In the Era of Opinions, Be Quick to Listen: People Need to Be Understood More Then They Need Your Two Cents

News travels more rapidly then electricity these days, whether it be an interview concerning gender identity or massive protests on city streets, and the situation in the limelight begins to unravel before our very eyes, thanks to trending social media.

Everyone feels compelled to weigh in with an opinion. A hashtag is assigned, by someone much more clever then I, and the tweets start piling up faster then cards in a game of Speed. People near and far suddenly remember they have a finger to point with, and each of them believe that they have the correct point of view, while the rest of the country is going to hell in a hand basket.

Sound familiar?

Now, even though I'm a contributing member of the blogosphere, I tend to keep my thoughts on national headlines to myself. Being a private person by nature, I prefer to take in an abundance of information and process it internally. To be a fly on that inter-cranial wall could be quite frightening, I'm sure.

But the other half of it is, I don't think the world needs to voice an opinion on everything. 

In this Era of Opinions, I fear that we have elevated the opinions of the leaders, reporters, and celebrities in society to a lofty pedestal, taking them as gospel. Public figures throw their two cents into the ring and onlookers begin falling in line with them, taking sides as if watching a bull fight, only everyone is convinced that they are the ones rooting for the matador.

I sit back and watch the trending topics unfold, leaders and celebrities and newscasts stepping forward one by one to cast their vote on the matter, as if somehow the one with the most backers wins. I see commenters voicing either their proud support or utter disappointment in the public figure for their stance on the matter.

I mean, how could we possibly disagree with each other on such sensitive issues as race, systemic poverty and violence, and sexual identity??

What I've come to realize is that behind every opinion, especially those held with deep conviction, exists a backstory. But seldom do we take time to ask the right questions and attempt to understand how they arrived at the conclusion they did. No, we're generally too busy throwing our own spare change into the playing field, hoping to make a small dent in the helmet of thick-headedness worn by mankind. Maybe the thought is that if enough people chime in, together they'll be able to break through.

But here's what I know:

When all is said and done, you're free to think whatever you want, but you haven't loved well until you've tried to understand. And understanding, oftentimes, requires withholding judgement opinions and just listening. Being still. Sitting there in the uncomfortable awkwardness for a while and just taking it all in. Quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.

And you know what? Even after you've heard and understood, you still may not agree, and that's okay. But now you've earned the right to voice your opinion with kindness. Not a moment before, friends. I'm a firm believer that until you've walked a mile in someone's shoes, you have no idea what it's like to be them and shouldn't pretend to, even from behind a computer screen. 

A chasm exists between knowing intellectually and knowing from experience. Take parenting for example. There was a time in my life when I thought I knew all about how to be a good parent, internal chastisement practically seeping from my pores at the sight of a toddler's public meltdown and unsolicited advice at the ready.

Then I had kids.

And now I know how much I did not know.

More then this world needs another opinion, it needs love and action. Before you sound off on the latest Internet debate, do something. Make a donation, reach out to someone you know who is personally affected by the current hot topic, or extend a hand across the divide and sit down with someone you don't understand, and try to.

Because there's always two sides to every story, and neither one of them is the whole truth. The Dowager Countess said something like that regarding not taking sides in a divorce, and I think in her witty wisdom, she was spot on. Likewise, your opinion on the matter doesn't automatically void another. Often they are two parts of a whole, the big picture of which we will most likely not be able to fully grasp this side of heaven.

At the end of the day, we all share the common thread of humanity, and we need to start focusing more on the things that bring us together instead of tear us apart. Last week I tried to search Google for "children's books on homophones," but what I actually typed was "children's books on homophobes." The search results were much different then what I'd expected, as you can imagine, although the two words are only differentiated by a letter.

But in that silly mistake lies a valuable lesson, and that is if we as a people choose to focus more on the homophones rather then the homophobes, we'll all be in a much better place. We are as different as the myriad of unique facets of the God who created us, so let's find a common ground and cordially agree to disagree on the rest.

Maybe what the world needs is less pontificating and more listening.

Less assuming and more understanding.

Less suggestion and more action.

Less accusation and more love.

We need to listen more because it's impossible to teach an ignorant person something they think they already know. And how will you realize you don't know unless you stop to listen? Unless you take the time to walk down the street in their shoes, step by painful step?

Opinions are chump change--everybody's got em. But if they don't inspire us to extend grace to each other, to make a difference in the life of just one, then they're useless. Go forth and love in action today, my friends, and check your opinions at the door. Because what you think isn't nearly as important as how well you love.

Preach the gospel at all times, and if necessary use words.

St. Francis of Assisi

Dear Christian: The Hard Truth About Being "Blessed"

The valley was brimming with people now, the steady hum of their presence filling the air. Maybe it was late in the day, the sun pulling close to the horizon in a colorful embrace, and it was time to move on. Or perhaps there were some things just too precious for the masses—things they wouldn't yet understand. But those who loved him, those who were wholly committed and desperate for truth, they followed Him. They climbed with him, following his every step as he wove a dusty path up the mountainside.

And in that solitary place perched atop a hill, away from the chatter and bustle of the world, He sat down with His friends. When His lips parted, the soft whisper of truth emerged.

You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God...

The world applauds those who achieve successful careers, luxury vehicles, 2.5 children and a suburban palace. But the outcasts—the bankrupt, the homeless, the impoverished, the senile, and the addicts—provoke a very different response. Sometimes it's because Haves just don’t understand, and sometimes it's because the least of these remind them of the fact that “failure” in this life is only one bad choice away. One disaster away. One job loss away.

But Jesus whispers of having nothing left. Of no way out, of a sleeve completely void of any last tricks, of bridges burned and contacts tapped. Of circumstances kicking away the material crutches that prop you up and give you a sense of indelibility. Because when you finally get to the end of your rope and fall, God will surely be there to catch you, even if it’s not how you imagined or wished He would.

Truth, you see, is a paradox. It's always the opposite of what we tend to think in our selfish, human nature. Jesus speaks of a world upside down, and He continues:

You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

Bodies forever altered by years of childbearing, lives cut too short, job eliminations and life savings flushed down the stock market toilet. The world tells you that once you’ve lost your figure, your spouse or child, your job of 30 years or your net worth, you no longer have value.

But Jesus whispers of there being space now. Space for him to reach across the brokenhearted divide and pull you close. Space in the hollow of grief for the hope and healing that will make life whole, and worth living, again. It’s always His great mercy to remind us of our dependence on Him, because it’s something we easily forget.

You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.

We are a society that is more connected then ever before, and with the simple click of a button, everyone is able to put their best foot forward and showcase it for the world to see. "Friends" are easier to accumulate then pennies in a jar, and the abundance of information, opinions, crafty ideas and shining success stories can make even the most confident person feel as if they don't measure up. Certain talents and gifts are envied, while others, especially ones beyond the glare of the spotlight, are often ignored.

And while humans create a hierarchy of worth based on trending appetites, Jesus whispers that the real blessing lies in knowing who you are, and being content with that. Thriving in your uniqueness, not a mirror image of what’s popular, is the real reward. And the satisfaction found in freely living out your purpose is something money could never buy. 

You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.

Our fallenness draws us to comfort foods, to late night snacks on the couch, to eating our emotions and drinking our problems away, but Jesus beckons us to Himself. He invites us to eat the Bread of Life, that He may sustain us when we can't go on. He sees our pain, and He gives us Himself, the only nourishment that will ever truly soothe the hunger inside.

You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.

The Selfie Generation, they call us, although that’s merely a symptom of a bigger problem. There has never been a people group more self-focused or self-indulgent then this one, except, perhaps, those that come after us because of the example we set. But Jesus whispers of an outward focus, an others-orientation, a lack of entitlement. Because He knows that even more blessed then the receiver is the giver, and that once we are finally emptied of ourselves we are indeed full.

You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

Family pictures withcolor-coordinated, smiling children in a row; good behavior masquerading as holiness; front lawns pristinely manicured; beds made, houses tidy, and 401K's even tidier. Oh, how the world longs to have it all together and reveres those who appear so.

Jesus whispers from left field that the exterior means nothing without a heart fully devoted to Him. That a life built without Him is one built in vain. That even the most put-together individuals are but whitewashed tombs, dead on the inside, without the love of Christ. That you'll never be able to see God at work in the world, or all the good things He has for you to do, without a heart focused on Him.

You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.

There exists this thing called a “comment section.” It’s a sliver of internet dark space in which grown adults are reduced to a bunch of squabbling toddlers, yelling back and forth about whose toy it really is, who has a right to the toy more and for what reason, assuming the worst possible intentions about the other, and spewing horrendous names in the process. And somehow many of these “adults” think this is ok--to shout things from behind the “protection” of a computer screen that they wouldn’t dare mumble to someone’s face.

Whatever place you find yourself in today, whether it’s cyber or reality, Jesus speaks of sowing seeds of peace. Dealing with conflict is a lost art, but learning how to do so is vital to relationships, especially in a family. We were created to turn chaos into order, dissention into reconciliation, squabbling into resolution, and fighting into peace. Working through those clashes and coming out on the other side—that makes for one tight-knit clan.

You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom.

This bitter taste of persecution is foreign to the tongues of Americans. For most of us, we cannot fathom what it would be like to live in a country where laws dictated a belief system. Where it was illegal to go to church, to own a bible, to pray in public. And even in the information age in which we live, many are still oblivious to the persecution of those around the world, or worse yet, choose to turn a blind eye.

The painful stories drift across the ocean, and when the stench wafts ashore, we praise God that we were born in a free country. A country in which we can believe and live as we choose, where we have just as much a right to be grateful for our freedoms as we have to take them for granted and squander them completely.

But many were not born here, and they didn’t have a say in that decision, either. The hard truth is, God knows. He sees. He hears their cries and collects their tears. He even goes as far as to say count yourselves blessed, for yours is the kingdom of Heaven. Rejoice and be glad, for although this present life is wasting away before your very eyes, great will be the reward in heaven.

To have the kind of unwavering faith that perseveres, that waits for the abstract, blissful promise of heaven’s glory in the face of unimaginable suffering is as foreign as the Middle East. How great is the love of one who willingly walks the green mile out of devotion to Him.

You’re blessed…

Oh, how we squander the richness contained in those words. I truly believe that we don't mean to—most of us are just a product of the culture in which we live. But we take the deep fullness of God contained in blessing and trade it for the material, the temporary. That which will wither like a flower in the hot desert sun, here today and gone tomorrow. We cheapen it, casting aside the indwelling of a Living God and grasping desperately instead for the idol, which, once attained, evaporates as smoke before our very eyes.

True blessing isn’t marked by the degree of temporary comfort or happiness achieved but rather by the unique opportunity provided by less then ideal circumstances to draw close to God. A closeness that couldn’t be achieved except for the sharing of suffering. And that is the blessing: Jesus Himself.

It’s a paradigm shift. The world shouts in our pain, encouraging us to avoid it at all costs. To drown it out, ignore it, bury it, and numb it away. To get out of it as fast as possible, pull yourself up by your bootstraps, and go on pursuing the American Dream. And if it turns out to be broken, just throw it away and get a new one.

But Jesus. When the world shouts, he whispers, and sometimes you have to climb to a quiet place just to hear Him, to make out His voice from the crowd. Jesus invites us in, into the pain, into the suffering. He asks us to sit there a while, to soak it all in and not waste a hot second of it. And He’s not only there with us, so we don’t have to go it alone, HE’S THERE.

True blessing exists when we arrive at the end of ourselves, when we have nothing left to give, for it’s there that God resides. What it comes down to with each and every blessing is being stripped of ourselves. Stripped of our self-sufficiency, stripped of our earthly comforts, stripped of our masks, stripped of our fleshly desires, stripped of our selfishness, stripped of our need to perform, stripped of our pride, and stripped of our fear. Like an expert carpenter shaving down a block of wood, strip by strip, to carve from it something beautiful, so the Lord strips us. And with each swipe of the blade, the excess falls away, and we begin to look more and more like the finished product--Jesus. The blessing is always Him.

So whether you need to get over yourself, out from under yourself, past yourself or to the end of yourself, do it today. Because God is waiting there. And I don’t know about you, but I, for one, have a lot to learn about being blessed.

Matthew 5: You’re Blessed {MSG}

1-2 When Jesus saw his ministry drawing huge crowds, he climbed a hillside. Those who were apprenticed to him, the committed, climbed with him. Arriving at a quiet place, he sat down and taught his climbing companions. This is what he said: 

3 “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule. 

4 “You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you. 

5 “You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought. 

6 “You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat. 

7 “You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for. 

8 “You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world. 

9 “You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family. 

10 “You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom. 

11-12 “Not only that—count yourselves blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—give a cheer, even!—for though they don’t like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble. 

For the Days Following Easter: Because Real Life Doesn't Look Like Your Perfect Family Photo

The photos started popping up around mid-morning Easter Sunday, as folks nationwide were making the journey to church. Apparently, Easter also has the lesser-known title of National Family Photo Day, second only to Christmas, just in case some of you missed the memo. No greeting cards necessary, however—a simple Facebook post will do.

“Easter with the family!” They say. #happyeaster #heisrisen #lovemyfamily #soblessed

And as I scrolled down the feed, gazing at the abundance of matching pastels, parents holding their babies, and smiles plastered on faces all around, I started to wonder. What if those pictures were instead a sheet of stickers, and I could reach out and peel back their faces to see what was really hidden underneath? What would I find behind the mom and her baby, the couple holding hands, or the smiling children lined up in a row?

Not-So-Happy Easter photo, followed by real life hashtags. #thismorningsucked #iyelledoverstupidthings #theonlyonethatlikesmenowisthebaby #smilingforthepicturewouldseemlikeajoke #butitsnotfunny #letsgotochurch #thankGodhe'srisen #reallyneedthattoday

On the way out the door, I snapped this one of my kids as we jumped in the car to head to church ourselves. Before I realized it was Family Photo Day, of course. I told them to “Smile! It’s Easter! Say Happy Easter!”

Why do we need to take a stupid picture when you can’t even see our outfits? My daughter protested.

Ya, Happy Easter, my son said, with sarcasm dripping from his lips. And their faces said it all.

Because the reality was, it had probably been anything but.

Oh, I tried. I really did. I did my best to have everything set out and ready ahead of time so we wouldn’t have to rush. I was up early and made every effort to be present with the kids and finish getting the house prepped. But within the first hour of being awake, I had to apologize more times then I had fingers on a fist to shake at them.

I lost it over spilled milk and bubbles, got frustrated with missing socks, failed to see the strides of obedience and helpfulness and focused on the mistakes instead. I asked forgiveness, but sometimes the hurt lingers, and so does the stress. It hangs in the air like the smog from a burnt dinner, and it’s hard to fan away the stench. Hours later even, it’s still noticeable.

The devil is in the details on Sunday mornings, and even more so on the Holy Days. He’s like a shark circling in the water, and he can smell the blood of desperate, wounded souls longing for their Savior. By time some of us make it to church, we are utterly exhausted from treading water, just trying to survive.

I dropped the kids off in class and then poked my head into the classroom across the room to see a dear friend sitting on the floor, caring for the little one in her charge.

How was your morning? I asked her.

It was…rough. Really rough. She replied with a nod as she brushed the hair behind her ear, her head hanging now from the weight of the guilt.

I know. Mine too.

Sometimes it’s all you can do to make it there in one piece.

As I stood in the back of the sanctuary, soaking in the worship and doing my best not to burst into tears on the spot, I wondered to myself, almost aloud, why don’t we talk about it??

Amid the toddlers pulled right out of a magazine ad, the delicious-looking family meals and the color-coded ducks in a row, why doesn’t someone say that even Easter Sunday, particularly Easter Sunday, is hard? Any mention of this thing called "real life" seems to be mysteriously absent from all the festivities.

Don’t get me wrong—its not that family shouldn’t be celebrated on Easter—heck, it’s probably one of the few times a year that everyone is dressed up, coordinated, and early enough to pause for a rare moment together. A memory that you will look back on and probably treasure for years to come. I totally get it and even tried to pull it off myself. "Tried" being the operative word there.

And not that there shouldn’t be joy and celebration, worship and praise—our Savior has risen from the dead! But I wonder, as the world looks at our lives—at our photos—if they think they have to be polished and pristine to darken the door of a church. That only perfect looking, color-coordinated, pretty people go there. The ones who have it all together. The ones with all their kids in a row, smiling, and a picture to prove it.

And with the weight of that image on my chest, I was finding it hard to breathe. I for one don’t measure up, but that, my friends, is the beauty of the Resurrection. Because I don’t have to. Christ came down to earth, lived a sinless life, and died a horrible death on a cross for me because of his great love. Not because I did anything for him or because I deserved it or because I showed up at church on Easter Sunday in my best dress.

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

Romans 5:6-8

So I guess I’m here to tell you that it’s okay.

It’s okay to have an Easter Sunday, or any Sunday for that matter, that totally sucks by 9:00am. The kind of day where you’d rather just crawl back into bed then face another minute. And it’s okay to talk about it. You don’t have to feel guilty about it, or ungrateful, or hypocritical, or like a total jerk of a Christian.

You're not. You just simply suffer from something they call "being human." We all do.

In fact, if you were to peel back the stickers and peek under the smiles in those perfect family photos, I imagine that you’d find many a crappy Sunday morning hiding there. 

"Worn"

Tenth Avenue North

I’m Tired I’m worn
My heart is heavy
From the work it takes
To keep on breathing
I’ve made mistakes

I’ve let my hope fail
My soul feels crushed
By the weight of this world

And I know that you can give me rest

So I cry out with all that I have left

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart
That’s frail and torn
I wanna know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn
Cause I’m worn

Jesus is the Resurrection

We have a monthly Women's Breakfast at church, and this year we are discussing the Names of Jesus.   The current name is "Jesus is the Resurrection," which is appropriate with Easter this weekend. Each month we will cover three basic questions:

• What does this Name teach me about Jesus?
• How does that impact me?
• How does that impact my world?

Would you join us on this journey?

I’ve heard it said before that the most important thing about you is what you believe about God, so I wanted to take some time to explore the character and nature of Jesus and how that impacts us in our everyday lives. I feel like sometimes, on one hand, you have this Jesus and this Bible, and on the other hand you have real life and real problems and real pain, and there can be a disconnect between the two.

How do you apply this Jesus to real life, to my life and those around me? What about His character and nature, His story, will help me get through this problem? Can I really find my hope in Him, and is Jesus alone really enough?

These are some of the questions I’d like to address with the topic set before us this year. I keep coming back to these verses in Romans 12:

So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you.

What does this Name teach me about Jesus?

Jesus is the Resurrection. This Name in particular is among my personal favorites, but it’s also at the crux of the Christian faith we hold dear. Just a fun little fact for you: while the word crux means a vital, basic, decisive, or pivotal point, it also means a cross. That’s no coincidence.

When you think about it, the Resurrection is THE MOST important thing that Jesus did, because it proved that He was GOD. He promised to raise from the dead after three days, and He did! And that changes everything. The resurrection makes him more then just a prophet, more then just a good man or wise teacher, more then just a lunatic. It makes Him fully human, because He died, but also fully God, because He rose again. Just like he said.

This sets Christianity apart from all the other religions of the world, because our God did something that none of them have been able to—He resurrected. He did the impossible. We serve a God who, instead of giving us a plethora of rules to obey and practices to comply with until our dying day in order to prove our worth, chose to leave His perfect place in heaven, live among us, and die for us, while we were still sinners.

But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8

While we were nothing. Nobody. He did all the work for us, because of His great love.

In John 11:25-26 Jesus says, I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?

How does that impact me?

Jesus offers us life. True life. Life that transcends the material and physical and temporal that will one day melt away. In the resurrection, He gives us a hope and a future. A promise that one day, all things will be made new. Because Jesus is in the business of the impossible—bringing dead things back to life.

What in your life today needs raised from the dead?

Dead dreams?

Dead marriages?

Dead financial situations?

Dead family relationships?

Dead sense of purpose?

Dead self-worth?

He has the power to breathe new life into any an every situation if we earnestly seek Him. And that’s the other side of this coin, the side that’s much harder to swallow. The side of the coin that feels sharp against the skin. Sharp like a nail pressing into the palm of a hand, or the delicate skin on the top of a foot. Sharp like a massive wooden cross digging into the flesh of an exposed shoulder.

We as Christians get so excited about the Resurrection, and rightly so. But what we often forget is that before a resurrection, there must be death. Surrender. A death to self.

With the Easter season comes Lent, and if I’m totally honest, I didn’t really understand the true meaning of Lent until I was in college. I grew up Catholic, so everyone participated, or at least said they did, and even the school cafeteria served cheese pizza and fish sandwiches on Friday. But I didn’t get the point. To me, it just seemed like another item to add to the “works resume” we were supposed to be compiling to hand in on judgement day, where we would apply for a position in heaven based on merit.

But in college the meaning was finally explained to me in a way that I understood—Lent was a fasting in some form. A giving up of something we love, something we have grown to depend on, or maybe even something we idolize—and replacing it instead with Jesus for 40 days. So that when we have a craving for the item, when we are desiring it or feeling the pain that it’s absence has created in our lives, we would reach for Jesus instead. We would depend on and desire Him instead. We would seek Him to fill the void.

So my personality being as it is, I didn’t just give up one thing, I gave up three things that were very near and dear to my heart: Dr. Pepper, Ranch dressing, and fast food. I survived on Dr. Pepper, dipped almost everything in Ranch dressing, and made many a midnight run to the local Wendy’s, which was pretty much the only thing that was open after midnight in the small town. Food seemed like the right choice, as it’s a vital component of the social environment that is college. Hanging out revolved around food and the “Freshman 15” was a real phenomenon that was only exasperated by the all-you-can-eat-buffets that comprised every single meal in the cafeteria.

And let me tell you, the first couple days were HARD. After I survived the first week, the emotional ache eased up a bit, but just a little. As the days crept by, slowly it did become easier. My eating habits changed to accommodate the loss, and I was much more aware of my dependence on the Lord. Every time I thought about one of those food items, my thoughts immediately turned to the Lord. To thanking Him, praising Him, asking Him to fill me with the Bread of Life.

Come day 40 and the close of Lent, my friends and I made the drive down the road to Wendy’s and brought back some Dr. Pepper, a greasy cheeseburger and fries with Ranch dipping sauce. I was so excited to bite into that hot, juicy burger, savoring the taste in my mouth, and take a long swig of that sweet, carbonated drink. It was good, but afterwards, when every last morsel was gone, I was left curled in the fetal position on the floor. I had never felt so sick in my life.

And you know, friends, sometimes it’s only when we take a step back from the things we think we love, the things we depend on to make us feel good, the things we think we can’t live without, that we realize at the end of the day, all they really do is make us sick.

The Resurrection is about taking that step. It’s about picking up that heavy cross and carrying it, one step at a time. Even though it hurts. Even though it’s tearing into the flesh on your shoulder. Even though you know that at the end of the treacherous journey, you will have to nail your desires, your dreams, your relationships, or whatever it is, to the cross and let them die there. Because it’s only after they die that they can be restored and redeemed. That you will finally be able to taste life that is truly life and say that it. is. good. God is good.

How does that impact my world?

To sum it up in one word: HOPE. 

We serve a God with whom all things are possible--death could not hold him down! He is Risen! There is hope for a dying world and a lost people, and we get to be a part of the epic love story that God has written for this place. We are equipped with a unique story, unique gifts, and unique connections for such a time as this.

But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect... 1 Peter 3:15

If you look up Lent in the dictionary, you will find that, besides the Christian season of preparation for Easter, Lent is also the past tense of lend. To lend is to grant the use of (something) on condition that it or its equivalent will be returned. And I think that especially during this season, this sentiment can serve as an excellent reminder for us as Christians.

Galatians 2:20 says, I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.

Let the full weight of that verse soak in for a moment.

Another much like it is 1 Corinthians 6:19-20, which says, Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.

Essentially, the Lord has Lent us these bodies, these lives. He has done so with purpose, and for His glory. The question is, are you laying down your life and following Him? Because one day, we will all stand before Him, and we will need to give an account for what we have done with the life that He lent us. The time He lent us. The money He lent us. The body, the gifts, the resources He lent us. 

What will you tell Him?

As we can see from His example on the cross, Christ didn’t lay down His life for Himself. No. He laid down His life for all mankind. And while only He can save humanity in it’s entirety, we too are called to lay down our lives for others, not for ourselves.

So this impact on the world around you, this death to self and subsequent resurrection, starts with as little as one. One person, one interaction, one day at a time. A no to yourself, your desires, your pride, and a yes to someone else instead. 

He must become greater; I must become less. John 3:30


Friends, what could you lay down today so others may live? 

I encourage you to examine your lives this weekend and think about what you can give. What comforts and securities you can let go of in order to bless others. If you're looking for a place to start, here are some ideas:

The "Plus One" Concept

How $5/week Can Save Two Lives


Have a blessed Easter!

Fake Spring. It's a Whole Thing in Cleveland.

Ahhh, Fake Spring. It comes every year.

And every year, even if you’ve lived in Cleveland your entire life, it’s easy to fall for its schemes. Again. Because Fake Spring can sense your longing for sunshine that actually feels warm on your skin, not the “fauxshine” that winter brings with only the illusion of heat, and it exploits that desire. You want to believe that spring is finally here, after what seems like an endless and bitterly cold winter. The winter of a week and a half's worth of snow days in a row.

So Fake Spring comes strolling in like a Trojan Horse in all it’s glory and splendor, and it gets your hopes up. Because it’s so beautiful and light, and your cold, tired soul is in need of some hope, a breath of new life. It spikes the temperature so high and so fast that lakes rise and rivers overflow and sewers can’t keep up with all the water. It creates a weather paradox in which snowball fights can occur with the few remaining snow piles, although the thermostat reads close to 70 degrees. Flinging some white while wearing capris.

And it entices you, making promises it won’t keep. Fake Spring tricks you into putting the winter gloves away, placing the boots back in storage. Hanging up the winter coats and pulling out the lighter ones from last year, if they still fit, that is. If not, who needs a coat anyways? It’s spring!

And so you get comfortable. The warm sun greets you each morning as you run out the door to school, the kids look forward to outdoor recess, and the dog can’t seem to do his business without tracking half the flower bed back inside with him. And after you’ve gotten used to this so-called “spring,” it happens.

One night, in the wee hours of the morning, Winter comes creeping out of the side of that Horse, leaving frost on the ground in it’s wake. By the time the alarm jots you from your slumber, the temperature has plummeted below freezing and the ground is a dusty white. The weather changes back just as suddenly as it did before, and you don’t even realize you’ve been snowed until the evidence is there all over the ground. You know, the white fluffy stuff that you thought had been left behind. And it just keeps coming.

Winter in Spring’s clothing. How could we have fallen for it, again? It happens every year, and yet, somehow we always think, maybe not this time…

But we are officially onto you now, Fake Spring, and you will not fool us next year. We will enjoy you, yes, even relish you, but we will not be deceived.

Solidarity, Clevelanders. We will overcome.