recycled cans: paying for it yourself

i remember watching espn a couple years back when a sports star was being interviewed about some deep water he had gotten himself into. he had been involved in some criminal activity, and he was facing almost certain conviction at this point. it seemed to be all sports media wanted to talk about.

it was in this interview, though, that this athlete said something that has stayed with me ever since. after receiving question after question about what he did, about the charges he faced, and about the potential consequences for his actions, he responded, “i will redeem myself. i have to redeem myself.”

and i think the reason this quote has stuck with me all this time is that this man wasn’t just speaking for himself that day. no, he was speaking for all of us who have ever been faced with the reality of our mistakes. it’s at those times we feel most strongly that something must be done to pay for the wrongs we’ve committed. but i am getting ahead of myself…

innate

this athlete isn’t alone. he’s not the first person to have felt responsible for making things right after doing something wrong.

it was just this week i found myself making a point to be more nice to those around me following a seeming offense. i had messed up in one area of my life, offending one person, and now i found myself being extra nice to others. and that’s interesting, isn’t it? as if somehow my first wrong, or perceived wrong, would somehow be made right by treating others with extra care. as if having them on my side would make my first offense okay.

it’s funny, really.

you can see something similar in the young boy whose mother notices him being overly helpful. offering to mow the lawn. do the dishes. sweep the kitchen. all without being asked. seeing this, and knowing that it is unlike her son to do so, she asks one of two questions: 1) ‘what do you want?’, or 2) ‘what’d you do?’

for the sake of this conversation, it’s the second question we’ll focus on.

i use this example to show that we all, when we’ve done something wrong, feel as though we have to do something good to pay for  this wrong. and that truth, when you’ve considered it, is quite interesting. particularly when you realize how common this feeling is. it’s not just this little boy who feels this way. it’s not just me who feels this way. it’s not just you who feels this way. it’s common among all of us. for both the wealthy sports star and the commoner alike.

we all feel as though something must be done to make right our wrongs. and it’s interesting when you apply that to the old testament law, where God commanded payment for our sin, which typically involved the sacrifice of an animal. an animal without blemish. most would see such law as primitive and barbaric. and yet, in a way, we still operate by this same standard: when i mess up, i feel as though i’ve got to do something to make it right.

recycled cans

and, usually, we put that on ourselves. “i must pay for this mistake. i must make this right,” we think to ourselves. or, as this professional athlete said, “i will redeem myself.”

but what if we can’t? what if, try as we might to be extra nice, to do more, to give more, what if all of this will never pay for our initial badness? what if the debt that we put ourselves in in the first place is still there after we’ve finished giving to this charity, volunteering for that organization, being nice to this person?

i picture God looking at such logic and just shaking His head. like a young boy who, after hearing of his country’s mushrooming debt on television, decides to bring a handful of aluminum cans to the recycling center, hoping to redeem his metal for enough money to pay for his country’s debt.

on the one hand, the owner of the recycling center is proud of the boy’s acknowledgment of the debt, and of his desire to do something about it. however, on the other hand, he knows this boy has absolutely no concept of the depth of the country’s debt, and the payment that must take place for things to be made right. in light of the nation’s incredible debt, the boy’s well-meaning attempt at payment is laughable, really.

and i think the same is true for us. on the one hand, God is pleased when we’ve come to the realization that yes, something must be done to pay for how we’ve acted. for the wrongs we’ve committed. for the hurt we’ve caused. for, were we to never come to the point of realizing our debt, we would never seek payment for it. or, as lewis put it,

it is after you have realized that there is a moral law, and a Power behind the law, and that you have broken that law and put yourself wrong with that Power-it is after all this, and not a moment sooner, that Christianity begins to talk. when you are sick, you will listen to the doctor. (mere christianity, p.38-39)

paid in full

however, if we stop there, if all we ever realize is that we’ve done wrong, without any sense of how things are to be made right, we will be lost. lost in an endless circle of trying to pay for our sins. trying to give more. trying to do more. or worse. it could lead to one inflicting pain upon themselves, as if somehow punishing oneself enough could ever pay the price of their debt. like the young girl lost in a pool of self-condemnation who seeks a way out through cutting or starvation. but it will never lead her out. it will never make things right. it could not not. that is simply not how it works. instead, it will only lead her deeper into despair.

no, the good news, the true gospel of the Christian faith, is that God has provided payment for our debt. that, before time began, He knew we would fall short of the Law. the Law we all know in our hearts. the Law we are all born with. that standard we all hold ourselves accountable for. and in so knowing, He provided a way out. a payment. the perfect payment. the death of His own son, Jesus Christ. fully God yet fully man. crucified on our behalf, risen to show us He was who He said He was. that we could believe. and that, through the blood of His Son, and our belief in Him, that we would be made right. that the broken law would no longer be held against us. that our debt would now be paid in full. that is the good news of the Christian faith. that is it.

again, to quote lewis,

the central Christian belief is that Christ’s death has somehow put us right with God and given us a fresh start. (mere christianity, p.57)

right because it’s right

and so, when we hear that condemning whisper, when we have that weight on our heart, the weight of our sin, we must look not to ourselves, but to Him. for, anything less would simply be a meager attempt to pay for a debt far greater than we can likely comprehend with a handful of aluminum cans. and our futile attempts to do so will only lead to feelings of failure.

for we will realize, at some point, and i pray it will be sooner rather than later, that we cannot pay this debt. and that all of our attempts to do so have failed to put even a dent into our debt. for, while we may feel better for a time, we will soon turn to find ourselves face to face with our failure, and the vastness of our debt, once again.

the hope of the Christian faith is that it is no longer our debt to pay. that He has already paid it, which should create in us a sense of infinite thankfulness and gratitude, as well as a spirit of giving, of love for others. not that we might make right our wrongs-for we’ve already established we cannot-but that we might be filled with a deep love for others because He first loved us.

my niceness, my goodness, is a result of His goodness. which, when shared with others, should create a sense of goodness in them. like a contagion, passing from Him to you, from you to me, and from me to someone else. and so it goes, down the line. all stemming from His goodness, from His righteousness. not hopelessness in the face of an insurmountable debt, but relief at His payment. joy for His love. and pleasure in His goodness. everyday. that is our response. and i pray that it would pour forth from your life, as my own. so that He might be most glorified. in your life, and in mine.

 

prayer: the Savior who saves

“so she’s cool?” i asked.

“tow-tally,” he said, drawing out the “tow-” for emphasis on just how cool she was.

“in middle school, she was smoking hot. the first time i saw her, i was like…” long silence, to emphasize how attractive she was. “i could hardly speak.”

“He saved her, man. if it wasn’t for Him, she’d be dead,” he said.

a co-worker of mine had been talking about a girl he knew growing up. i knew her husband, now, but i had never met her.

he told me about how this incredible girl had entered high school and was struck by an eating disorder. how it began destroying her life.

he told me how he came home one day from school and told his mom about this girl. how she was weighing really heavy on his heart.

“she just came to me and was like, ‘well, let’s pray for her.’”

“and He saved her, man.”

and i love that. i love that image of God, swooping in, like superman, and rescuing this girl from herself. rescuing this girl from the lies she was being fed. and i love knowing she now has several beautiful children and a loving husband. i love knowing she has a wonderful life, and that she loves the Lord.

i loved hearing that story. it was a story about redemption. and it reminded me that He hears us.

He listens

He is so good. and i think we sometimes doubt what He can do. at least, i know i do. sometimes.

i think to myself, “well, yeah, of course He could do this. if He wanted. but will He? probably not.”

and i don’t even give Him the chance. i don’t even ask.

at one point in His ministry, Jesus told His disciples that if they had faith, even the size of a mustard seed, that they could move mountains.

was Jesus’ point to tell these guys that they could have a prosperous career in the mountain moving business? no. probably not. i think it was probably to remind them – and us – that faith-filled prayer is powerful. and that He listens.

pregnancy clinic

“thanks. idk if it’s gonna happen. the doc called in sick.”

after what had been an incredibly stressful stretch, this text message came through as something of an answered prayer. a friend of a family member had been considering an abortion. her second. and she had yet to celebrate her 20th birthday. the first was really tough on her. the second probably wouldn’t be any easier.

so we’d been praying. praying for this girl. this young girl. that her eyes would be opened to Him and His desires for her life. that she would find comfort in Him, even in this incredibly difficult decision.

and i can’t tell you how much relief this text brought. that, if only for a short while, there seemed to be a light at the end of the tunnel. because of this doctor’s sickness. because maybe He was giving her a second chance.

answers – sometimes how we imagine, sometimes not

God answers prayers. He asks us to come to Him with our requests. and He acts on them. not always. and maybe not always how we’d like. but He does. and so we must pray. i couldn’t imagine not.

some people would laugh. some people would shake their head and call such beliefs primitive. but i believe in it. i believe in prayer.

i wish i could tell you that this doctor’s illness caused this girl to reconsider. i wish i could tell you that this girl found comfort in His presence, and that that comfort reassured her that things would be okay. that she didn’t have to go down this path again.

but i can’t, because she didn’t.

but He did give her the choice. He did give her another chance. and i’m not sure we could’ve asked for much more than that.

a simple reminder

“he saved her, man… if it wasn’t for Him, she’d be dead.”

i can still hear those words. and it brings a smile to my face every time i remember them.

it reminds me of the deep love of our heavenly Father. and it reminds me that He loves to hear from us. with our pains. with our praise. with our requests. and there’s comfort in that. the kind of comfort i would like to roll up in, like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s day.

 

two obstacles

i’ve come across two general obstacles that many people face. obstacles that keep people from the loving arms of their Heavenly Father. there are many other obstacles, of course. many other reasons that keep people from Him. these are merely two i have been considering as of late.

in both of these examples, the person has recognized the mess of their lives. they have realized they’re not living the life they should be. they recognize that something has gone terribly wrong, but something keeps them from coming to Him for help.

first things first
the first obstacle occurs when someone recognizes their own sin (i.e. turning to drunkenness time and time again for escape, adultery, pride, materialism, etc.), but rather than approach their loving Father as they are, they feel they must first get their life in check. they recognize their own sin and shame, they recognize His holiness, and they recognize that they could never possibly approach Him, in His infinite righteousness, in their current state.

and, in many ways, these people are totally right. they recognize their own dreadful attire, if you will, and that it simply is not appropriate for the formal event being put on to celebrate His majesty. surely they will stand out from everyone else, they believe, and they will be looked down upon. even shamed by others. so, they tell themselves that they will wait to go until they are better dressed. until they can find for themselves a more fitting, formal outfit.

and rather than ever getting to the point where they are dressed as they should be, in an outfit that would be appropriate for His presence, they try on outfit after outfit, only to find that the filth that stained their previous attire is now on their new outfit, just as it was before. and, where they to realize it, they would see that the problem isn’t with the outfit at all, but the problem is with them. and that the filth is spilling forth from them, staining every outfit they try on.

and what this person fails to realize is that everyone else attending this event, all of those people dressed in beautiful splendor, is just like them. they too were once dressed in filthy clothes, and yet He welcomed each one of them and clothed them in perfection, in His righteousness. He exchanged their filthy rags for His white robes and riches, and they are now celebrating His glory in His presence. He touched the root of the problem – their sin – and washed it in His holiness. quenching the stain spilling forth from their souls in a way that allowed them to approach His presence. and He did this by the blood of the Lamb, His Son, Jesus Christ.

this example, of one who thinks they must clean up their own life before they can approach a Holy God, is a bit like someone realizing they have a cavity, but then refusing to go to the dentist until they have taken care of it themselves. and then hoping that if they brush their teeth enough, that the cavity will simply go away. it won’t. not by that route. and soon they tire of trying, and they give up. without realizing that were they to simply go to the dentist, just as they are, that he would be able to take care of their tooth. and He wants them to. He wants to take care of that cavity. but they won’t let Him, for they are ashamed.

yes, in many ways, this person is totally right. we cannot approach a perfect God in our current state. we have sinned. we have messed up. our lives may very well be in ruins. but it doesn’t have to be that way. it doesn’t have to remain that way. it can change. He wants it to. He wants to help. but He cannot help someone who refuses to accept His gift as the way out. the gift of His Son. it’s the only way. there is no other. try as we might. we must take it or leave it. so that we too can join in the celebration, so that we can be clothed in His righteousness.

too bad
the other obstacles is a bit more dark. it is a bit more sinister. and it prevents so many from approaching Him and receiving the love He desires to pour out into their lives.

this person, like the first, recognizes their own sin. their own faults. they admit that their life has not been lived in an honorable way, but it goes much further than the first person. where the first person feels as though they must simply do a bit of housekeeping before coming to God, this person believes that there is no amount of housekeeping (not by themselves, not by Him) that can help them. these people believe, deep down, that they simply cannot ever be forgiven for what they have done. no, this person somehow feels as though their sin is much worse than anyone else.

this is a very dark place to be. and, unfortunately, i’m afraid it’s all too common. for, after hearing the whisper in their ear for so long: “you’re a sinner. you’re never going to change. there’s no way anyone could ever forgive you for what you’ve done,” they begin to believe it. they begin to give in to these lies. and, before too long, they live this way, as though it doesn’t matter what they do today, or tomorrow, because there is nothing that could ever undo what they have done. and that is a terribly sad way to live. forever trapped and handcuffed by past decisions. and i can’t help but believe that this deeply pains a loving Father who has done everything, even sending His own, perfect, holy and loving Son to pay for this person’s sins. to provide a way out.

and the greatest mistake this person makes is that, perhaps unknowingly, they don’t believe Christ’s death is enough. not for them. they don’t believe that Christ’s sinless life, undeserved death, and holy resurrection is enough to pay for the mistakes they’ve made. it might be enough for others, but not for them. and that is a slap to the face of their Holy Savior. it is nothing less.

this person, too, is right in seeing their sin. in acknowledging where they’ve fallen short. but they are absolutely wrong in thinking there is no way out for them. they are absolutely wrong in believing the lie that somehow Christ wasn’t big enough, or good enough to overcome the sin in their lives. this sort of pride will always stand in the way of their loving Savior’s life-changing work. unless that pride is broken, unless they recognize that His light is greater than their darkness, they will remain trapped in the lonely solitude of their mistakes. and that pains me. that pains Him. His desire is their rescue. and so i pray that this person’s pride would be broken. to a million pieces. so that the curtains can be pulled back. so that He can shine through in a way that brings light and life to the darkest parts of their soul.

the blood on your hands
the truth is, the blood is on all our hands. it’s on mine. it’s on yours. whether you see it or not, it’s there. we’ve all fallen short of the glory He desires for us. and until we recognize the blood on our hands as the blood of the risen Lamb, we will have very little appreciation for, or understanding of, what He has done.

do we go in

we’re all dressed in our filthy rags, with our blood-stained hands, standing on the manicured lawns of a vast mansion, peering in through the great windows while the light and music of the celebration inside comes streaming out. and, as others go in, making their way in to join the celebration, their own dreadful attires, much like ours, begin to change. and all of a sudden their rags are exchanged for suits and gowns of brilliant whites. and their faces, at once touched by the light of His presence, pouring out from the open doors, are filled with inexplicable awe and joy. and, seeing this change take place before their eyes, others who were standing on the lawns make their way inside, only to experience the same sort of change. until more and more and more make their way into the event. and the celebration grows. and the music grows. and the light grows.

and there you stand. on the outside. in the darkness. in the cold. hands in your pocket. waiting. wondering. will the same happen for you? will they let you in, too? will the same change happen in your life? or will you simply walk into a party of infinite splendor dressed in dirty, filthy rags? staining the carpet and leaving a mess wherever you go?

i assure you, you will not. He is enough. He is enough for me. He is enough for you. and He is waiting for you to come inside. He is waiting for you to join in the celebration.

 

gloveless faith: only bad people go to heaven

today was a day when i had to to have one of those conversations. the kind of conversations you’re not looking forward to–the kind that no one looks forward to–but that needs to happen so that healing can take place.

i’m the kind of person who runs full speed away from these types of conversations. looking frantically for a rug to sweep everything under. or some sand to stick my head in. if i were an animal, i ‘d be an ostrich.

that’s one area where my wife and i differ. she loves tackling things head on. if there’s a problem, she’s going to deal with it. and i’ll be in the background, with my head in the sand.

i joke, but today was one of the most difficult conversations i’ve had in a very long time. it was the result of what has been a tough, tough road for us. talking with family about a pretty difficult situation. a situation that has rippled through all of our lives, like a stone tossed haphazardly into still waters.

only bad people go to heaven

i was listening to a podcast the other day by  a pastor by the name of alistair begg; one of my favorite teachers to listen to. he’s originally from scotland (thus the name) and he has an incredible voice, which means he can talk about pretty much anything and you’d want to listen. but he really is an incredible teacher, and i regularly get much from listening to him.

i can’t remember now the context of this particular message, but he recently said something that has stayed with me throughout my week. he had this to say…

when are we going to get it that it’s only bad people who get to go to heaven?

and it stuck with me because it is so antithetical to how we think, isn’t it?

and i bring this up because all too often i think we try to draw lines between the “bad” people and the “good” people. between those who go to church and those who don’t. between those who read their Bibles and those who don’t. and i think it’s when we do this that we lose sight of the fact that we’re all bad people.

my latex gloves

this conversation, the one i wasn’t looking forward to, was with my mother. she was telling me how my sister hadn’t wanted to talk to me about some stuff because she thought i would look down on her. that i would judge her. that i would be ashamed.

and i can’t tell you how bad that hurt.

i want to be there for her, always. so bad. she has no idea. and what hurts me more than not being there for her is that she feels this way. that somehow my lifestyle prevents me from understanding where she’s coming from. oh how i wish she could see the condition of my heart! oh how i wish i could show her how similar we are!

it disgusted me, that she would somehow think i have elevated myself to a position from which i would look down on her. i could not. not ever. and i hate it that this might have something to do with my faith. i hate that most. for that is the absolute antithesis of what the Christian faith should look like.

reaching the hurting

He picked me up, out of the muck and mire, and He has given me the freedom and the life to help Him reach others, and to do the same for them. He does miracles. every single day. He is in the business of redeeming souls. of redeeming lives. and He does so, everyday. but the thing is, He uses us. He uses His followers to reach others. through our hands and through our feet. He desires to touch others with hands of love and compassion. with hands that tell others,

it’s okay. you are loved. I love you. I don’t judge you. you are free. I have paid your price. and I will never let you go.

that’s what He’s about. that’s what He wants to do. with your hands. and with mine. and He will. pray for it. seek Him. ask Him to reach those you love. those who are hurting. and He will use your hands, your ears, your mouth, your feet in a way that you never thought possible. He’ll use them to reach hearts. to redeem them to Himself.

but we must first take off the latex gloves. we must first remove the barrier that separates us from them. if we are ever to be successful in reaching others to show them Him and His love, we must not ever elevate ourselves from them. we must show them how much we are alike. we must show them that we too have messed up. we must show them that our lives would be a complete mess had He not have gotten involved. we must show them that we too deserve punishment for what we have done, but that punishing ourselves will never pay the price for what we have done. nor need it. for that price has already been paid. by Him. and His desire is that we would come to Him asking for His forgiveness. that we would come to Him with burdened hearts so that He can remove the burden, and allow us to enjoy lives of freedom in His presence.

but we must never let anyone believe for one second that they cannot approach us with their hurt or their pain out of fear of judgment. that is a lie of the worst sort. it is a lie that threatens one’s very soul to eternal torment. for, if others cannot even have a conversation with us for fear of being looked down upon, how can we ever reach out in love? we must smash that belief to pieces if Christianity is ever to overcome the sin in our hearts and the hurt in this world.

depravity of the soul

i was watching the news before work the other day, and shots from a court case were being shown. the case involved a college grad student who was being accused of murdering another student.

it was a horrible ordeal. painful to watch. but it was interesting what the judge had to say in the hearing (excuse my paraphrased version):

what we are dealing with today is not a domestic violence case, nor is it a case of workplace violence. what we are dealing with is the dark side of the human soul.

it was an incredible statement to play on the morning news. particularly juxtaposed against all the things everyone who knew this accused student were saying. how nice he was. how he could never do such a thing. friends from his childhood. friends who knew him their whole lives.

and he looked bewildered as he stood there in court. like a scared little child. i watched as photographers took his photo as he sat in a car waiting to be lead into court. and i watched as the news showed police offers lead him into court for his hearing. and to each face, to the police officers, to the photographers, to the lawyers, to each of them i thought, “it could’ve been you. you could’ve been the one standing there, handcuffed in the middle of a courtroom for the murder of someone else. you are no better. i am no better. that could be me.”

the judge was right. this was a case of the depravity of the human soul. but it wasn’t just his soul. it is ours. all of ours. we all are dealing with the darkness of our souls. we are all capable of murder.

and it is at the point where, if we begin thinking more highly of ourselves, or looking down at this man because we are not standing in a courtroom on trial for murder, that’s the moment when we put the latex gloves on. that’s the moment we run the risk of drawing a line that separates “us” from “them.” and that simply cannot happen. not if we are to be effective with our faith. not if we want to be used by Him to touch the lives of others. we must remove the gloves.

the end of the story: He wins

it was during this conversation with my mom that i took a walk, leaving her and my wife to chat. a walk to get a drink of water. to catch my breath. and to take a moment just to think.

we were at a park by the water for this conversation. one of my favorite parks. it’s off the beaten trail just far enough that not everyone goes there, which made it perfect for a day like today. and i was chewing on our conversation as i walked. wondering what God thought of all this. what He wanted me to think. what He wanted me to take away from all this. what He wanted me to do.

it was during my walk back to the park bench that He spoke into my heart, as He tends to do at those moments when it’s needed most. and as the sun of the late afternoon day shone over the bay, through the trees, i heard these words,

you know the end of the story. you know that I win. even when everything seems to say otherwise, you know the end of the story.

and that thought brought light to my heart and joy to my face. for, even when all else seems to suggest that things are out of His control, it is encouraging to know the end of the story. it is encouraging to know that He will work in a way that redeems the horrible situation we’re going through. right now, even though it seems like a nightmare, to know that the day will one day dawn. to know that, even now, the darkness is cowering in anticipation of that day. to know that He wants to use your hands and your feet to pull open the shades and let His light shine forth into the hearts of those who are trapped in the nightmare of their own sin.

as He told me this afternoon, so i tell you in hopes of bringing you encouragement,

hey bud, lift up your chin, for you know the end of the story. and I have every intention of using you to bring about my happy ending.

and it was with great joy and encouragement that i took my seat beside my mom. knowing that all would be okay. knowing that He was using this situation, the darkest of hours, for His glory.

 

responsible faith

i’m not one who’s normally praised for my great memory, but certain memories stand out pretty vividly from over the years. for example, I can remember pretty vividly two classmates from my middle school years. two classmates who still stand out to me to this day. they stand out in my mind largely because they helped shape much of the way in which i thought about believers and nonbelievers. at least, they did for quite some time. we’ll call them greg and mindy.

greg and mindy

greg was known for being incredibly bright. his interests lied mostly in the realm of politics. yes, even in middle school, he was the one who always wanted to talk foreign policy and the like. he had an incredible vocabulary, one that made him stand out like a sore thumb from most other middle schoolers. he spoke in a calm, dry tone most of the time. except when he got worked up. then it would quicken into almost a frantic pace. he loved to debate, and he was quite good at it.

mindy, on the other hand, was known for being, well, a goody-goody, for lack of a better way to put it. she was nice, to be sure, and i’m sure she received good grades (as a result of being quite diligent in her studies, like most things), but she wasn’t known for her intellect. not like greg.

and the debates between greg and mindy were well known in our school. debates that centered on Christianity, and the existence of God. greg lying on the side of unbelief, mindy on the side of belief. and, as a result of their natural talents, greg typically steamrolled mindy in these debates. recognizing her defeat, mindy would often become visibly frustrated, which only encouraged her classmates’ laughter at the scene. to anyone watching, it would appear obvious that greg had won the debate.

unfortunate caricatures

the unfortunate thing is, to me at least, i associated such debates with reality. i would think to myself, “how could an intelligent individual accept such things of the faith?” for mindy’s arguments seemed so frail in the face of greg’s intellectual beatings. he almost seemed to be making a joke out of the fact that anyone could believe such things.

it was at that time that greg and mindy became caricatures of believers and nonbelievers to me. believers, in my mind, were associated with mindy. simple. naive. willing to accept seemingly ridiculous beliefs. not truly knowing how or why they should believe such things, but simply accepting them because that’s what their parents taught them to believe. or, because they thought they should believe it.

nonbelievers, on the other hand, were associated in my mind with greg. intellectual. considerate of their beliefs (but not necessarily considerate of others’ beliefs). not accepting things on faith, but critically analyzing that which they believed before accepting it as truth.

and this was unfortunate. it was unfortunate because i considered myself a believer. i prayed every night. i believed in an intelligent Creator. i believed that Jesus had come, in the flesh, that He had died in my place, and that He had risen again. all seemingly laughable things, to greg, and the rest of the nonbelievers out there. yet i believed them. and this left me torn. torn because i considered myself a relatively smart kid. i considered myself pretty analytical, and not necessarily willing to just accept that which i was told.

i didn’t want to be naive, and i certainly didn’t want people to think i was naive. which was likely largely responsible for me not wearing my faith on my sleeve, like mindy. but, rather, placing my faith quietly in my back pocket, where no one would notice it. except in the comfort and safety of other believers.

my introduction to lewis

it wasn’t until my freshman year of college that i met c.s. lewis for the first time in the book mere christianity (which still stands as my all-time favorite writing, to this day, apart from God’s Word). i had never read lewis before. i was, apparently, the only kid on the planet not to have enjoyed the chronicles of narnia series growing up. which was probably for the best, for my introduction to lewis was thus fresh. i had no preconceptions about this man, i could read him with open eyes. and i was completely blown away.

here was an obviously brilliant man. he used pinpoint logic and illustrative analogies to support each point he made. and, most incredible of all, here was perhaps one of the most intellectual men i had ever read who was, before my very eyes, supporting christian truths! faith in a Creator. Christ’s deity. the doctrine of sanctification. and never once did his points come across as preachy or a stretch. they were simply logical approaches to things i had been taught and struggled to believe for so many years.

that was when things changed for me. that was when my mental caricatures of believers and nonbelievers were smashed to pieces. that was when i realized i did not have to sacrifice my intellect to believe the things of the Christian faith. and, for that, i am forever grateful to lewis and his writings.

two types of belief

it’s thinking about this experience in my own life that has caused me to stop and consider the things i believe in. be they spiritual or not. for, i believe the way in which we approach general beliefs must not differ from the way in which we approach spiritual beliefs. let me try to explain.

in general, the things i believe in fall into one of two categories: beliefs by experience and beliefs by faith.

experience

the experiences we go through cause us to hold certain beliefs. for example, it is my belief that if i board an airplane in seattle headed to orange county california, that after about two and a half hours of being in the air, i will arrive in orange county. that belief is based on my own experience. this may not seem like a difficult concept for you, but that is likely because you have also experienced air travel, and you know it works. people unfamiliar with the concept of flying by plane (rare as they may be), though, may have difficulty with this concept. “you’re telling me that you’re going to get in that giant metal bird and that it’s going to carry you and hundreds of other people through the air?”

and yet, i know and believe in the concept of air travel because i have experienced it.  in the same way, i believe if i hop on I-5 and head south from my hometown, barring any significant traffic delays, i will arrive in seattle about an hour and a half later. i have made this drive many times, and i know that that is the route and roughly the time it takes for such trips.

so you see, i have come to hold these beliefs through life experiences that support my faith in them. but not everything i believe is based on experience.

faith

there are many things in this life that i simply have not had the benefit of experiencing. some i will come to experience. others i will likely never have the opportunity to experience first-hand.

take space travel, for example. i have never traveled to outer space. yet, that does not prevent me from believing in space travel. why? because i take it on faith that it is possible. faith that is based on video of shuttles being launched from cape canaveral into outer space. shots of astronauts circling the globe from the dark, depths of space. i’ve even had the fortune to meet buzz aldrin, a man who has not only traveled in outer space, but who has stepped foot on the moon. and i believe his story. i believe the fact that he has traveled in outer space, even though i have never experienced it myself.

or take, if you will, another example. say you are traveling in an area you’re not familiar with. if you get lost, and if you are not too terribly stubborn, you are likely to stop and ask for directions. after finding someone who knows the area, someone familiar with not only where you’re currently at, but where you’re going, and someone who’s willing to point you in the right direction, you’re likely to be more confident of your path. why? because you have faith in this person’s directions. you believe that this person’s knowledge and familiarity will help you find your destination, even though you have no such familiarity or experience. you are acting on faith.

believing something you’ve experienced takes little effort. you know it to be true. you’ve experienced it for yourself. believing something you don’t have experience with, though, believing something you have not touched or gone through yourself, that takes more work. that takes faith. and there are certain things in this life that we must take on faith. for, we may never have the opportunity to fully experience them. such is the case with many things of the Christian faith. we will never be able to experience Jesus’ virgin birth, His resurrection or other difficult to comprehend beliefs of the faith. instead, we must rely on the testimony of those who were there. however, that does not make our belief any less valid. for, as we have seen, we believe things we haven’t experienced for ourselves all the time.

belief without complete understanding

some people will try to make you feel stupid, naive or even irresponsible with your faith for believing in something you don’t fully understand. others will never let themselves believe in something until they feel as though they have all of the questions answered. both situations run the risk of preventing someone from enjoying the fruits of faith, and there are significant mistakes in both scenarios.

i couldn’t tell you exactly how an airplane works. were you to put me on the spot and ask me to explain just how it works, i would stumble through some sort of an explanation that included my feeble concept of aerodynamics and lift. but it would soon become apparent that there were many gaps in my understanding of this process.

however, my lack of knowledge of the inner workings of an airplane has never prevented me from riding in one. never prevented me from putting my life on the line, so to speak, with each ride. no, for even though i don’t totally understand how it works, i have good reason to believe that when i board the plane in one city, that i am going to find myself in a completely different city when the doors open. this belief is based on my past experience. but experience only comes from stepping out in faith. for, experience itself always has a beginning, and that beginning is called faith.

my first airplane ride, even though i cannot now recall it for you, was not based on experience. no, it was based on relying on those who told me it was going to be okay. it was based on faith.

and that is the case with many things in our life. we don’t fully understand them, but that does not prevent us from relying on them. that does not prevent us from believing in their capabilities or their functions. i can no more explain to you how a microwave oven works, and yet i believe it will heat up my leftovers when need be. i cannot explain to you how a cell phone allows me to talk to my loved ones on the other side of the country at the push of a button, and yet i don’t think twice to pick up the phone when i want to reach them.

so you see, such belief is not stupid, naive or irresponsible at all. in fact, we act on such beliefs each day.

the first step

like many things, the first step in belief is always the most difficult. but, once we’ve taken that first step (in faith), the subsequent steps are that much easier, and they require much less faith (because of our experience). the first ride on an airplane requires significantly more faith than does the 17th ride. and the 32nd ride even less.

grasping at straws

and yet, we all know that attacks on the Christian faith will come. faith in a Creator, faith in a loving, righteous and holy God, faith in the risen Son of God. if you haven’t faced such attacks, you will. and if you never do, well then, perhaps that is saying something about your faith.

these attacks are rarely new. in fact, they are the same attacks that were used 2,000 years ago against Jesus’ first followers: “the guards were sleeping…,” “His followers stole the body…” like most things, these arguments are not new.

however, these attacks must never give rise to concern about such belief or faith. for, as we have seen, we apply belief and faith to many things in our lives every day that we do not fully comprehend or have not experienced for ourselves. and we do so without thinking twice about it.

people will always grasp at straws when they are drowning. it is our duty not to argue with those who are drowning for the sake of argument, but to offer them our hands in help. i pray you would do so in the firm confidence that He will provide understanding where understanding is necessary, and faith where understanding is not.

 

He’s sorry

someday
you’re not likely to read this any time soon, but my heart is heavy this morning with words i feel He wants you to know. so, my hope, as i put these thoughts to words, is that you may someday read them. and on that day, the day He has already ordained, i hope He will use these words to speak directly to your heart.

He’s sorry
i feel like He wants to tell you He’s sorry. He’s sorry that things aren’t more clear for you now. He’s sorry it’s not easier to see how much He loves you. how overwhelming His love is for you, and how He has done more than you will ever know to show you that.

He’s sorry for the pain you’re going through now. but, more importantly, He wants you to know that your pain pales in comparison to the pain He feels for you. and that pain, His pain, pales in comparison to the love He has for you.

from a step to a sprint
He wants you to know that He has done everything to make it better. He wants you to know that He has paid the highest price to make a path from your feet to Himself. He wants you to know that He is cheering you on every single day, that you would take one step in faith toward Him. and one more tomorrow. and another the next day. and He looks forward to the day when those small steps will turn into a brisk walk. and from a brisk walk to a jog. and finally from a jog into a full on sprint into His outstretched arms.

He wants you to know that His desire is for your heart, and that you would joyfully hand it over to Him. and you would, if only you could see, clearly, how deep His love is for you. how much deeper it is than any other love you have ever known.

He wants you to know how He longs to hold you in His arms. and someday He will.

your return home
even though that day is so distant that you can’t see it now, He can. and He is looking forward to that day with great excitement and anticipation. excitement to celebrate your return home.

 

the bicycle: God’s humbling patience

i picture a young boy learning how to ride his bike. standing it upright, stepping over and placing his foot on the peddle for the first time, his face full of pride as His father speaks gently, “now, remain focused. keep your eyes straight ahead of you and you’ll do just fine.”

and as the boy pushes his free foot off the pavement below him, laughter fills the air. he is doing it! he is actually riding on his own. barely balancing, but riding nonetheless. it doesn’t take long for this ride to end, though, and he soon finds himself toppled over beneath the weight of the bike.

just as soon as he can look for his Father he finds Him crouched by his side, waiting to help him up. “you were distracted, weren’t you? you took your eyes off the goal,” He says matter-of-factly, with more truth in his voice than any hint of accusation. “but you can do it again,” He says as He rights the bike and hands it over. “let’s try it again.”

and after what seems to be the 100th time of doing this, the boy looks up from another painful fall, looking for His Father but not necessarily expecting Him to be there this time. for how could He continually be so patient with him? and yet, before he can even finish this thought, His Father is there, by his side once again, with a warm embrace and open arms to encourage the young boy. wearing a warm look of sympathy and understanding on His face, He says reassuringly, “I’m still here, and I’m not going to leave you.”

and the grace of His presence, as welcome as it is, is almost more shameful than the fall itself. his Father’s words are just what the boy needs to hear, but he secretly wonders to himself, “how could He be so patient with me?”

a place of clarity

it’s a challenge to put the feeling into words, but when you begin to see just how much you’ve been forgiven, with just how patient The Father has been with you, it’s hard not to be completely overcome with joy. overwhelmed by feelings of inadequacy and undeserving of such patience, certainly, but consuming feelings of joy nonetheless.

and it’s a rare place to be.

sometimes it’s after you’ve fallen off the bike for the 100th time. sometimes it’s just being in God’s Word and reading about his deep commitment to grace and forgiveness toward deeply-flawed people such as yourself. sometimes it’s seeing your own sin displayed in the lives of others. wicked, ugly behavior. the kind of behavior you can’t stand in others, yet which goes unnoticed in your own life.

whatever your path to this place of clarity, it’s an invaluable place to be. for, when we truly begin to comprehended the depth of His grace that is made available to us through Christ’s blood, we can’t help but fall deep in love with our Lord and Savior. thankful for His sacrifice, and for holding steadfast in obedience, even to the cross. and thankful to our heavenly Father for orchestrating our redemption, even at the price of His only begotten Son.

when we’ve reached this place of understanding, His love for us begins to come into focus, as well as so many other things. we begin, perhaps for the first time, to see just why someone would sell all they had to buy a field containing this buried treasure. we see how ridiculous it would be for us not to forgive the grudges we’ve been holding onto for so long, when the level of forgiveness that has been granted us from our King is infinitely greater. our feelings of pride and superiority toward others who are running the race alongside of us, those who are trying but failing, are replaced with compassion. for we realize that we are no different. try as we might, we too become distracted and fall. time and time again. and yet, His patience persists.

picking up my bike

i’m the boy in that story. and that’s my bike that His two hands are constantly placing right-side up after yet another fall, His calm voice encouraging me to give it another shot.

His patience astounds me, each and every day. it astounds me to the point where i truly can’t understand how He could be so patient. and yet, He is. whether i understand it or not, there i find Him, whispering to me, “I’m not going to leave you.”

and when i truly consider His patience, i find it’s not because of me at all. it’s not because of anything i’ve done or anything i will do. it’s because of what His Son has already done, for my sake. He paid the price of my shortcomings, so that The Father might have reason to be patient with me. so that He can give me another try. no, it’s not because of me. it’s because of Him. and for that, my heart overflows with gratitude.

 

horse wings: cognitive dissonance of the faith

c.s. lewis once once compared Christians to what horses might be like were they in the process of growing wings. they’re not quite there, but the first signs are beginning to show. and, in the middle of the process, the horses appear quite unsightly, particularly when compared to their non-winged counterparts. the awkward lumps on the horses’ backs make them stand out from others. however, when the process has run its course, the horses will soar over hurdles they once had to work to leap over.

it’s an analogy that i’ve appreciated very much. but, unfortunately, it’s one whose purpose i need to be constantly remind of. perhaps those are the best kind, though. ones that aren’t so shallow they never need repeating.

sacrifice for Him

i was thinking about this on a recent afternoon while walking through downtown. thinking about the semi-awkwardness that Christians should bear were they to live out their faith as they were called to in a world that shares little similarities with said faith. not the “i’m wearing a terribly outdated Christian rock band t-shirt” kind of awkwardness, but the kind of awkwardness that makes one stand out solely because of the way they treat others. as if suddenly they have lost all of their sense of self-importance and replaced it with a concern for others that goes beyond normal conventions.

i was thinking about how the Christian life is a call to sacrifice, and how Christ, the Christ of the Bible, was constantly beating this point home. whether in parables, commands or His very life. anyone expecting anything more from the Christian life than a life devoted to serving others would be well-suited to spend some time in the the Gospel accounts. Jesus Himself told people if they weren’t ready to fully commit then they should turn back now. a stark warning many new believers (and old believers alike) would do well to consider.

a certain sense of dissonance

personally, i struggle with living with a lukewarm faith. one foot in, one foot out. one foot in this world, one foot in the next. and it’s brought me a certain sense of dissonance.

on the one hand, i know that the ultimate fulfillment of all that i was created for rests in His presence, rests outside of this world. and that only when i have arrived in that place will those deep longings of my soul finally find rest, finally find fulfillment. the kind of fulfillment humanity has spent centuries seeking out through various means and methods. only then will i be totally and completely overwhelmed with the comfort, peace and security that comes from His presence alone.

and yet, when i am most honest with myself, there is a very predominant part of me that still runs full-speed toward the goals of this world. success. material wealth. pleasure. security. admiration. praise.

and it’s at that point that the dissonance arrives, striking to my very core, leaving me wondering who i really am, and where my commitment really stands. and that’s a tough place to be.

we are told that only He truly knows our hearts. i know that you don’t know my heart; it’s relatively easy to deceive others, to put on a facade, at least for a while. those who are good at it last longer, others simply are caught off guard. eventually, all of our sinful natures shine through at some point. but the thing about Him, the thing that we must never forget, is that He sees us for who we truly are, all the time. the good and the bad. simultaneously. and that’s a fearful thought.

the sway

what we must avoid at all costs is for that dissonance to sway us in such a way that we hold on too tightly to the things of this world. we must never let the trends or the enticements of this world outweigh the promises of what is to come. even when the lumps look ugly, even when our sacrifices for our risen Lord and Savior may appear foolish to others, or only seem to push us back while others make seemingly large strides forward, we must continue to run the race with everything we have toward His will for our lives.

Father, i thank you for my lumps. i thank you for the reminder that you began a process in my life that you promise to bring to completion. forgive me for letting what others might think make me hold on to material things or norms, or anything other than the nail-pierced hand of your loving Son.

 

when i go: a tune you can’t help but hum

on a recent morning, i found myself working on a photo shoot for a client of ours. we were putting together a new brochure for a local funeral home, and we needed to update the limited photography of their locations that we had on-hand.

what could seem like a very morbid account is actually one of my favorites. the funeral home is family owned, as it has been for the past four generations, and it has a history of being incredibly involved in the lives of the local community. john, the current owner, has a great sense of humor. he is one of the funniest guys i’ve worked with, but his jokes quickly turn to a sense of concerned seriousness when he talks about caring for local families. he’s quick to point out that his job provides him the opportunity to serve families during their greatest time of need. it would be easy to call him one of my favorite clients.

sweeping lawns and blue balloons

i met our photographer for this particular shoot at one of john’s larger locations, a peaceful park-like setting set in the valley with the snow-capped mountains setting the landscape of the horizon. it’s a cemetery, to be sure, but it’s arranged with paved walking paths and sweeping lawns interspersed with beautiful, hundred year-old trees that reach far into the sky. on mornings like these, with blue skies and fresh, warm air, it’s not unusual to find locals walking the paths on their morning strolls, catching up with friends and taking in the views. it’s easy to forget they’re walking through a cemetery.

on this morning, the air smelled of freshly cut grass. the crows played hop-scotch through the grass clippings to the sound of gabe’s shutter clicking away as the early morning sun shone through the trees. it was beautiful.

i am usually pretty good about treating work as work, and looking at a photo shoot as nothing more than a photo shoot, but this morning was a little different.

we walked to the edge of the grounds to snap some photos of the mausoleum for the brochure and my eyes quickly caught a small, blue balloon on the end of a stick beside a headstone. the words “Happy Birthday” were stretched across the balloon, and i was immediately struck by the reality of our surroundings. struck by the fact that a family member had recently stood where i was standing, that they had come here, to this same location, to wish their lost loved one a happy birthday. and i was overcome with sorrow. it was unusual for me, for i had been here countless times before, but this time it all seemed so real. and i couldn’t shake it. as i turned to catch my thoughts and remind myself of the project before me, my eyes caught another balloon, tied to a name on the mausoleum’s exterior wall, and it read, “world’s greatest dad.” it was then that i nearly lost it.

i found it incredibly difficult to focus on the shoot that morning. as we stood on the sweeping lawns, trying to spot potential shots for the brochure, i couldn’t help but think about all of the names of the headstones, and all the lives that they represented. peach. moles. chambers. each one a different life. each one no longer here. all that’s left are memories. more and more, all i could think about was my own life, my own death, and what i want to leave behind.

about a car

i recently had the chance to check out an early draft (or the first three chapters of an early draft) of don miller’s new book, a million miles in a thousand years. i really enjoy don’s writing. very funny. very heartfelt. personal in a way that makes it seem like you’re reading the thoughts of an old friend, even though you’ve never met.

the thing that stood out most from his initial draft, though, actually came in his introduction. it’s something that has stuck with me ever since. and it has had me thinking about the life that i want to live. here’s what he had to say:

“if you watched a movie about a guy who wanted a volvo and worked for years to get it, you probably wouldn’t cry at the end of the movie when he drove off the lot testing the windshield wipers. you wouldn’t tell your friends you saw a beautiful movie or go home and put a record on and sit in a chair to think about what you’d seen. the truth is you wouldn’t even remember that movie a week later, except to feel robbed and want your money back. nobody cries at the end of a movie about a guy who got a volvo.

but we spend years living those kinds of stories and expect life to feel meaningful. maybe that’s why we go to so many movies, because our real lives don’t feel meaningful anymore.”

i think the reason this author’s note had such an impact on me is that this is something i have dreamed about. this is something i’ve wanted for my own life. and why? to what end? a volvo? as an end in and of itself? that’s sad. it’s laughable, really.

to live our lives for such material, meaningless goals. goals that have such little significance in the long run. the results of which will be forgotten shortly after we’re gone. and the saddest part is that this has the potential to be my own sad story.

my story

i don’t want my story to be about a car. i don’t want my story to be about any sort of material goals. i want my story to be about changed lives. when my story ends, i want there to be a noticeable change, not just because i am gone, but because i was here. and not just because i was here, but because, when i was here, He was here. and He was working in the lives of those around me. working through my words. working through my hands and feet.

that’s what i want the end of my story to be. the beginning of so many other stories. stories of change. stories of life, and lives lived to the fullest.

i want to leave those who I had the honor to meet with a long list of fond memories and a good taste in their mouth. like your favorite song, and how it lingers even after it’s done, continually playing a tune you can’t help but hum. i want that tune to be a reminder to others of the things Christ did in my life, and, by knowing me, how He touched and changed their lives as well.

 

time with God: boiling water in my backyard

i’ve been fortunate enough to marry into a pretty great family. picking a spouse is easy. picking a spouse without a crazy family, well, that’s a bit more difficult.

i’ve really enjoyed spending time with several of her cousins and getting to know them over the many years we’ve been together. it’s a pretty cool feeling being able to use the little you know about life, lessons you’ve learned from being a few steps further down the road of life, to pour into the life of a younger guy. and, if you’re lucky enough, sometimes they even take what you have to say to heart, which is pretty incredible. to think you can play even a small part in shaping who a person is. that’s the good stuff. and it’s a privilege.

one of my wife’s cousins, in particular, has really been great to get to know over the years. smart guy. very sociable and outgoing. the kind of guy the girls flock to, and the guys would like to be. we’ve had some great trips over the years. snowboarding, talking c.s. lewis. the good stuff.

after his high school graduation, we decided to do something as a way of celebrating his recent graduation and the next steps ahead of him, as he moved on to college. after some deliberation, we determined a camping trip would be just the trick. so we prepared. and by prepared, i mean i found people who knew how to camp and i listened. then i made a list. then i bought lots of cool camping things that made me feel a bit like someone else. then i packed.

thoughts over boiling water

i borrowed a campfire stove from a co-worker. the kind of co-worker who loves to get outdoors. the kind of co-worker who climbs mount kilamanjaro in her spare time. and no, that’s not an exaggeration.i always forget how embarrassing it is when we compare our weekend activities when monday morning rolls around. and, before i can cut myself off from asking what she did over the weekend, i’m left feeling like a nine-year old girl all over again.

since i have had very little experience with the whole camping experience, i figured i’d better make sure i was able to get the stove working before i got my wife’s cousin to the top of a mountain and wasn’t able to prepare any food.

so there i was, leaning back on my elbows under the blue and white fragmented sky in my backyard, the stove firing on all cylinders, waiting for the water to boil. it was a rare, quiet moment. a rare moment of not doing the next thing. it’s tough for me, but it’s the way i am. always filling my time with something. stopping is one of the most difficult things for me to do, and i know it’s unhealthy.

and it was then, as i lay there, watching the blue sky play peak-a-boo behind the white clouds in the quietness of a summer evening, that i heard the still small voice in my head say,

“seek Me, and you will find Me. and when you find Me, you will be filled with my presence.”

[on a side note, it wasn't until i began putting my thoughts down here that i realized how often this happens. not that it happens all the time, but it certainly must seem that way to someone reading this. (if you're still here, thanks. i promise most people don't think i'm crazy.)]

and this thought was met with a feeling of rest. of peace. of comfort. as if i had, for the first time in a very long time, reclined into an old, favorite chair.

this thought was followed by a familiar passage in scripture. one found in the book of John. it was about a stream of Living water being found in me, if i were to seek Him. and that this Living water would pour out from my life and into the lives of others. and It would fill them up, as It filled me up, and It would give them life.

here is the verse that had come to mind:

“Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, ‘if anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.’” (john 7: 37-39)

the unfolding conversation

and it was there, waiting on my water to boil, that i let this thought stir in my mind. finding rare solitude in His presence. allowing Him to indwell in my thoughts.

and as i lay there in my backyard, a question came to me. here’s how the conversation unfolded from there…

mental voice: what are you doing?

me: boiling water in my backyard.

mental voice: why?

me: well, i’m preparing for this weekend…

and i immediately felt myself pause. i had been caught completely off guard. caught by the fact that i had spent a significant amount of mental energy and time (neither of which are plentiful at this point in my life) in preparation for the coming weekend’s camping trip. and i was struck to the core by this thought because of the fact that i have spent so very little time as of late preparing for my life beyond this life. preparing for my trip to God’s Kindom, if you will. and that’s a trip i have even less experience with than camping.

time in His presence

i’ve been thinking quite a bit about my schedule lately. about how full my schedule is, to be specific.

were you to ask those who know me, they’d tell you i’m a pretty busy guy. and i hate that. i hate being known for having little time. i hate feeling like i have little time to do the things i want to do, to see the people i want to see, to spend time with those who i’ve neglected for so long. it’s tough telling family and friends that you just don’t have time to spend with them. and i don’t want to be that guy. i don’t want to look back on my life and regret where i spent my time (or where i didn’t spend it, for that matter).

and yet, one of my biggest struggles is that, as a believer in God, and a follower of His Son Jesus Christ, i devote very, very little of my time to being with Him. in prayer. in His Word. where i should be. and i hate that thought. i know such time is healthy. i know it’s what i need. and yet, i still make very little time for it. and that is exactly why i was convicted in my backyard, waiting for my water to boil. i’ve been spending very little time in preparation lately.

and, as my water began to boil, pouring steam from underneath the pan’s lid, i was excited to see the results of preparation. i was excited because i knew at that moment that, as i prepare for Him, by being with Him, that He will richly bless me with more and more of His presence. and He will bless me in a way that will allow His presence to pour out from me and bless others.

as i poured out my boiling water in the backyard and packed away my things for camping, i was content. content knowing that He was there, gently guiding me back into His presence. guiding me back to the place where i belong.