I Wish I Could Tell You. I Wish I Knew.

I wish I could tell you.

I'm a big fan of using the right words, and I find immense joy when something is described accurately. I even feel that I'm growing in the ability to use the right words to depict ideas and phenomena. However, sometimes language fails you. Whether it be the hodge-podge that is the English tongue or the philosophically-minded Greek language, the exact words you need to describe something just don't exist. And so I wish I could tell you about God, friend, but sometimes the realization of something is more adequate than the words used to depict that realization.

I wish I could tell you how precious He is - of more value than the wealth King's Solomon's mines and more valuable still than all that this kind of wealth could buy you. I wish I could tell you what it's like to want Him so bad that you'd sacrifice sleeping through the dark, early-morning hours so that you could get up, drink some coffee, and get after Jesus in the still of those early hours. I wish I could tell you of the wonders of His character that makes you continue to chase after Him when everything around you, even your own mind, is telling you that you're wrong for doing it. I wish I could tell you what it's like to have a mind so transformed by the power of Christ that you begin to see His glory in every blade of grass, for you know that every blade of grass contains billions of atoms that all orchestrate themselves perfectly to his sovereign command.

But friend, I also wish I knew.

For as much as I've been drawn near to this Jesus, I realize that words like "fraction" or "decimal" don't even begin to describe how little I've discovered about Him. I wish I knew Him well enough to desire His presence over trivialities like prosperity or being comfortable. I wish I knew His character in such a way that it pushed me to stop thinking that things as earthly as sex could satisfy what only the Divine could. I wish I knew Jesus well enough to make me talk about Him as if He was the only thing really worth talking about. I wish I knew Him more than I know my own family, so that even things like blood relation take a back seat to blood shed on a tree.

In the words of Propaganda, "How come you're not smart enough to know that you don't know what you don't know?" Because, friend, as much as I'm figuring out what I know, I'm also figuring out what I don't.

And so, I wish I could tell you. I wish I knew.

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Breakfast with Jesus

Somehow, every time the holiday season of the year rolls around, things end up getting crazy (that's unheard of, right?). Since the girlfriend is on break, she hops into town. Since my extended family sees the holidays as one of the only good excuses for getting together, they also drive in. Then there's the parties, the fact that my birthday is four days after Christmas, the gift-giving, and on and on.

One of the by-products of what goes on during this month is that I lose touch. A midst the hustle and bustle and stretched time demands, I somehow forget to do the things which are most integral to my life, like spending intimate time with my immediate family or investing into friendships in more than just the superficial conversations that take place at White Elephant gift exchanges.

The biggest deficit I experience, however, is the time missed spending with Jesus the Christ. One might think that this season would be the one where people dive into this, the most important of relationships, but for me, that usually ends up not being the case. 

When they got out on land, they saw a charcoal fire in place, with fish laid out on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, 153 of them. And although there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.”

Let's set this scene a little bit: the disciples have not been spending the time with Jesus that they've gotten used to in the past three years. Since His Resurrection, He's only showed up twice, and the disciples are probably feeling some kind of frustration with this disconnectedness, especially since the Holy Spirit had not showed up yet.

In the past, I've typically told people that I'm not a morning person. I don't know that this is entirely the truth. Even if I get up at an insanely early hour, I can function pretty normally if I've had enough sleep and I've dosed myself with some coffee. And some of the most life-changing moments in my walk with Christ have been in these early morning hours, and one thing I've realized is that I miss having breakfast with Jesus. Sometimes I feel some kind of frustration with this disconnectedness.

Friends, perhaps you've been feeling some kind of frustration with disconnectedness from this Jesus lately. Maybe it's time to have some breakfast with Jesus. Maybe it's time you let your knees reconnect with your bedroom floor.

After all, 'tis the season to be joyful.

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The Punchline, The Reveal, and The Disappointment

I consider myself an amateur magician. Then again, I consider everyone except for the David's (Blaine and Copperfield) to be amateur magicians, mainly for the reason that there are so few of us (hah - "us"). But I heard somewhere once that magic is very similar to comedy in some respects.

That might sound odd to you, but let's analyze this: there are many jokes that take the listener down a path where they think the outcome is something they can generally expect. (i.e. "Why was six afraid of seven?") Then, the listener is surprised with something they couldn't see coming (i.e. "Because seven was a well known six offender.") We might call this "the punchline."

Magic often operates in a similar way. The observer is taken down a path where they think the outcome is something they can generally expect. (i.e. The observer chooses a card and the card is lost in the rest of the deck.) Then, the observer is surprised with something they couldn't see coming (i.e. Their signed card appears underneath the sole on the inside of their shoe.) We might call this "the reveal."

"For he grew up before him like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground; he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not." (Isaiah 53)

I'm a big fan of counter-intuitive thinking. I think God is, too. He took the Jews down a path where they thought the outcome was something they could generally expect. (i.e. The Jews were being dominated by an oppressive regime and had hope for a conqueror-Messiah to come and free them.) Then, the Jews were surprised with something they couldn't see coming (i.e. The Jews were given a small Baby born to a nobody-family from a nowhere-town Who would be more concerned with the freedom of their hearts than the freedom of their circumstances.)

Make no mistake, the Jews were right in expecting a great Lion-Warrior-King, but they just didn't expect it at the right time. Jesus' First Coming was as the Suffering-Servant, and the logic-defying nature of His arrival upset a lot of people. We might call this "the disappointment." But hear me friends, this was news was not disappointing, but rather the greatest news to ever reach Earth's shores.

You just have to have the eyes to see it.

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Peaches, Homelessness, and a Place of Rest

So I make it a point to be friends with interesting people. One such person's name is Peaches - yes, Peaches. That is not his birth name, but I can't see myself calling him by his real name or anything else. I volunteer for an organization called Youth for Christ, and so does Peaches.

One night, I was having a meeting with my supervisor and she made a ridiculously appropriate comment about my buddy: Peaches creates home for people wherever they may be. Perhaps you don't quite fully understand what that means, so I'll explain myself.

Let's say that you were at a football game. Lots of things are happening around you. There's tons of noise. There's crowds up the wazoo. If Peaches steps into that atmosphere, his personality creates a very real sense of calm, as if you were resting at home in quiet. He doesn't lend himself to the craziness of the surrounding environment, but rather makes his home with you in that moment. It is a great feeling of peace.

"Jesus answered him, “If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him." (John 14)

What is home? Yes, it may be where your heart is, but why is your heart there in the first place? Is it not because that is the place where you feel most at rest? Is it not the place where you find the worries and concerns of your everyday life fading into the peace and calm of home? I contend that it should be, and I also contend that this is what Jesus does for someone who has been redeemed by the peace that He offers.

It is no small matter that the God of the universe saw it fitting to make Himself at home with the dirty, broken, and hopeless. It is a matter of great wonder to think that Christ would take up residence and create home for those who have long felt homeless and abandoned. For those who have felt restless and hopeless. For those who know not what it means to have peace. But the Almighty God saw it fitting that He should make His home with us, giving us all of the rest and peace that it entails.

Friend, if you've too long been homeless and restless, would you not allow Christ to make His home in you today?

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The Forgotten Fruit and the Bruises It Bears

Figs don't get the publicity they used to. And even though many great lovers of fruit have heard of this treat, they have yet to actually try it. This is travesty. If you've ever tried the fig, you know what I'm talking about. It is truly one of the more unique flavors in the fruit kingdom, with a soft texture which is mixed with the crunchiness of its seed core, and it has a sweetness which is quite separate from any other kind of sweetness.

Those from the Middle East do not have the same problem of not knowing this fruit - it's all over the place! The fig is to Middle Easterners what the apple is to Americans, I suppose. If you've read any of the Bible, (hint: it was written in the Middle East) you know that the fig is quite the stud among his fruit buddies.

"Then Amos answered and said to Amaziah, “I was no prophet, nor a prophet's son, but I was a herdsman and a dresser of sycamore figs." (Amos 7)

If you've read the Old Testament, you know that Amos is one of the Minor Prophets and has his own book (whoa). However, the man did not come from a line of prophets and was not designated by Israelite Prophet Association as a licensed minister. He was simply called by God to do what he did, but that's a lesson for another day. In his previous life, Amos was a "dresser of sycamore figs."

Now, the Prince of Preachers, Charles Spurgeon talked about Amos in a much cooler way than I could ever expect to. He says,

"...a more correct translation might be a bruiser, a trainer or preparer of sycamore fruit, the sycamore fruit being like a fig, though not quite so excellent in flavour. It was believed in the East that it would never ripen except it was a little bruised, so that some person was employed with an iron comb to scratch and wound the skin. Unwounded the fruit, even when ripe, was too bitter to be eaten, but after it had been wounded, it ripened rapidly, and became sweet, and was not an objectionable article of diet."

It seems as if one of Amos' primary positions in life was to literally bruise fruit. Imagine talking about that job at your high school reunion. However, unless the fruit was bruised, it was not made sweet enough to be enjoyed. Unless it was wounded, it wasn't good for anything but the trash heap.

Dear friend, I don't know what it is that you're going through right now, but hear me out for a second: maybe God's allowing some things into your life so that you could be made useful for a greater purpose. Consider for a moment that the pain might be God's way of giving you nothing to grab onto but Himself. Maybe the hurt, and doubt, and brokenness is His way of preparing you to bless someone who will experience the same trial. I know for a fact that this happened to me.

Maybe God's bruising you so that you might become sweet.

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Home is for Keeps

I was born and have lived my entire 21-year-old life within one roughly-seven-mile radius. And it's not even like I've lived in one house my whole life - I've moved about 6 times. So I guess you could say I moved around a lot as a kid, but let's be real here: I've made my home within this small town that I grew up in.

I moved into the house I live in now about 8 years ago. I was 13. Everything I knew about living in houses was that we might not stick in one for all that long. There were no guarantees that I'd even get my driver's license while living in my house. This wasn't a huge emotional thing; it's not like I had to drastically change my life every time I moved. However, this whole moving-on mentality was something I was pretty used to.

That being said, I found myself recently thinking, "Wow. I really like living here."

I know they say that people get tired of seeing or doing the same thing all the time, but somehow, regardless of how little it's changed, this home had really grown on me over the years. Perhaps it was because I had the chance to let the years sink into my perception of this house that I began to truly realize how at home I felt. My room is now my lair, my cave, my sweet abode of manliness. Seriously, my desk is a carpenter's workbench (thanks dad!). Although, the curtains are a bit feminine. I've gotta do something about that...

Jesus answered him, “If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him. (John 14)

Now watch the miracle that's happening in this text, and pay attention because it's easy to miss. Jesus, the Christ, the Lord of galaxies, earthly kingdoms, mountains, and even the screen you're reading this off of has an offer: if you would love and follow Him, he will make his home with you. 

Whaaaaaaa?

First, let's get over the fact that this is one of the most mind-blowing, eyeball-exploding, lungs-bursting thoughts in existence and consider what it means to make a home with someone. It means that you're there for good. Permanent. It means to change the place where your mail gets delivered and set up shop for keeps.

And unlike the fickleness of a housing market which has encouraged a family to move 6 times within the same seven-mile radius, Jesus's new address in you is permanent because He will be with you wherever you go. And unlike the fickleness of a family member who can get so sick of your garbage that they decide to move out when things get rough, Jesus sticks around because, listen, His home is where your heart is.

And for a God that doesn't change, home is for keeps.

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A Plane Carcass, An Empty Field, and A Day Gone By.

On the way to my old school, I pass by McDonald's, Dick's Sporting Goods, and my friendly neighborhood airport. It's kind of strange to see the landing strip right from the main road, but there it is. Sometimes, when I need to go to the airport to pick up a friend or get dropped off for my own adventure, I pass by what looks like an unused portion of the airport property, which is pretty much just an empty field. However, sitting right there next to the edge of the road that borders the field is a giant metallic tube, which I'm pretty sure is the remains of an old plane, chopped in half to show it's gutted insides.

After all these years, I'm still unsure as to why it's there. It doesn't look like it serves any purpose. Because of its obscurely random placement in a field of dead grass, I doubt it's an attempt at modern art. Whatever it may be there for, I'm positive that it's served its time as a commercial airliner in its glory days. What kind of people have been aboard this bird? Where were they going? What great adventures did this aero-bus facilitate? Who was connected to their loved one because this plane got them there? Did it soar during the Golden Age of Flight?

I don't know. All I know is that this plane's flying days are over.

I recently made my way to my old school, from which I've recently graduated. Just a few short miles from this plane carcass lies the empty field that used to be home to another kind of life. In a former time, it was known as Chapel by the Lake - a place that I've written about many times before. The church that used to own the property sold it to some investors, and I imagine the spot will get used for another high-rise that'll block the view of the ocean waters, but whatever the case may be, this outdoor, open-air cathedral was once home to many of my great thoughts, stretches of worship, and moments of crying and desperation. They tore it down shortly after I graduated and now it's just an empty field surrounded by a parking lot. I can't imagine how many people had been blessed by sitting in those fluorescent-blue seats throughout the years, how many people found a best friend in Jesus there, or how many had been welcomed into the family of God through baptism there.

I don't know. All I know is that this chapel's church-ing days are over.

There was one time, shortly after I graduated, where I sat in those blue seats and thought about the journey I'd been through. College had been pretty much all I wanted it to be, and a lot I didn't expect it to be. Many friends had touched my life in a way that's unjust to put into words. I'd found gifts and talents that I didn't know I had. Nights full of fun and tear-inducing laughter with friends gave me something to miss. Spiritual encounters and a winding, broken, narrow road took me on a journey with God that I didn't think I'd experience if you'd asked high-school me.

It was during these years that my soul learned that a simple joy was not threatened by the changing of the seasons, and so I was ready now. The college years which I had pedestal-ized and longed for when I was a wee one were now over and it was time to step into life as a working man. It was time to leave those times behind and cherish the memories they left for me. I'm not sure what the future holds. I wonder what journey I'll be on a year from now.

I don't know. All I know is that this young man's college days are over.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven... (Ecclesiastes 3)

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