When my original blog crashed in December I lost 50% of my readers.
The reading night I planned at my house was canceled because of snow and only one person showed up.
My friend sold one million books. I sold 19.
All together, these numbers are a little depressing to me. They're just not that impressive. I don't feel like I'm doing something big for God, whatever that means.
So the other day I prayed that. I had just finished reading a bunch of verses about how when we ask things in his name, Christ will grant them. So I prayed something like, "Lord please give me a massive ministry. Give me a huge group of people to show your glory to."
And a second later God reminded me that in many ways that prayer had already been answered. I didn't get a lightning bolt or writing on the wall, he just called my attention to a verse that revealed the truth about my concerns for a massive ministry. Here is what Luke 15:10 says:
I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.
In my mind, one is a very small number. It's not big or flashy or sexy and doesn't feel successful like one million. But in God's economy, in his system of math, one is massive. One is cause for great celebration among a heavenly host.
I may never be huge in the world's eyes or have a book with my picture on the front with really white teeth and manicured fingernails and hair that looks fancy. But if I reach one person, if I can tell one person that God loves them and they can believe that, then my ministry is massive. My work is huge and the angels will celebrate.
And that's enough for me.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
The orphanage on fire.
My uncle's orphanage in Kenya has been threatened in the midst of the violent unrest there.
They have posted guards and despite not having weapons, are facing another night.
Instead of a post today, I thought I would just share their story and ask that you pray.
To read about the orphanage visit Prodigal Jon.
They have posted guards and despite not having weapons, are facing another night.
Instead of a post today, I thought I would just share their story and ask that you pray.
To read about the orphanage visit Prodigal Jon.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Donnie wants to punch me in the mouth.
When I was in the seventh grade, an eighth grader named Donnie taught me the power of a simple message.
I’m not sure why he wanted to beat me up, but on the bus ride home after school he came and sat in the seat in front of me. He grinned a crooked teeth smile at me, I looked back nervously with a mouth full of braces.
He raised his right hand and showed me his knuckles.
“You see these scars? Know how I got them? From punching kids like you that have braces in their mouth.”
The bus dropped us both off, he threw my school bag under the back wheels (perhaps inventing the phrase “to throw someone under the bus”) and left me alone.
But the message he had given me was so simple and powerful. By just showing me his hand he painted a pretty accurate picture of what the future looked like. And I instantly understood.
For some reason I thought about Donnie and his perfect threat the other day. I think it was because I’ve been really struck by how simple Jesus shares his messages in the book of John.
One of my favorite examples is in chapter 6 when Jesus decides to feed 5,000 men with a handful of fish. Here is what the text says:
When Jesus looked up and saw a great crowd coming toward him, he said to Philip, "Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?" He asked this only to test him, for he already had in mind what he was going to do.
What a funny question to ask, “Hey, does anyone know where we can get bread for 5,000 men?” Clearly the answer is no, but Jesus asks it anyway.
But the disciples miss it. The correct answer to that question is “Wait a second, I see what’s going on here! God, God is the only place we’re going to get bread for 5,000 men in the next 10 minutes. You almost got us!”
Instead, the disciples respond with the following:
Philip answered him, "Eight months' wages would not buy enough bread for each one to have a bite!"
Another of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter's brother, spoke up, "Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?"
They missed it. It was so simple. Something impossible was about to become possible. Something unreal was about to become real. And I think when God does that he does it in a really simple fashion because it shows his glory best.
Ego hides in the details. We can pretend it was us when the hand of God is not simply and powerfully shown. We can look at the situation and think, “Well, it’s not that unusual. I mean there were a lot of factors that were involved.”
But when he moves with big, wild thunder, it’s impossible to deny his hand. The blind get sight, the lost get found, lives are changed in ridiculous ways.
Have you ever experienced that? Found yourself facing odds that only God could overcome? Found yourself in a room so dark that only God could light the way out?
You will, at some point, you will.
When you do, keep your eyes open for the simple. The enemy loves to complicate and confuse and tangle, but at the core of God’s message is a single reality, he loves you.
And that’s the simplest message of all.
I’m not sure why he wanted to beat me up, but on the bus ride home after school he came and sat in the seat in front of me. He grinned a crooked teeth smile at me, I looked back nervously with a mouth full of braces.
He raised his right hand and showed me his knuckles.
“You see these scars? Know how I got them? From punching kids like you that have braces in their mouth.”
The bus dropped us both off, he threw my school bag under the back wheels (perhaps inventing the phrase “to throw someone under the bus”) and left me alone.
But the message he had given me was so simple and powerful. By just showing me his hand he painted a pretty accurate picture of what the future looked like. And I instantly understood.
For some reason I thought about Donnie and his perfect threat the other day. I think it was because I’ve been really struck by how simple Jesus shares his messages in the book of John.
One of my favorite examples is in chapter 6 when Jesus decides to feed 5,000 men with a handful of fish. Here is what the text says:
When Jesus looked up and saw a great crowd coming toward him, he said to Philip, "Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?" He asked this only to test him, for he already had in mind what he was going to do.
What a funny question to ask, “Hey, does anyone know where we can get bread for 5,000 men?” Clearly the answer is no, but Jesus asks it anyway.
But the disciples miss it. The correct answer to that question is “Wait a second, I see what’s going on here! God, God is the only place we’re going to get bread for 5,000 men in the next 10 minutes. You almost got us!”
Instead, the disciples respond with the following:
Philip answered him, "Eight months' wages would not buy enough bread for each one to have a bite!"
Another of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter's brother, spoke up, "Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?"
They missed it. It was so simple. Something impossible was about to become possible. Something unreal was about to become real. And I think when God does that he does it in a really simple fashion because it shows his glory best.
Ego hides in the details. We can pretend it was us when the hand of God is not simply and powerfully shown. We can look at the situation and think, “Well, it’s not that unusual. I mean there were a lot of factors that were involved.”
But when he moves with big, wild thunder, it’s impossible to deny his hand. The blind get sight, the lost get found, lives are changed in ridiculous ways.
Have you ever experienced that? Found yourself facing odds that only God could overcome? Found yourself in a room so dark that only God could light the way out?
You will, at some point, you will.
When you do, keep your eyes open for the simple. The enemy loves to complicate and confuse and tangle, but at the core of God’s message is a single reality, he loves you.
And that’s the simplest message of all.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Embracing the unexpected.
The other night my daughter prayed to accept Christ. She is four years old. She also prayed that alligators and snapping turtles would not come to our house so it’s a toss up whether that was her official moment of salvation. (I think it was.)
It made me realize though that I’ve never really shared the gospel with someone. I mean in a sense, I share the gospel all the time with my blogs, but that’s different. That’s mean sitting alone writing something else that someone far away, like in South Africa, reads alone.
Why is that? Why am I so afraid to share Christ with someone? I think in large part it’s because I’ve complicated it. I’ve bought into the idea that you have to be a biblical scholar or have a really airtight answer prepared for evolution or premarital sex or a million other sticky topics before you talk with someone. And then I see how Christ did it.
In John 4 we get the famous conversation with the woman at the well. I never realized how simple Christ approaches the whole situation. Here is the first thing he says to her:
“Will you give me a drink of water?”
That’s it. That’s his entire opening statement. Not “Do you want to know the eternal love and salvation of the heavenly father?” Not, “Do you want to interact with the living fulfillment of prophesy?” He just asked for a drink.
What was special about that though was the context. No respectable Jewish man would ask that of a Samaritan woman. So by asking that question he was doing a lot more than getting some water, he was doing the unexpected.
I think that, the idea of doing the unexpected, lies at the very core of Christianity. For above all, we are called to love, and love is never expected. Helping an enemy at work on a project is never expected. Making the first steps toward your mom even though she owes you an apology is never expected. Volunteering at a local shelter is never expected.
But when we do the unexpected, we raise questions. Just like the Samaritan woman responded by saying, “How can you ask me for a drink?” we cause people to wonder. That’s one of my favorite parts of the Prodigal Son story. When the older brother comes home and asks about the dancing and the music. He’s engaging in the unexpected. He’s swept up in the unexpected and can’t help but ask questions. And I think that’s what we are called to do. To live our lives in such a way that people can’t help but ask questions.
The one I have for you today is simple, “When is the last time you did something unexpected for someone?”
It made me realize though that I’ve never really shared the gospel with someone. I mean in a sense, I share the gospel all the time with my blogs, but that’s different. That’s mean sitting alone writing something else that someone far away, like in South Africa, reads alone.
Why is that? Why am I so afraid to share Christ with someone? I think in large part it’s because I’ve complicated it. I’ve bought into the idea that you have to be a biblical scholar or have a really airtight answer prepared for evolution or premarital sex or a million other sticky topics before you talk with someone. And then I see how Christ did it.
In John 4 we get the famous conversation with the woman at the well. I never realized how simple Christ approaches the whole situation. Here is the first thing he says to her:
“Will you give me a drink of water?”
That’s it. That’s his entire opening statement. Not “Do you want to know the eternal love and salvation of the heavenly father?” Not, “Do you want to interact with the living fulfillment of prophesy?” He just asked for a drink.
What was special about that though was the context. No respectable Jewish man would ask that of a Samaritan woman. So by asking that question he was doing a lot more than getting some water, he was doing the unexpected.
I think that, the idea of doing the unexpected, lies at the very core of Christianity. For above all, we are called to love, and love is never expected. Helping an enemy at work on a project is never expected. Making the first steps toward your mom even though she owes you an apology is never expected. Volunteering at a local shelter is never expected.
But when we do the unexpected, we raise questions. Just like the Samaritan woman responded by saying, “How can you ask me for a drink?” we cause people to wonder. That’s one of my favorite parts of the Prodigal Son story. When the older brother comes home and asks about the dancing and the music. He’s engaging in the unexpected. He’s swept up in the unexpected and can’t help but ask questions. And I think that’s what we are called to do. To live our lives in such a way that people can’t help but ask questions.
The one I have for you today is simple, “When is the last time you did something unexpected for someone?”
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
I am Judas.
There are a handful of biblical characters I like to identify with from time to time.
Jonathan for instance, is a great model of faith in action. David, for his failures and subsequent return to the Lord. Joseph, for his endless patience and trust even when his path led through the depths of jail. There is no shortage of heroes in the Bible.
But what about the villains?
Clearly, satan must be listed as the first among their rank. Countless verses describe his evil, a mouth that only knew lies, hands that only knew pain. But besides him, who else is considered the "bad guy" in the Bible? Certainly Pharaoh and his enslavement of the Israelites. Baal and the pagan worshipers that prostituted themselves as his cloven feet. There are people groups that killed their children to different Gods and maybe without much thought our list of enemies in the word can grow long. But one that often sticks out is Judas.
Judas betrayed Christ with a kiss. Judas turned the Lord over to his eventual death. Judas sold the savior of the universe for only 30 pieces of silver. And here in my safe, comfortable little life it's easy to point the finger at Judas. To marvel at his depravity. To judge his willingness to sell Jesus for such a small sum.
And it was small, or at least that is what scholars argue. There is debate about shekels or drachmas or denariis and some authors place the value of those 30 pieces of silver at around $15,000. The value doesn't really matter though, because if I'm honest, I've sold Jesus for much less.
When I choose to watch a movie with questionable content, I am selling Jesus. When I engage in a conversation or mocking gossip that wounds others, I am selling Jesus. When I lie or exaggerate, I am selling Jesus. When I choose anger instead of forgiveness, worry instead of worship, impulse instead of prayer, I am selling Jesus.
At the end of the day, I have sold my savior for much less than $15,000. I am Judas. I am the one desperate for forgiveness. I am the one tempted. I am the one in need of grace.
And the next time I try to judge someone as a "bad guy," I hope I'll remember that.
Jonathan for instance, is a great model of faith in action. David, for his failures and subsequent return to the Lord. Joseph, for his endless patience and trust even when his path led through the depths of jail. There is no shortage of heroes in the Bible.
But what about the villains?
Clearly, satan must be listed as the first among their rank. Countless verses describe his evil, a mouth that only knew lies, hands that only knew pain. But besides him, who else is considered the "bad guy" in the Bible? Certainly Pharaoh and his enslavement of the Israelites. Baal and the pagan worshipers that prostituted themselves as his cloven feet. There are people groups that killed their children to different Gods and maybe without much thought our list of enemies in the word can grow long. But one that often sticks out is Judas.
Judas betrayed Christ with a kiss. Judas turned the Lord over to his eventual death. Judas sold the savior of the universe for only 30 pieces of silver. And here in my safe, comfortable little life it's easy to point the finger at Judas. To marvel at his depravity. To judge his willingness to sell Jesus for such a small sum.
And it was small, or at least that is what scholars argue. There is debate about shekels or drachmas or denariis and some authors place the value of those 30 pieces of silver at around $15,000. The value doesn't really matter though, because if I'm honest, I've sold Jesus for much less.
When I choose to watch a movie with questionable content, I am selling Jesus. When I engage in a conversation or mocking gossip that wounds others, I am selling Jesus. When I lie or exaggerate, I am selling Jesus. When I choose anger instead of forgiveness, worry instead of worship, impulse instead of prayer, I am selling Jesus.
At the end of the day, I have sold my savior for much less than $15,000. I am Judas. I am the one desperate for forgiveness. I am the one tempted. I am the one in need of grace.
And the next time I try to judge someone as a "bad guy," I hope I'll remember that.
Rest.
The goal of this site is to provide, short, quick thoughts about God and the Bible. Nothing more, nothing less. And today’s is going to be exactly that.
Yesterday I read something in Luke 23 that I thought was interesting. This is the chapter where Luke details the death of Christ, but these two verses are at first glance, very tiny. This is all they said;
55The women who had come with Jesus from Galilee followed Joseph and saw the tomb and how his body was laid in it. 56Then they went home and prepared spices and perfumes. But they rested on the Sabbath in obedience to the commandment.
In the midst of Christ’s death on the cross they’re pretty small, but I don’t think the Bible has many bridge sentences. That is sections that are only there to connect two important things. I think when you look, when you study, you can see the meaning behind even the smallest verses.
When I looked at these, I was surprised to find a powerful testament to the importance of the Sabbath. Christ had died. These women were going to perfume and honor his body. But they waited a day because it was the Sabbath. They put the Sabbath above the need to treat Christ’s body with respect and tenderness. They “told” Christ “wait” so they could keep the Sabbath.
I don’t keep the Sabbath right now. I do freelance work on Sundays and check my work email address and do about a billion things that probably break the Sabbath. But maybe I need to rethink that. Maybe I need to treat it like these women did. Maybe I need to jump it above everything else and just be still on Sundays. Maybe you and I need to just rest.
Yesterday I read something in Luke 23 that I thought was interesting. This is the chapter where Luke details the death of Christ, but these two verses are at first glance, very tiny. This is all they said;
55The women who had come with Jesus from Galilee followed Joseph and saw the tomb and how his body was laid in it. 56Then they went home and prepared spices and perfumes. But they rested on the Sabbath in obedience to the commandment.
In the midst of Christ’s death on the cross they’re pretty small, but I don’t think the Bible has many bridge sentences. That is sections that are only there to connect two important things. I think when you look, when you study, you can see the meaning behind even the smallest verses.
When I looked at these, I was surprised to find a powerful testament to the importance of the Sabbath. Christ had died. These women were going to perfume and honor his body. But they waited a day because it was the Sabbath. They put the Sabbath above the need to treat Christ’s body with respect and tenderness. They “told” Christ “wait” so they could keep the Sabbath.
I don’t keep the Sabbath right now. I do freelance work on Sundays and check my work email address and do about a billion things that probably break the Sabbath. But maybe I need to rethink that. Maybe I need to treat it like these women did. Maybe I need to jump it above everything else and just be still on Sundays. Maybe you and I need to just rest.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
The reason I read the Bible.
The reason I read the bible is pretty simple. For me, it gives God words. I feel like the more I read, the more source material God can pull from. Not that he needs the bible to speak to me, but I need the bible to understand him.
For instance, on its own, if God told me, “don’t count your men,” I wouldn’t know what that meant. That statement, removed from Biblical context, doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. But because I read 2 Samuel 24, I have an idea of what he’s talking about and it’s an oddly appropriate story.
In that chapter, David counts his fighting men as a way to reassure himself. He wants to feel strong and powerful and so he numbers how many fighting men he has. It’s a big production, with God and even satan coming into the picture when a number counting incident is mentioned in 1 Chronicles 21. The lesson though is pretty clear, trust God, not your numbers.
What are your numbers? My numbers are the web traffic from these blogs. That’s really silly considering how small they are, but there it is. I am like a gambler pulling a slot machine handle when I sit at my computer and hit refresh over and over again on my Google analytics tool. I don’t know why I do it so often. Maybe it makes me feel successful knowing X amount of people are reading my stuff from XX amount of countries around the world.
But it’s similar to David counting his men. Ultimately, it’s not about traffic or conversion or hits or unique visitors. It’s about being a faithful steward of my talents. So starting today, I’m going to check my traffic once a week. Nothing more, nothing less.
How about you? Is there a bank account you count often? Do you manically look for new emails or count the number of friends you have on Facebook?
Is there an area of your life you need to quit counting and start trusting God in?
For instance, on its own, if God told me, “don’t count your men,” I wouldn’t know what that meant. That statement, removed from Biblical context, doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. But because I read 2 Samuel 24, I have an idea of what he’s talking about and it’s an oddly appropriate story.
In that chapter, David counts his fighting men as a way to reassure himself. He wants to feel strong and powerful and so he numbers how many fighting men he has. It’s a big production, with God and even satan coming into the picture when a number counting incident is mentioned in 1 Chronicles 21. The lesson though is pretty clear, trust God, not your numbers.
What are your numbers? My numbers are the web traffic from these blogs. That’s really silly considering how small they are, but there it is. I am like a gambler pulling a slot machine handle when I sit at my computer and hit refresh over and over again on my Google analytics tool. I don’t know why I do it so often. Maybe it makes me feel successful knowing X amount of people are reading my stuff from XX amount of countries around the world.
But it’s similar to David counting his men. Ultimately, it’s not about traffic or conversion or hits or unique visitors. It’s about being a faithful steward of my talents. So starting today, I’m going to check my traffic once a week. Nothing more, nothing less.
How about you? Is there a bank account you count often? Do you manically look for new emails or count the number of friends you have on Facebook?
Is there an area of your life you need to quit counting and start trusting God in?
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