You mean there is hope?

Some of the stories are just heartbreaking. The people involved literally had no—or little—chance of finding success in their lives. One young girl started smoking marijuana at the age of four. How did she do that, you may ask? Her mother held her down and blew smoke into her lungs, hoping the effects would calm her down. Several years later, the young girl was on crack and heroin.

I heard similar stories about women and girls during my recent trip to Healing House, which is a residential treatment facility for women and their children. Healing House is under the organizational umbrella of Metro Hope Ministries, which also offers a men’s treatment facility.

The stories I heard that day made me realize—again—how fortunate many of us are. Thankfully, few of us ever had to deal with a mother who intentionally tried to get us high when we were a toddler. Or had to grow up in a household where generational poverty was the norm, with no idea how to escape it. Or grew up in a 
household where generational prostitution was viewed as “normal.”

No, mercifully most of us didn’t experience those life setbacks. We didn’t begin life several steps behind starting line.

Yet for these women—and everyone else—there is hope. If the gospel is about anything, it is about hope and restoration.

The Apostle Paul’s life always inspires me. Here was a man who did enjoy a good upbringing and was thought of highly among his peers. So highly, in fact, that he was a major force behind the persecution of Christians, these new Christ followers who some thought threatened the reigning religious landscape.

His hands were stained with the blood of murdered Christians, yet he ultimately found Christ—or Christ found him—and his life was redeemed. He went on to spread the message of those he tried to kill: the message of hope, redemption and healing. And he was largely responsible, along with the Holy Spirit, with spreading this newfound faith across the Middle East and parts of Africa and Europe—and beyond.

A life redeemed, indeed.

Similar stories play out each day across the world of people finding hope through a church, ministry, friend or a direct intervention from God. The details may vary, but the essential characteristics are the same.

Who could have imagined looking at Paul that one day he would become a leader in the “sect” that he once targeted? How about the kids who grow up in homes where generational poverty, addiction and prostitution are the norm? Few people give them a chance either.

Yet many of them find a way out—in the here and now and for eternity.

Many years back the term “pre-believers” became popular among some missions-minded people and those involved with evangelism. They felt it took the negative connotation out of “unbeliever” or “unsaved” and spoke to the hopefulness that they would eventually find Christ.

As believers, instead of seeing someone as an addict or as someone beholden to negative forces, maybe we should see them as pre-healed, someone who has yet to hear of the love, healing and redemption of Christ.

Then we can take it upon ourselves to be the one to share that gift with them, either individually, through our church or through a ministry like Healing House. Think of the impact upon those hurting this could have?
 
So the next time someone looks at you with desperation written on their face and says, “You mean there is hope?,” you can reply, “There sure is. Let me show you.”

Don't be defined by your past

I’m convinced God likes to create new things. I came to this conclusion not just by looking at the universe and the wonders of His creation, but also by looking at our own lives. While creation no doubt points to God’s uniqueness in creating something out of nothing, I believe He also likes to create new things out of older, used and damaged things.

As we enter a New Year, people like to make resolutions about changed behaviors, habits or commitments; but God is always ready to “create” something new in those He patterned after His own image.

The problem with making new resolutions is that the person remains essentially the same, subject to the same temptations as before. That’s why gym and fitness centers see such an increase in members the first couple months of each new year. People have made their commitment to change—to get in shape—but slowly that commitment becomes a nuisance and then ultimately it becomes an afterthought.

Creating something new in Christ has the potential to withstand the natural challenges we face in our modern society. Why? Because that change works its way outward from the heart to our expressions, behaviors and actions.

I’ve always been intrigued by the story of the adulterous woman in John 8, perhaps because of its starkness and clear delineations of before and after.

The religious leaders of the day bring before Jesus a woman caught in adultery. Not someone who was accused of committing adultery, but someone “caught in the act” of it. This was a serious offense. One that normally resulted in stoning.

Jesus remains calm during the entire episode, perhaps too calm from our perspective. But when He does speak, the reality of the dichotomy between His kingdom and that of the world couldn’t be starker.

After Jesus challenges the religious leaders to condemn the woman—those without sin to begin the stoning—slowly the crowd disperses, “the older ones first.”

Now it’s just Jesus and the woman, the one whose very life was seriously threatened no more than a few minutes before.

Jesus asks her, “Where are they? Has no one condemned you?” “No one, sir,” she replied. “Then neither do I condemn you …. Go now and leave your life of sin.”

The kingdom of this world would have condemned her, leaving her either dead or forever stained by the realities of her past.

Jesus’ kingdom gives her an opportunity to change, to become something she couldn’t be on her own, someone who can make eternal differences.

And notice Jesus doesn’t say to her: “Look, you were caught in a very bad sin. Your life will no longer be the same. You will forever be defined by this sin. Your life is essentially over. Go now and live saddled by your past actions.”

No. Jesus tells her she is not condemned and to leave her life of sin.

We don’t know for sure what happens next in this parable—or event. But I wonder if she embraced this newfound gift and lived the life she dreamed of living, free from her past, the hurts she carried with her and the shackles of that which had come to define her.

And that’s the opportunity each of us has now. We can make resolutions to change—and those are not in and of themselves bad. But Christ offers us an opportunity to become someone we can only be through Him.

This past year may have been filled with setbacks, struggles and failures. Maybe we lost our job, lost that significant relationship or fell into sin.

Christ’s offer to us hasn’t changed, and we don’t need a date on the calendar to begin anew. Just as He offered new life to the woman caught in adultery, Jesus offers new life to you and me.

Will you take Him up on His offer?

Arriving "Home" Again

One of the curses of adulthood is losing our childlike perspective on the world. As we grow older, we tend to abandon the curiosity, faith and innocence that defines childhood. We can never re-gain the perspective on life that we had when we were just beginning its journey--or can we?

T. S. Eliot, one of my favorite poets and philosophers--since all poets are at least amateur philosophers--commented on this one time: "And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started. And know the place for the first time."

While he isn't specifically addressing losing our childlike perspective, he is talking about our nearly endless search for meaning and understanding life. As humans, we are almost destined to spend our lives "exploring" or searching for the manner in which we can make sense of life. In a way, we are "exploring" various avenues or directions to find what we may have lost when we started.

Another way of saying it (without the eloquence of Eliot): "And the end of all our exploring to find meaning will be to arrive where we started. And realize that what we left behind was perhaps what we had been searching for the entire time."

Not specific situations or particular narratives but a time when our approach to life wasn't infused with the constant wearing down of the human condition. Newness, creativity, innocence, trust, optimism, embrace vs. pushing away ... all these and more point to the things we left behind.

And when our exploring is complete, we will arrive where we started--but we will experience it as if for the first time.     

What are you thankful for?

We’re entering that festive time of year known as “the holiday season.” We’ve just walked through Halloween and are quickly approaching Thanksgiving and Christmas. In the U.S., “the holiday season” is often characterized by spending time with family and sharing in the ups and downs of the previous 12 months.

During November, however, particular attention is paid to the notion of giving thanks, as we celebrate Thanksgiving. Around the holiday table many families take turns telling each other what they are thankful for. These proclamations usually run the gamut, including family and friends, health, general well-being, a good job, a recent vacation or many other tangible blessings.

Amidst this roundtable of thanks, however, usually runs an undertow of emotion from some people that usually goes something like this: “What do I have to be thankful for? My husband passed away this past year?” Or, “I lost my job six months ago, and I’m about to be foreclosed on by my bank. What can I possibly give thanks for?” Or even, “God, where were you when I experienced a life-changing diagnosis three months ago? I feel empty, alone, in desperation … waiting for you to comfort me.”

These are real and common emotions and predicaments felt by many. In the season of giving thanks, some might wonder how they can embrace this attitude of thanksgiving when all they feel is pain and despair.

Yet the idea of “giving thanks” is so thoroughly rooted in Scripture, it’s difficult to ignore, even when we want to pass by those verses or forget those particular episodes. 

You can hardly read through the book of Psalm without reading numerous times “give thanks to the Lord.” And oftentimes, that giving thanks is wrapped around an episode of betrayal or hardship or illness or pain.

So when we read in 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18, “Rejoice always,  pray continually,  give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” (emphasis added), how do we respond?

The answer will depend on our perspective. 

Like many, this has not been an easy year for me, and the bitterness of the death of a loved one still strongly grips my soul. In the midst of this pain and desperation, we are asked—no, urged—to “give thanks in all circumstances.” Not just in those circumstances where we get that new job or remain healthy or watch our kids grow up to be mature and God-fearing adults.

No, we are to “give thanks” when our loved ones die, when our jobs are down-sized and even when our own lives sting with the pain of mortality.

Yet as I was reading through this section of Scripture, I realized two things that should comfort believers on this journey.

Nowhere in this section does Paul say “giving thanks” will always be easy. But he does hope that God will sanctify us completely through our ordeals. To “give thanks in all circumstances” means to allow the Holy Spirit to define and direct our relationship with Him through all sorts of trials. It doesn’t take the pain away nor does it make these difficult times move more quickly.

But Paul encourages us that God will keep us through these trials and bring us home to completion.
Secondly, and most importantly, the beginning of this chapter reminds us that we are like transients on this planet. Even though it’s nearly impossible to understand and embrace sometimes, this world is not our final resting place. We are made in the image of God and are destined to spend our lives with Him—without any more pain, hunger, despair, death or fear.

It’s much easier to embrace the idea of giving thanks regardless of our circumstances when we understand and live each day with the idea that the Savior is currently preparing a place for us, a place uniquely designed for us just as we are uniquely designed in His image.

We can give thanks in our circumstances when we understand that our future home will far surpass anything we can experience on this planet. That certainly doesn’t mean it’s easy, but it should give us insight into the future.
 
So with this in mind this Thanksgiving—and the entire year over—what are you thankful for?

What’s your story?

Have you ever read a good book and been drawn in particularly by the life of the main character? Maybe it’s her circumstances; maybe it’s his ability to find hope amidst tragedy; maybe it’s her attitude or his faith; or maybe you’re attracted to the character because you identify with some part of her life.

Regardless of the reason, this capability to be drawn in reveals the power of story.

Last month, I had the opportunity to attend the Christian Community Development Association’s (CCDA) annual conference in Minneapolis. During the opening night’s plenary session, speaker, author and activist on Native American issues, Richard Twiss, gave the address to a packed house.

Twiss talked about this issue and how each of us is a story and also part of a much larger story or meta-narrative. Collectively, we are part of the story of the human race, part of the story of our nation, community, church group and family. But we also inhabit and are the main character in our own unique story. No one else plays the lead character in this story.

As someone who loves story and is always enticed by good ones, Twiss’ comments got me thinking about how we are also individual stories amidst the larger Christian story: the story of creation, fall, redemption and restoration.

And like all stories, our individual ones have a beginning, a middle and an end. There are plots, climaxes, conflicts and conclusions. There are supporting characters, antagonists, protagonists, minor characters and numerous others, and they all play some role in our individual story.

We also know that Jesus loves stories. When He told them—many of them in the form of a parable—they were often filled with conflict, difficult choices, mistakes and restoration.

The woman caught in adultery is one such example. Her “story” was filled with conflict, bad choices, disapproval and seeming hopelessness. But in the end, her “story” takes a surprise turn.

Just when we think her life will end—her hope finally running out—Jesus enters her “story” and rescues her, redeems her, saves her.

Her story had a beginning; it had conflict; it had a plot; it had a decisive scene in which the rest of her story would ultimately rest. It had all the elements of being a wonderful novel in the 21^st century.

Each one of us also inhabits this same story. We’ve had a beginning; we’ve had conflict; we’ve endured hardship; we’ve enjoyed prosperity; we’ve suffered through the efforts of antagonists and been blessed by protagonists who have helped us through difficult times.

And—at one point in time—our stories will end.

While we’re still in the midst of our stories, we can contribute to the next plot, the next high point, the next significant moment. We have the opportunity to redeem our story, write a new plot, develop an additional season of fruitfulness, contribute to the story of others.

In our broken world, too many people believe their story is already written. They believe the chapter they inhabit right now is the one they will inhabit forever. They believe that nothing more positive can ever be written about their story. It’s basically done.

As we saw with the woman caught in adultery, Jesus can—and does—write new chapters for us. His pen is ready, eager to write a chapter filled with hope and new endeavors. How much more is He eager to write about restoration and redemption than about failure and betrayal?

That doesn’t mean those words will come easily. They don’t for novelists, and they don’t for the authors of each of our stories. Yet Jesus is sitting at our writing desk—right next to us—waiting for us to pick up the pen and collaborate with Him on this story.         

What’s your story?

Copyright (C) 2012 Minnesota Christian Examiner

Is there such a thing as spiritual loneliness?

I've been wrestling with a concept lately, wondering if it's a legitimate condition or something that has bled over from our culture. It's the idea of spiritual loneliness. Upon hearing that phrase, some might immediately respond: We can't be lonely--in a spiritual sense--if we're in a relationship with God.

That may be true.

However, reading about some of the old-timers like D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones and his book “Spiritual Depression” and others makes me think it's not only possible but maybe even unavoidable to experience some type of spiritual loneliness during our lives.

As best I can define it, spiritual loneliness is a condition where someones doesn't necessarily feel separated from God. Nevertheless, a person experiences seasons in which their soul may be prone to wander or question and they want nothing more than to be able to express those feelings to someone. Not feeling particularly comfortable with or attached to someone and unable to express those issues, that person enters into a time when those questions and doubts can lead to spiritual loneliness.

Coupled with that condition is a fear that no one will ever hear their story, the complete story of who they are and how they were shaped--the incredibly unique story of how they came to be and what they are becoming.

No easy answers come to mind to address spiritual loneliness, other than making sure we all are available to someone who is in the midst of those wanderings and questions.  

 

 

Is God There?

We hear that question--or some derivation of it--often. Where is God?

For many, this question becomes most pertinent during dry seasons of prayer, times when God feels distant or maybe not even there.

I wonder, however, when we encounter one of those dry seasons if we need to look "differently" for God. Let me explain.

Many dry seasons revolve around the practice of prayer. We eagerly seek God and His counsel--for some issue, some relationship, some need--yet we don't hear from Him, at least not in the way we want Him to respond.

Those dry seasons of prayer are disheartening, painful and oftentimes result in despair. We just want God to speak to us, give us some sort of sign that He is listening and hearing our desperate pleas. Yet often we only hear the proverbial crickets, barely breaking the silence that our desperation has created.

Several years ago, I was in the midst of a difficult time. I was praying--often and with much emotion--but no response from God was seemingly apparent. Every day seemed to be just another excursion into the mystery of unanswered prayer.

Looking back at that situation now from a different perspective, however, I can see that God was speaking to me. It wasn't necessarily in the way I wanted to hear His response, but He did respond to my prayers.

Every afternoon, at almost exactly the exact time, the same song would pop into my head. It included the words, "There is a light at the end of the tunnel." I really didn't think much of it at the time. Nevertheless, looking back on that, I am positive it was God's encouragement to me that He hadn't forgotten me, hadn't tossed aside my requests and moved on to other, more important things.

He had responded to my pleas, just not in the way I had expected--or wanted--Him to.

Dry prayer seasons will engulf all of us at some time. When you are in the midst of one next time and God doesn't seem to be speaking, look around you. See if He is speaking in some other way, some nontraditional way. Through a friend, a song, an unexpected word of encouragement from a friend.

The promise never to leave us or forsake us is still in effect. We just might need to look more diligently and not always in ways we expect.