As a man, I judge stores that sell women’s clothing very differently than my wife and daughters. In fact, much of what’s important to them is incomprehensible to me. All I can do is remember what they’ve previously liked and do my best to give my full attention to them while I wait—first while they choose and then while they try-on. I also carry items they want to take to the dressing room. Since I don’t understand their process, my judgments are based on my needs. First, are the aisles wide enough for me to comfortably carry six items without knocking down stock? Few past that test. Second, is the store organized the way a man thinks? In other words, are all the blouses in one area or are they scattered, making you look at a whole lot more stuff than you wanted? Most fail this test. And finally, the most important thing to consider when choosing a women’s store: Are there comfortable chairs to sit in while you wait for clothes to be tried on? Proximity to the changing room is also very good. It must be close enough for questions but far enough away to avoid embarrassing encounters with other store patrons. (TVs tuned to sports or action movies would be great, but that is only a dream!) Whether my criteria is met or not, my job is to be attentive and patient, and I find it hard if I’m uncomfortable or bored.

As a young man, I was unaware of the importance of waiting and waiting well. No one took me aside and told me the results of being impatient and that shopping excursions were much more important than the clothes carried home. And I remember no sermon titled, “Wait Patiently for God.” Yet it’s one of the reoccurring themes of the Bible. As I’ve exhausted my wisdom and initiative in an area of personal need, I’ve realized that’s it time for me to wait. If I don’t know what to do or how to do it, any action I take is more likely to take me away from God than towards Him.

I’ve been thinking about Biblical examples of waiting. At the time of Jesus’ birth, one of the less prominent figures was Simeon, an old man to whom God had revealed that death would not come until he had seen the Messiah. Simeon may have waited fifty years or short time, but was described as “waiting for the consolation of Israel.” And he waited until the Spirit moved him to go to the temple, at exactly the right time to meet the baby Jesus.

"Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord's Christ. Moved by the Spirit, he went into the temple courts. When the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the custom of the Law required…" (Luke 2:25-27)

How do you wait for God? What is the balance between diligence, which the Bible also commands, and waiting for God and resting in His Promises? Simeon apparently got it right, although no mention is made of how comfortable he was as he waited.

It seems to come down to doing what I “should” instead of doing what I “could.” Simeon could have run all over Jerusalem, checking every baby that was born. Instead, he waited for that “should” moment—that inner sense of “Now!” Abraham, another man given a profound promise—this time for son—waited for a long time, grew impatient, and fathered the wrong son with the wrong woman at the wrong time. He did what he could do with disastrous results.

Perhaps that was not dissimilar to the results of being an impatient shopper while I accompany my ladies… impatience and inappropriate initiative gives ruinous results. Their process of looking and choosing is incomprehensible to me, as is God’s process. I’m along for the journey and have an important part to play, but the boundaries are distinct. I make suggestions but not demands. I follow and don’t lead. I do what I’m asked to do, and when initiating beyond that, I watch for feedback and quickly abandon what is not well received. I like the results but not the process. And I wait as patiently and comfortably as I can.

Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD. (Psalms 27:14)

The Rescuer's Footfalls

On the path to journey's end,
The thoroughfare became a thicket--
Hopelessly tangled, helplessly trapped.

The silver sunshine escapes,
her warmth retreats from my touch,
and cold crawls in.

Gently gyrating, floating flakes
turned to a plummeting pumice,
harshly scrubbing life away.

Shelter sought but not found--
Searching, seeking. Unresolved,
except the broken branches of hope denied.

Huddled in the hovel of desperate desolation,
Winter's frigid fingers grasped
our frostbitten souls without solace.

Hope's flow ebbing, now frozen fast.
Doomed to die in cold despair
for no rescuer's footfalls are coming.

Listen! A child, the baby of Bethlehem
leaves the warm womb of heaven
for winter's wasteland where we lived in death.

Christmas, in the hard heart of winter,
is the soft sound of hope rising,
of the Rescuer's footfalls lighting.

“What’s in a name?” If Shakespeare (sounds very masculine and strong if you think about it) had been named Shakey-speare instead he might not have written about roses smelling sweet regardless of what they were called. Names can deeply affect how others view us and how we see ourselves. Names from the “wrong” nationality, suggesting the “wrong” gender, or reminiscent of body parts or functions have long been used to torment and ridicule. I still go by “F.” for my middle name. My grandfather, from whom that name comes, hated it and went by a derivative. And unbelievably, he named his son, my uncle, with the same exact name, and he wouldn’t go by it either. So my parents passed on that same name to me.

In Biblical times, names often were even more important because they were meant to not just to identify you, but also to describe you. For example, the patriarch Isaac had twin sons. The first borne was named Esau, meaning “hairy,” because of how he looked when born. The second was born holding onto Esau’s heel and so was named Jacob, meaning “heel holder” or “supplanter.” Supplanter is a rather old fashioned word meaning to take what is another’s by force or deceit. Both names proved to be accurate. Years later, Jacob deceived his blind father into believing he was Esau by pretending to be hairy so he could receive the parental blessing reserved for the first born.

Jacob continued to be true to his name until he had an encounter with God. En route to an attempt at reconciliation with Esau, Jacob sent messengers ahead and found out that Esau was coming with a small army. Jacob offered gifts (the deceiver remembered his deception and thought a bribe would help) of flocks and herds, sent his family away to safety, and then prayed.

In response, an angel showed up, not to console or help, but to fight. And they fought all night. Jacob finally walked away wounded, his hip out of joint. But he also came away with a new name, Israel, given to him by God. Israel means “God contends,” “God prevails,” or “struggles with God.” He was transformed from Jacob, the deceiver, to “God wins.” We don’t find out who we really are until we struggle with God, fight with Him without letting go, and come away limping.
If I were God and renamed a person, I would always use the new name from that point on. In fact, He does sometimes do that. Abram gives way to Abraham; Sarai to Sarah; but Jacob and his descendants are referred to as both Jacob and Israel. The names are often even used in the same verse, almost as if God were speaking of two different men. Perhaps He was two different men. I know I am. My old nature connives, contends, and cajoles to get what I want. I’m often like Jacob, who was promised blessing by God, but who took it wrongly from his brother through trickery and deceit. I’m also like Israel. I’ve fought with God, wouldn’t let go-- desperately wanting to be blessed--, and came away wounded. Like him, my badge of honor is the wound I received while struggling with Him. My weakness is achieved through His strength; His strength perceived through my weakness.

My name is Jacob. I’m a struggling sinner, without hope of ever being better. My name also is Israel. I’m a son of God, recipient of all His promises. But I choose to be called Israel. It's the new name my Father gave me.

What’s your name?

…To him who overcomes, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it. (Rev 2:17)

“You can’t get there from here.” It seemed obvious as I saw the missing bridge behind the bold signs proclaiming “ROAD CLOSED.” I had gone past the “DETOUR” signs, as I usually do. Detours always go miles out of the way (or so I believe). Sometimes, the road isn’t “really” closed—meaning I can get through even though I’m not supposed to. But most of the time, I find side roads that I hope will save me miles. It’s been claimed that I drive through farmer’s fields rather than take the detour. Perhaps that’s not far from the truth.

I’ve taken that same attitude into my spiritual life. I know where I want to go. I sometimes even believe I know where God wants me to go. Getting there the fastest way possible is my goal. My shortcuts end up long-cuts. My way leaves me mired in the muck of a farmer’s field. My inability to use hard work and perseverance to achieve godly goals and destinations has led me to ask, “How do I get there from here?”

I’ve found myself drawn to the story of the Exodus. It's the incredible recounting of God taking an entire nation from slavery, setting them free, leading them through the wilderness, and finally taking their descendants to a promised land. The Lord said to Pharaoh, “Set my people free so that they can serve and worship Me!”

And God did it through His means. I’ve pondered that process, hoping to understand how I can go there also. But my spiritual GPS shows I’m back where I started. My destination is the same as the Israelites: that place where I have the freedom to serve Him with abandon, empowered by the provision, promises, and Presence of God. That generation couldn’t make it. Their inability to trust and obey became a washed out bridge in their path. And no detour was available. In a sense, you really still can’t get there from here. The “old” me, the “old” you, can’t go into the Promised Land. The Israelites were slaves, the sons of slaves, and the grandsons of slaves. In spite of all God had done for them, they were unable to respond to Him with faith and hope. God led them into the wilderness because it would either kill their slave mentality or their bodies. They could not go in as slaves, they had to go in as sons. Only two, Caleb and Joshua, of that generation really left the spirit of slavery behind. Listen to how the Lord describes Caleb:

“But My servant Caleb, because he has had a different spirit (emphasis mine) and has followed Me fully, I will bring into the land which he entered, and his descendants shall take possession of it….” (Numbers 14:24)

The Exodus shows us how God saves a people, first from slavery and then from themselves. He then takes them to a place where they are free to serve Him. In the Exodus story, this geographic place that God alone was to rule was called the Promised Land. In the New Testament, it is a spiritual place that Jesus calls “the Kingdom.” Now Jesus saves individuals, first from sin and Satan, and then from themselves. He says to the seeker: “...unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God… That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.” Paul responds: “Flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God” and "I have been crucified with Christ ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me…”.

Until recently, I’d spiritualized this concept, thinking that it was simply stating that the only way to receive eternal life is through God’s gift. That’s true, but there’s another layer of truth. No act of mine can earn me eternal life and no effort of my old nature can accomplish God’s good. I can’t go to heaven unless I die physically, and I can’t cross the boundary into the Kingdom now unless that old nature dies in the wilderness.

In Evangelical Christianity, we often over emphasize events and de-emphasize process. The act of rightly responding to Jesus allows God’s grace to release me from slavery to the consequences of sin, but it doesn’t usually immediately cause me to stop thinking and acting like a slave. There is a process, a wilderness to walk through. We’re commanded to work out our salvation. I’ll paraphrase that. “Over the course of your life, work salvation into every aspect of life, as yeast is kneaded into every part of the dough.”

I’ve depended on God for forgiveness. Now it’s time to trust Him as He leads me from slavery to sonship, from self-rule to Spirit led, from the wilderness to His Kingdom. I can’t get there from here. But He can take me there.

What's your favorite holiday movie? Here's a few to consider: “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” ( the 60's cartoon or the 2000 Jim Carrey movie); “Its a Wonderful Life” (those in my family either love it or are totally bored); “A Christmas Carol” (But which one--the 1951 version with Alistar Sims—personal favorite; the 1984 with George C. Scott; the 1999 with Patrick Stewart; the 2009 with Jim Carrey; updates like “Scrooged” with Bill Murray; or cartoons like Mickey and Muppets); “A Christmas Story”(“You'll shoot your eye out!”)? “Frosty the Snowman,” (60's cartoon with Burl Ives); or maybe “Home Alone” (fun take on our childhood nightmare of being left behind). For me, some of these movies are part of my holiday tradition. I don't feel in the mood for Christmas until I've had my "fix." Whether your tradition comes from a century's old heritage or is simply a comfortable habit, it is part of the fabric of your life.

In another movie, “Fiddler on the Roof,” the main character, Tevye, a Jewish man struggling to adapt to a changing world in Russia in the early 20th century, says, “And because of our traditions, every one of us knows who he is, and what God expects him to do.” Inherited ways of approaching life give cohesiveness to families and society but also can stifle differences, whether they're helpful or not. A balance is obviously necessary. A world without tradition is like a world without language and a world with overpowering tradition is a place with language but without the freedom to speak. Each extreme leads to life without communication between generations.

For example, many of my age rejected traditional worship because it seemed devoid of real life and our elders rejected our contemporary songs as lacking substance. In the resulting “worship wars,” the two camps became competing Towers of Babel, each trying to reach the heavens while hurling invectives at the other. Obviously we did not understand the words of the songs being sung nor each other. Now many of the current generation reject contemporary worship because it is disconnected from the heritage of countless believers who've gone before us. The new tradition of no tradition is now the old tradition to reject.

Tevye spoke of life without tradition being as difficult as being a fiddler on a roof. It's impossible to maintain your balance. Things that God revealed in the past and the means that our ancestors used to implement obedience to Him are meant to be a hand reaching out to us, to steady us, to keep us from falling. But how do we walk in the present while holding hands with the past? As I write this, it's late November and I'm beginning to think of Christmas. My work schedule and changes in my season of life mandate that some of my cherished ways of celebrating God's gifts must change. My traditions have to evolve, but the heart of the holidays doesn't change.

Tradition and language are shorthand for objects and actions and responses—but are not those things in themselves. I must decide whether my way of celebrating or the things celebrated are most important. I will find new ways to celebrate old holidays while taking care to incorporate all that's been given to me in a new day. The fingers of the hand of tradition that don't adapt becomes the bars of a prison as it reaches out to us. I become caged in a 'past-present' by memories—real and imagined.

That seems to be what's happened to us as a culture. We live imprisoned, disconnected from our heritage and we have only a memory of someone else's memory of what the holidays are meant to accomplish. After a few generations, it becomes like a slave's inherited stores of being free in a distant land. Those memories inspire vague good feelings (or incredible dispair) , but are only thinly connected to reality and truth. We roast a turkey for gathered family and friends, but can't say why. We give gifts, but have no knowledge of the Gift given us. “White Christmas” is as meaningful as a Christmas carol of God born among us. The result is celebrations with nothing to celebrate, language with nothing to say, and traditions in a vacuum, without meaning. Football, parades, giving gifts without giving ourselves, songs about reindeer and snowmen, and watching movies about others celebrating the holidays instead of celebrating them ourselves are the result.

Long ago, as the Lord was in process of saving the Israelites from slavery in Egypt, He commanded them to have a yearly celebration called the Passover. He specified what was to be done and even food to be eaten. He then demanded both obedience in celebrating as He commanded, and then in passing on both the tradition and reason from one generation to another: Listen to His words:
“When you enter the land that the LORD will give you as he promised, observe this ceremony. And when your children ask you, 'What does this ceremony mean to you?' then tell them, 'It is the Passover sacrifice to the LORD, who passed over the houses of the Israelites in Egypt and spared our homes when he struck down the Egyptians.' " (Exodus 12:25-27)

The Lord did not command a Christmas celebration as He did the Passover, but the birth of God is worthy of a holiday. An event 2000 years ago impacts our lives. Those who have honored His birth over the centuries have left us with ways of doing that have been meaningful to them. Use them, add to them, and adapt them to a new millennium. They are a means of communicating God's grace to us and to those who will come after. Think, plan ahead--as you decorate, make cookies, give gifts, put up a tree, watch movies, sing songs, gather with family, worship, and continue or create traditions--of what you will say when asked, "What does this ceremony mean to you?"

I'll be the first. What does Christmas mean to you?

Should I move or get a new key?


Recently, I noticed that my house key was bent. A few months ago, I had noticed that my car key was bent and did nothing. It broke off in the trunk lock and is still there. Even though I can be a bit slow on the uptake, immediately upon noticing the worn key, I thought of replacing it. The thought of ruining a lock and not being able to get into my house motivated me.



I soon took in my bent key in to get it replaced. The salesperson was very knowledgeable about locks and hardware. He took one look at the key and suggested I bring in a different key. “It may break when we duplicate it,” he said, and again, I had visions of being locked out of our home. So the next day, I took in a different key. He looked at it and informed me that it wasn’t an original, but a copy. “A copy of a copy may not work well. A copy isn't exact, and the slight imperfections get magnified in each duplication process.” The copy did work, but not as well as it’s predecessor. It tended to stick and not open the lock smoothly; and wouldn't work at all in one deadbolt. A copy of the copy of the copy might not work at all. Suddenly, I understood a whole different issue that has troubled me.



Why are so many existing churches often unable to “open” the promises of fruitfulness and start-up churches often do better? The psychology of newness attracting attention explains part of it, but the implication bothers me. Abandoning ministries and facilities and establishing new ones as a means to growth seems a silly method to get a right result. And leaving one local church to go to another when we're bored or annoyed is much the same. It would be like me moving when my key is worn out.



Actually, of course, it’s more complicated than my analogy. If you are a part of a denomination or movement that has had a heritage of godliness, then there was a moment when God met that group of people who started the movement. They responded to truth revealed, faithfulness unveiled, and grace made real. These things became the pattern of a key that opened the door to the Father’s room, and they went in. They invited others to join them and this next generation copied that key. The friends of newly invited wanted entry and were given new copies of the copies of the key. Each generation of key was slightly less accurate and opened the door with successively increasing difficulty. Finally, entry is no longer possible. The copy of the copy of the copy of the copy of the copy is not usable. The key is almost accurate with differences that aren't noticeable unless directly compared to the original. But no longer will it open the door. Movements of God stop moving and the majesty of God is the memory of an earlier generation, locked away in the grave of the past—now only apparition. We believe that ghost of glory to be a remnant of reality and at times we see it dimly and long to see what our fore-bearers saw. But the real life is locked away.

Experiential truth cannot be accurately replicated, it must be received from the source. What I've experienced with God, or what my spiritual ancestors experienced, will not open the door to God for you. We often mistakenly believe that the experience and understanding of those who have preceded us is a finished key when in fact it is a key blank. It's prepared to fit into the keyhole--the shape and grooves are appropriate. But each individual, local church, and movement of God must be shaped by the truth and person of God. Like the Samaritans, who were given a key blank as they listened to the woman at the well speak about Jesus, we must gain from what others have learned. And also like them, we must also seek Him ourselves and let Him etch and mark us with His truth, accurately keying us so we are able open the doors that He desires.

Empty edifices are evidence of a copied key that no longer opens the door to the Presence of God. Apart from attraction to newness, church plants or changes in location often are successful because the people are forced to not rely solely on what they've received from others. They must also seek God. And, as promised, they find Him. But it seems to me that often it's a case of moving instead of re-keying--using a change of geography to affect a change of heart. So much work and expense invested when all that was really needed was a visit to the Master Locksmith. But don't we usually choose work over prayer?

Personally, I'd like to avoid the move. I'm weary from my hard work. I hope I've finally learned a lesson. I choose to be re-keyed.

Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman's testimony, "He told me everything I ever did." So when the Samaritans came to him, they urged him to stay with them, and he stayed two days. And because of his words many more became believers. They said to the woman, "We no longer believe just because of what you said; now we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this man really is the Savior of the world." John 4:39-42

“The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult and and left untried.” (G.K. Chesterton)

"Not everyone who says to Me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of My Father who is in heaven will enter...” (Jesus)

I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.
(Mohandas Gandhi)

"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, that you also love one another.” "By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another." (Jesus)

Thomas Jefferson was patriot, president, writer, inventor, more honest than most of us. In addition to all these things he accomplished in his life, he also compiled “The Jefferson Bible” from which he deleted the parts that presented difficulties to him. In a midnight moment of clarity, I, too, would admit that sections of scripture challenge me deeply. But as an avowed Bible-believing follower of Jesus, I cannot cut passages out of the Bible—at least literally. But what can I do with statements that are unimaginable, unobtainable, and undeniably integral to the teachings of Christ? He won't forgive me if I don't forgive others. Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the Kingdom of God. If I would come after Him I must deny himself. Love my neighbor as I love myself. Lose my life to gain it, keep hold of it and lose it. Show my love for Christ through obedience. If I don't embrace these truths, I must ignore, bypass, explain away, or bury them in my theology. I fear that Jesus would have sought out an honest heretic and passed by a hypocrite when He walked the shores of Galilee and that He does the same now.

What would happen if we stopped going to church and became the Church? How would it be different if we stopped saying, “Lord, Lord,” and gave ourselves to knowing what Jesus said and then to understanding and obeying? What would those around us say if our love for one another was no longer just words but a self sacrificial lifestyle? What if we saw our mission not as enjoying forgiveness, but giving it? How would the kingdom of darkness respond if our first priority was the Kingdom of God instead of possessions, security, comfort, and recognition?

The early believers were wildly successful in drawing others to Jesus because following Christ was not an option, it was the only life they could image. For them, Chesterton could not say it was found difficult and let untried. They abandoned themselves to the promises, premises, and provisions of Jesus and found Him faithful. And He has not changed.

I have my own personalized version of the Jefferson Bible, much shortened by ignoring and ignorance. I want to put those difficult passages back in. I would rather try obedience and fail than think it too difficult to attempt. And He did say, “I will never fail you nor forsake you.”

If our faith is real, if Jesus is real, then let us pursue with abandon all that we profess.