Once upon a time, there was this girl. Using a random name generator, we'll say her name was Sonya. (Really. No relation to having read Crime and Punishment. That's what the random name generator gave me.) Sonya was new to high school. And all the buzz was about this guy: His name, according to the random name generator, was Travis. Travis Wrenn, actually, but I didn't really want a last name in there.
It appeared that Travis was a really, truly wonderful young man. Being friends with him didn't necessarily make you popular, but being friends with him meant you knew what you were doing. He was the most loyal friend anyone could ask for. He made an effort to know everyone, and to know them well. He seemed to have an infinite amount of time at his disposal, as it was difficult to believe that he had the time to be such close friends with so many people. People either loved him, hated him, or couldn't care less. No one merely "liked" Travis; and the people who hated him, well, they were the sort of people you want to avoid in high school anyway. Travis had a way of making those he came in contact with feel special, important, needed. Being friends with Travis changed people -- and always for the better.
And Travis showed immediate interest in getting to know Sonya. Having heard Travis's reputation, Sonya was delighted, and she gushed to her friends about how honored she felt, and how she couldn't wait to see how her friendship with Travis would develop.
Therefore, it greatly surprised Sonya's friends when she turned down every opportunity she was offered to spend time with Travis. He offered to help her with her Algebra homework, invited her to church, asked her to come to a party at his house. But every time, he was rejected. Sonya had different priorities. She always had a perfectly good excuse -- someone needed to talk, she had too much homework, she had already committed to going to the movies with her friends. But Sonya had seemed so excited about this friendship, that it was really shocking how often she rejected Travis's offers of company.
Finally, Sonya couldn't stand it any longer. She exclaimed to her friends, "I just don't understand it! I've been here an entire semester, and I barely know this Travis guy. I mean sure, I've talked with him sometimes, and I wave back at him when he waves in the hallway. But is that what everyone's talking about? I don't get why we haven't become great friends! Does he not like me or something?"
It seems ridiculous that anyone could be this blind and ridiculous. But I am. I get caught up in my little world and everything I have to do: Study for that history test, practice for that upcoming performance, make signs for Prom. And then I wonder, Gosh, God. Why haven't You been changing me and shaping me? I haven't learned anything recently!
Too often, I think we forget that knowing God is just like knowing anyone else. It requires time. He makes every effort to invite us into His presence, but we offer up excuse after excuse. We have different priorities. But then we get frustrated when knowledge of God and what He desires to teach us doesn't magically spring up in the two minutes we give Him every day.
It takes years to really get to know someone. Think how much longer it takes to get to know Someone whose character is infinite. Are you willing to put in the time? Not necessarily the effort; the only effort that is required is to clear our lives and come sit at the feet of Christ. But that's all. He's eager to love you. He's eager to teach you. And He's waiting.
Will you come?
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Saturday, April 23, 2011
A Lasting Hope
"I finally started cutting for real. It bled. It hurt. But it's spring, and I'm going to stop. I don't want people to see the cuts on my arm and feel bad. So what will I do to stop the pain now? Isn't it obvious? I cut on my hip instead. And I'm only eleven. Is there no way out?" ~Six Billion Secrets
There are very few things more sad than this. More heart-breaking. But what may be even more sad than this "secret" is the sort of response this young lady received. Several people declaring that she needed to "go out and get a freakin' life." "You're flippin' eleven, live your life." And so on. Those who actually seemed to care repeated the same sentiment over and over: Cutting is not the answer.
But none of them seemed to know what the answer actually is.
This world is obsessed with quick fixes. People offered this girl options for what she could do instead of cutting: Squeeze an ice cube, write in a journal, hit a pillow. All excellent distractions that keep you from self-harm. I've done many of those things myself. But these are all immediate distractions, not a solution to the deeper problem that has to be eating away at this girl's heart. Even cutting is something of a "quick fix"; a symptom of a much more deep-seeded problem.
And no one had any idea how to address that. And that's what breaks my heart.
Five years ago, Jesus saw poor, pitiful little me. Huddled in a freezing cold study. Ready to go beyond just scratching myself, ready to gather the courage to actually make myself bleed. But before I could put anything to my arm, He gently whispered to my heart, I already took that cut. And I never cut, or even came close, again.
Two thousand years ago, Jesus saw that darling eleven-year-old girl. He saw her breaking heart. He saw the pain she couldn't keep inside any longer. He saw what she did to try and make it go away. And He gave up His life so that she could keep hers. But who is ever going to actually tell her what He did for her? Who is going to intercede on her behalf? Who is going to plead that someone will come into her life and let her know she is worthy of love? Who is going to be the hands and feet of Christ to this child?
I was blessed to grow up in a Christian home. I was blessed to have parents that gave me a solid foundation. I knew Bible verses. I knew who Jesus was. I knew the Gospel story. So that, in my darkest hour, when I heard Jesus' voice, I knew exactly who it was. But that is not a luxury that many have these days. If people know the Gospel, they tend to know the watered-down, fictional version.
But the Gospel has power. Jesus Christ has power. This world needs to know that when the blow was about to fall; when the blade was about to be lowered; when the whip was about to strike; Jesus stood in their place. His body took the hit. His arm took the cut. His back took the lashes that were rightfully ours. He removed the chains from our wrists and put them on His own, so that we could walk out of our prison cell and live in freedom. And not only did He take our chains -- He shattered them.
And even in America, when there's a church just about every five minutes down every given street, I never cease to be amazed how few people actually know this. When people ask, "Is there no way out?" why are Christ's children not stepping up and crying, "Yes! There is a way out! There is a God who loves you no matter what you do, who gave up His very life because He adores you so much. He doesn't want you to be perfect. He wants all your broken pieces. He wants your heartbreak, your depression, your anger, your sadness. He wants your ashes so that He can make them something beautiful. Please, just give them to Him!"
Instead, we write people off as lost causes.
Our God is alive. Our God is working. Our God stood in the gap, our God took the blow, our God aches for people to just come sit at His feet and be loved by Him. He doesn't want people to try harder. He doesn't want the prodigal to work for Him; He wants the prodigal to be wrapped up in His arms until everything that happened in the past is washed away.
Too often, I treat people as though they need to do more. As though they aren't trying hard enough to obey God. As though until they have exactly the same relationship with God that I have, they're not good enough.
But then I remember where I was five years ago. And I realize that some of these people have not learned to hear the voice of God. That they may never have even heard His Name. That they need someone, not to judge them, but to be Jesus' hands and feet. They need someone to tell them, He already took that cut.
They don't need to do more. They just need to be loved.
Let the Living God work and love through you. The world is starving for hope, and hope that lasts beyond a quick fix can only be found in Christ. Hope that saves lives comes from God. Hope that changes lives comes from the One who was cut, so that we don't have to be.
Hope comes from the Risen Christ. And we have the privilege of telling this world about Him.
There are very few things more sad than this. More heart-breaking. But what may be even more sad than this "secret" is the sort of response this young lady received. Several people declaring that she needed to "go out and get a freakin' life." "You're flippin' eleven, live your life." And so on. Those who actually seemed to care repeated the same sentiment over and over: Cutting is not the answer.
But none of them seemed to know what the answer actually is.
This world is obsessed with quick fixes. People offered this girl options for what she could do instead of cutting: Squeeze an ice cube, write in a journal, hit a pillow. All excellent distractions that keep you from self-harm. I've done many of those things myself. But these are all immediate distractions, not a solution to the deeper problem that has to be eating away at this girl's heart. Even cutting is something of a "quick fix"; a symptom of a much more deep-seeded problem.
And no one had any idea how to address that. And that's what breaks my heart.
Five years ago, Jesus saw poor, pitiful little me. Huddled in a freezing cold study. Ready to go beyond just scratching myself, ready to gather the courage to actually make myself bleed. But before I could put anything to my arm, He gently whispered to my heart, I already took that cut. And I never cut, or even came close, again.
Two thousand years ago, Jesus saw that darling eleven-year-old girl. He saw her breaking heart. He saw the pain she couldn't keep inside any longer. He saw what she did to try and make it go away. And He gave up His life so that she could keep hers. But who is ever going to actually tell her what He did for her? Who is going to intercede on her behalf? Who is going to plead that someone will come into her life and let her know she is worthy of love? Who is going to be the hands and feet of Christ to this child?
I was blessed to grow up in a Christian home. I was blessed to have parents that gave me a solid foundation. I knew Bible verses. I knew who Jesus was. I knew the Gospel story. So that, in my darkest hour, when I heard Jesus' voice, I knew exactly who it was. But that is not a luxury that many have these days. If people know the Gospel, they tend to know the watered-down, fictional version.
But the Gospel has power. Jesus Christ has power. This world needs to know that when the blow was about to fall; when the blade was about to be lowered; when the whip was about to strike; Jesus stood in their place. His body took the hit. His arm took the cut. His back took the lashes that were rightfully ours. He removed the chains from our wrists and put them on His own, so that we could walk out of our prison cell and live in freedom. And not only did He take our chains -- He shattered them.
And even in America, when there's a church just about every five minutes down every given street, I never cease to be amazed how few people actually know this. When people ask, "Is there no way out?" why are Christ's children not stepping up and crying, "Yes! There is a way out! There is a God who loves you no matter what you do, who gave up His very life because He adores you so much. He doesn't want you to be perfect. He wants all your broken pieces. He wants your heartbreak, your depression, your anger, your sadness. He wants your ashes so that He can make them something beautiful. Please, just give them to Him!"
Instead, we write people off as lost causes.
Our God is alive. Our God is working. Our God stood in the gap, our God took the blow, our God aches for people to just come sit at His feet and be loved by Him. He doesn't want people to try harder. He doesn't want the prodigal to work for Him; He wants the prodigal to be wrapped up in His arms until everything that happened in the past is washed away.
Too often, I treat people as though they need to do more. As though they aren't trying hard enough to obey God. As though until they have exactly the same relationship with God that I have, they're not good enough.
But then I remember where I was five years ago. And I realize that some of these people have not learned to hear the voice of God. That they may never have even heard His Name. That they need someone, not to judge them, but to be Jesus' hands and feet. They need someone to tell them, He already took that cut.
They don't need to do more. They just need to be loved.
Let the Living God work and love through you. The world is starving for hope, and hope that lasts beyond a quick fix can only be found in Christ. Hope that saves lives comes from God. Hope that changes lives comes from the One who was cut, so that we don't have to be.
Hope comes from the Risen Christ. And we have the privilege of telling this world about Him.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Not Ashamed
This past Monday, I presented my "senior thesis" at my school. This is the culmination of our high school career: Twenty-five pages detailing what we believe makes "the good life," presenting twelve of those pages to whatever poor soul loves you enough to come hear you talk for an hour, and answering questions about your thesis.
And of course, I talked about Jesus. Specifically, a poured-out life, first before God, then before man. Several people were sweet enough to tell me they liked it; and just as many people told me how much courage it took.
Why has Jesus' Name become a taboo? Why is the only One who has the power to save all of humanity relegated to Sunday morning, Wednesday evening, and the occasional holiday? Why is speaking the Name of Jesus Christ and telling about His power to save something that appears to require notable courage?
Of course, I know all the historical and cultural reasons for that. But still, why do those of us who have been given the power and the spirit of Christ remain silent? Why can we not allow ourselves to be even a little uncomfortable? Why are we so afraid of being judged when we know that the only Judge who matters aches for us to share His life with a broken world?
Why are we ashamed of Someone who's so awesome?
We were designed to "bubble over with Jesus joy" (yes, I'm quoting myself), not just sit around believing in Jesus. When we have a personal, intimate relationship with Jesus, He instills that desire in us to go tell about it! Not necessarily specific, private details, but the fact that other people can have this too.
Do not be silent. Speak up for your God. It's the most elating experience in the world. Nothing tops telling people about Jesus. Really. He has given you the tools you need to be able to share His life, so share it!! Fall more in love with Him, and He'll help you. Let your passion for Jesus make you unable to keep your mouth shut!
Of course, that doesn't mean that we should force our beliefs on other people. You can tell them about Jesus once, or twice, however many times they seem receptive to it... But then just tell them with your life. Actions speak so much louder than words. Let Jesus do the talking in their life.
"I am not ashamed of the Gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone that believes...."
And of course, I talked about Jesus. Specifically, a poured-out life, first before God, then before man. Several people were sweet enough to tell me they liked it; and just as many people told me how much courage it took.
Why has Jesus' Name become a taboo? Why is the only One who has the power to save all of humanity relegated to Sunday morning, Wednesday evening, and the occasional holiday? Why is speaking the Name of Jesus Christ and telling about His power to save something that appears to require notable courage?
Of course, I know all the historical and cultural reasons for that. But still, why do those of us who have been given the power and the spirit of Christ remain silent? Why can we not allow ourselves to be even a little uncomfortable? Why are we so afraid of being judged when we know that the only Judge who matters aches for us to share His life with a broken world?
Why are we ashamed of Someone who's so awesome?
We were designed to "bubble over with Jesus joy" (yes, I'm quoting myself), not just sit around believing in Jesus. When we have a personal, intimate relationship with Jesus, He instills that desire in us to go tell about it! Not necessarily specific, private details, but the fact that other people can have this too.
Do not be silent. Speak up for your God. It's the most elating experience in the world. Nothing tops telling people about Jesus. Really. He has given you the tools you need to be able to share His life, so share it!! Fall more in love with Him, and He'll help you. Let your passion for Jesus make you unable to keep your mouth shut!
Of course, that doesn't mean that we should force our beliefs on other people. You can tell them about Jesus once, or twice, however many times they seem receptive to it... But then just tell them with your life. Actions speak so much louder than words. Let Jesus do the talking in their life.
"I am not ashamed of the Gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone that believes...."
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