Everything and Nothing

I've toyed with various ideas for a Christmas blog post, but as you might've guessed by this point, didn't settle on much of anything. But even if it's a few days after the fact, here is what I've settled on -- everything and nothing.

I think the lyrics of the song above capture what Christmas is all about:
"I'm lost and found, I'm saved and drowned,
I'm everything and nothing all at once.
I'm so far gone, but I'm already home, with everything and nothing but Your love"

Keep repeating those words as you picture in your mind the Christ child. He was everything -- the son of God, the child about whom angels sang, the child for whom a star shone to guide the Magi.

And yet he was nothing -- a helpless ball of flesh lying in a trough in some barn, born to fearful, trembling parents and facing a future that dictated he would be betrayed, beaten and killed.

He was both those things, because he was love. Love great enough to humble himself, to sacrifice himself and ultimately to rise again -- to be everything and nothing all at once.

Merry Christmas, indeed!

Forget What You Came For

They say if you can't do something right, don't do it at all. So for the past few months, I haven't been blogging. I have high hopes of more frequent posting ahead, but who knows?

Anyway, I was listening to some music for the first time in a while this week and ran across this song from a group called The Myriad. It's called "Forget What You Came For." In a nutshell, this song is about putting aside your worries and your hurries to focus on what matters -- just being still and listening to God.

For The Myriad, I imagine this song took on new meaning last November when drummer Randy Miller died after a two-year battle with cancer at age 39. Take a listen and may it move you to "quit making noise."



forget what you came for
and give up what you have
forget what you came for
and give up what you have

as all the lights go down you'll see
that things aren't what they seem
for the sounds that spin you around
will crush your bones

quit making noise
and lend an ear to the silent voice
and trust in the hope of a thousand ships
crashing down on the sea

forget what you came for
forget what you came for
forget what you came for
and give up what you have

unhealthy rust in your blood stream
a lifeless frost to plague your dreams
then all the ghosts that chill the air
come and jolt your bones

quit making noise
and become still for the silent voice
and quit making noise
and wait

...

forget what you came for
and give up what you love

Time doesn't stand still

It was the rock band Rush that sang:

(Time stand still)

I'm not looking back
But I want to look around me now

(Time stand still)

See more of the people and the places that surround me now
Freeze this moment a little bit longer
Make each sensation a little bit stronger
Experience slips away

Another piece of my experiences slipped away this week with the passing of my lone remaining grandparent.

The generational clock has struck midnight and the roles officially changed for the next psuedo-24 hours, if you will. My parents are my grandparents, I am my parents and my daughter is me.

Day-to-day, does much change? No, not when you were already a thousand miles away. But it's still a reminder that time doesn't stand still. The temporary clock is ticking, but there is an eternal clock, too.

So while I'm left with memories of storytelling in bed, "nippers" off the bat in the backyard and an Arizona snowman for Christmas, that is all just a mist (James 4:14).

And I am reminded of the lines of the famous poem by C.T. Studd:

Only one life, ’twill soon be past,
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Little Boy Lost

The following is a true story in poetic form.

I found a boy in the street today.
Who he was or where he was from, he could not say.
His shoes were muddy and pants were wet,
No more than 3 years old, just he and his trusty pet.

It was not safe, but he knew no better.
Not a care in the world, he was light as a feather.
I picked him up, at first he resisted.
But sitting in the backseat, he finally desisted.

His toy car in one hand, mine in the other.
He chitted and chatted as we looked for father or mother.
At last a neighbor came riding to the rescue,
The boy returned home safe and sound, it is true.

As I left the relief came with a friend in tow,
A sort of grim disappointment, just a feeling, I know.
But it seems likely this won't be his last taste of trouble,
Will he escape next time, or will disaster burst his bubble?

And it hit me as I thought about this, is this not what God feels for us?

He sees us meandering aimlessly among life's temptation and sin's pitfalls, often oblivious to the danger. And he tries to guide us safely back home, but he knows that soon enough we will again be flirting with danger, playing 'Frogger' with sin's onrushing headlights and slowly walk further and further from safety.

Not that this is new to God. Adam had but one pitfall to avoid in the Garden, and he couldn't do it, so how much more surprising is it that we can sit in church, sing the songs, read the scripture and still stray?

We are all a little boy lost, and we all need a Savior.

Isaiah 53:6 says: "We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way ..."

But it goes on to add this: "and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all."
That's Jesus, our shepherd, the finder of the lost.

That's not Jesus

Well, the weekend has come and gone, and we're all still here. Another attempt by man to know the mind of God has failed as the predicted rapture/end of the world did not arrive at 6 p.m. on May 21.

Surprised? Not really. Disappointed? Yes and no.

Mainly I'm disappointed because all those skeptics have added another big log to their fire of doubt. Maybe I'm in the minority, but I find the rapture jokes not so funny. I guess that's because even though I don't believe Harold Camping, I do believe Jesus Christ, and He says one of these days it's going to happen.

But most of all, I find myself thinking of a Wayne Watson song called 'That's Not Jesus' off 'The Fine Line' album. The chorus goes:

"That's not Jesus, He doesn't carry on that way.
Just some flesh and blood like you and me, Somehow gone astray
That's not Jesus, no, No matter what they say
He doesn't need me to defend Him, He just wants me to obey."

And that's the problem, that when the world looks at ol' Mr. Camping, they just put the Jesus label on him with an asterisk that says: MAY BE CRAZY.


But that's not what Jesus looks like, and not the way he's going to be introduced when he comes either. In Matthew 24:23-24, Jesus warned his disciples to be wary:

"At that time if anyone says to you, ‘Look, here is the Messiah!’ or, ‘There he is!’ do not believe it. For false messiahs and false prophets will appear and perform great signs and wonders to deceive ..."

Later in the same chapter, Jesus tells us what we should be doing when he comes, and it doesn't say anything about buying billboards or trying to scare people into heaven. Jesus say simply:

"Who then is the faithful and wise servant, whom the master has put in charge of the servants in his household to give them their food at the proper time? It will be good for that servant whose master finds him doing so when he returns."

After 2,000 years and nearly as many wrong guesses as to the Lord's return, maybe we should all stick to following Jesus instead of predicting him. As the song says, he just wants us to obey.

A Living Prayer

Ran across this video of Alison Krauss and Union Station playing Jay Leno a couple of years ago. The song is fantastic, as is the response of the audience, who were no doubt being shown the applause sign, but still ... Anyway, enjoy.

Staying the course

"When in the course of human events ..."

So begins the infamous Declaration of Independence, that revered document emblematic of American freedom and the signing of which forms the basis for our annual Fourth of July celebrations.

But did you know that eight delegates of the Continental Congress never signed the Declaration? Three were away with other duties at the time and never did sign, two voted against the document and were replaced, one voted for it but was replaced before he could sign, one resigned rather than sign it and one refused to sign, calling the Declaration premature, but remained in Congress.

Over the next seven years of the Revolutionary War, you can bet the wisdom of that document and those signers was questioned more than once, but in the end the mission was accomplished.

More recently, on May 1 it was announced that terrorist leader Osama bin Laden had been shot and killed, just four months shy of 10 years after the plot he masterminded resulted in approximately 3,000 deaths on Sept. 11, 2001.

In the intervening years, there was a fair amount of grumbling and disagreement of the pursuit of bin Laden. On May 1, there were flags waving and people chanting. Another mission accomplished.

The Bible tells similar tales, most notably the people of Israel, who followed Moses out of Egypt to freedom, then spent the next 40 years grumbling, stumbling and bumbling their way through the wilderness before finally reaching the Promised Land.

It's a good reminder for us as Christians as well. Christ died some 2,000 years ago, and since then has come a fair amount of arguing, debating and worse as the days pass without his return. But he's already told us it's going to happen, so we must stay the course, do the work, fight the good fight until he comes, until one more mission is accomplished.

Do cats have armpits? ... and other mysteries

One of the most beautiful things about kids is the questions they ask, unless you're the one that has to answer the question.

About a month ago or so, my daughter was petting our cat, who was enjoying a nice nap at the end of the bed and welcomed another reason to purr. But suddenly out of the blue, she blurted, "Do cats have armpits?"

My wife and I just looked at each other for a moment, then burst into laughter. Put that on the list of things to ask about in heaven.

A few weeks earlier, this same inquisitive little girl had a different question. She asked her mother first, then me. "When's God's birthday?" she inquired.

"Christmas," was my nearly automatic answer and no sooner than I spoke, I realized my error. So did the 6-year-old.

"No, that's Jesus' birthday," she corrected. "When is God's birthday?"

Oh, dear. There's no theology textbook for stuff like that.

I paused a moment, then plunged ahead with a response.

"God doesn't have a birthday," I said. "God has always been and always will be. He lives forever and never changes. That's why we know he's always with us."

Was this enough to satisfy a child's insatiable curiosity? As it turns out, yes.

With a simple, "Oh, okay," the conversation was over. She may or may not remember it, but I will. You never know when or where you'll learn about God, but whether you're 6 or 96, his mysteries never cease.

Now if I can just figure out whether the cat needs to wear deodorant!

The Killing

It's been a while but here I am again. And as has been customary on this blog, I begin with a reference to a TV show.

One of my recent favorites is AMC's new show -- The Killing.

And I warn you now, it's not for the faint of heart. The root of the show is the mysterious death of a teenage girl, but the title alone should tell you a bit of how the subject matter is treated. It's not just a homicide, crime scene investigation or whatever, it's a killing.

The girl's death is not simply a basis for building a whodunnit, but it's portrayed as a painful, haunting thing, particularly for her family.

That's what draws me, I suppose, the pain and grief is so real, you truly feel for the characters.

The same is true this Easter weekend of Jesus' death on the cross. Sometimes we make it so sterile, so tame, so laissez-faire. But it was real, it was painful and it was for you, it was for me.

One song that really captures this for me is a song that is 20 years old now from a group called The Violet Burning. Also called The Killing, this song really helps make Christ's crucifixion personal. And the video below uses clips from Mel Gibson's Passion to back up the lyrics.

Returning Christmas

Christmas was two weeks ago now. By this point, you've likely spent some time in line for the refund desk somewhere, exchanging or returning a gift for yourself or someone else.

Maybe the situation is not so different spiritually. All that peace, goodwill, joy and sharing/caring spirit you had just a few weeks ago is gone. Perhaps the warm, fuzzy feelings about the true meaning of Christmas have been exchanged for questions about the true meaning of life.

The Christmas story in the Bible mirrors that experience. We like to talk about stables and shepherds and wise men, about angels and gold, frankincense and myrhh, but what about what came after? What about vengeful Herod and his killing spree of the young boys in Matthew 2? What about Joseph and Mary and Jesus fleeing to Egypt at the angel's warning?

Things didn't stay warm and fuzzy for them, and they won't for us either. But if there's one piece of advice or example we should follow, look no further than Luke 2:19: "But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart."

Christmas is something to be treasured in our hearts and its miracles and blessings to be pondered -- not taken lightly or momentarily enjoyed -- treasured.

Then when the doubts come and times don't seem so warm or inviting, we have an anchor to fall back on. Call it the assurance of Christmas, and that's non-refundable.

Not Who I Was

I find Brandon Heath's song, "I'm Not Who I Was" (see above) undeniably appropriate as we start a new year.

We all undergo changes in life, sometimes the changes are physical, sometimes mental or even spiritual, but rarely are we the same person from day to day, let alone year to year.

So the question for the new year is this: How will you let life's changes impact you?

They can make you stronger or they can make you weaker. They can make you more positive or more negative. You can be more faithful or more hopeless.

Either way, you're not who you were.