BUT GOD…

The word but gets a bad rap.  But is often the beginning of an excuse: “I would have been at work on time BUT I had a flat tire.”   

But often precedes something that you are doing wrong: “You’re doing great in class, BUT you talk too much.” 

 But has even been known to break a heart or two: “You’re such a good friend, BUT I could never date you.”  This one hits particularly close to home.

A simple three letter word that so many of us don’t like to hear.  If you begin a sentence with it, you’re wrong.  If you use it to explain why you started a sentence with it, you’re still wrong.  And if you use it to explain to your parents why you talked back to your teacher after getting marked down on a paper for using it incorrectly, you get grounded.

There’s simply not a fun way to use that word.  And yet, with it, we are given a hope that is so far above any other hope, all other hopes look like little ants.

“But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved…” (Ephesians 2:4-6)

Don’t tell your English teacher! Paul started a sentence with but!

Wait…actually, go tell your English teacher.  Paul started a sentence with but, and that sentence is the hope your English teacher needs.  It’s the hope you need, the hope I need, and the hope to which we can cling so tightly to.

BUT GOD.

Look what came right before those two words: I was dead in my sins.  I walked in those sins, living in them every day.  I followed the prince of this world, Satan, the one who so enjoyed seeing me ALIVE IN SIN, but DEAD.  I was alive in my worldly passions, alive in the sins that brought glory to me.  I was a child of wrath, deserving the total wrath of the Creator of everything that is good. I was carrying out the desires of everything God stands against.

BUT GOD was rich in His mercy towards me, when I was most deserving of His wrath.

BUT GOD had a great love towards me, greater than any love I could fathom.

BUT GOD saw me dead in my trespasses, dead in my sin, dead in my flesh, and made me ALIVE in Christ Jesus.

BUT GOD gave me the free gift of His grace, not because of anything I did, but because of everything that HE IS.

BUT GOD brought me near to Him through the blood of Christ.

BUT GOD, seeing me in all my wretched sin, restored me to His presence.

And that’s hard for me to comprehend.  This whole thing would make more sense if the words were “So God…” I was dead; deserving of wrath, walking in sin, fulfilling the will of Satan against God, SO GOD let me continue without intervening.

Or if it sounded like this: I was dead, deserving of wrath, walking in sin, but realized the error of my ways, started repairing all of the wrong I had done, SO GOD decided to recognize my efforts.

BUT GOD said “BUT GOD.”

My hope is found in one simple conjunction that appears in a way it’s not supposed to appear in the English language.

BUT MY HOPE doesn’t conform to the English language, or to the American way of thought, or the human mind.  God has given me what I do not deserve, at the time when I did not deserve it the most. 
 

And He offers it freely, to anyone who is ready to hear that conjunction differently than they have ever heard or understood it before: You don’t deserve His grace or mercy, BUT GOD.

Jesus Knows Me

I'm a sports junkie.  If you've ever met me for even just a couple minutes, it's something you've probably picked up on.  And if you watch enough sports, you'll see some crazy things, and a lot of them don't even happen in the game itself.

In an October 2006 Monday Night Football game, the Arizona Cardinals played the Chicago Bears. The Bears were one of the best teams in the league, and the Cardinals, well, weren't.  Even so, the Cardinals jumped on top by 20 points, only to surrender the lead and lose the game 24-23.  The game itself was weird, but it's what happened after the game that sticks in my memory.

The coach of the Cardinals, Dennis Green, went on a post-game tirade in front of the media.  Visibly furious over the collapse of his team, a reporter asked him if the Bears showed them anything different than what they had game planned for.  Green went ballistic, uttering the phrase (with a couple colorful words mixed in) "The Bears are who we thought they were! They're what we thought they were!" He then smacked the microphone, and stormed out.

The tirade became an instant hit.  It was developed into a commercial and has since been played on TV countless times, but I remember it as if it happened last week.  The sentence Green yelled over and over is etched in my mind.  "They are who we thought they were!" The Cardinals had studied the Bears, seen all the tape, even played against them in the preseason.  They knew their formations, knew their tendencies, maybe even knew some of their signals.  Yet they still struggled to keep up.

There's a flip side, though: If the Cardinals knew who the Bears were, then the Bears knew even better who the Cardinals were! The Bears were the best team in the league.  They had the best coaching staff and the best players.  They probably knew things about the Cardinals that the Cardinals didn't even know about themselves.  And they were able to use those things to overpower them.

Result of the game aside, I believe that sentence speaks volumes into our walk with Christ.  We know who Christ is.  Whether or not you believe what you know is a different story.  There really is no mystery when it comes to His identity.  Christ knows even better who WE are.  He knows things about us that we don't even know ourselves.  So why do we struggle to rest in the fact that if Jesus says something about who WE ARE, it must actually be who we are?

______________________

I've had this song called "Seek The Lord" by Isaac Wimberley (find it here) running through my head for a week now.  I want to share a few lines from the song right now:

          "If God is who He says that He is,
           then He has done what He said that He has done.
           Which means that Jesus Christ is the Risen Son.
           And if God is who He says that He is,
           then I am who HE says that I am."

As a pastor to students, I get asked some pretty honest questions.  One that occasionally comes up is this: "How can you believe in something as crazy as a man who died and then rose from the dead?" So, I pull out my Bible and read 1 Corinthians 15.

"But if there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain. We are even found to be misrepresenting God, because we testified about God that he raised Christ, whom he did not raise if it is true that the dead are not raised.  For if the dead are not raised, not even Christ has been raised.  And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins.  Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied."

My answer is pretty simple.  If Jesus hasn't risen from the dead, then everything I teach and believe is useless and futile.  If I'm wrong, then it's a pretty sad life I've got.  BUT JESUS IS WHO HE SAYS HE IS.

I've studied enough Scripture, studied enough history, experienced enough in this life to understand one simple truth: JESUS HAS RISEN.  Jesus is alive.  And if Jesus really is alive, that tells me more about myself then I could ever hope to learn:

"For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them." (Ephesians 2:10)

"But to all who received Him, who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God." (John 1:12)

"And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts crying, 'Abba! Father!' So you are no longer a slave, but a son! And if a son, then an heir through God." (Galatians 4:6-7)

"In Christ Jesus, you are all sons of God, through faith." (Galatians 3:26)

"For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.  When Christ who is your life appears, then you will also appear with him in glory." (Colossians 3:3-4)

"He has put His seal on us, and given us His Spirit in our hearts as a guarantee." (2 Corinthians 1:22)

What all of those verses tell me is this: I am HIS.  I belong to Jesus.  He has my life thought through and figured out.  And I MATTER TO HIM.  Think of the beauty behind those words.

I MATTER DEEPLY TO THE CREATOR OF THE UNIVERSE. 

When I believe that Jesus is who He says He is, when I am convinced beyond any doubt that what I read in Scripture is the truth, the way, the life, then I am free to believe what that Truth says about me! 

That the Truth knows me better than I know myself.  That the Truth created me, formed me, knew my life before the foundation of the world.  That the Truth will walk behind me and before me, that the Truth desires His best for me.  That when I seek Him, I will find Him.  That He won't leave me to figure things out on my own.

When I believe Jesus, I get to believe that He wants me.  That he doesn't want me because he needs me, but He wants me because He LOVES me, and I MATTER TO HIM.

Here's where all of this must lead us.

Do I believe in the Truth that is Jesus? Do I believe that He is who He says He is, and that He's done what the Word says He's done? Because if the answer is YES, then it's clear that I also get to believe what He says about me, all the beautiful pieces of Scripture that point to his unfailing love and intimate knowledge of our lives.

Or am I struggling with who Jesus is? Do I have a hard time believing in the death of some guy who presumably raised from the dead? Do I really place my trust and faith and life in that? If so, it's hard to believe what He says about ME! Am I really loved? Am I really a child of the creator? Does my broken life actually matter to Him? 

What if it does? Ask Him.  Right now.  Even if you've never spent one second of your life praying, ask Him if your life matters to Him.  

 

 

Life in Transition

My favorite baseball player of all time is Cal Ripken Jr.  He had a 21 year career, and is regarded as one of the greatest shortstops to ever play the game.  He holds the record for the most consecutive games played at 2,632.  That is 16.25 seasons without missing a single game, taking a single sick day, or spending one second on the disabled list.  That's an incredible, unbreakable streak.

But perhaps an equally incredible statistic, Cal spent all 21 of his seasons with the Baltimore Orioles. 21 seasons, 21 years of his life, with one organization.  That doesn't happen much today, and I'm not just talking about baseball.

_____________________

I woke up this morning as a resident of Spring, TX.  For the past four years, I had called Ft. Worth home.  I knew the roads, knew the people, knew the weather, and now I don't. An hour ago, I had to Google the closest Starbucks.  I have to learn new running trails, and hundreds of new names.  I have to learn to sleep in a different room, shop at different stores, and sweat in more humidity.

Stuff Cal Ripken never had to deal with during his career.

I've wrestled a lot during the moving process with why I was dragging my wife through the tearful goodbyes and the stress of packing.  I've wracked my brain with reasons to stay in Ft. Worth, to keep things comfortable and easy.

I want to know what it feels like to be in the same place, with the same people, at the same workplace for 21 years.

I loved my home in Ft. Worth.  I loved working at The Church at the Crossing, and with the students of Aledo.  Loved it more than any other place I have done ministry.  I met my wife in Ft. Worth, and some of my best friends.  I finally was able to call it home.  

I don't want to be known as the guy who moves from place to place to place, searching for something that will satisfy in the way I want to be satisfied.  Those thoughts have been my life since we found out we'd be moving.

And it wasn't until our final goodbyes that they were put to rest.

Until this week, each move I had made in my life happened because I was afraid.  Afraid of never moving out of my mom's house.  Afraid of being alone.  Afraid of not being equipped for what I was doing.

Over the past few months, The Lord has spoken so clearly to Raven and I that this is what HE wanted for us.  That He had been preparing us, the students we loved so deeply, and the students we will begin to love so deeply, for this transition.

But that wasn't enough.  I needed a fleece, a talking donkey, a sun standing still.  I needed a sign, because of my decisions in the past.  I had scared myself out of transitions, because of all the other times I transitioned.  They were all on me, on my word, on my confirmation, and not the Lord's.

This time was going to be different.  And the Lord (not surprisingly) proved Himself faithful.

He spoke through pastors in three different states.
He spoke through an apartment complex owner that neither Raven nor I have or will ever meet.
He spoke through David Platt and Francis Chan over a year before we knew what was coming.
He spoke through a mom that I thought I could stop listening to once I turned 18.
He spoke through High School Freshmen who had no idea what they were saying.
He spoke through a toddler boy who can't even say his own name yet.
He spoke through Wells Fargo and Exxon.

So this morning, I woke up as a resident of Spring, and already call it home.  Jesus has made it so abundantly clear that He has something great for us to accomplish here.

If He's got something great for us to accomplish here, He's got something just as great for someone else to accomplish back in Aledo.  And that's when I realized it was time to go.  As much as I loved my home and family in Ft. Worth, God was bringing someone else to bring about the next pages in His plan there.

"Jesus said to him, 'no one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the Kingdom of God.'" Luke 9:62 (ESV)

Jesus told us that if He leads us somewhere, we don't look back.  If we spend time looking back, we aren't fit for the Kingdom of God.  Sounds harsh, but it's the truth.

If I want to look back, then my place isn't with Jesus.  It's with me. Jesus moves us forward, to things that sometimes only He knows, only He can see.

Behind us are the things we know, the things we are good at, the things we don't need faith for.  In front of us are the things that we can only hope to accomplish because Jesus is in charge.

We aren't looking back.  We will still carry on relationships and conversations with the people we love. But we won't look back wondering what we might have missed, what we could have done if we had stayed.  Because then we will miss what He brought us here to do.  And I want to be fit for the Kingdom of God.

_________________

I'm starting the streak all over.  21 years to go.  I pray that Raven and I are able to stay here for a long time, move into our house, see our kids grow up, grimace as our hair turns gray or falls out, and glorify our Provider and Rock until our bodies give out.

But I also know that when we desire to let Jesus use us as He wants to, that might not be the case.  It might be another four years and gone, or 10, or 43.  I know He already knows where we are then.

Here's to life in Spring.  May Jesus be glorified.