The Perfection Past Imperfection

I've been having this idea. I'm not too sure about what the Bible says on it, and I await to be corrected if Scripture proves otherwise, but I feel like what I've been thinking about is important for a few believers who struggle with serving God in their ministry.

Having gone through periods of dealing heavily with sin, Satan begins to have his way with me. I begin to doubt and struggle with the question of whether or not I should really be serving people when I'm such a messed up guy myself.

"But you're such a nice guy!"

Listen, I may be outwardly be as innocent as Alfalfa, but only God knows my heart, and the wickedness which it spawns every day. He knows my struggles. He knows my failures. And in these failures, I begin to hear whispers telling me that I should stop being involved in opportunities to serve until I've "got it all together." That I should wait until I have victory to give of myself in the high school outreach and small group activities that I lead.

Others, I feel, might rush to getting involved with serving and leading at their churches because they believe that is the way they're going to "fix" their struggle with sin. That, somehow, their act of being a leader will balance the scales of their bad deeds, or that it would point them in a direction that will help them become more holy. However, the thought that popped into my head recently was this:

Serving in ministry is not the place to go when you're messed up. Neither is it the place to go when you've got it all figured out. Rather, I think I'm beginning to understand that ministry is a place where one sinner can say to another, "Hey, I'm just as sick as you are, but I know the Great Healer, and He's doing things you wouldn't believe." 2 Corinthians 5 says,

"Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God."

Now, listen to that. How crazy is it that Jesus Christ chooses to reveal Himself through a people that are as broken and twisted as we are? In other words, the Christ is saying, "I'm going to work through you, to get to _______." And the wildest part is that He knows everything about us. He knows all our failures and shortcomings and He still allows His perfection to be seen through an imperfect people.

And that, to me, is supernatural.

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Dartboards and Danger

When I was a wee lad, one of my all-time favorite memories is my parents coming home with a dart board. Now, before you get your pantalones in a bundle, keep in mind that this was a harmless, plastic dartboard with non-pointed darts. However, it did make me super stoked to know that I was doing something that reflected a fairly dangerous game.

For real though, have we ever stopped and thought about how dangerous the game of darts is? You take solid metal needles and throw them at a tiny cork board from about 6 feet away. One small slip and someone's going to be adding an eyepatch to their shopping list for the week.

I grew up going to AWANAs. If you don't know what that is, please beg your church to start one. This children's ministry taught me a lot about Christianity in these wee years, and I am forever grateful. However, as much good as it served in my life, I must be honest about its shortcomings.

I learned, at this young age, that "sin" was defined as "missing the mark." To this, I would agree. But along with this description, I was also shown a picture as a child. To my memory, it was a picture of an arrow missing the bullseye on a target. Considering my rich history in darts, however, this isn't altogether a bad thing. Sure, you always want to hit the bullseye, but you still get points and could potentially win if your darts land elsewhere on the board.

"We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment." (Isaiah 64)

Let me tell you something about polluted garments. You ain't winning with them. You ain't even getting close to playing the game in them. And if even our best actions on our best days are regarded as dirty before this Holy God, our sin must be the very essence of evil. So to put it right, we are not only missing the mark or the bullseye; we're missing the entire board. Our dart doesn't even hit the same wall where the board is hung. We don't get any consolation prizes for getting close to the bullseye because we've missed it by a mile.

See where I'm getting at?

We're totally, unforgettably, undeniably, limitlessly, and infinitesimally sinful. Before the righteousness of a Holy God, the only totality we maintain is that of a perfect storm: totallywretched, through and through. Once we understand the gravity of how broken we are, we will understand why it took such a big sacrifice to put us back together. My point in all this is not to make you feel condemned - we are absolutely covered by the blood of Christ (if you are saved) and can approach the throne of grace with boldness. (Heb. 4) My point is to remind us not look upon sin lightly, as a boy who was taught all his life that he was simply "missing the mark."

We're not just missing it, we don't even have the strength to throw the dart.

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The Sharing Club

There's a lot of people getting involved in clubs now. And no, I am not in any way referring to raising a roof, pumping up a jam, or fist pumping the freshest of beats. (If any of that makes me sound dated, I apologize.) No, what I'm talking about are things like school clubs, church clubs, or any gathering of people for a common goal and purpose. The club I had when growing up?

The Sharing Club.

Do not adjust your monitor, you read that correctly. Yes, it was a club (misnomer: it was just me, my mom, and my brother) in which all of its members were dedicated to sharing whatever they had with each other. Now, in order to avoid any backlash from my family, I will forbid myself from mentioning anything regarding the fact that this might have been really childish, dorky, or strange. I refuse to say anything along the lines that it just sounded kinda weird. Yup, not saying a single word. You're getting nothing outta me, bub.

"So, being affectionately desirous of you, we were ready to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you had become very dear to us." (1 Thessalonians 2)

There's a big movement of street evangelism in the world of Christendom nowadays. And it's great! I applaud the effort of those who would brave sharing the gospel with people they've never met. It is a bold thing to give the Good News to a stranger, and I tend to think that it should be more normal for the believer to do than what we make it out to be. Instead of seeing it as a thing that only "strong Christians" (whatever that means) do, or as a thing that is only done in organized events, I think every believer should make it a habit to give the gospel to people on the bus, cashiers, waitresses, etc. In fact, I used to do this a lot, and I should probably be doing more of it now.

BUT... (there is a but) I think this form of evangelism lacks the biggest key to the strength of the gospel: Christians sharing themselves. Yes, you can share the Good News with that lady you found in the produce aisle at Walmart, (or should I say "aisles", as in all 513 of them) but the fact remains that she doesn't know you from Adam (or Eve, for you ladies. Trying to keep things PC around here, after all. We all know how good I am at that). She hasn't experienced the God Who, through you, can show love even after being friends with her for a long time. She hasn't seen you, through the conduit of relationship, show her grace when all she's done is hurt you. She hasn't seen you be good when everything around you is bad.

Paul knew that the gospel has the opportunity to take fruitful ground when it is lived out in front of someone, and not just spoken. It is this relational part of ministry that give people a glimpse at the God inside of you. You get to actually share a piece of God with someone else. So, as cheesy as this is about to sound, I beg you:

Please join the Sharing Club.

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Go Practice

Anyone who's known me for a decent amount of time has figured out that I am a magician. Yes, I just used word "magician." Notice that I'm comfortable using the word "magician" as a Christian, mainly because I believe that our modern concept of that is very different than if I was to use the word "sorcerer" or "wizard." What I'm trying to say is that I do not practice or dabble in the dark arts, but simply enjoy the use of illusion to create a sense of wonder for those who witness what I do. So put down your pitchforks. Please. They make me uncomfortable.

Having been a magician for the past 8 years or so, I've seen a lot of different performers and tricks, and I'll be the first to tell you that a technical artist is one thing, while a performance artist is another thing entirely. Having specialized in card/close-up magic over the years, I've seen a lot of YouTube performances that have excellently portrayed the correct mechanics of a move or sleight. However, there's a reason that some magicians never get their work out into the real world, and that is because they never learned what it meant to perform. Yes, they may have learned the technical details of a trick to the tee, but they were never able to present that trick in a memorable or entertaining way to real people.

I believe that presentation is vastly more important than mechanics.

"Walk in wisdom toward outsiders, making the best use of the time. Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person." (Colossians 4)

Seasoned with salt, eh? So what you're telling me is that, when having conversations with unbelievers, (outsiders) I should try to make it interesting!?

Whoa.

That's kinda different, no? For those of you who have a talent that you perform in front of an audience, do you not work hard to make your presentation excellent? Why then do we not do the same in our faith? We've learned the mechanics and details of Christianity to the tee, but for some reason, when we get to "perform" the gospel, there's more defense than offense. More mumbling than less boldness. More stumbling than confidence.

Make your presentation of the gospel interesting! Be crazy! Goof off and be real! Granted, I want to make it very clear that the power and substance of the gospel does not rest in our presentation, (Check out 1 Cor. 2) but we have to start doing a better job in portraying the wonder and power that is inherent in the words of God.

In my journey of learning magic tricks, I heard once that one hour of performing for an audience is worth ten hours of practice at home. So, what am I saying?

Get off your computer, walk out the door, and go practice.

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Day 279

Day 279:

It's been too long in this rat-hole. It stinks of stale urine, they give me just enough food to keep me from dying, and I haven't danced with freedom in much, much too long. In fact, I haven't been doing much dancing at all. After all, a 4 by 4 concrete cell doesn't lend itself to the tango.

You would think that they would let you wander free in your own jail cell, but even my hands are cuffed in front of me. Nothing fancy, just some zip ties. It's funny how two pieces of plastic have the ability to cage not just the hands, but the soul. Words cannot describe how much I miss Lady Liberty. I'm not talking about a statue, but you could throw her into this if you want. Either way, I'm not visiting her, or anyone, anytime soon.

It's funny how man never realizes just how valuable his freedom is until it is lost. And he wishes that he would have done anything to avoid being placed by a stranger in a dank, dark jail cell. But as I work on carving today's scratch into the wall, I realize that it wasn't a stranger who laid these stones, but I. The very prison that holds me is one that I built around myself, handing the keys to Satan himself when I was done. Oh, the shame and regret.

But I've got everything in order. My plan is perfect. You don't spend 279 days in jail without having time to think of the perfect escape. It's been a long time in coming, and my hands are trembling with anticipation within their zip-tie confinement. I must calm myself down, though. I can't risk injuring my hands.

But how does one calm himself when he knows what lies ahead? When he knows that the this long-awaited liberty is at his doorstep, like the arrival of a newborn child. And just like an expectant father, I trembled in my waiting room. I knew what was coming. I knew my plan. I knew it was perfect.

Then He came in. He walked right past the guard, opened the door effortlessly and without a key, and picked me up. I wish I could say that I helped Him pick me up, but I knew that wasn't possible. I laid there on the floor, and like a helpless infant, waited for Him to come get me. It's amazing how easily He was able to lift me off of the floor, despite the holes in His wrist.

You see, my escape plan was more like a rescue. After building that cell around myself and giving the devil rights to watch me, I knew there was no way I could escape on my own. So I gave up trying and let Him do it.

And now, freedom is mine. Day 280 will be written from somewhere open. Somewhere free. Who knows?

Maybe I'll do it under Lady Liberty.

"So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed."

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Hiding with Christ

Hide and seek and manhunt were probably my two favorite childhood games. Being the skinny, small child I was, finding places to hide wasn't difficult. Under sinks, behind doors, underneath cars, between bushes, flat against walls (if it was dark enough), in tall trees, etc. You name a small, barely-any-oxygen-to-breathe spots, and I've probably hidden in it.

However, there was always a major flaw in my hiding strategies. Maybe it had to do with all the adrenaline that was pumping, or the fact that silence gives you time to actually think about it, but I always had to pee. I couldn't stay in those places more than 2.39 minutes without feeling the terrible urge to, well, you know, lose my liquid weight, so to speak.

Then the inevitable, and strangely classic "TIME OUT - I GOTTA PEE!" was called, and my secret location was usually divulged to whoever was within earshot. I would have to find a whole new spot after the break.

For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory. (Colossians 3)

It's a tale of tradition that Reverend Augustus Toplady, a British preacher in the 1700s, was caught one night in a stormy gale. Seeking shelter, he tucked himself away in the gap of a gorge, where he was inspired to pen the following words, whose eloquence I cannot match:

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee

The picture given here is of a God who was carved open that you might rest in Him, protected from the destruction of storm that looms over us. He does not provide the shelter, He is the shelter.

Though the storm may get us wet and sick, God does not fail. He is the ultimate Keeper of that which belongs to Him. Once you are Christ's, you need not worry that the forces of this world will rip you away from His hand, no matter how the winds howl and the storm crashes.

God knows our weakness. Psalms 103 says that He "knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust." Because He knows our susceptibility to sin, the enemy, and suffering, He will guard our hearts until the day when we are lifted up with Christ; when we "appear with Him in glory."

Until then, I await here. Resting hidden in the Rock of Ages.

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God's Economy

One of my most vivid early memories was of me asking my mom how much it cost to go to college. I'm not really sure what she responded, (so much for vivid) but I believe she said something along the lines of about ten grand. Now, as a small boy who thought getting 20 bucks for being polite (that's a story for another time) was a payoff of Kardashian status, this number was massive. Monolithic. Ginormous, if you will.

So, I started saving. Here we have a less-than-ten little boy trying to save ten G's. From that time up until when I actually started going to college, I always made sure that I was trying to accumulate the appropriate cash for those years. To this day, I don't believe I've ever met any other small boy that looks that much into the future. A ten year old with a five-year plan. Go figure. Evidently, I valued college. Mucho.

When I took an economics class in high school, I learned the fundamental principle that something's value is determined by what someone was willing to pay for it. For me, I valued an education enough to start collecting loose couch change and polite-cash (once again, some other time) in anticipation for it. 

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows. (Matthew 10)

Well, there's the understatement of the ages. It appears that even God loves hyperbole. God values us more than "many sparrows." Well, they'd have to be a lot of sparrows, 'cuz God loved us enough to send His Son to die on a bloody tree. If you ask me, though, I'm not too sure I would have done what He did. I don't know that a humanity which constantly rejects and pains its Creator is one that has enough value for me to pay for.

But thank God I'm not God.

You see, in God's economy, He loves us with a love that stands regardless of our ability to hold up our end. In God's economy, He stretched out His arms on a cross just to show us how much He loves us. In God's economy, we are worth more than many sparrows, or anything else He created for that matter.

In God's economy, you are worth it.

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