Participating With God

I had the opportunity to share the sermon message at New Hope Maui on 8.21.11.

I spoke about God's challenge to me to become more intimate with Him.

The Parable of the Sower can be found in ...
     Matthew, Chapter 13; 
     Mark, Chapter 4; 
     and Luke, Chapter 8.

I also shared from 2 Peter 1:3-9

³ His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. ⁴ Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires. ⁵ For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; ⁶ and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; ⁷ and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love.⁸ For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. ⁹ But whoever does not have them is nearsighted and blind, forgetting that they have been cleansed from their past sins.

Click here if you would like to download this message.

When The Past Catches Up With You ...

Have you ever been on a long road trip?  Cruising in the fast lane, "going with the flow of traffic", making good time? Then realize it would be nice to stretch your legs, maybe use the bathroom or get something to eat, so you find a good place to stop?  Then, after you are back on the road, back in the fast lane, you catch up and pass the same car you passed 50 miles ago?

Then that car becomes your highway arch-nemesis?  Where it seems for the entire length of the freeway through the next state, you are ever "leapfrogging" with this clever rival?  Your bladder gets a little fuller as you try to hold off as long as possible to make your next stop, knowing you will lose the valuable lead you have attained.  Your stomach growls a little louder in protest to your oversight of the last 6 food signs.  Your travel-mates grow restless unaware of the highway battle that is ensuing.

My past is like that.  There is a period of my life (of which the time frame is kind of hazy) in 1994/1995 where my decision making skills were, shall we say, being challenged.  And there have been many times where there has been something, sometime, somewhere, that has reminded me of those days.  And then I get on with my life and leave those memories behind.

However, the problem is, that many of my guilt and shame issues come directly from that time period.  Mainly around sex.  So, "getting on with my life", has really been more along the lines of, "stuffing these emotions and memories in a box and trying to leave it behind and never think of it again".

Recently, via Facebook, someone "found" me from the era of my life, which in turn has become other people finding me.  Which in turn has become being tagged in a picture or two.

My sister (who has her own blog) can confirm or deny if she is in this photo

So now, it feels like instead of "leapfrogging" my Highway adversary, they have pulled into the same resaurant I have stopped at and are walking through the front doors.  Our eyes lock onto each other with an unspoken understanding.  

Perhaps it's time I introduce myself.

Don't Judge Me

I had the opportunity to share the sermon message at New Hope Maui on 3.13.11.

I spoke from Romans 14:1 thru 15:7, "Weak Faith"



Click here to download the message.

Who told you that you were naked?

I told myself I wasn't going to write another blog post until I finished the Freedom story.  But alas, though I know a few aspects of the next couple parts, the flow of how do get there is not forthcoming.

So, since October, when I've had the thought, "I should write about [insert clever, witty or thought provoking post title here]" ... I would reply, "Not until you finish the story ... "  Self-conversation aside, I have come to realize that the story will finish when it "needs" to (for me), but in the mean time, writing is a very good outlet to express and grasp some of the swirling thoughts in my head ... both trivial and spiritual.  To muse upon my ruminations, so to speak.

At the core of the Freedom story are my struggles with guilt and shame.  I think these are familiar feelings we all experience and they hinder us in experiencing the fullness of our lives.  As God has been helping me along in this struggle, I have become very aware of the effects of guilt and shame in my own kids.  It is heartbreaking to watch them lose their innocence and I find myself exasperated sometimes and at a loss of what I can do to protect them.  I am also aware that I, myself, am a contributor.

That is hard to admit.  However, the confession in itself brings freedom; the admission brings about a desire to become better; the awareness looks for opportunities to build up instead of knock down.

When my son pees his pants because he was distracting playing, I can encourage him to remember when his body is telling him to go potty, instead of suggesting he's not a baby anymore.

When my daughter flies into a dramatic fit because she doesn't remember I already kissed her goodnight, I can kiss and hug her again, instead of saying, "Just because you don't remember it, doesn't mean it didn't happen."

When I come home exhausted from work and I just want to rest, but my daughter says, "I want to spend time with you."  Instead of demanding "me" time, I can swoop them up and ask, "What would you like to do?"

When my son comes to me deflating because his friend got in his face and kept yelling that he is a "F**king B**ch" for accidentally hitting another kid while playing basketball, I can give him a giant hug and suggest playing Minecraft, instead of "forcing" him to resolve the conflict.

I heard someone say once, "Hurt people hurt people."  That is so true.  Guilt and shame make us feel naked and because we feel naked we want others to feel naked too.  Sometimes, our response (even to our own children) when they say to us, "I've been beaten and stripped.  I am naked," is to agree with them and say, "Yes, you are."

Who told you that you were naked? - God, Genesis 3:11

I delight greatly in the LORD; my soul rejoices in my God.  For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness ... - You, Isaiah 61:10.

Epiphany

Romans 12:2 ... be transformed by the renewing of your mind.

This is part 8 of a story to help me process ... and discover Freedom. (continued from part 7- Hysterical)

(Part 1- Where am I?; Part 2- Discombobulation; Part 3- Revelation; Part 4- Hesitation; Part 5- Veritas Liberabit Vos; Part 6- Misery)
____________________

"Are you OK?" Jesus asked.

The laughter had subsided and I was deep in thought.  Doubt.  I doubted so many things.  Every thought seemed to be second guessed and then doubted some more.  It was comfortable sitting here next to Jesus.  Just being in his presence.  It reminded me of the old days and our time together, but my mind was full of doubt.  How can he still love me?

"No.  No, I guess I'm not OK,"  I replied.  The honesty felt right.  As if just speaking the truthful words brought peace to my overwhelmed mind.  I wasn't okay.  I haven't been okay.  I have been stumbling along trying to figure out what went wrong only to perpetuate my stumbling.

"Do you want to talk about it?"  The words were so genuine.  He wouldn't push me more than I was willing to go.  For me, he would nudge, guide, prod and persuade, but that final step had to be mine.  Seek and you will find.  Knock and the door will be opened.

"Not really," I spoke honestly again.  I did, but I didn't.  I wanted to tell him my worries and fears, but I didn't.  I wanted him to tell me where I went wrong, but I didn't.  I wanted to explode my emotional frustration and have him tell me everything would be okay.  But I knew it wouldn't be that simple.  Core parts of me had to change.  Core parts of me had to be refined.

"OK," he replied.  He knew me so well.  If he out right told me to do it, I wouldn't.  However, if it was my own decision, I was committed.  The fact of the matter was I had to talk about it.  I had come to furthest reaches of my faith, and the chains that bound me up prevented me from going further.  I was like a dog tied to a post in his yard.  I had to be released from those chains to move on.

I stood up from where we were sitting under the tree and walked away a couple of steps.  "I suppose I should," I finally said, turning to face Jesus.

"Probably."

"But I don't even know where to start."  Thousands of thoughts flooded my mind.  Every doubt.  Every confusion.  Every failure.

"Well,"  Jesus stood and walked over to me, "You started along time ago."  He placed his hand on my shoulder, "And you are doing great."

I blushed.  His words were such a contrast to my inner dialogue.  I never felt like I was doing great.  I felt like I had failed miserably.  The times that were great I figured was the result of my wife and her faith.

Jesus' arm wrapped around my neck in a head lock and forced me to hunch over.  "Ouch," I cried, even though it didn't really hurt.  "What are you doing?"  I was fighting trying to get away.

"I.  Am.  Just.  Trying," he breathed heavily as if he were exerting himself, "To.  Get.  It.  Off."  He finally released me and backed away.  I looked at him surprised as he scrutinized me.  He stepped forward again, "Maybe if we ... "

"What?!"  I cut him off, confused frustration filling my voice.  He stopped.  One minute we're laughing, the next he's trying to rip my head off.  I was already on an emotional roller coaster, I didn't need this.

"You know I am surprised you don't have more bruises," he said and started pacing back and forth, still scrutinizing me, as if, at any moment he would pounce on me.

I looked at him with a puzzled expression.  I was beyond confused.  Sometimes Jesus did the most bizarre things, said the most bizarre things.  Was this because it was my mind?  Was I imagining these very things he did and spoke?  The inner workings of my own mind were strange enough as it was.  It certainly could be me.  But I wondered, maybe Jesus was speaking to me the way I needed to be spoken to. 

Here we were in my place of prayer, long ago an intimate place of connection with my Savior.  He often had spoken to me in a way and with words that were exactly what I needed to hear.  It has been awhile since we've met in this place.  Our recent encounters have been so much more reserved on my part.  Here, though, all pretenses were gone.  He could say what needed to be said and I could be myself.

"Yes!" Jesus exclaimed and lept at me.  Before I could fully grasp what he was doing, his shoulder barreled into my stomach as he tackled me to the ground.  Our momentum tumbled us down the hill a little way.  It sounded like Jesus was giggling when our bodies finally disentangled from eachother.  "You're it!" he yelled and ran back up the hill.