Entries from April 1, 2015 - April 30, 2015
Surface the Fear

It sounds so beautiful, so calm, so reassuring: “Perfect love casts out all fear.”
Until we realize that “casting out” is dangerous business. Perfect love casts out fear, but part of that process is surfacing the fear hidden in us.
When fear finds its way to the surface we find ourselves shouting at Jesus, “We’re perishing! Don’t you care?” Fear urges Jesus, “Don’t stop for that woman, hurry along to my daughter—she’s dying!” Fear doesn’t want talk about lilies of the field or birds of the air—fear wants clothing, food, safety, or better yet cold hard cash. Fear speaks with an urgent voice.
Still other times fear walks a few steps behind, whispering “Why are we going to Jerusalem? We will die.” Fear directs our eyes to the crowds and the soldiers, the wind and the waves, the ledger and the purse, the hospital and the grave. Fear knows the insidious tone of voice; the feel of goose bumps down the arm; the single idea that triggers a thousand racing thoughts; even the smells of deep memories.
Yet even fear itself is afraid of the abyss, and searches for anywhere—anyplace to exist. Fear itself is afraid. It settles for some flesh, any flesh, on which to work its way. There’s nothing special about humanity: swine will do. Just give us something to torment.
But here, exactly here, fear overplays its hand. It is no different than us—it is also afraid. Love flushes the quarry and sends it running zigzag for its own life. Love exposes the lie, brings the light, and vampire-fear dissolves. Love casts out Wormtongue and sends him back to Isengard.
There’s a command. A flurry of events. Suddenly, the world looks different. Fear gives way to peace, followed by impossible joy. It’s a narrow passage. Fear would have us roaming naked among the tombs. Love would have us seated with Jesus, clothed and sane. Fear demands that God himself should ignore the problems of others. Love suggests that nothing is final except itself. Fear cries out in despair. Love leads to faith.
We want the fear to be gone. So does our Master. He takes our hand, turns us toward the torment: “Don’t be afraid, only believe.”

Character is Plot; Plot is Character

He’s gone from the American landscape now, but Walter White was a study in decline. From his first decision to cook methamphetamine, we watched the main character of Breaking Bad go from bad to worse. We saw in grim detail how a character flaw could destroy a man—and those around him.
In fiction, the saying goes, “plot is character” which means both heroes and villains take actions consistent with their personalities. Villains don’t become good for no reason at all; heroes act in a certain way because that’s who they are. Indeed, many of the best stories present characters with elements of good and bad; their actions reveal the conflicts within. We read novels or watch movies (at least good ones) because people are going through transformation. The true destination is the condition of their heart.
Who know that quality entertainment is really spiritual formation? “Character is plot; plot is character” means our choices flow out of who we are. And it’s not just entertainment—it’s the real-life challenge of Jesus. In the gospels we see Jesus acting in ways consistent with his personality. When he shows mercy to a sinner but condemns a Pharisee, both actions reveal something of his person, his character. In fact, sometimes we can’t quite figure him out because is character is so complex. He’s hard to figure even though we have a deep-down sense that he’s good, always good, always loving, always showing us the Father. The only way Jesus makes sense is if we know him well. Knowing about him isn’t enough; becoming his friend is the only way figure him out.
That’s one reason why, if we view him as an academic subject, Jesus is a study in contradictions. The sad truth is many scholars hardly know the man. Worse still, many of his “followers” hardly know him. Worst of all, his followers have little expectation that it’s possible to be like him. “Being like Jesus” is a noble idea, but hardly anyone carries the hope of a transformation so deep they’d be able to reflect his goodness or glory. And yet, this is the only kind of “knowing” capable of producing transformation. I can tell you where he was born, where he went, or I could tell you all about what he did—but none of that information produces deep change in me.
The popular wristband from years ago turned out to be no help at all: the only way to know What Would Jesus Do is to be the kind of person Jesus is. It turns out the gospel stories are far more challenging than the decline of Walter White. The human road downward is all too predictable; the road to glory comes as we try to become the same kind of person Jesus was (and is).
When a great story has a surprise ending we smile because it finally of makes sense. “Of course,” we say. “How could it have turned out any other way?” The surprise turns out to be the real thing—we just couldn’t see the possibility. We were into the story too deep to see it coming. There’s a surprise ending waiting for followers of Jesus. Our surprise ending is not the tired, worn-out preaching of Heaven’s pearly gates (true as it may be). We are not simply reading his story; it's our story as well. He wants to make us like himself. He offers a transformation truer than the movies, more grand than a great novel. Our surprising, delightful, and eternal ending is the joy of becoming conformed to his image. Will we sit on the couch and watch others, or climb through the screen (or climb into the book) and follow him?
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Something New: A Students of Jesus Video Channel

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Unlimited Grace, Limited Me

How big is grace? Grace is scattered like stars on a cloudless night. Grace is fathomless as the ocean depths. Grace is the air in my lungs; my small breaths could not possibly exhaust the bounty of grace in the sky. Grace inexhaustible, grace forever fresh, grace boundless and free. And yet hidden in the abundance of grace lies a danger to my soul.
The problem is not God’s supply of grace. Infinite God; infinite grace. The problem is me: tiny, finite, limited, breakable me. Here’s the contrast, and also the danger: God is infinite but the human psyche is not.
Two examples: author Philip Yancey tells a first-hand story of his friend who was thinking about an extra-marital affair. “What I want to know,” asked the friend “is if I go ahead and do this: will God forgive me?” Yancey, stunned, finally hears the Spirit whisper, and answers: “The question is not whether God will forgive, but whether you will want his forgiveness.” The dreadful results played out. The man had the affair; his marriage dissolved; and he walked away from his identity as a follower of Jesus. Dallas Willard teaches the same lesson when he reminds us that God’s love, grace, and mercy are without limit, but the human heart will only bend so far before it breaks.
Like a man who wins a hundred million in the lottery and wastes it all in carelessness and foolish desires, the wealth of grace reveals the hidden desires of our hearts. What if we love sin more than grace? Martin Luther famously challenged us, “Be a sinner and sin boldly, but believe and rejoice in Christ even more boldly” but he presumed the sinner’s heart was still turned toward the God. What if we sin not in boldness, but in complete disregard for the love of God and his work of restoration? What if sin is the true desire of our soul?
Set aside the question of Heaven or Hell after we die: what about Heaven or Hell while we live? The fabric of everyday life is alive with the grace of God. If we wait until we’ve sinned to call upon the grace of God, we’ve squandered the greater part of grace. True: grace forgives, but it also guides. Grace restores, but it also guards. Grace repairs, but it also instructs us to deny ungodly ways and teaches us the how-to of life: how to life sensible, upright, and godly lives in this present age.
The scripture teaches we are saved by grace. The good news is we can experience salvation here-and-now as well as there-and-then. The Kingdom of Heaven glides on wings of grace. The Kingdom brings righteousness, peace, and joy—and best of all the gracious Holy Spirit leads us to these three in everyday life. The Kingdom is never attained; it is received. How will we receive the grace of the Kingdom today?
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50 Forgotten Days ~ Day One (a sample)

Here’s a sample (from Day One) of an after-Easter devotional I’ve released at Amazon.com. I wrote the devotional because we usually focus on Lent—preparing for Easter. But that’s really the prelude to new life in Christ. You’re invited to Journey into the Age to Come. Taste and see:
The Resurrection of God ~ DAY ONE
A Preview of Coming Attractions:
Resurrection makes all things new: Jesus, in a physical, resurrected body is operating under a whole new set of rules. He is physical enough to eat and drink with the disciples, and “spiritual” enough to appear behind locked doors or disappear before the eyes of the two guys on the road to Emmaus. This resurrection is the hint of what is to come for all of us. We will not simply come alive in the old way. Resuscitation is resuming the old life; resurrection is entry into a new kind of life.
Ask Yourself: Have I added Jesus to my menu of choices and simply resumed the old life?
Live Into It: What would a resurrected-kind-of-life look like in my home, my job, my school, my life?