk Into a Bar →

Is this what it feels like to die and save the world? Is this what it feels like every time I slip up and leave you hanging your head? Her actions hurt, and I feel a loss of trust. One man hurts another, a relationship broken, yearning for restoration. This is what you feel when I sin, and you must answer for it. I swallow my pride and forgive her painful action. The hurt man forgets his pain and forgives the other. Jesus’ blood covers my sin, and he forgets my blasphemy. Forgiving others, the way you forgive me–now I understand the pain I put you through, day in and day out. What they do hurts, and I wonder how I can trust them again. But you tell us to forgive, as you have forgiven us. Forgive and forget. Move on. So this is what love is? This is what it’s like to save the world? We can never truly know what it’s like to bear the weight you carry–but I’m so glad you do. I’m so glad you do.

Why is it that half the time when I sit down to pray my mind jumps to a million different responsibilities? I can’t clear my head enough to stay on track, and I end up babbling like a little kid to the Almighty. I can barely talk to him, let alone sit still long enough to hear what he has to say. Somebody once told me that it’s easier to serve God than to love him. Serving him requires going about those million different responsibilities. Loving him involves ignoring those responsibilities so you can spend time with him. At least he appreciates my efforts. But will just my effort always be enough? All you need is love, but it’s just not that easy.

Orion watches me as I come home again. He floats up there in the sky, behind me, as I walk home and realize that when the lines between the righteous and the wicked, the merciful and the ruthless, the good and the evil are blurred–you’re gonna get burned. I ponder this revelation, and I realize it’s the reality behind every atrocity committed on this earth, as well as every insignificant sin. ‘You will be given the knowledge of good and evil’–but he neglected to tell us we’d be spending our lives confusing the two.

You are not God
And you don’t know what it’s like
(“Separate Lines” by Maskil)

I ask so many questions. Hiroshima, man’s sinfulness, and my own mistakes. We ask so much of you, God, but we never stop to wonder what it’s like for you. What is it like to watch your creation butcher one another? What’s it like when one of your loved ones breaks your holy law? I can’t imagine the pain we inflict on the God of the universe. We consider so flippantly that you sit up there so far away, safe from the pain of this troubled creation. But you know it all too well. You hurt with us, and you shed your own tears of grief. Your Son’s blood flowed on this cursed ground. The ultimate expression of your love. We certainly aren’t God, and by no means do we know what it’s like.

What does God think when Christians don’t do their best work? When Christians hail a low quality piece of work as good just because it’s “Christian?” How does God feel when we do that? Time and time again I’ve seen products of the Christian subculture that are so far below par it’s humiliating. Yet they’re on the best seller list. Or someone’s standing up and praising this substandard piece of art–if you could call it that. I understand that God will use us despite our shortcomings. He doesn’t expect me to write a Mark Twain quality novel, and he’ll use what I write in spite of that. But that doesn’t mean I can write crap. And that doesn’t mean you should accept my crap and call it good. As Christians I firmly believe we’re called to the best that we can. And too often we fall far below that mark. The world should be impressed with what we have to offer. Jesus Christ deserves our very best. Anything less is like a hammer to the nails.