Confidence and Vulnerability

I gave a word recently about how powerful it is to live a life of vulnerability. I kept alluding to this journal entry. I figured i shouldn't change it to make it all cool and bloggy, so i just copied and pasted. Here you go world. 

Confidence and Vulnerability.

I think these are the two most manly characteristics that any person can have. It’s scary for a man to pursue a woman. For real. On this earth, in order for him to truly pursue her as a man should and as a man can, He is called out of a place of safety and into a place of vulnerability. So many men are too afraid to pursue a girl like she deserves. They walk their hearts as high as they can, without letting them into the sunlight. Keeping them protected and low to the ground. When what is truly required of a manly pursuit is that He FLINGS his heart to her with reckless abandon. He has to throw his heart to her and hope that she will catch it. That is no small thing mind you. It is the hardest thing a man can face. Letting his heart into that place where it is vulnerable...

But that’s how Jesus loves. And so that is how we are to love. He doesn’t reward people with love as they prove their ability to catch his heart. He doesn’t wait for us to be worthy of it. He throws his heart. Full force. And he does it FIRST. What a man! What a man he is! He throws his heart into all of the mess. All of the hurt. But he does it. It may not be caught. It may not be returned. And yet still he sends it. Because he is C-O-N-F-I-D-E-N-T.

 He is confident enough in his own strength to make himself fully vulnerable. If he weren’t confident, he would not allow this. If he were not vulnerable, it would only prove he wasn’t confident. Jesus was confident enough in His father’s power to come to the most vulnerable position (the most vulnerable position I can think of at any rate) a man. With just enough emotions to feel and be hurt, but with just enough potential for glory. Within the human race there is just enough potential for failure that there is the potential for glory. I think vulnerability and confidence are very linked. I think they need each other. And I think Jesus embodies them both.

In John 11 Jesus goes to a funeral. He wept there. How many other Pharisees and Sadducees do you think wept at funerals? They were the leaders! They were supposed to support those who were hurting, not BE hurting! They were supposed to be “strong” and Jesus more than most, you’d think. Jesus. Knowing ahead of time that this was going to happen. Having full confidence in the power of His Father to raise Lazarus from the dead, wept. Became vulnerable. He mourned him. He was fully confident, for he knew that he would rise again. He told Mary and Martha. But still he wept at the fact that he died in the first place.

And he did it in front of the Jews! Those who were watching his every move. The ones the rest of us would be trying to impress with all our miracles so that they would grow closer to God, but who really we are afraid to fail in front of because we think we can hinder Him. He wept in front of them. He was vulnerable in front of them. and they called him out on it too. They said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” (verse 37)

And that’s where the confidence of Jesus came in. He knew what He was doing. He knew what would happen. Their scorn and their judgment didn’t shake his confidence one bit because “Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb. It was a cave with a stone laid across the entrance. ‘Take away the stone.’ He said.” (verses 38-39).

And he raised Lazarus from the dead.

But what he needed. What he embodies. Are those two words: confidence and vulnerability. It takes both of those to pursue who we are. It takes both of those to dream our dreams and then live our dreams. The dreams the LORD has placed in us and desires that we live out. We have to be vulnerable to even think of those dreams in the first place. We have to let ourselves believe in faith that something THAT incredible could actually happen to us. And then we have to be confident in our pursuit of them. Despite every obstacle and every hindrance in the way (persistence). We have to let ourselves go there, and then actually go there. It’s terrifying to put all of yourself into something. What if it doesn’t work? But that’s how God is. That’s what Jesus DID. The cross is no joke.

He knew that he would win the ultimate battle against death. He knew that all of it was worth it because of the joy set before him. But he also knew that those whips were going to hurt. He also knew that the thorns would pierce his skull. He also knew that he would have to die. Jesus wasn’t immune to pain. He was a real person. But he had a confidence that confuses the world. Being silent in your rebuttal period is a bit odd to a pride-centered world. Especially when you are so clearly innocent.  He stood there completely pure, completely content, and allowed himself to be vulnerable before some government he knew would fade into nothingness in a few hundred years time because he was braver than all of us.

What about us? Can we love like that? Can we dream like that? Can we live like that? Can I? Can I throw my heart fully into something with the reasonable suspicion that it might not work? The world says no. The Lord says yes. And that is what separates us from the world. We love with a recklessness that can only come from the true confidence and purity of the Holy Spirit. People don’t understand it. Why do they always call the back seat? Why are they not afraid to die? Why are they not afraid to weep in front of me? Who are they? What kind of freedom is this? It’s the freedom that comes from confidence and vulnerability. It’s the freedom that comes from the Holy Spirit. It’s what separates us from the world and makes us like lamps in the darkness. It is our destiny to live as such. And what a beautiful, terrifying and fulfilling destiny it will be. I invite you to it. HE invites you to it. All we have to do is say yes to Him, and He will sweep you into something that no one can comprehend until they get there. Oh what joy to live in a mystery such as this. A mystery that my God promises is good. I will strive to be a man like that. A man of vulnerability and confidence and passion. Who isn’t afraid to lose everything but who is willing to be fully who he was called to be. You can’t get there without that risk. And that risk is what makes it worth it. Step into the dreams of God’s heart. Only there can we be full. Amen.


(Ohhh and one more thing!! Here is the woman who had that great Ted Talk on the same subject. I don't know if she knows the Lord or not, but He definitely knows her.)
http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/brene_brown_on_vulnerability.html 

When Ink Touches Paper...

I've been thinking a lot about writing lately.

Not blogging necessarily, although this is a great outlet for it, but writing. The world of words. The place where there are absolutely no rules as to what you can say or where the adventure can lead you. The place where you can be free to end things the way you want them to be ended. Where you can grow the characters in the way you want them to be grown. Where you can invent new dreams and trees and colors, if you so desire.

I love to write. It is part of my purpose and calling. I love to take my own circumstances and pour them out into a story. To create a character that I can truly identify with, who knows my heart, who acts how i act, all the while unaware that his setting is not my setting. That his setting is all he knows and all he can see. A setting of my making. A setting without limits. A setting where the things in my life and the desires of my heart make sense and the waterfalls go upward.

Words are truly the greatest gift that I have been given. Now, I don't mean the word "gift" as in "talent." I mean it as in "gift." Something God gave me for me to enjoy. The ability to create. The ability to go beyond grammar. The ability to mold life into something beautiful and to experience Him in an amazingly intimate way. I get to pour it all. All of my heart can flow onto these pages. It is not bound by the restraints of this world when it is coming to life in mine. What can the world say to me in a place that is purely mine and God's?

Nothing.

But I can speak to it. And I can speak to God. In fact, I think it's what I was created for. To dive into the world where all the stories live. My true home. And to discover the heart of the Lord there. It is my joy to pour my portion of words upon the throne of God because it means that I get an all-access-pass to that world. Words are alive in and of themselves, and we get the honor of discovering them when we are obedient in our searching. Even the rocks can cry out if they search hard enough, because their worship already lives.

Jean Rhys put it like this in an interview with the Paris Review: "Listen to me. All of writing is a huge lake. There are great rivers that feed the lake, like Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky. And there are mere trickles, like Jean Rhys. All that matters is feeding the lake. I don't matter. The lake matters. You must keep feeding the lake."

(Thank you Madeline L'Engle for pointing that out in your brilliant book: Walking on Water)

I think Jean is on to something. There is something within us that calls us to write. Or that calls us to create at the very least. Talking with my various friends who are amazing painters or musicians, I think they feel the same way about their own avenues of creativity. We were born to pour this all upon the throne. It is our purpose, our honor, our joy, and our unyielding duty. Only God would wrap all of those things into one.

When I enter the world of writing, I feel as if I am taking steps towards wholeness, towards my identity. And once I get past my time restraints and half-hearted excuses, the door is cracked open to a place that is so brilliant and beautiful that my physical eyes would not be able to handle it. It can only exist in my living imagination. Where the eyes of my heart, just now opening, are the ones who have the pleasure of seeing it. When I serve that world of words and bring them to life, I feel the Lord move. We all have a place where this is true. Be faithful to it, friends. There is so much to discover.

The Great March in Between

The band of travelers could only think of their thirst as they made their way through the sand-covered lands. They had dirt riding the sweat down their faces, tired eyes, and warm smiles. Every sound of the horses' hooves hitting the sand was the drum of a victory march. It was a job well done... But they were tired all the same.

This part will normally be left out of any good story, but it is for this reason that it should be written. the long journey home after a furious battle is a portion so profoundly human that it should not be overlooked. For even though they will be legends to their children's children, they are humans now. They feel the wind snapping their faces, the dirt itching the back of their necks, their eyes drooping.
The glory of victory will never fade (just as their tired smiles still remain), but it is merely the overarching theme of the journey. The thoughts within that theme consist of thirst, weariness, and a sense of pride to be traveling with such great friends.
Their grateful sighs will be expressed alone and before the Lord once they have wrapped their minds around the experience. For now, they simply ride. The battle behind them and home on the horizon.

*******

This was written after our journey from Nicaragua in 2011. The mission accomplished. The stories (well, most of them) submitted online. And the 34 hour ride home. We smiled. We enjoyed it. We were tired. And we were bonded together in a way that none of us really understand. Just from Atlanta to Boone, the final leg of our journey, we had to split it into thirds (one driver taking each) because we were so tired. 

I think there's something beautiful about that. The sheer exhaustion, to be shared with so many people after a good job, has something deep in it. The final handshake and embrace between a good team that's ready for a shower and a bed (a cool bed, and not a warm one) attaches them together forever in the Spirit. We can only praise God. Amen.

A life that's worth a damn.

We were once just breathing air,

Strolling on without a care,

Our eyes were locked upon our feet.

Asphalt was our shade of green,

The road lines our color scheme,

Mindless to all but our little street.

That street became a wall,

And our forward progress stalled,

We weren’t quite sure where life had gone.

With our newly lifted heads,

We raised up from the dead,

And our weary eyes caught glimpse of sun.

Jesus, Jesus,

We didn’t know that you were waiting

For us, for us,

We didn’t know these colors were made

For us, for us,

We thought that we would always get along…

Just fine.

With some new-found energy,

The Earth’s floral carpeting,

Began to crack right through the street.

And I could feel it too,

With an air of changing tunes,

New life had sprung inside of me.

Jesus, Jesus,

I didn’t know that you were waiting

For us, for us,

I didn’t know these colors were made

For us, for us,

I thought that I would always get along…

Just fine.

And now I’m breathing air,

For a life that’s worth a damn,

And there’s a light behind my eyes

Ventures are fully braved,

Love can be wholly made,

And now my limit is the skies.

Jesus, Jesus,

I now know that you’re wanting to

Transform us, form us,

So we can see the colors you made

For us, for us,

I can’t believe I ever could have thought

“Just fine”

…was good enough.

lll

People assume that the phrase "worth a damn" comes from southern culture; that some older tobacco-spitting man from the great depression must have thought of it. Just like we think the phrase "all for one and one for all" comes from The Three Musketeers.

But i don't believe the phrase "worth a damn" came from the south. or the north. or England or Cambodia. I think it came because our God calls things that are not as though they are.

I was talking with a friend of mine this morning who has just recently moved to a new place with his wife. They seem to be adjusting pretty well to the new climate, new streets, new everything, but leaving a strong community of Godly support is always a difficult thing. He said to me that the people he has encountered that don't know about the exciting adventure of the love of God (yet) just seem like they think they're void of purpose. they don't seem excited about work, or life, or anything. they just try to hide away and get by. "its like we are talking to zombies." he said. When you are constantly surrounded by amazing community that is after the heart of the Lord, it's easy to forget that death is the majority and that we are the weirdos.

But Jesus sees them all together different. he sees US all together different. He, being there at the beginning, when he invented green and plants and oxygen and us, saw the world the way it was created to be. and he has NEVER been able to get that image out of his head. Ever since things were skewed by sin he has been calling creation and its people back to their original purpose, the one in which we are the most fulfilled. He sees a drunkard in the street, or a tax collector (i think that tow-truck drivers are the modern day tax collectors), or a business man, or a young campus minister who is only just scratching the surface of what God is like, and sees them the way they were CREATED to be. He sees the purpose inside of them and loves them fully for what they are.

And he saw that the only way to bring us into the fullness of what we were created to be was to undo the curse that ruined it all in the first place. to come, die, and be damned himself. He sees us for what he made us to be, and he thinks that we are worth a DAMN.

So there's no reason to just keep trucking on, live our hundred years and try to figure out what life means while we're staring at the road. Encounter the love of Jesus, let him transform you, and go live a life that's worth a damn, our purpose is found there anyway.

Recieve Your Glory.

God is good, all the time. All the time, He is good...

Receive your Glory.

What can you do when you are swept out to sea?
The waves are coming down fast.
Where do you go when land is a dream?
When back looks like forward, and forward like back.

The sky starts to open and welcome you home
You now get to step out of time
You dream even deeper, your journey begins
Your new body shimmers, alive.

No matter what changes,
Lord, you know what’s best.
I raise up what voice still lives in my chest
And I sing:

Receive your glory
Receive your glory
Receive your glory
Receive your glory

What can I do from nations away?
When pain still beats on my chest?
Who can I battle? What can I say?
How can I raise up the rest?

My bones have got colder, they tremor and ache.
My weeping is all I can see.
The mud adds a cushion to my knees and my face.
In all of my weakness, I scream:

“No matter what changes,
Lord, you know what’s best!
I raise up what voice still lives in my chest!
And I sing!:

Receive your Glory!
Receive your Glory!
Receive your Glory!
Receive your Glory!”

I believe in you Jesus, You’re worthy of praise!
You inhabit the title of “good!”
I worship with gladness, now and always
If you asked me to follow, I would.

Because no matter what changes,
Lord, you know what’s best.
I raise up what voice still lives in my chest
And I sing:

Receive your Glory
Receive your Glory
Receive your Glory
Receive your Glory.

Fame Scares Me.

I’ve always wondered what would happen to the Oslen twins if they had never been on Full House, or made this great music video about pizza and how (in the stylish beat that often inhabited the 90's) you can put anything you want on it and adjust it to taste. In the same vein, I’m also worried about what is going to happen to our new friend Rebecca Black.

Rebecca is the upcoming youtube star who was revealed to the world through the song “Friday” that we’ve all been freaking out about (whether negatively or… negatively. it really is pretty awful). The song was posted on Tosh.0 and it spread through the world like electricity. 55 million views so far! Im pretty sure it was 17 million last week. Yikes. I honestly hope that this fame leaves her quickly so that she can get on with her life.

Now, Rebecca is being very kind with her new found fame. She is donating a lot of the $30,000 a week she is making off the video to Japanese relief efforts. Which is great, (we really should all help out), but the crazy thing is that her gifts make the nightly news. I get awkward when people see me do the dishes. I can’t imagine my every move being tracked by CNN. She’s got a spot light on her and although she’s not necessarily “talented” she still has the ability to become a major star in this new world where “going viral” is enough to give you weight in political arguments or make you a legitimate philanthropist. Just ask Antoine Dodson.

But what a scary thing! I cringe when I think about how many people are looking at this poor girl. If Rebecca Black came to Appalachian State University and performed in Farthing Auditorium, the place would be packed. Granted, most people would come out of a cynical idea to make fun of her, but they would come. Heck, I’d probably go. It would be hard to pass up the chance to say I listened to “Friday” live. And as an added plus, I probably wouldn’t need my handy-dandy cell phone calendar to tell me that Saturday was coming up.

But for whatever reason, this girl literally has become a star. Maybe her fame will leave as quickly as it came (for her sake, I hope so, fame seems like it really ruins peoples lives), maybe she’ll be around for a long time and earn a career as a children’s song writer for the days of the week. Who knows? But I sure hope we can save her before she jumps headlong into Mary-Kate and Ashley’s fashion line. Building your own kingdom is scary business. Fame, as a whole, scares me. Praise GOD we were created to give it to Jesus. He’s the only one I’ve ever met who deserves it and can handle it. And even He snuck out of the crowds every now and then.

The Sparrow's Salvation

There was once a man who had just tucked himself in on a cold night in the dead of winter. He had just locked the doors, just bolted the windows, and snuggled into his sheets to listen to the artic wind pounding on the walls of his humble abode. He could see the snow pouring down from his bedroom window, although because of the wind, it looked as if it was going from earth to sky.

The man heard an unfamiliar sound. Something altogether different from the whistle of the wind that he had grown accustomed to. A rough tapping at the barn door outside his house. Curious, the man lit his bedside lantern and shined the light out his window towards the barn. A flock of sparrows, grounded in the north because of the sudden harsh conditions, were furiously trying to fly into the window of the barn. Drawn, as it seems, to the warmth inside.

Touched, the man tied his boots up over his pajama bottoms, put on a thick coat, and made his way out to the barn to open the door for his feathered friends. His cold hand still grasped the metal lantern while his other shielded his face from the wind. After what all would call a valiant trek, the man threw the wooden lock off the barn door to prepare a winter home for the sparrows. He walked around to the outside, grabbed a bale of hay, and put it in the corner.

The sparrows, which had scattered in all directions when the man first approached, hid in the darkness of the trees, afraid. They couldn’t comprehend that this unusual large creature actually desired to help them. “It’s alright.” The man said tenderly to the frightened birds, “it’ll be a lot warmer in here. Come on in!” he waved his arms in a friendly gesture of welcome, which only managed to scare the birds even further and send them higher into the trees.

But the man decided to commit, and then tried every manner of tactics to get the birds into the barn. He tried shaking the tree on the opposite side in hopes that the birds would flee into the safety of the barn. He tried laying a trail of saltine crackers and then hiding away in his house, watching. When the birds remained, he came back out and tried skipping and singing and flapping his arms, hoping that the birds would follow his example and flutter into the warm shelter. He tried asking them, he tried flocking them, he tried showing them, but it was no use. Apart from looking very ridiculous and forcing the birds higher into the dark tree, the man’s attempts were unsuccessful. The birds would not enter the barn or come to the foreign creature that was the man.

Deflated, the man returned to his house, perplexed. “If only I could become a sparrow for just a moment.” Thought the man. “Then we could finally understand each other and I could simply show them the way to the barn…”

Then another, much grander, thought came to the humble farmer. He now understood why Jesus had to come to earth from his throne in heaven.

The Sparrow’s Salvation:

The winter storm comes,

Lock the doors, bolt the windows, you’re safe.

Snuggle in your sheets,

Lay your head, take your rest from the day.

You hear a sound through the wind,

Get your lantern and go see what it is.

The sparrows at the door

Break their beaks, man they want to get in.

Compassion swells.

Mercy comes.

The world needs your help,

Get your coat on.

The snow’s falling up,

But you walk to the door anyway.

You throw off the lock,

Lay the ground, and you open the way.

Put the snacks in a line,

Set the trail, and invite them to warmth.

But they wait in their fear,

In the trees, now they’re cursing the north.

Compassion swells.

Mercy comes.

The world needs your help,

Get your coat on.

Open the door.

Invite them in.

But that’s not enough,

Come and get us.

The temperature drops,

Try your thoughts. but the sparrows, they stay.

Frightened birds hide their beaks,

Fly to trees, and they say, “stay away.”

The winter stays strong,

Look around, and you find a new way.

You strap on your wings,

Shine your beak, you’re a bird for today.

Compassion swells.

Mercy comes.

The world needs your help,

Get your coat on.

Open the door.

Invite them in.

But that’s not enough,

Come and get us.

Come and get us.