Don’t you wish God spoke through a giant intercom to us, leaving no doubt as to what he’s saying? 

I sure do. 

But doesn’t he seem to whisper a lot?  Perhaps it’s to quiet our hearts and minds from the noise of this life.  When someone’s talking loud, you can multitask.  When someone whispers you have to pay close attention. 

You have to get real quiet. 

I’ve been trying to do that more than ever lately.  God has done some things this year that have blown me away, taken me places I never thought I’d be, and allowed me to wrestle through my doubts.  I’m extremely grateful. 

Right now, in the stillness of my heart, I hear God saying two things…both of which are hard to accept and live out at times.  I feel him saying:

• Take risks.  Risks me with me are always worth it.
• I love you in spite of your doubts. 

So I’m taking some risks and dreaming big, trusting that the fear and uncertainty of a risk with him will develop my character and give me hope.  Trusting that he will use the power that doubt sometimes has over my own life to instead display his glory.  Remembering that it’s only fear.  That a better story would be written because of it. 

What do you feel like God’s saying to you right now?  Perhaps there’s something that you’re reminded over and over during this particular season of your life.  That’s what is happening right now for me.   What do you hear in his whispers? 

And, if you find yourself caught up in the noise, I encourage you to get somewhere quiet.  I’m talking super-awkward quiet.  Find a place to be still…

and listen.

I’ve been reading “The Weight of Glory” by CS Lewis lately, and it has repeatedly stopped me dead in my tracks.  Have you ever had a book do that to you over and over again? (besides the Bible)

Lewis’ works are not really the type that allow for glossing over.  No, his are the kind that can cause one to think on a single statement for days upon end.

That’s happening today.

I keep going back to the very beginning of the book to read this statement:

Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak.  We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea.  We are far too easily pleased.

Think on those words for a bit…or a few weeks, perhaps.

Isn’t that true, though?  I know it is for me a lot of the time.  How often have I found satisfaction in the temporary when I’ve been promised something that is so much greater?  I’m sure it’s because these things are still unseen to me.  Jesus was the image of the invisible God.  He’s enough…always was, always will be.

It’s easy to get comfortable making things in the mud.
Accepting that things will never change.
Becoming complacent.

Today, I want to remember the holiday.  The promise of something that I cannot even begin to fathom.  It’s hard to be mindful of it when so many things present themselves as temporary pleasures.

But, this promise is better.

ht: sam

May we not be too easily pleased.

I specifically asked God a while back to help me to take risks this year.  Not more risks, but risks in general.

I think I’ve really only taken three in my entire life.

Pathetic.

A new risk was added a few weeks ago.  In the time I’ve had to reflect, I can honestly say that I’m both surprised and glad that I took the risk.  

Years ago I would have dismissed the idea before even considering it.

Thankfully, things can change for someone like me.

And you, too.

A friend of mine, who I’m connected with at work, shared a great story with me just over a year ago.  He is very involved with youth ministry, and one example is a camp in Northern Arizona for kids with disabilities.  He told me the story of a boy who was severely handicapped, and how one part of the camp allowed for these kids to participate in a special ropes course, with a zip-line  at the end.  These guys and girls can participate in this course without the reminder of the disability that so often holds them back from “normal” activities.

The course started out with a series of platforms that you had to step off of and make your way to the next one via the ropes.  Before stepping off of the platform, this young man would freeze with fear.  You know – legs shaking, teeth chattering, the works.  The leaders would ask him, “do you want to come down?”  ”You don’t have to go any farther than you want.”  Eventually, he would take the step off the platform and make his way to the next, only to be overcome by fear again.  The leaders asked the same questions every time, and after about an hour the young man made his way to the end of the course.

My friend said that he asked the boy, “why didn’t you just come down when you got scared?”

He answered, “It was only fear, that’s all.”

That’s how I want to see the risks that God asks me to take.  Is it scary?  Sure it is.  If it’s not scary you’re either not paying attention or dead.  That’s why they call it a risk and not “safe”.  But, you and I must remember that it’s only fear that’s holding us back.  That’s crippling us. 

Sometimes we can’t shake it.  We’re frozen.  There’s seemingly no way out.  But, if we look at God for who he really is and not what we’ve made him, we’ll see an awesome and powerful God who is for us…not against us.  What can fear do to us when we know this?  Nothing.  It can only be fear.  Nothing more, nothing less. 

He’s already overcome it. 

Trusting that he did?  Now that’s a risk right there…

“Here I raise my ebenezer, hither by Thy help I’ve come…”

Today holds value in terms of markers in my life.  And I can honestly (and embarrasingly) say that it’s a rare day.

You see, I’m taking a risk today.  A pretty big one for me, at least.

And I am not good at taking risks.  Trust issues, I suppose.

Today I’m flying to Nashville to record a 6-song EP with Jeremy Casella.  I’ll be going nonstop from Thursday to Sunday.  I’m super excited and super afraid at the same time.  I believe this is what qualifies it as a real risk, right?

This is a time to remember where God has shown up before.

And He has a lot.

Today I’m resting in the truth of what God says about me, not what I think about myself in my insecurity.  I would greatly appreciate your prayers, specifically that I don’t talk myself out enjoying something that God has provided for in so many mind-blowing ways.

When was the last time you took a risk?

What became of it?

This is weighing heavily on my mind lately.

When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face.  Jesus said to them, “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.“

The story of Lazarus is the story of us.

If you’ve never read it, it’s in John 11. Take the time to read it if it’s new to you.  I’ve heard it and read it many times myself, and I’ve always focused on the fact that Jesus was deeply moved and mourned the loss of his friend (knowing very well that he was going to raise him from the dead).  This story amazingly shows the truth of Jesus being fully man and fully God.

But have you ever paid any attention to the last line?  I can’t say that I always have.  But it’s profound…

“Take off the grave clothes and let him go.”

You see, Lazarus was indeed raised from the dead, just as Jesus intended.  However, to everyone watching he still resembled a dead man.  Why?

Because of the grave clothes.

All of the strips of linen with spices underneath to keep ‘ole Lazarus from smelling foul in the tomb was still on him after he was resurrected.

He still appeared dead.

But he didn’t need them any longer.  Jesus had called him into life, but Lazarus was still identified by what was on him.

I think that’s why Jesus told the people to remove the grave clothes.  They had served their purpose while Lazarus lay in the tomb, but now he was called into something better.

You and I have been called out of death and into life if we follow Christ, so my question to you (and most certainly me) is:

Don’t you think it’s time we remove the grave clothes?

Do we live our lives wrapped in grave clothes, when we’ve been called out of the tomb?  Are we identified by our bindings and fetters instead of our call to freedom in Him?

I think it’s time for them to go.

And I think Jesus thinks so even more.