D Y L A N | S E E K S

I've always appreciated the Saturday of Easter. It's a weird, nebulous, and solemn day. I can picture the disciples of Jesus - confused, upset, distraught. Everything they had put their hope in seemed to be for naught. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Their master, their teacher, the One they hoped would be Messiah - He was dead. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ I think we often find ourselves in the "Saturday" of Easter in our lives. Confused, upset, and unsure. Jesus isn't what we hoped He would be. Things haven't played out in the ways they expected they would. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ And just as the disciples had the promise of Christ's resurrection and return, we too have the promise of His return. We have been given the promise that He will return to restore all things. Like the disciples, we tend to forget those promises. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ But He's coming back, friends.

"In the chronic problem of human beings' felt experience of distance from God, God isn't usually the culprit. God is omnipresent - there is no place God is not. And no time He isn't present either. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Our awareness of God is the problem, and it's acute. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Could it be that, with a few said exceptions, we're the ones who are absent, not God?" ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ (John Mark Comer, The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry)

I'm so quick to forget. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ There are days when I know who God is, I'm comforted by His presence, and I'm clinging to His promises and truth. But then there are days where it seems I forget all of it. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ And honestly, that frustrates me. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Shouldn't I know better by now? ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Shouldn't I remember? ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Shouldn't I be able to hold onto the truth of who God is? ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ But then I read God's Word, and I am reminded that forgetfulness is part of human nature. In many ways, it's the story of Scripture. But, thankfully, we serve a God who knows our frame. He knows that we are (forgetful) dust. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ And so, each day, He nudges us. He speaks to us. He urges us. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ "Remember." ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ And we won't do it perfectly. But each day, His mercies are new, and He is there. Calling us to remember.

The past month or two has felt like this photo. I don't know if I can explain how - it just feels right. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Due to some major changes at work, speaking at events, and doing some travelling, I've felt disjointed - and to be honest, quite overwhelmed at times. A pastor asked me recently, "Does it feel like you're able to do everything on your plate? Or is it way beyond your capacity?" And, contrary to my personality, I admitted that I'm in over my head. And honestly, this season has lead me to feel a bit unseen and overlooked by God. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ But here's the truth that I've been clinging to from Scripture: ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Whether we like it or not, we are seen and known by God. He is intimately aware of our circumstances. It's not a question of if He's on the sidelines "paying attention" to us or not - He's actually running this race with us. There's a profound promise in Matthew 28 - "and behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age" (Matthew 28:20). ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ I am seen, known, and cared for. He's always been faithful. As I read in 1 Samuel 7 the other day - "thus far the Lord has helped us".

These words from Chris Renzema's new song "Hard Drugs" have been on my mind a lot the past few days. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Too often, I turn to things like fear, anger, and frustration. I choose to lean into these emotions and feelings. I choose to not turn towards God, to allow Him to reorder my thoughts and my feelings. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ I choose to ignore the one true fix that I have: the God of endless grace and mercy. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ And so, I've also been praying the prayer in this song a lot, which comes from a prayer written by Reinhold Niebuhr. I've been praying that in the moments when I embrace fear and frustration, on the days when I choose doubt and anger, ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ that the Lord might give me peace, courage, and wisdom.

Honestly? 2022 has been pretty trash so far, in some ways. Things have not gone as expected or as planned. There's been grief, loss, and frustration. But this morning I was encouraged and challenged by the words of Dane Ortlund, from his book "Deeper": ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ "When life hurts, we immediately find ourselves at an internal fork in the road. Either we take the road of cynicism, withdrawing from openheartedness with God and others, retreating into the felt safety of holding back our desires and longings, let they get hurt again, ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ or we press into greater depth with God than we have ever known. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Either we smirk at what we said we believed about God's sovereignty and goodness, thinking that what we believed has just been disproven, ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ or we put even more weight on our theology. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Either we let the divine physician continue the operation, or we insist on being wheeled out of the operating room." ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ God is not absent from our pain - He is with us in it, and wanting to draw us nearer through it.

In John 6, Andrew comes to Jesus with some bread and fish. But he also comes with the assumption (v9) that they won't be enough to help feed the crowd. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ From an earthly perspective, he's calculating correctly. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ But he's forgetting that Jesus is there. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ We tend to do the same thing. We think that what we can bring to Jesus isn't enough. Won't help. Can't be used. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ But we need to remember who it is we're dealing with. And we need to trust that He can use it all for His glory.

"I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit." (John 15:1‭-‬2) ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ I've written about this passage before, but what always strikes me about it is that Jesus speaks of two realities: one is when branches do not bear fruit - God cuts away those branches. The other is when branches do bear fruit - God prunes those branches. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Either way, cutting is involved. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ The reminder here is that no matter where we find ourselves, no matter what is going on in our lives, God's going to be cutting away at our hearts and our lives. Why? Because He wants us to bear fruit. Because He wants us to live lives that are wholly surrendered to Him. Because He loves us and knows that this cutting, ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ although painful, ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ is what's best for us.

The past few weeks, I've been thinking a lot about how life would be way easier if we knew what the future held in store. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ The sermon at my church on Sunday, however, was a great reminder that I don't get to know that. And you know what? That's freeing. I'm not God. I don't need to know.

Romans 5:8 says that God shows His love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Your worth, value, and God's love for you are not dependent upon your behaviour, your actions, or how you feel. Jesus died for you before you were even aware of your sin. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ And here's the best part - Paul writes that God SHOWS His love for us in Christ dying for us. Active tense, not past. He's still doing it. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ May He show that to you today.

I've been dabbling a bit in the past little while with some "poems" that I've written in response to Scripture. Sometimes I'm hesitant to call them poems, in fear of offending the real poets out there. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ But "poem" is probably the closest word to describe them. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ This is a piece that I wrote a few days ago when reflecting on John 1 and John 3 and Jesus' call to "come and see" (and also a tip of the hat towards John 3 and Jesus' call to be "born again").

"Jesus turned and saw them following and said to them, 'What are you seeking?' And they said to Him, 'Rabbi' (which means Teacher), 'where are you staying?' He said to them, 'Come and you will see.'" John 1:38‭-‬39a) ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ This passage has become one of my favourites in the past year or so. There's so much that we overcomplicate in the Christian life - what it means to be a Christian, what it means to have faith, what it means to share our faith with others, etc. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ But here, Jesus reminds us of the simplicity, and at the same time, the single-mindedness, of following Him. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ He gives no pitch. He gives no spiel. He doesn't try and convince anyone. He doesn't hand them a book of rules. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ He says, "come and see". ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Perhaps today you need to be reminded of that invitation. The Lord of all, inviting you to come to Him. To follow Him. To be ALL IN. And to see His glory.

Happy 2022, friends! ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ I'm not sure about you, but as we dive into a new year, I find it incredibly easy to become "me-oriented". It's the time of new year's resolutions, goal-setting, self-reflection, and "new year, new me". And here's the thing. Goals, resolutions, desiring growth - those can be really good and wonderful things. But we can be so quick to fall into thinking that we're the main characters of this story. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ But this morning, when I was spending some time in the Word, I felt jarred by the words of Genesis 1:1 - "in the beginning, GOD". Not you. Not me. In the beginning, there was Him. The story of the world isn't first and foremost about us. It's about a good God, making a good world, and doing whatever it takes to make that world right again when things get messed up. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Some of us carry burdens and weights we were NOT meant to carry. Some of us are missing out on something (someONE!!!) far more glorious and wonderful in this life. So let me remind you, friend. You are not the main character of this story. And praise God for that. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Because He's the best Main Character, the best Hero, the best Author, there is.

I'm reading through "Deeper" by Dane Ortlund right now - would recommend. The chapter I read today was "Despair". ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Sounds fun, right? ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ The idea is this: a crucial part of growing in depth in your relationship with Christ is despairing. Despairing of your sin. Despairing of your brokenness. Despairing of where you would be without the intervention of Jesus in your life. Repenting. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ But it's also remembering that Jesus has paid the price for your sins. That He has redeemed you. That He is going to continue to grow you and work in your life. Faith. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ And Ortlund calls this two-step movement of repentance and faith: collapse. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ And man, I love that. One of the keys of going deeper with Jesus is collapsing. Collapsing into His arms. Recognizing your weakness, but trusting in His steady hands to catch you and hold you. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ So, hey, don't be afraid to collapse.

Yesterday I was listening to "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe", and what struck me the most was the line that because of the curse of the witch, it was "always winter, but never Christmas". ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Many of us can resonate with that sentiment. Many of us can feel the weight of this "winter" that seems to never end. As we continue to experience sin, pain, death, and brokenness in this world - we too can feel like it is always winter, but never Christmas. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ But today, we are reminded of God's persistence and faithfulness. We are reminded that although the winter may at times feel never-ending, and although His ways may not be what we expect (I mean, God born in a barn?), He is still on the move. We are reminded, ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ There is a Christmas. There is hope. His name is Jesus, Emmanuel, ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ God with us. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Merry Christmas, friends. May you be reminded today that the winter won't last forever.

"Because of our God's merciful compassion, the dawn from on high will visit us to shine on those who live in darkness and the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace." (Luke 1:78-79) ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ Because of God's merciful compassion, Jesus has come "to shine in those who live in darkness and in the shadow of death". ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ After the past two years, I'm sure that each of us are more aware than ever before that we live in darkness. That we reside in the shadow of death. And that it's not just around us - it's within us. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ But the good news is that the dawn from on high has come. Is coming. And the darkness cannot overcome this dawn, this light. So know, today, that the darkness in which you find yourselves does not have the final say. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ For, ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ The light has come.

I remember a while back @chrisrend made a post about how one of the core questions of the human heart is this: Can God be trusted? ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ And I think it's true. Behind every doubt, uncertainty, and fear... many of us just aren't always sure that God can be trusted. That He'll actually provide for our every need. That He actually knows every detail of our lives. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ But what we see in Scripture, and what we are reminded of in the Christmas season, is that God is faithful to His promises. He is faithful to His people, even when they are not faithful to Him. He is faithful to send His Son to this earth. He is faithful to make a way for humans to receive salvation through the death and resurrection of His Son. ‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ The Christmas story is a reminder. Yes, He can be trusted.