Keep calm and carry on

So, I have Psoriasis.

Started noticing it during summer 2010.

Within the past six months it’s worsened considerably. Many times it’s nearly impossible to concentrate, it’s exacerbated by stress, and no one really knows where it comes from or how to get rid of it.

Some reports say that at some point it could be as debilitating as chronic pain.

The reality for me is, this is shaping up to be something I’ll be dealing with for quite some time…

…and there’s no simple path to recovery…

…no easy way to just be rid of it…

…and it’s frustrating…

I’d much prefer to eyeball the fix and make haste towards it, but that’s not how this works.

Our family has seen our share of hardship and difficulty…from emotional to financial to even the brink of death a couple times (and I’m convinced the challenges aren’t nearly over yet).

Scanning the horizon and seeing those mile markers staked along the way of the journey behind us always gives me reassurance that this is simply another narrowing of the road.

When I’m done waxing on with my philosophical spiritualism, I float back down to more human thoughts, like…

“But, seriously, God…what the heck?!”

“Am I not doing what you asked of me?”

“We already look crazy to everyone else for walking the particular direction you set before us!”

“This…is…not…fair…”

Multiple times a year, our Chambers village of seven piles into the minivan for an eleven hour drive to Central Florida to see my family. We take the same route each time…and stop at certain exits for multiple diaper changes, fuel, food, discipline sessions, etc.

No matter how long it takes us to get there, or what happens along the way, once we arrive at the destination, all the frustrations of the journey seem to melt away.

On repeat journeys we may stop at an exit and have this vague memory that we’ve been there before, but still we press on, because that short stop is not our destination. There are more miles to travel, and we cannot quit now.

The idea I’m wrestling with right now seems to be something Job addressed in Scripture. If you don’t know his story, you’ve got to check it out sometime.

Toward the end of an incredibly dark season of his life, he shared this:

“Behold, I go forwards, but [God] is not there, and backwards, but I do not perceive him; on the left hand when he is working, I do not behold him; he turns to the right hand, but I do not see him. But he knows the way that I take; when he has tried me, I shall come out as gold. My foot has held fast to his steps; I have kept his way and have not turned aside.”

Sometimes I feel like that.

Sometimes, my prayers sound like this: God, I’m looking everywhere, but I’m just not certain of your location…and though I can’t see you, I will carry on. I will fight my way forward. I will not give up. I know I’m yours, and this dark moment is simply an exit along the way.

Sometimes when we can’t see God it’s because we’re looking for the wrong indications of his presence.

Look again. And again. And again. But never stop walking.

I’m not sure what you face in your life. There are lots of people around me right now walking through very scary moments…joblessness…sickness…risky pregnancies…divorce…impending heartache of all types.

Know this: you’re almost there, and the people you encounter along the way are changed forever when they see you carrying on.

Be faithful. Don’t give up. Grace is with you.

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“The safest road to Hell is the gradual one—the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts.” // CS Lewis

I cry in Lord of the Rings

Yes, I cry in Lord of the Rings. That’s a bit of a strange confession to make, but it’s true.

As a side note, I ran a poll on Twitter and Facebook a while back asking about which movies people cried in, and 90% of the responses I got were from men. So, I know there are some emotional dudes out there who get me.

So, here’s the scene…

There’s a short, emotional exchange between Sam-Wise and Frodo near the very end of the story when the ring has been destroyed, and peace has finally returned to Middle Earth.

Frodo is preparing to sail to the Undying Lands with several others when Sam (who had been faithful to Frodo every step of the perilous journey) is heartbroken that he is leaving…then Frodo says these words:

“We set out to save the Shire, Sam and it has been saved – but not for me.”

It was as if Frodo always knew he that if he took on the quest of destroying the ring, things would never be the same, but he finished anyway…and he finished well. It’s a beautiful moment.

There are powerful examples in Scripture and throughout history of this very same heart…here are just a few:

• Moses leading the people of God toward the promised land, knowing he would never reach it himself…

• The many generations of builders and masons that constructed the York Minster, knowing they would never see the finished product…

• Stephen, who even while being put to death, cried for God to forgive his executioners…and never knew that one of them would end up writing most of the New Testament (Paul)

For each of these and millions of others throughout our written history, they weren’t present for the results of their work. Now, typically we will say things like, “It’s not about who gets the credit…”, or some other axiom that deep down is very difficult to say with a straight face. (Not that it’s a wrong pursuit, but my gosh everyone craves gratitude of some kind.)

It occurs to me that perhaps the point of the work of these incredible people was not ever what resulted in the end, but rather faithfulness in trajectory. In other words, they literally gave their lives to set a direction, and left the destination to God.

Isn’t that the idea anyway? Leaving the destination to God?

Paul planted…Apollos watered…God gave the growth…

How many works in your life stretch so far out that you can’t see the end?

Or do you avoid those?

All of us are carrying a baton passed to us from someone else, and it’s easy to throw around words like “legacy” and “heritage”, but darn it we like to see results. As if the fruit of our labor is something we control.

This isn’t even about instant gratification as much as it is eventual gratification. However, what if the step by step, plodding and traversing is the gratification? What if Heaven meets earth in our day to day? What if that’s enough?

Our Savior has promised something glorious later. Something we cannot fully understand. Something worth our lives now.

Friedrich Nietzsche gave us this thought (echoed years later by Eugene Peterson): “The essential thing ‘in heaven and earth’ is. . . that there should be a long obedience in the same direction; there thereby results, and has always resulted in the long run, something which has made life worth living.”

Perhaps each of us have a Shire to save, but not for ourselves. Grace means we can hold the results (even the ones we may never see) with an open hand.

Journey well. Finish well.

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God has given each of you a gift from his great variety of spiritual gifts. Use them well to serve one another. Do you have the gift of speaking? Then speak as though God himself were speaking through you. Do you have the gift of helping others? Do it with all the strength and energy that God supplies. Then everything you do will bring glory to God through Jesus Christ. All glory and power to him forever and ever! Amen. //  I Peter 4:10-11

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FUNNY FOOTNOTE: I walked into the coffee shop this morning to publish this post, and they were playing the Lord of the Rings soundtrack…how…appropriate.

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What other stories from history do you know where people gave their lives to a cause that they never saw the end of?

We don’t need more Christians…

We don’t need more Christians who are trying to be radical.

We don’t need more Christians who are trying to stand out.

We don’t need more Christians who are trying to be celebrities.

We don’t need more Christians who treat other Christians like celebrities.

We don’t need more Christians who don’t listen.

We don’t need more Christians who look down others.

We don’t need more Christians who think they’ve arrived.

We don’t need more Christians who fight about things that don’t matter.

We don’t need more Christians who exclude.

We don’t need more Christians who intrude.

We don’t need more Christians who make promises they can’t keep.

We don’t need more Christians who turn a blind eye.

We don’t need more Christians who are better at politics than community.

We don’t need more Christians who pretend.

We need more Christians who look like Jesus.

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“When I think of all this, I fall to my knees and pray to the Father, the Creator of everything in heaven and on earth. I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.

Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think. Glory to him in the church and in Christ Jesus through all generations forever and ever! Amen.” // Ephesians 3:14-21

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The days are short. The fight is hard. The journey is worth our lives.

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This post today was a reminder for me. I hope it is for you as well.

What does it mean to look like Jesus?

Following Jesus is so not fair!

“But that’s not fair!”

As a dad, I think this may be one of the top three most annoying phrases in the world, and one of the most common.

Our two oldest children, Tobin (8) and Josiah (7), were miraculously endowed with some sort of internal notification system that instantly alerts them whenever the other one moves even slightly ahead on the fairness scale.

As soon that happens, we’ll hear an assortment of questions and statements that usually begin with:

“But why doesn’t he…”

“But how come I…”

“But why did he get to…”

“But why don’t I…”

And we in turn mix and match our parental response with a variety of phrases that go something like…

“Don’t worry about him…just make sure you do what you’re supposed to do…”

“Let’s working on being grateful for what we do have, not upset about what we don’t have.”

“Stop looking around…look at me…”

Typically, the fairness conversation takes a good chunk of time to wade through, and almost always revolves around something like one having six more LEGOs than the other…or got a little more soft drink in his cup…you know…earth shattering discrepancies.

The strangest part is, we don’t seem to outgrow the notification system. As we get older, it simply gets more sophisticated and continues to hinder and distract and lower our effectiveness.

And it goes much deeper than simply thinking the grass looks greener elsewhere.

In John 21, the resurrected Jesus has just finished giving the disciples a fishing lesson topped off with breakfast on the beach. (Coolest.morning.ever.)

Afterwards, He has an impromptu conversation about love that really puts Peter on the spot.

Jesus asks, “Peter, do you love me?”

Peter (on the third try) replies, “You know everything, you know that I love you.”

Jesus lowers the boom: “If you truly love me…you’re going to have to die.” [My paraphrase]

Stuff just got real.

Immediately Peter’s notification system kicks on, he starts looking around, sees another disciple named John and quips, “But what about him?” Peter knows it doesn’t seem fair, and if he has to die for loving Jesus, then John should too. Right?

Then, Jesus goes for the heart: “Don’t worry about him…you follow me.”

Reality: following Jesus isn’t fair. Fair isn’t the point…following is.

Sometimes grace looks like a manger and sometimes a cross. The journey to become who you were created begins with death and ends with life.

It seems backwards. Usually it’s the other way around. In our world, the race is on to live as much in as possible before you die. When you follow Jesus, the race is on to die as soon as possible so you can live.

When I’m faced with these things, it’s like I’m the same age as Tobin and Josiah again. Looking up at the Father and questioning, “But what about them? Why did I have to go through this? Why didn’t I get to do that?”

Again and again He responds, “Stop looking around. Stop worrying about everyone else. Eyes on me…follow me…”

I believe comparative Christianity is addictive, paralyzing and a huge time waster. Oddly enough, we rarely see those who may have things more difficult than we do, we always see the ones who seem to have it better.

You have important work to do today. Things to accomplish that no one else can.

But if you’re too busy looking around at how things are playing out for others, they won’t get done.

So…stop looking around. Fix your eyes on Jesus. He’s the Author…let Him write the story.

Finding a cure and forgetting to care

**This was supposed to be part 2 of a 2 part series. But…I think I’ll keep fleshing some of these things out. I’d love to keep the dialogue going. Many of you have emailed and commented, so let’s keep it rolling.**

“How do we do good in Africa?”

I wasn’t ready for the question. I stopped stirring my tea and looked across the cafe table.

The man on the other side was Dr. Bruce Baker, professor of African Security at Coventry University.

He adjusted the collar of his tweed coat and continued, “I’ve been studying this for 30 years, and I’m still not quite sure. I have some theories, but I’m not convinced the best thing for Africa is more Western influence. That doesn’t mean we stop trying, it simply means we stop forcing.”

As the sun began to set behind the cathedral ruins leftover from WWII, Dr. Baker looked at me and said, “Don’t be afraid. You’re going to be fine. Just take care of people and you’ll do just fine.”

The train ride back to London was very quiet for me.

It seemed simple enough…“just take care of people.”

I could do that.

After all, isn’t the call to care and community a huge part of following Jesus?

Loving your enemies…bearing burdens…forgiveness…grace…the poor, weak, sick, abandoned, lonely, orphaned…

It’s all there – no loopholes. At least not on paper. The loopholes only appear when we begin taking what’s on paper and transfer it into real life.

There we see the loopholes of personal preference…pet peeves…style…tradition…methodology…theology…

People don’t think you’re making the gospel clear enough. People don’t think you’re helping with physical needs enough.

But as I’ve studied and wrestled and poured myself into the question of “how exactly do we do this?”, I keep coming back to one thought over and over:

Our primary job isn’t to keep people out of hell, it’s to carry the broken to Jesus.

The challenge is that when we see the word “broken”, each of us already has a definition in our minds of who that is. And furthermore, all of the definitions we think of are correct.

Darkness isn’t darker for for certain people. And the hope of the Cross doesn’t come with more perks for some than for others.

Our ability to understand those things doesn’t change them. The point is – what do we do about it?

The temptation for me is to be cure focused. To fix it. As if the goal is all about solutions.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about finding great solutions to glaring issues. Especially with 1.3 billion people without proper water and sanitation, millions of mothers and infants dying as a result of poor maternal healthcare…genocide, racism, abject poverty, orphan care…these are heart-wrenching realities we must be engaged in.

When it comes to the needs of people, finding a cure does little good when not accompanied by care. Cure might be the end, but care is the journey.

I suck at math. But sometimes I would luck out and end up with the right answer after working the problem wrong. Deep down I always hoped whoever checked my paper would simply be satisfied that I arrived at the right conclusion, and not harp on the fact that I didn’t do the work.

A lot of getting the work right comes back to listening. Valuing people who know more than you. Spending time with people who may see things differently than you.

I promise you will never look back and wish you hadn’t. Because we are also the broken. We are also the ones who need Jesus.

Our work lasts (for better or worse). Let’s do it well. Let’s do stuff people would miss if we stopped.

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Would love your thoughts.

How do you think we can find cures while not neglecting the call to care?