Our Burden Really Is Light

Light and pink.

Normally I have no idea what I’m going to write here in this space until I sit down and spend time in the quiet with Jesus each morning. But I’ve known since yesterday that I was going to write this post today, when I was in the process of writing that our role is simply to say yes

What I want to share with you is something that totally changed everything for me when it comes to understanding what we do and what God does in our process of formation. 

Yesterday, I wrote that our role is simply to notice God’s activity in our lives and then to say yes to it. Our role is to say yes and to embrace his work. I wrote that God does the hard work — all we do is choose to participate. 

But what does our participation look like? What does it mean to say yes? 

Enter the principle of indirection. This is something I first discovered about three years ago, and it completely blew my mind. 

The principle basically says this: 

We do what we can do (something within our power to do) in order to provide an opportunity for God to do in us what we cannot do for ourselves (something outside the scope of our power). 

Usually this means choosing something tangible to practice intentionally and regularly for a season — something it is not difficult for us to exert our will to do — and doing it with the trust and intention for God to do the hard work of changing our character in the places he wants it changed. 

That’s what I mean about him doing what we cannot do. We cannot change ourselves; only he can. But we can participate by acknowledging that we’re aware he wants to work in us and by choosing something small to practice as an acceptance of that work.

This is the idea that backs up Jesus’ words that he came to heal the sick, for the sick cannot heal themselves.

It’s the idea that backs up what Paul promises about how God, who began a good work in us, will be faithful to complete it. It’s the idea that backs up what is told to us about Jesus washing us and then presenting us clean and perfect and pristine before the throne of God in the end.

It’s the idea that backs up all those passages I quoted from Romans 3-5 yesterday about God’s role and our role in the life we share with him.

Our burden really is light because our participation — our saying yes — simply means choosing to do something that is safely within our power to do, trusting that God will supernaturally use it to change our very nature. 

This is not onerous work. It is not meant to be. But it is meant to be intentional. And it is meant to be done with the trust that God is the one who changes us.

Hat tip: I actually wrote about the principle of indirection here about three years ago, when I first learned about it and was starting to have my mind blown by the concept. If you’d like to hear some specific examples of what the principle of indirection can look like in an ordinary life (my own), check out the original article that shares the way I began to practice it from the beginning. 

What simple, faithful choice might you adopt to enter into the acceptance of the work God is about in you right now?

Our Role Is Simply to Say Yes

All we have to do is say yes.

I’ve been reading the book of Romans lately, and I keep getting stuck at chapters 3-5. These are pretty mind-blowing chapters that teach us so much more than I can even wrap my head around about what God does and what we do. 

These chapters say things like this: 

God sets things right. He also makes it possible for us to live in his rightness. 

God sets right all who welcome his action and enter into it. 

Abraham entered into what God was doing for him. He trusted God to set him right instead of trying to be right on his own. 

It was by embracing what God did for him that Abraham was declared fit before God.

This is why the fulfillment of God’s promise depends entirely on trusting God and his way, and then simply embracing him and what he does.

We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment that he has already thrown open his door to us.

God is the one who does the work. Our job is simply to say yes — to receive and enter into what God’s doing.

I look at my life and see that I may participate in the burnishing and refinement process of my life — the hot fires that make us pliable as he forms us into the image he has always had in mind for who we are — but God is the one doing the actual molding all along. He is the one who conceived of the original image he wanted to create in me from the beginning. He’s the one who went about working with conditions and creating new conditions and then molding and forming me through those conditions into the image he wants in me.

All I have had to do is allow it to happen. 

But let’s be truthful: this “allowing it to happen” isn’t always easy.

It pushes against what we’ve learned so far in life and how we normally operate. It can bring us face to face with pieces of ourselves that aren’t so pretty, and we’d much rather look away or brush them under the couch or push them into a corner closet and then close and lock the door. We may be scared to death of what God’s doing or wants to do because we can’t see the outcome, because it means relinquishing control, and because we’re not (yet) so sure he’s worth trusting with the reins of our lives.

But this, too, is something true: God’s original image of you is brilliant. Glorious. Beautiful. Perfect.

It may take hot fires and great discomfort and courage to live into that original image, but nothing else on earth compares to the result.

Where in your life is God inviting you to say “yes” to his touch right now? 

How Do You Connect to God Right Where You Are?

His morning routine.

In the last several months, I’ve noticed a theme crop up in numerous conversations with friends, acquaintances, and strangers. That theme has, at its root, a question:

What does it look like for me to connect to God in my specific life station or personality type? 

This has a lot of bearing on the work done here at Still Forming, and I’ve begun to take this question seriously.

For instance, the foundation of this site is a week-daily invitation to a moment of stillness in your day. But what if moments of stillness rarely exist in your world? What do you do if quiet reflections of the heart are a luxury you can barely fathom?

Or, what if you’re an extrovert? What if you’d rather be outdoors than sitting quietly at your desk, reading the scriptures? What if you need to see and hear and touch God to know he’s real, rather than use your intuition?

In other words: 

Is there room for me and God to connect, no matter where I am in life or how I’m made? 

My response to that question is yes. And I’ll share more of my thoughts on this here with you as I continue to explore and consider the question. (Some of my thoughts on the question have been previously written here, here, here, and here.)

But for now, I’d like to open up an opportunity for you to share your input. 

Where is God where you live right now? How are you finding God in the midst of your current life station?

How do you connect to God through the way you’re made? How does he make himself uniquely personal to you and the person that you are?

More on Foundational Experiences

Sun peeking through.

I mentioned that I’d be writing a short series on discernment for the duration of this week, but we’ve gotten to the end of the week and I’m realizing there are a few more thoughts I’d like us to consider together on this subject. So I’ve decided to extend the discernment series a bit longer into next week. I hope that’s okay with you! 

Accordingly, today I’d like to revisit the ideas shared yesterday about our foundational experiences of God

I realized after writing that post that in asking you to consider your foundational experiences of God, those experiences may not have been positive. Perhaps you came into the faith without realizing fully what that meant. Perhaps you were raised in a church or a home where your understanding of faith was twisted into a pretzel and all that resulted was fear and confusion and pain. 

What we might term “foundational experiences of God” may be foundational indeed — but they may have done more harm than good, and now we’re left to pick up the pieces.

So today I’d like to invite you to consider your foundational experiences of God in a slightly different, more focused light. 

Let’s recall those moments in life when you just knew it was God. Perhaps it was a moment when the truth you’d learned about God’s love or truth or forgiveness or grace somehow clicked and became real for you, not just head knowledge anymore. Or perhaps it was a moment when you knew God intervened in circumstances because there was just no other possible explanation. Or perhaps it was as simple as a felt presence surrounding you or following you around or showing up at occasionally odd moments, and you just knew it was God somehow.

These are foundational experiences of God, too. They’re the foundational experiences of God that teach us, truly, who God is to us — how he intervenes in our lives and relates himself to us. 

This is the kind of foundational experience Jesus had in those baptismal waters when he heard that voice from heaven speaking his beloved sonship over him. He knew it was God. He knew it was truth. It was not twisted or confused in any way.

So, what about you?

What are those foundational experiences of God in your own life? What do they, upon considering them, speak to you about God? How did he relate himself to you in those moments? What did he communicate about himself to you? 

What Are Your Foundational Experiences of God?

Celtic cross of peace.

Three years ago, when I had just begun my training as a spiritual director, I attended an instructional retreat weekend that had the topic of discernment as its central focus.

On the very first evening of that retreat, we watched a short clip from Mary Ann Scofield, one of the founders of Spiritual Directors International, talking about our foundational experiences of God and how they can serve as touchstones in our ongoing lives of faith. And this past weekend, as I attended a similar retreat weekend on that same topic, we revisited this idea of foundational experiences of God and how they can serve us in our discernment processes. 

Consider the baptism experience of Jesus in Matthew 3.

Jesus comes up from the water, and a dove descends from the clouds as a voice from heaven says, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well-pleased.” This was a declarative moment in the life of Jesus — a moment that confirmed his identity not only as the Son of God, but also as one who is beloved. 

We see Jesus move from the bapstimal encounter into the wilderness, where he is tested by the devil at that very point of his identity. Three times, the devil tempts Jesus by saying, “If you really are the Son of God, do this … or this … or this.” He is testing the very meaning of what it means for Jesus to really be the Son of God, and Jesus must go back to that foundational encounter and remember. Reconnecting with his true identity that he received directly from God in that baptismal encounter allows him to respond to each temptation.

What about you? 

What foundational experiences of God have formed your life? What did those foundational experiences teach you about God and yourself? How might returning to those foundational moments serve you in your own process of discernment? 

He Comes to Us Where We Are

Light through leaves.

Yesterday I wrote about an experience I had recently of feeling like I was being grabbed by a ponytail on the top of my head and tossed about by the whims of others. I shared that I was able to see Jesus sitting nearby, inviting me to disengage from the abuse and come join him on the brownstone steps. I said I found it interesting that he didn’t come rescue me. 

Rescuing me, in the way I’ve previously experienced Jesus as my rescuer, would have looked like him coming to disengage me from the abuse himself. It would have looked like him coming out into the street, confronting the abusers, and pulling me safe into his arms and away from the scene of such pain. 

It would have looked like him rescuing and defending a young girl in the way she needs to be rescued and defended. 

But that’s not what happened. And what’s perhaps most surprising to me is that I was totally okay with that. 

It was a picture, for me, of my growth. I noticed that when I came to sit on the brownstone steps with Jesus, I was no longer a 3-year-old girl with a ponytail but an alive and strong 32-year-old woman who could sit shoulder to shoulder with Jesus and hold an adult conversation. It was so electrifying and invigorating to notice and experience that.. 

And it reminded me that he comes to us exactly where we are.

We’ve been talking about this in the Look at Jesus course I’m teaching right now. We’ve been noticing how differently Jesus responds to different groups and types of people. With some people, he’s gentle and kind. With others, he’s direct and abrasive. 

It can be unsettling to see the many different colors of Jesus in one huge array at once. 

But we’ve come to think it shows his genius — that it has to do with his ability to know exactly what a person needs and to meet them where they are, like the most perfect teacher or parent that ever existed. Some people need gentleness and kindness. Others need greater directness and candor. And others need something totally different than either of those things.

Jesus knows the difference and gives them the exact right thing. 

It reminds me of a moment several years ago when I really got at least part of the miracle of Paul’s teaching in Philippians 2: 

Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn’t claim special privileges. 

— Philippians 2:5-7

Now, there are many things to learn of God and Christ inside these words. But one thing these words teach us is the nature of Christ’s love. It’s a love that comes to us where we are. 

When I needed Jesus to rescue me in times past, he rescued me. When I needed him to hold me in his arms to comfort and soothe me, he did just that. And when I needed him to remind me of my strength, my volition, and my own dignity, like he did in the ponytail incident more recently, that’s what he did. 

He comes to us where we are. And where we are and what we need changes over time as we grow. This, too, is what spiritual formation is about. It’s about growing into the whole and complete person we are meant to be in God’s sight, and that changes over time as we grow into it.

How do you need Jesus to meet you right where you are right now? What does his coming to where you are look like in this particular time and place of your life and growth?

Continued Thoughts on Personality and Silence

Tree and field, shadow and light.

On a previous post, I shared that I have an extroverted friend who is helping me think about God in new ways.

We’ve been continuing our dialogue on introversion and extroversion, and I’ve been learning so much from him about how an extrovert can connect to God in meaningful ways. He’s been kind to share with me, for instance, some pretty amazing examples of how he connects to God that involve group discussion, podcasts, corporate worship experiences, and even exercise. 

Isn’t it amazing that God is bigger than our own personalities? I love that. 

I also love the way two readers here, Terri and Sara, helped me think more deeply about whether silence is the place we grow and heal. They were so wise to say that something being the case for one person doesn’t necessarily mean it is the case for everyone. I think this is so true, and a good reminder for all of us.

I know that for me in particular, being the contemplative introvert that I am, it can be easy to relate to the healing, nurturing side of silence and contemplative prayer. The words of Henri Nouwen and Thomas Merton, in particular, are so instructive and encouraging to me. They seem to speak my native language. 

But for someone like my extroverted friend, dialogue with other believers or experiencing the church in corporate worship can also be vastly healing and nurturing. God can be just as present and accessible in those places as he is in a hermitage or monastery or prayer closet. 

All of this has gotten me thinking about the many dimensions of God and his vast personality.

God’s being contains all of the proclivities and preferences that we as humans experience and exhibit. So no matter who we are or how we experience the world, we can find some measure of God there. 

Isn’t that kind of mind-blowing?

I love how vast God is. 

PS: Speaking of Terri, she wrote a beautiful reflection on how silence removes the usual barriers between us and our neighbors, which I found deeply edifying and helpful. Highly recommend!

You Needn't Be Scared of Him

Life sprouts in unexpected places.

I think it’s easy to think about God and be scared of him. Or even to think about Jesus, God made human, and be scared. After all, this is God we’re talking about. He’s holy and righteous. He set the world spinning. He gave us a moral conscience and cares about right and wrong. 

This morning, as I looked into the eyes of Jesus, I saw him acknowledging this — how easy it is to be afraid of him. 

But I also saw him asking me to tell you that you needn’t be afraid. 

There’s a story in the Chronicles of Narnia about Aslan the lion. He’s a huge lion with all the strength of a thousand men, and he can be quite ferocious, especially when confronting evil or protecting what is lovely.

And yet he befriends young children. He gives his own life to save the wayward one of them. He walks and talks with them, and they absolutely love him. 

There’s a line in that story about this lion named Aslan. They say: 

“He isn’t safe, but he’s good.” 

It’s so easy to equate safety with goodness, isn’t it? At least for me, it’s easy to equate the two. But that’s not what Jesus offers. He offers his goodness. He offers our best. He gives us the truth, even if the truth is hard to look at. 

But he’s good. He’s full of love. 

Do you ever feel scared of God? What scares you about him? What is it like to consider the invitation of Jesus not to be afraid? 

He Completely Understands You

Guarded by angels.

There’s this meditation prayer that Kirk’s spiritual director uses whenever they meet for a session, and Kirk often opens our prayer times together at home with it. It goes like this: 

Be still and know that I am God.

(pause)

Be still and know that I am.

(pause)

Be still and know.

(pause)

Be still.

(pause)

Be.

Last night, before we prayed together over the week, Kirk began our time together with this prayer. And as I took in that very first line, Be still and know that I am God, I couldn’t help but settle into the relief of who God is. 

God completely understands everything about us.

There’s no need for debriefing or creating context because he has always been there. He has seen every moment and knows every thought and feeling. He knows the reasons certain things worry us or distract us or confuse us. He knows the certain things that excite us or put us over the moon. 

There’s such relief in that, isn’t there? 

What is it like for you to experience relationship with a God who completely understands and already knows? 

The Infinite Patience of God

Gradations of light.

Hello, friends. 

This morning, as I held the recent reflection series we just completed in my mind, I talked with God about why that series was important. Besides what we discussed about how God feels about our hearts, why was it important to discuss it in such detail at the time that we did? 

I thought about the city image we’ve been discussing here for a while, and then was reminded of a more recent post offered here about a darkened hallway and the entrance of the light of Jesus into that place. Do you remember that post? 

In it, we talked about the intent of Jesus to come to you in the places you are. We talked about his desire to find you. But what happens when he does? 

On that post, one of our community members, Lisa, offered a beautiful and perceptive comment about the quality of experiencing Jesus in a place like that: 

That image of Jesus offering light … is hugely powerful for me. There is such gentleness and safety in it — not a God who forces, but who invites, and waits patiently, with love and peace in the waiting, and not condemnation or guilt. 

Isn’t that beautiful? I’m so glad she shared that she has come to experience Jesus in that way. 

Also as part of her comment, Lisa mentioned a book called Stumbling Toward Faith by Renee Altson that includes a meditation on the parable Jesus told about the ninety-nine sheep and the one that was lost. In that meditation, Renee identified strongly with that one lost sheep and, when found by Jesus and invited back to the fold, she felt herself unready to return. Renee ends the story, Lisa says, by sharing that the shepherd, Jesus, “sat and waited with her for a long time.” 

The shepherd, Jesus, sat and waited with her for a long time … until she was ready to take the next step. 

On my personal blog, Lilies Have Dreams, I’ve shared recently about a long and intentional journey I took with Jesus through the woods. It was a season of deep formation for me — a time when I learned some new truths about my heart, grew in a lot of ways, and experienced pain and joy at varying increments. 

What often stood out to me during those several months I traveled through the woods with Jesus was the infinite patience he displayed as he journeyed with me, no matter where on the path we found ourselves. Whether I was struggling to receive a new truth, grieving newly discovered pieces of my heart, or basking in the joy of God’s grace and presence and love — whether I experienced light or darkness at any point on the path — Jesus stayed with me and was fully present and waited every single time.

There was never any pressure or expectation to hurry up and get to the next step of the journey. He just stood and waited with me for as long as I needed. 

As you journey into discovering the truth of your heart, what is it like for you to consider receiving the infinite patience of God with you in each discovery? 

Are You in Touch With Your Heart?

Listen 2.

I remember the first time I really spent time getting to know Jesus (you can learn more about that time in my life in this video post here), I was struck by the disparity between the religious leaders of the day and Jesus.

They didn’t get along with Jesus at all, and he didn’t get along with them. And the reason why, I came to realize, was because they cared more than anything about keeping laws and abiding by rule books. What’s more, they cared about these things in order to impress God and impress people. 

They were caught up in their reputations and their own social image. 

But then Jesus came along and said, “This isn’t the way to God. Abiding by rules and protecting your image isn’t going to captivate God’s heart.”

What is going to captivate God’s heart? 

Being in touch with your own heart and bringing that reality to God.

When Jesus came on the scene, he went straight to this truth. He told those religious leaders — in not so endearing terms! — that they had no idea what was truly going on inside themselves. They were so focused on outward appearances and external activities that they were completely out of touch with their inner truth. They had no idea what truly motivated them to do what they did.

Are you aware of what’s true inside your heart? Is there anything that scares you about inspecting your heart and then letting God see it?

It's Love, Not Religion

Pew books 2.

Recently, a friend of mine who is going through a significant shift in her faith life sent me an e-mail asking the following: 

How do you do it? How do you go from a non-denominational church to an episcopal church? How do you post a prayer from St. Teresa of Avila on your website and still feel close to God? 

I can so relate to these questions.

I never knew the language and practices of church tradition could ever speak to me. I never knew written prayers — the same prayers people have been reading for centuries and are read by me, the same words, over and over again each week now — could speak to my heart in a real and deep way. 

I didn’t know those things could make me feel close to God, given my original church upbringing and experience. But they do. 

Here is what I answered my friend: 

You asked how I can go from a non-denominational church to an episcopal service or put a prayer of Teresa of Avila on my blog and feel close to God. I guess because when I read that prayer of hers or I visit the episcopal church, I feel like they put me in connection with the God I have come to love so much. It comes from a place of love in me that God has helped develop in me over the years. 

No matter what the external practice of our faith looks like — whether we attend a formal or informal church, our prayers take a certain format or are more free-flowing and spontaneous — it’s the inward posture of our heart that makes the difference and matters to God. 

That inward posture God desires in us is one of love. 

Two people can attend the same liturgical church service, say all the same prayers, and go forward for the same invitation to communion but have two totally different experiences. For one, those prayers and that eucharist can touch the deepest places of their heart and connect them to God because their heart is oriented toward reverence and deep desire for God. For the other, those actions can be mere routine, something they do not experience at all in their hearts, something they do because it’s what they’ve always done and think they’re meant to do. 

Where do you fit in this?

Do you have love for God? Do you desire to love God, even if you don’t right now? What moves you toward or away from that love for God in your heart?

God Is Greater Than Our Consciousness

Inside the chapel.

I mentioned in a previous post that Kirk and I have been attending a contemplative eucharist service on Sunday evenings at a little episcopal church around the corner from our house. I’ve come to love the rhythm of stillness, attentiveness, and quiet that the service invites into our life each week. We usually arrive about 15 minutes early to settle into the quietness of the chapel and still our hearts before God. The lights are dimmed, with candles burning and sacred chant music playing quietly in the background. It’s really something special to have found.

A couple weeks ago, as I sat in stillness before the service began, looking up at the altar and listening to the soft chant music, I was struck by the immeasurability of God. The thought crossed my mind: “God is greater than our consciousness.” 

I often talk of the personal, tender, and compassionate nature of God. I have experienced the closeness of Christ and know that his eye is on the sparrow just as much as it’s on me. All of that is so, so true, and it brings me great joy and hope to have come to know God in that way. 

But it is also true that God is far beyond our consciousness. 

There are no words that can fully contain God. There are no man-made categories that will ever be enough to describe or understand who God is. God is beyond our comprehension, and all words and images given to us to understand God are still merely a shadow of God’s reality. 

In some ways, I think the words and images given to us to understand those mere shadows are a reflection of God’s compassionate mercy toward us. God wants to be known by us, but it is also true that we can never fully comprehend the vastness of God. Words and images are like clay pots that hold just a portion of who God is … but how wonderful to have been given clay pots instead of nothing.

I used to feel a bit put off by this notion of the incomprehensibility of God. It made God feel so far away, too big for us. 

Now I find it rather comforting. I want a God who knows more than I know and holds within his nature and his knowledge and ability more than any human being can ever fathom. That is what makes God, God. There is a rest and a trust that can be found there. 

How does this notion strike you? What is it like to consider the closeness of God alongside the vastness of God? 

Will You Let Him Hold You?

Come and rest. Receive the light and peace.

For the last couple months, Kirk and I have been attending a new contemplative eucharist service at the little episcopal parish around the corner from our house on Sunday evenings.

We’ve visited the church off and on over the last five years, and every time we are drawn in by the teaching and joyful spirit of the rector, Father Rob, as well as the holy feel of the beautiful chapel with its high beams, polished wood pews, incense and candles, and beautiful stained glass. It’s truly an inspiring place we’re thankful to have found, and this new contemplative eucharist service, with its slow pace, long periods of silence, candles, and sacred music, especially invites my heart settle into its more natural posture of rest before God. 

Last night, during the short reflection the rector offers after the Scriptures are read in the service, Father Rob spoke about God’s primary response of mercy toward us. He quoted an old traditional prayer called the prayer of humble access, which says: 

We do not presume to come to this thy table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy table. But thou art the same Lord, whose property is always to have mercy.

I thought of that prayer this morning as I brought my heart before God to start the day. My spirit felt heavy, and my heart low and weary. I looked at Christ this morning, who is full of such strength, and I had not the strength in myself to rise and meet him. 

I just needed his tenderness. 

This need for Christ’s tenderness this morning reminded me of a sweet and intimate prayer time he and I shared several weeks ago. I had begun to learn some of the ways he is inviting me to partner with him in the work he is about in this world, and a little voice inside me began to wonder if I had lost my unique specialness to him. Was I simply going to be an appendage to his work now, a convenient pair of hands that he can use? 

I hated asking those questions because they ran so contrary to the truths I’ve learned of Jesus and of my value to him. But there they were: those questions that queried my unique worth beyond what I could and would do with and for him. 

On that day several weeks ago, Jesus stopped what he was doing — all the preparations and activity he was about concerning the work we are going to be doing together — and came near. He sat down next to me, put his arm around my shoulder, and drew me close. He let me rest my head upon his chest for as long as I wanted. And when I looked into his eyes, I saw how much he knows and loves me.

I am not just a pair of hands. I am not just a worker in his fields. I am known.

I wonder today if you need a similar moment of quiet tenderness with Christ. As the prayer says, God’s first instinct toward you is always mercy, always love. He will come near and hold you if you’d like him to. 

Will you invite his arms around you right now?

Healing Is in His Hands

If you can’t see the video in your e-mail or RSS feed, click through to view it here.

I mentioned last week that my prayer times with Jesus lately have evidenced his deep intent to come to where you are — that he is praying over you and cares for you with a great compassion and a fierce urgency. 

As I continue to spend time with Jesus each day, I see him continuing to pray with great intent over the place you live. As he prays and prepares to enter in and find you, I am looking upon a great city and know that he will come to each and every place inside of it to find you. He will enter buildings and walk on streets and sit inside taxi cabs to encounter you and have you know him and be known by him. 

He will even come to the lost and forgotten places in the dark where you may hide.

He will not overlook a single nook and cranny. He will not give up his search for you. He will enter your dark places with the light of his love and truth. He will encounter you on the sidewalk and offer you new life. He seeks to enliven and redeem and restore all of who you are.

The song above is his promise. No matter where you are or what you have encountered, no matter what you feel or what you believe, his love for you is strong and wide and deep and high and never-ending. All the healing you need and seek is found in his capable and redemptive hands. 

Will you allow him to find you?

What Jesus Is Here to Offer You

Prayer candles.

Jesus did not begin his work of ministry on the earth until he was 30 years old.

For the first 30 years of his life, he grew up in his family home with brothers and sisters, learned the family trade to become a carpenter, honored his father and mother, and engaged the leaders in the synagogue regularly concerning the teachings of the Scriptures.

The book of Luke says that as Jesus grew up, he “grew strong in body and wise in spirit. And the grace of God was on him” (Luke 2:38). It also says that “Jesus matured, growing up in both body and spirit, blessed by both God and people” (v. 52).

But it wasn’t until Jesus was 30 years old that he came into the public eye as the proclaimed Messiah that Israel had been waiting for.

At that time, he went down to the Jordan River to be baptized by John the Baptist. Then he received the Holy Spirit and went straight into the desert for 40 days to fast. While he was in the desert, the devil tempted him several times to give up his position as the Son of God and the work of ministry he was about to set out to do.

But he emerged from those temptations victorious, and when he came out of the wilderness after 40 days of wandering around inside of it, he went straight to the temple in Nazareth to begin his life of ministry among the people.

Do you know what Jesus said to the people to officially mark the beginning of his purposed work? He told everyone seated in the temple that day what he, the Messiah, had come to do. He opened the scroll to the book of Isaiah and read these words: 

“The Spirit of God, the Master, is on me

   because God anointed me.

He sent me to preach good news to the poor,

   heal the heartbroken,

Announce freedom to all captives,

   pardon all prisoners.

God sent me to announce the year of his grace —

   a celebration of God’s destruction of our enemies —

   and to comfort all who mourn,

To care for the needs of all who mourn in Zion,

   give them bouquets of roses instead of ashes,

Messages of joy instead of news of doom,

   a praising heart instead of a languid spirit.” 

— Isaiah 61:1-3 

Here is what Jesus has to offer you.

He comes to bring you welcome news. He comes to heal you. He wants to set you free from bondage. He comes to pardon you. He is here to bring you comfort. He comes to destroy your enemies. He’s here to care for your needs. He brings you beauty instead of ashes. He brings you joy instead of gloom. He is here to fully restore your languishing heart.

Do you want to receive this gift from Jesus? 

It's Just Jesus

The face of Christ.

I’ve been quite taken by surprise over these last couple weeks as Jesus has shown to me his deep intention regarding you. The surprise has come from noticing the way everything else has fallen away. 

All that matters is Jesus. 

I’m not someone who has been particularly bold about Jesus in my life’s journey. There came a point where he inserted himself much more prominently into my life and experience of God than I’d ever experienced him before, and that was a deeply personal encounter of God for me. I shared it with those closest to me as it unfolded over time, and those who know me best know that I have a particular love and special connection to Jesus. 

But that wasn’t something I boldly invited others to experience. It was simply my own experience. 

It’s very clear to me now that Jesus wants me to share him with you.

He wants me to invite you to notice him, to consider him, to get to know who he is, and to hold and consider the invitations he offers you. 

He wants me to invite you to turn and look at him and then discover what you see in looking at him. Here is what the apostle Paul says we will discover: 

We look at this Son and see the God who cannot be seen. We look at this Son and see God’s original purpose in everything created. For everything, absolutely everything, above and below, visible and invisible, rank after rank after rank of angels — everything got started in him and finds its purpose in him.

— Colossians 1:15-16

What matters most to me now is this idea that Jesus is the central truth. In the end, it’s all about Jesus. 

This is why I’m creating the Gospel immersion course, to be offered here in the fall. I am also in the process of creating a video that shares more of my heart toward you concerning this course and will give you a sense of what the course will be like as you consider joining us for that journey. (And I certainly hope you will!)

I cannot fathom a more important journey than the one of getting to know Jesus, the one who holds everything together and is the visible image of the invisible God and who teaches us who we really are. 

What are your impressions of Jesus? Do you have any desire to get to know more of who he really is?

He Is Praying Over You

Light of prayer.

One thing I’ll say is that Jesus and I communicate through images a lot. If you’ve ever followed along on my personal blog for any length of time, you’ll know what I mean when I say that. In that space, over the last several years, I have occasionally shared stories of how God has shown up in images to me and used them to teach me about himself and his heart toward me, and also to teach me about myself. 

The same is true in this space.

For the last couple months, ever since I began the commitment of writing these week-daily reflective posts for you, I have sat in prayer with Jesus every morning and talked with him about what he wants to say to you here each day. In those times of prayer, he and I are often walking and talking together about you. Sometimes we stop and sit on a bench for the conversation. Other times he has led me to surprising places, such as the large and sturdy rock he wanted me to show you. 

Each of those daily conversations inform what I write in this space for you each day.

Yesterday, I shared with you that a sense of urgency has evidenced itself in my prayer times with Jesus of late. I told you that he has set his face toward you and is very intentionally walking faster toward the places where you are. 

That sense of urgency began to crop up in these morning prayer times in the last week or two. On the very first morning it happened, we went from walking and talking together at a slow and even pace to suddenly walking much more quickly up a hill. Rather than walking side by side, Jesus was leading me somewhere. I followed, wondering what was on his mind and in his intent.

He led me to the top of a hill, and together we looked down upon a city in the distance. It was the city where you live and move each day. He showed me we were going there. And then he drew my attention to this passage of Scripture:

Then Jesus made a circuit of all the towns and villages. He taught in their meeting places, reported kingdom news, and healed their diseased bodies, healed their bruised and hurt lives. When he looked out over the crowds, his heart broke. So confused and aimless they were, like sheep with no shepherd.

— Matthew 9:35-37

Jesus has come upon the place where you live, and his heart has broken for you. As we stood atop that hill, he looked down at that city where you live and prayed over you out of the fullness of his heart and the compassion that moves him to care for and come after you. 

He is coming to where you are, and he wants to give you life. 

Will you let him enter the place where you live?