Red-faced

Jesus, welcome to earth
red-faced and wearing
a frail human body
your own, now.

You are not trapped here, no,
leaving is something.
Just say it, something like
I'm Done With You, Kids.

If you want to stay, run.
Swiftly south.
You are a wanted child, and someday, baby Jesus
they will finally find you.

Cry, but don't sweat it.
This isn't your life,
nor your plan.
Cry, but don't let it get to you, child.

What's next is in your Father's hands
and these next few years you will know Him well
and someday you will say with otherworldly confidence:
if you know me, you know Him.

But they'll call you a drunkard and a glutton
a friend of sinners and tax collectors.
Oh, well,
can't please them all.

Someday,
your friend Peter will hear you ask him to, "Feed my sheep"
knowing full well that
you have always done just that.

Jesus, let it all go, everything not from the Father
because it's all about Him now
and you will give your life for these children of his,
these sheep.

Baby, baby,
you're free to live for yourself
or to give it all away.
Welcome to earth.

How to talk to an ornery OTR truck driver who's just about lost his marbles trying to jackknife his rig into the dock

There ain’t no class A minus

So stop all your whining.

Everyone else can do it, so

Put her in gear and move it.

Chock when you’re done,

Bathrooms at the front.

And, DUDE, you could really use some home time

For a shower yourself.

I was there, too

I was there when He put together this thing in my life called the Kingdom, the unshakeable thing called Love. I was there when it happened, and yet I still fail to understand the gravity of what exactly is happening. It's not skepticism that elicits this confusion; it's realizing that I'm living the greatest mystery every conceived: God as Christ in man, for the glory of the Father. This is it. This is my life, just another day, just another chance to live this mystery. I've been commanded to "Walk by faith and not by sight," and I'll do just that today.

I would write you a sonnet

But that would be trying too hard. What am about to say is me, revealed through a keyboard, and published through electrons flying through some silicon circuits. If that isn't enough, you already know what I'm writing as I write, so there's no need to publish. Still, we go forward.

Jesus, I admire you, man. You really did it all. You lived a good life, with a job and maybe some friends to show for it all. You didn't have a wife or kids. Maybe, they wondered about that, but it didn't seem to bother them. I think they liked you, Jesus. I wouldn't say you were popular because I don't know, but I honestly believe you were a friend to many people before you started your public ministry.

And then, your mom came and tapped you on the shoulder, and you didn't want to start yet. But you did, anyway. Jesus, are you a mama's boy? I think that you are. That's not a bad thing; I am, too.

And then, you began pouring yourself out, Jesus. Every day you did. Why, sometimes, I can barely believe the stuff you put up with! Sinful people, unbelieving hearts, a rebellious generation. You just took it in stride; you knew you were here to serve. You didn't worry about yourself; you poured yourself out.

And here I am, Jesus, barely able to contain my love for you. I just suck at loving you. I feel that most days, when Holy Spirit fire doesn't burn a path from my car into the receiving dock where I punch the clock and pray for civility until I can go back home and wonder why I didn't do more for you.

And here I am, Jesus, barely able to contain my excitement for you. Jesus, your wedding is coming soon. You so deserve it, man! I can't wait to see you in your suit, the one you picked out just for the occasion. What will you wear? I'm sure you'll look awesome!

Sometimes, Jesus, I feel you're near and that the world is well. Actually, that's not true. You're near, but the world is not well. The world is swiftly going berserk. I promise you it is, Jesus. There's nothing good about the news that we see; it's all the same empty promises from politicians and no real hope for the future apart from you. Obama who? He's just a dude from Chicago; he's not going to save the whole world unless someone much bigger than him intervenes. Right?

Jesus, you've taught me so much in my short life. You instructed me about your Father's Law, and then you showed me how you would fulfill it. You fulfilled it in me. That's what I'm talking about, man! You really did it! Good job, Jesus! I love the works you've done. They are like fresh water in the mouth of a desert wanderer. Your works all add up to good!

Take these prayers, Jesus, and really think about them, because you deserve praise. No one deserves praise but you. I hope that, today, you see and hear and smell a whole host of people worshipping you in Spirit and in Truth. You deserve it.

Love,

Andrew

This is what you get

I'll tell you what I'll tell you, I'll tell it, and then I'll tell you what I told you.

God is faithful.

Many of the Christ follower's struggles come from wrong perceptions or beliefs about the character of God. Simply, we do not believe he is who he says he is. This lack of faith is unbelief, and unbelief is a sin. It's a crippling sin, too, because faith is what the ancients were commended for. Without faith, it is impossible to please God. No faith, no commendation, but if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us.

God is faithful.

My prayer: That I might rise up from the decay of mediocrity into the truth of Christ, the Word and the Son of God. Christ is Lord over all things. I submit to his purposes. I think not of myself, in the end, but of Him and his calling. Presently, there is nothing I want more than to find myself on the receiving end of this prayer. Until then, God is faithful.

Together Again ... Newly

Dear God,

I make a bad show of following you, I really do. Because my life feels like a rollercoaster, and not the smooth kind with sexy inversions and air brakes that hiss pleasingly as the kids' screaming fades to laughter and smiles.

My roller coaster is the Chiropractor's Special, that 4:59 minute ride that jars every bone in your body at least ten times. My roller coaster is wooden, a bit mysterious and only ridden often by the kids who are too lazy to wait in lines.

I feel this way, I really do, like my attempts to follow you take me down the iron track of a vicious wooden monster. And so, to cope with the roller coaster, I turn to God. And back to God. And back to God again.

But what about the Gospel I know and believe? What about that? What does the Gospel have to do with the roller coaster? Well, not much, because the Gospel is about sin and salvation of the entire human race, not one person's struggle for significance and inner peace in his or her day-to-day life.

And I've struggled, for some time, with thoughts of selfishness when I know I ought to be selfless. I ought to give all I am for this Gospel, but instead I am inside my head. I'm perfectly content with who I am, I suppose. I'm a good and moral person; I lack in some ways. But there's this Gospel there, that calls me to follow Christ and spread the good news in ways that are unbelievable. Dead shall be raised. Blind shall see. Faith like a child shall rule the day.

I feel like a pile of crap because my brothers and sisters around the world are just fighting for bread, for freedom and for their lost countrymen. I so want to join in the fight, but I feel to rich, spoiled and selfish to even know where to start.

I suppose I shouldn't start with me or what I bring. For if I bring $1 million or $1, I bring me, all of me. That's all I can bring. I bring my love, my respect, my kindness, my ability to persevere, my sense of duty and significance, my wisdom, my hope, my peace, my joy. I bring all these things, by the grace of God.

I bring myself, just as I am. And that is always enough.

This time around, I bring myself, but it's not about me. I choose to go forward.

But I can't. Because I've been riding this coaster for a couple weeks now, and all I know is I want to get off. I don't know how. God will have to take me off. God will have to help me. I could keep writing, or I could start praying. The choice is entirely mine.

I choose the latter.

Love,
Andrew, your human/perfectionist son

p.s. Maybe this prayer/letter is too personal for a blog, but nobody reads this anyway!

Evil days

Positively, wherever you go, there you will be
But if you are asked to leave that place,
Don't hesitate.
Don't wait.
Run.
Fly.
GO!