SeizedByaGreatAffection

Doc said her wounds are healing nicely. Thank you for the prayers. Playing in the yard today. Perfect day, if you minus the pandemic.

Don’t know about you, but man. This pandemic has knocked me perpetually around. Some days I feel prolific and inspired, most days I just feel beaten down. Angry. Sad. Lonely. Glad. This quarantine has brought ought every lurking and lovely thing in my heart. The good, the bad, the nasty. And on top of it all, I seem to have a knack for heaping on a big pile of shame on top.

I let my daughter get bit by a dog. Shame.

I feel afraid I wont figure out a new job. Shame.

I’m too emotional and obviously don’t have enough faith. Shame.

Anyone feel me on this? It’s a bit too much to explain all in one little caption but let me try and tackle just one of those little lies.

Too many feels and not enough faith...

Faith over feelings?

I kindly disagree.

I don’t want to start a fight here, But I’m just not a fan of the phrase “Faith over feelings.” I like what we’re driving at when we say it. We want to stress that our feelings don’t run the show. They don’t call the shots. True. But to say one trumps the other is underdeveloped at its best, horribly misleading at its worst. The phrase seems to suggest the two are at war, instead of two partners bleeding together on the same side. I don’t think the two were ever meant to be in a fight. They’re not competing for poll position. It isn’t faith’s job to beat our feelings into submission.

I think...

Emotions are a gift. All of them. Feelings are windows to our souls, Messages in a bottle. They call out to us, hoping we’ll lean in and listen to what’s going on behind them. And yes, if we only listen to our feelings, and we never get curious about what they’re trying to tell us, Things will tend to come out sideways.

But how about this?

“Feelings informed by faith.”

I know, it’s not as bumper sticker worthy and may even require some explanation.

Let me try.

Jesus wept at a friend’s grave. He cried tears of blood at midnight. On the cross, he begged and questioned “Why?” And yet, I don’t think we would say Jesus let his feelings get the best of him. Rather, when He felt, His faith informed His feelings.

After all,

He went on to raise his friend from the dead. He surrendered His will to the Father. He stayed on the cross. St Paul says something like this: We grieve, but we don’t grieve like those who have no hope.

You see?

The sadness and the hope, they dance together. They aren’t divorced. They’re meant to be married.

In other words, our faith talks to our feelings, and our feelings talk to our faith. Faith is like the rain that takes time to work it’s way into the soil of our hearts. They give our feelings health to grow. To grow in the ways they should.

Healthy anger means I want something.

Healthy sadness means I love something, someone.

Healthy guilt means I know I’m wrong and I need to make it right.

Healthy lonliness tells me I’m made for relationship. If I listen to what I feel, then I’ll begin to understand how I should act.

Look.

When my daughters are too scared to go upstairs, I don’t scream, “Stop feeling afraid.” They can’t do that.

What I say is, “Are you feeling afraid? Good. Now you have the opportunity to have courage.”

When the Scriptures exclaim, “Do not be afraid,” they must not mean, “Don’t feel fear.” The feeling is not under our control. The response is. Maybe what Scripture means is something more like, “even though you feel that, you don’t have to be paralyzed by it. There’s more to the story than what you feel in this moment.” Move through. Do the next right thing. Let the faith inform the feeling, let the choice be the result of both.

And I suppose, that also means, there’s more to our stories than simply telling them. More to our faith than speaking it. Maybe our stories are meant to be lived, and our faith is meant to be felt. Last I checked, real life is always a bit more complicated than the stories make it out to be.

I was on a phone interview this past week, and I was posed with the question, “How would you respond to this movement of prominent figures leaving the faith?” My eyebrows raised. I took a slow sip of my coffee. “Movement?” I asked.

“Yes.” She laughed nervously. “There’s a real movement away from the faith right now, and we need to know how to contend with it.”

I didn’t answer. I took another sip of my coffee. The silence hung thick like the steam dancing in the sunlight rising from my cup. I let it linger.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just two guys,” I finally said. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but I don’t know if I’d call that a movement.”

But some would. When high profile pastors dramatically change what they believe about God, for some, it can feel like all the covers being ripped off. Cozy to shivering in one fell swoop. Betrayed. Disillusioned. It’s difficult to deal with the cold, when you feel like these were the same people who had just helped tucked you into your faith the night before.

So how do we respond? What do we say? Let me start with one of my all-time favorite over-looked Scriptures.

“And the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but kind to everyone, able to teach, patiently enduring evil, correcting his opponents with gentleness. God may perhaps grant them repentance leading to a knowledge of the truth,” 2 Timothy 2:24-25

Alright. Let’s break this down for a minute. If you’re going to speak up for God, if you “correct opponents,” Paul tells Timothy, you must not be doing so from a quarrelsome place. Ouch. Im going to need to sit with that for a moment. How much of my outspoken zeal for correction is really just my attempt to leverage a moment for my own personal influence?

I have to admit. Whenever something of controversy arises, I’ve had to make a practice of waiting a few days longer than I think I should to speak up. Too many times, I cared a lot more about jumping on an opportunity to gain followers who agree and enforce my position than I have about actually hearing from and loving the person I’m disagreeing with. The Scripture warns against this compulsion. We don’t correct just because we like the attention. We don’t speak up, because we like being right. We correct, because we deeply care about the person. Let’s go on.

You must be kind TO EVERYONE. Who do I need to be kind to? Oh right. Everyone.

Next? Be able to teach.

Whoof. I believe we teach best when we speak from what we deeply know. Teachers at university typically teach from their area of expertise. If you’re a biology professor you probably won’t be giving the Shakespeare exam. That’s worth noting. There are some arguments that are above my pay grade. If so, maybe I should let someone else handle it.

What else?

Patiently endure evil.

Ooookaaay.

In today’s knee jerk defamatory culture, that bit is laughable. Endure evil. And do it patiently. I’ll be the first to say I don’t like evil, I don’t like enduring it, and I especially don’t like doing it patiently.

Now here’s the last bit, and I believe it’s the kicker. When you correct someone, do so with GENTLESNESS. We could just camp out there. But it gets better. Then perhaps...PERHAPS! (I love that word there.) Perhaps God will change them.

Ok Let’s recap.

Not quarrelsome.

Kind to everyone.

Able to teach what I’m talking about.

Endure evil.

Be patient.

Correct gently.

Let God do it.

This past week, two well-known Christians spoke of changes in their personal beliefs. One made a public declaration. The other, a bit of a public Inquiry. One, an author and pastor, the other, a worship facilitator. I’ll call him a worship feeder. (I hesitate to use the word “leader.” Paul didn’t like it either. (See I Corinthians 3 & 4) They both seem to be walking away from their personal faith in Jesus, and the after math has been nothing short of incredible. “What’s wrong with today’s Christians?!?” Some bemoaned. “This is why liberals cannot be trusted!” Others lamented.

I’ve sat back pondering.

This much, that two men would come to a place in their faith where they question everything they believe in, should not come as a great shock. Believing in Jesus is hard. It’s really hard. Genocide, homicide, child slavery, sickness, famine, war, death, the list goes on. The evidence against the existence of a good God is at least reasonable if not justifiable. ( I think even Jesus Himself called faith in Him impossible with man. All things are possible with God, but with man, impossible. Right? As impossible as a camel through a needle) It’s no wonder Paul says “They must hold the mystery of the faith with a clear conscience,” in 1 Timothy 3:9.

Mystery.

Let’s not breeze over that word.

It’s also worth mentioning that in Romans 11 Paul speaks of God’s children being grafted in to “Israel.” Remember that Israel means “wrestles with God.” So to be in God’s kingdom, means, among other things, that you’ve been invited into a divine wrestling match with Him. Incredible. That’s how close He wants us. All our questions, all our doubts. All our fascination and fears. He isn’t after the regurgitation of dogma, He’s after our sweat and our tears. He wants us. And He wants the real us; even the struggling parts of us. Maybe especially those parts. He wants us close. He’s after intimacy with us, more than a perfect test score from us.

I suppose this is why Jesus tells the Pharisees in John chapter 5. “You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness about me, yet you refuse to come to me that you may have life.”

John 5:39,40

Re-read those words if you need to.

Jesus’ warning is nothing short of astonishing. Here He is, Telling the Religious elite that having all the answers won’t get you where you need to be. They’re not enough. All those Scriptures they had memorized were not the end in and of themselves, but merely sign posts pointing to an encounter with Him. He is the end goal. He is so much more than a belief system.

The announcement though, sent shock waves through Christendom this past week. It seemed unthinkable to many that those who have tasted of the heavenly gifts and the sweetness of the Spirit, could walk away. I am certainly in that camp. But that’s it. I don’t think the internet went ablaze, because God’s people were aching for these guys to sense His sweetness. I think people lost their nerve, because they felt two of their starters were defecting to the other team. Be honest with yourself here. It’s a subtle but crucial distinction.

Jesus told us His kingdom is not like the ones this world constructs. His kingdom is not a witch hunt. It’s not a club. It’s something more like an ever present invitation. “The Spirit and the Bride say “Come!” not, “Good riddance, we didn’t need you anyway.” So we needn’t obsess over who’s in and who’s out. We treat everyone like they’re in, until they finally believe they are. It’s a kingdom where we freely give ourselves away, not one where we lock the gates with a secret handshake required to get in. All that is required is Jesus, so may we never make it harder to get in than He did.

He also said the kingdom is like a farmer throwing some seeds around. Mustard seeds perhaps. The plants grow. They wither. Some get trampled on, some strangled. Some thrive to “impossible” heights. Some are eaten by the birds. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be a bird swallowing up seeds off the fallow ground. I want to be a gardener, watering and whispering to the soil. However troublesome a plant looks, I want to be in the business of reviving. Let God do the pruning.

I read some articles and blog posts. I read some of the comments. I kind of wish I hadn’t. But as an author and a bit of a worship artist myself, the arguments felt pretty close to home. I read on. Some said they were ashamed. Others said they were headed straight to Hell. Some cheered their courage. While some said it’s fine to walk away from their faith, provided they don’t dare urge others to come with them. I would like to remark on that thought for a second. Let’s offer some grace here folks. I’m pretty sure these guys were on stage most of their adult life. Every week they were making a living getting people to agree with where they were coming from. They sang and talked about their faith like it was their job, because It was. It only makes sense then, that they would continue in that practice while going through a period of deconstruction. You can’t really fault a guy for taking people along his faith journey if that’s what he’s been doing for two decades and getting paid for it. Now look, I’m not making a case that it doesn’t matter what you believe. As Tozer said, “What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us.” Jesus said the work of God is “To believe in the One He has sent.” God is definitely into reconstruction. I think what I’m arguing is for Christians to believe in God more.

Perhaps.

Perhaps.

Perhaps.

Perhaps God will grant them repentance.

What Im arguing for is that we Christians would quit freaking out.

Quit. Freaking. Out.

Quit freaking out on believers who turn unbeliever. Quit freaking out on unbeliever turned believer in something else.

Paul says we have an insane advantage.

“God may perhaps grant them repentance.”

The best part of speaking on behalf of God is that God can take care of Himself. He isn’t rattled. He isn’t unsettled. He knows we are just dust. (Psalm 103) And the arguments? I think it’s safe to say He’s heard them all before. I get to speak up for a God who is already speaking to people’s hearts.

What about everyone else? What about the young impressionable minds who might be led astray? Well...I hope they don’t. I hope they aren’t. Led astray that is.

But there’s two sides to that.

I’m pretty sure we won’t win young believers to “our side” by crucifying our own in front of them. Yes, it’s my job and privilege to speak the truth, but it’s also my job to teach my daughters, for instance, how to bless people who don’t agree with them. I want my daughters to grow up embracing the truths I believe but also gently loving those who don’t embrace our truth as THE truth. If I’m scared my kids will be led astray to unbelief, should I also not be considering the dangers of winning my children over to Phariseeism? That’s not a real word but hopefully you get my drift. Again, I correct with GENTLENESS. I’m still convinced, after all my years on the planet, most people aren’t won to Jesus because of an impressive argument. And most don’t leave the church, because of a theory. More often than not, it’s the wounds from the insiders that cause them to run out the doors of the church and not look back.

I’ve heard it said over and over growing up that we (The Christian church) do not place our hope in religion alone, but in an actual living breathing relationship with God. Ok. Then tell me this.

If one of my wife’s friends and her have a falling out, does that mean I should question whether I’m still in relationship with my wife? Jesus does call us His bride after all, so I don’t think it’s a completely absurd comparison. No. I am so secure with what I have with my wife, I don’t freak out when others go through troubles connecting with her. I truly hope they work things out and will pray to that end. But I’m not going on Facebook to warn them of their disconnection. I trust God’s ability to right the relationship. I guess what I’m saying is, the more threatened you are when someone else is having a problem with God, maybe the less sure you are in your relationship with Him. If your relationship is solid, then the less worked up you’re going to get. It’s a crude analogy for sure but my point is this.

Don’t freak out.

Let people wrestle.

Speak gently.

Perhaps God.

Isaiah puts it so poignantly:

“a bruised reed he will not break, and a faintly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice.” Isaiah 42:3

My friend Gabby commented, “if your faith can’t bend it’ll break.”

Perfectly stated.

Let’s not break the bruised reeds among us. Let’s not make it our job to quench the flickering flames of faith against the harsh winds of life. God doesn’t either.

It’s been a minute since I’ve been out here in the blog space. Took a long hiatus to concentrate on this baby. My first book, “Finding God’s Life For My Will” is now available for pre-order wherever it is one goes to pre-order books. It’s releasing into the wild August 6th but I hear the first chapter is up on Amazon already if you want to a sample before jumping all in.

Now, I want to be clear here. I’m quite aware that there’s plenty of people much wiser and more eloquent than me. By all means go read their books first. I didn’t write this book because I think I’m some sort of genius that has a secret figured out.

I wrote this book to remind you and me that we are furiously loved, despite how stupid we can tend to be. About three years ago, a few friends on Instagram kept telling me that I should write a book. I thought to myself, “I’ll never write as well as all these authors I’m a fan of. Besides, I don’t have any margin in my life to do something like that anyway.” A few weeks later I was sitting on a plane staring at the seat in front of me and realized that I had two hours of uninterrupted silence with nothing to do but stare at the back of a stranger’s head.

“Redeem the time,” the apostle Paul’s words pulsed in my brain. I said “yes” and began to let the words flow. For the next two years this became my flight routine. Anytime I sat on the plane I opened my laptop and began to type. I wrote about my childhood, my thwarted dreams, my car accident, my heartbreaks, my songwriting process...slowly a thread began to weave its way through. With really just the 20 or 30 people commenting me on my Instagram in mind, I wrote to bless others and to hopefully unriddle my own heart in the process.

About a year ago, a friend gave my rough draft to someone who gave it to a book agent who gave it to a book publisher whose son happened to have a very similar story to mine; a near death car accident and the healing power of music. The editor said she had goosebumps reading it. I said “Are you sure it’s any good?” She said she believed that perhaps these words could be a great blessing to many if we put it out into the world. Im still not quite sure I believe her as any artist will tell you. Releasing any creative work Is always an emotional rollercoaster between pride and self-loathing. But I’ll tell you this, I’m absolutely blown away by the abundant mercy of God. For songs. For albums. And now...for a book. This book. It’s entitled “Finding God’s Life for My Will, because I don’t think I need to ask God his will for my life. He’s already made that clear. His will for my life is peace. His will is Joy. His will is forgiveness and gratitude and purity of heart.

His will hasn’t changed.

But I’ve had to.

That’s what this book is about.

Maybe instead of obsessing about what we’re going to do, we just let God search our motivations of why we’re doing what we’re doing. It isn’t a plan any of us are really after anyway is it? What if His presence became the plan? Could it be that easy? Maybe. Maybe not. But I’ve found more often than not it’s rarely been my plans that have had to change, it’s been my heart.

Last I checked, that’s what God has been after all along.

Cheers y’all.

Today is Good Friday. At least, that's what we call it. But make no mistake, Good Friday was the worst Friday, until Sunday. I'm talking about the absolute worst Friday of all Fridays. The perfect, unblemished Lamb of God drank down our shame, and somehow we have the audacity to call that day "good?"

Think about it. We modernists, frequently ask, "Why do bad things happen to good people?" And yet, on Good Friday, the worst things happened to the best person, and most of us barely blink. But of course, we don't blink because we live on the other side of Easter. We live in the revelation of sin atoned for and our Messiah's victory over death. We aren't nervous as Christ unthinkably marches to his death. We almost scoff at the unbelief of the disciples as they scatter and run. "Don't they know what's happening?" We balk. "Don't they remember Jesus said he'd rise again?" "Don't they know it's all gonna be alright?" It's amazing what we can understand in the rear view.

So this "Good Friday," I sit here pondering in retrospect just what God was up to, and how, maybe one day, in this life or the next, I'll be able look back on certain "Worst Fridays" of my own, and see that God was up to something beautiful even then. Maybe one day, all my Worst Fridays will be Good Fridays when I fully see the glorious redemptive power of our God in all its fullness.

I won't lie, I've often been confounded why Jesus felt the need to be dead til Sunday. I'm sure there's lots of cultural and historical relevance here that I'm not aware of, but I'm serious.   I've thought, "Why couldn't He just have been dead til Saturday? Why make the disciples wait a whole extra day?"

My four year old cried in my arms tonight. “I miss you Daddy.” Tears fell, my chest ached. I hadn’t even started to leave. My wife clung to me as I walked out the door, “I miss doing life with you.”

There are nights when We the Traveling, can’t help but wonder if it’s all worth it. It doesn’t mean something’s necessarily wrong, in fact, sometimes it means we’re right where we should be. It means that as Mr. Jon Foreman so acutely surmised, ”Every blessing comes with a set of curses.” Sometimes it just hurts.

And that’s where I’m at tonight as we rumble down the highway. Another weekend of highs and lows. Another couple thousand miles of pounding the pavement, and another couple thousand souls with another couple thousand stories. Some will say our songs saved their lives. Some will shout and dance and sing with all they are. Some will yawn and walk out half way through. Some shows may sell out. Some might fail miserably. But Fernando Ortega’s version of “Pass Me Not” is blaring in my headphones on repeat, and Henri Nouwen’s words are speaking to my soul. This too will pass, and He will not. “Every time we make the decision to love someone, we open ourselves to great suffering, because those we most love cause us not only great joy but also great pain. The greatest pain comes from leaving. When the child leaves home, when the husband or wife leaves for a long period of time or for good, when the beloved friend departs to another country or dies … the pain of the leaving can tear us apart. Still, if we want to avoid the suffering of leaving, we will never experience the joy of loving. And love is stronger than fear, life stronger than death, hope stronger than despair. We have to trust that the risk of loving is always worth taking.” -Henri Nouwen

I am the chief among sinners. I've stolen. I've lied. I've cheated. I've committed adultery in my heart and murdered in my mind. I am a disgrace, a convict in need of pardon, an orphan in need of a Father.

And yet, Christ saw me, loved me, and gave Himself for me. He lived the life I could never live, died the death that I deserved, and rose again over all I could never conquer on my own.  He breathed His Spirit into me.  He broke through the stone walls of my heart and gave me a heart of flesh. He bought me. He won me. He called me His own.

So now, I give all that I am to Him.  I am His and He is mine.  He is my life and in Him I live and move and have my being.  I am not who I once was.  I've been remade.  I no longer come to the world with clenched fists, I come with open hands.  I do not come with a swinging gavel, I come with a life laid down. Servant to all, friend to sinners, I come the way Jesus came to me.

Which means I get to embrace everyone.

If they complained that Jesus hung out with sinners than I hope the same will be said of me.  Homosexuals, chief justices, prostitutes, picketers, preachers; there is no one beneath my service. There is no one beneath my love.  I love those who disagree with me. I love those who boycott me. I love those who tell me I need to stand for truth and I love those who tell me my truth is not theirs.

I get to love everybody.

Of course, the question remains, how do I do that? I mean, practically speaking, how do I truly love people? What does that even mean?  What does it look like?  Does loving someone mean agreeing with everything they do and everything they are? Can you even love a culture who feels hated if they're disagreed with? How do I love the souls with differing beliefs, especially when minds are made up on two opposing sides? How do I build bridges to Jesus and to others? And in what ways could I be unknowingly burning those bridges down?

I don't think I have the answers figured out on many of these, but I do know this, I am not called to judge the world. It's true. Especially if you believe the Bible is true, because Paul even agrees;

"When I wrote to you before, I told you not to associate with people who indulge in sexual sin. But I wasn’t talking about unbelievers who indulge in sexual sin, or are greedy, or cheat people, or worship idols. You would have to leave this world to avoid people like that." (1 Corinthians 5:9-10 NLT)

I also am quite certain I'm to offer my two cents with supreme tact and kindness.

"Gently instruct those who oppose the truth. Perhaps God will change those people’s hearts, and they will learn the truth." (2 Timothy 2:25 NLT)

James echoes this thought when he says the wisdom of God is first of all pure and kind and adds, "Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters: You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry. Human anger does not produce the righteousness God desires." (James 1:19-20 NLT)

So let's recap. I am loved by God and have been given the ministry of reconciliation. In spite of all I've done to undeserve His love, He has won me back and invited me to be a part of His work. That is, I'm here to tell people God wants them back.  I get to tell the world God wants them. How do I do that?  Well, I don't have it all figured out, but I know it does include laying my life down, serving like crazy, not judging, being gentle, listening, and not getting angry, because anger does not produce righteousness.

Got it.

Now, what does that mean for gay marriage?

To say the decision today was a big deal, is a gross understatement.  I wouldn't even call it "landmark," I would call it; "nuclear."  The Supreme Court ruling sent supporters into the stratosphere with joy. Rainbow flags blew up the internet while #LoveWins came straight from the oval office. Furthermore, it sent adversaries into a state of mourning. Doomsday prophecies abounded.  Fingers were pointed.  Prayers were offered.  Hard lines were driven into the sand. I posted a pic without really thinking saying the decision was "historic."  In a few minutes, I was labeled a heretic, a hero, and a demon; and I didn't even think I had offered an opinion.

I scrambled. I regretted posting anything, I felt like I was in the middle of a cultural crossfire and I was being commanded to choose; with the only two sides being avid support or open hostility.  I didn't want to be a proponent of either.  

So I sought solace from my sister and as always, she helped ease my mind. First, she reminded me how the internet gives people all the authority and none of the responsibility to say things they would never say to someone's face. She also called to mind how Jesus seldom gave people a straight answer, particularly when they weren't motivated by love.  My friend Audrey pontificated with me via text;  "I don't understand when the church got co-opted by the idea that legislating morality was the same thing as preaching the gospel. The sooner we stop trying to run society and start loving our neighbor, the sooner the Church gains footing in people's lives and is able to welcome them, teach them, whatever. Why wring our hands over the culture? If the Church starts to experience persecution, so be it."

And that's just what I want to say to you.  What if we stopped trying to be heard and just tried to hear?  What if we served people so well, they were desperate to hear what we thought, because they knew we truly wanted what's best for them?  That kind of love is more like what I saw Jesus doing.

It's…incarnational.

It's Jesus coming and living among us for thirty years, before He did one miracle.  It's the kind of love that's messy and practical and can never be lived out on a soap box.  It's what we were made for.

When I was working at a church in Florida, I had the privilege of mentoring several young men who were experiencing an overwhelming flood of same-sex attraction.  It was strange how many came to me at the same time.  To be perfectly honest, I didn't know how to respond.  I had never dealt with the issue personally, so I couldn't offer meaningless rhetoric like, "yeah dude, I totally know how you feel."  And since no one I knew was friends with anyone who was homosexual at the time, I felt so powerlessly under-prepared for the conversations that followed. I mean, what do I say?  "God hates that you know?"  "You really disgust me man, you should try liking women instead?"  Of course not!!!  They didn't need me to tell them they were going to hell.  They didn't need to be told their sin was worse than mine.  They had enough condemnation heaped on them to last several lifetimes.  You know what they did need though?  They needed to be heard.  Seen.  They needed someone to hug them, cry with them, listen to them.  They needed a friend who wouldn't run in disgust, but run to them with open arms.

And you know, that's still the case.  Today, I have several gay friends and family members, and if they don't want to hear my stance on their sexuality, I don't offer it.  Maybe that sounds bizarre to you, but after the friendships I’ve built and the conversations we’ve had, I’m quite convinced when it comes to the deep places of a person's heart, like their sexual desires, the privilege of speaking to those things is something that must be built with time and trust. And it must be asked for, not thrown down from above.  If you recall, Jesus didn't even reprimand the wiring of the woman at the well, He simply asked her why she hadn't come to Him for water.

Maybe the biggest thing I've had a hard time with today, is the sentiment that it's my job to tell the whole world how to live.  Maybe it has to do with growing up in a Capitalistic society, or maybe it's just a result of the digital revolution where something can be seen and shared by hundreds of millions of people in a few hours, but either way, I firmly believe it isn't my calling to steward the morality of mankind.  I'm simply called to make disciples.  And that, is a down and dirty, one person at a time kind of a calling.  It's small, often times thankless, and it's not a campaign.  It's a kingdom. LIke Paul said, I'm not called to judge the world, I'm called to love the world. I'm not even called to change the world, that's the Holy Spirit's job.  I'm to simply introduce people to Jesus, and let Him do the rest.  If He is life, my job should be to bring others to His arms, and let the power of His love shift their thinking.  I make the introduction, but Jesus wins their heart.

So, with that, let me remind you of a few last things.

I don't even think about it anymore.  In the last year, it's become second nature; habitual.  I grab it as I run out the door to bus call, and it's the first thing I put in the corner of my bunk at the beginning of every run.  

It's my porn clock.

About seven months ago, I bought a simple, elegant, battery-operated alarm clock to wake me whenever our band took the bus out for shows.  Now, why would I go and do such a thing, when I have a perfectly functional alarm feature on my smart phone, you might ask?  Well, the answer is simple.  I don't want to look at porn.

Or I guess I could say, in my flesh, I do want to look at porn sometimes, but since my spirit mostly doesn't want to look at porn, I had to take some actions steps to guard myself in my moments of weakness. So, when I was clear-headed, and thinking straight, I bought an alarm clock.  That way, I wouldn't even have the opportunity to have my phone beside me, late at night, with the curtain drawn, and the internet at my fingertips, to get into God knows what.

"Lead me not into temptation," is what Christ taught us to pray.  Or, as some commentators have pointed out, "keep me out of temptation's paths."  And so, if I mean that seriously, I must take a hard look at my life and see any places that could serve as potential pitfalls for me.  Then, I do my best to steer clear. 

Now, being on the road for fifteen years, I've seen too many broken marriages and moments of weakness give way to adultery to think I'm beyond the allures of infidelity.  And I thought, "Buying a clock, and leaving my phone in a drawer, would help remove chances of waywardness for me, so I should probably go ahead and do that."  Of course, I'm still human, and there's no way to completely remove the opportunity to lust in a fallen world, but you better believe I'm gonna do all I can to put every speed bump in the way of my wretchedness to make it as difficult as possible for me to fall.

Yeah right.

But let's be honest.  We've all thought it.  Haven't we?  What's the harm of a little daydream fantasy?  What's so bad about taking a little "me time?"  Who's going to know? Who's getting hurt? Nobody…right?

After hearing and seeing so many comments and reactions to my blog on the “Bachelorette,” I’m reminded how confusing all this was for most of us growing up.  I grew up in a Christian home, going to church, and all I ever heard about sex and lust was, "DON"T DO IT."  Ok.  Wow.  That's not helpful.  Why not just put me in a big James Bond-like control room and say, "Hey! See that's big fat shiny red button that says, 'Don't Push?' Yeah, don't push that."

Y'all know what I'm talking about.  

The rule-making, confusion, and lack of explanation went on well into my high school years and even on into college.  At camps, I heard counselors scouring for some kind of foothold.  "Um, you see this duct tape? Don't go sticking it to a bunch of stuff cause then it won't be sticky anymore."  "Wait, what?" I would counter, "So does that mean if I get around, God can't redeem me?"  "Well, no…" they would flounder, "But, you want to marry a virgin don't you? I mean, you could get an STD!"

And there it was.  I think one of my major issues with the proponents for sexual purity, was the feeling the only motivating factors they had at their disposal were pride and fear.  "You don't want to get pregnant do you!?!?"  "You want God to owe you someone pure right?"  "You don't want to be one of THOSE PEOPLE do you?" Barf.  Give me something more.  Give me motivation like delight or wonder.  Give me some soul stimulation or I'm gonna run to the physical!  And please don't try and cram fears down my throat.  I'm plenty good at coming up with those on my own.  And, I might add, it might have been somewhat effective for the abstinence of sex itself, but when it came to campaigning against lust, scare tactics didn't work anyways.  Sure, I could see how promiscuous sex left everyone wounded in the end, and I could see how random hook-ups left people broken and confused, but fear mongering wasn't helping me see how what people did in the privacy of their bedroom, with no one else involved, could possibly be as harmful as it was made out to be.

But then it happened.  I found the higher purpose my soul was so desperate for.  Let me try to break it down for you.

Adam and Eve were once, “naked and unashamed.”  That's the picture Genesis paints for us.  They were literally naked and without sin.  Sex and covenant went hand and hand.  There was only two of them after all.  But more importantly, there in the garden, there was no fear of being objectified.  There wasn't even the possibility for separation.  Now, what do I mean by “separated,” you might ask?  Well, by “separated,” I simply mean, that once sin entered the garden, suddenly, and assuredly, the opportunity was made available for Adam to look at Eve’s body, apart from her soul, and use it for his own pleasure.  Eve, in turn, could now manipulate Adam to do her bidding.  Sin allows the painful possibility to turn people into currency.

This is the tragedy of lust.

You ever watch horror movies?  I don't.  I mean, I remember seeing Jurassic Park when I was thirteen and when we got home, I ran, yes, ran from the car into the house.  My middle-school mind was convinced a raptor was waiting in the bushes, ready to pounce, and devour my face.  I guess you could say I have an active imagination; hence the distaste for the cinematically heinous.  I can't get my brain to stop believing there's monsters lurking once outside the theater.  So though I don't make a habit of seeing scary movies, I know there's two recurring evil characters in most of them; zombies and ghosts.  Both of these groups of ghouls would be considered, "diabolical." Or let's just call them "divisional."  They're divisive.  A zombie is a body without a soul, a ghost is a soul without a body, and this is just a glimpse of what we are capable of doing to each other.

Before the fall, the reason Adam and Eve could be naked and feel no shame, was because there wasn’t even the possibility to be used by another person. Adam could only see Eve as whole; body and spirit.  Conversely, Eve could only see Adam as whole.  They could never receive pleasure from one another, without first, giving all of themselves away in the same act.  Love, sex, and covenant.  These were God's gifts to us to lose ourselves and gain the other in the same moment.  In the garden, we were “naked and unashamed,” and it was beautiful. Innocent. Virginal.

However, the introduction of sin made the separation of body and soul available to humans for the first time. The ability to get pleasure from solely “looking” at a human body was now entering the picture.  The opportunity to have sex without integrity was made possible.  In short, you can now turn a “her” or a "him," into an “it.”  That girl on the screen, that guy in the bar, they're no longer a person, with aspirations and dreams and a personality, no, now they're just a picture, an object, a conquest.

There is no sacrifice in lust. There is no giving of oneself away to another.  There is no offering the whole of one’s self, to the whole of someone else.  No. There is only self-seeking. There is only objectification. There is only separation.  That’s why we wear clothes now, to specifically cover those areas which make it possible to be used for another’s gratification, apart from our soul.

Male, female, we are all guilty.  It may take different forms and expressions, but we have all attempted to objectify.  I suppose this is the great gift of the love of Christ.  Because we were loved so intensely at our very worst, it allows us look at the world and give them back their subjectivity, even at their worst.  Marriage, then, is meant to be a foretaste of that restoration; a return to Eden. His love allows us to see the image of God on other's souls, to see them for the gift they are, whether they believe that about themselves or not.  Didn't Jesus say, "blessed are your eyes for they see?" We are more than pictures on a screen. We are more than likes, follows, and retweets.  We are more than currency to boost someone else's confidence.  We are the salt of the earth. We are gift.; preservers of the sacred.