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Yes, weep and grieve until the Spirit is poured down on us from above.... Isaiah 32:15a (MSG)
There are no shortcuts through grief. There are only side roads which, deceptively, exit and escape grief's path for a time but which never take you where you need to go.
Grief's road must be fully traversed before the Spirit is poured down from above and a new leg of the journey can begin.
Repent, return, dear Israel, to the One you so cruelly abandoned. On the day you return, you'll throw away—at every last one of you—the no-gods your sinful hands made from metal and wood. Isaiah 31:6-7 (MSG)
Growing up, there was an annual traveling carnival that came to town and set itself up in the parking lot of one of the shopping centers we passed on the weekly pilgrimage across town to grandma and grandpa's house. There were bright lights, thrill rides, tents with all sorts of games, and stands with cotton candy and snow cones. Driving to our destination, the carnival would always catch my eye and I would instantly beg my parents to pull off and take me to the carnival (which, they never did).
I reflect back on my journey and the many times I've abandoned the path and diverted from my destination to chase after bright lights, thrill rides, and to gamble on prizes which are worthless in the end.
Reading today's chapter, I'm reminded that following God requires repentance and repentance requires leaving behind that for which we diverted our journey. We don't get to pack up the carnival and bring it with us. "Hang on a minute, God. I want to load the tilt-a-whirl on a flatbed and bring it with us." We must throw away the worthless trinkets and abandon the cheap thrills which stirred the lust of our eyes and the lust of our flesh and led us away from the path.
Following Jesus is a journey of faith. Faith requires leaving things behind.
God, the Master, The Holy of Israel, has this solemn counsel: "Your salvation requires you to turn back to me and stop your silly efforts to save yourselves. Your strength will come from settling down in complete dependence on me—The very thing you've been unwilling to do. Isaiah 30:15 (MSG)
Reading today's chapter I was reminded of this song. I've always loved this song because it makes me laugh and I think it so honestly captures what I believe to be the most common lie that we deeply believe: That on the great balance scales of life, we're basically good people. I'm an alright guy. And, if I put forth a little effort to keep the "good" outweighing the "bad" then God will give me the thumb's up and reward my effort.
The more I read God's message, the more I realize that in the economy of God's kindgom there is no amount of good works that can earn me the thumb's up. God doesn't grade on a curve. It's a pass fail test and only one red check mark guarantees my failure (you should see my list of red check marks - oy!).
I know. It doesn't seem fair. If that' true then no one can pass that test. We've all done something wrong.
Exactly. That's the point.
That's why God sent His son to pass the test for us and, while He was at it, to take the punishment for our failure. We can stop our silly efforts to save ourselves. No more trying to do enough to keep my "alright guy" status. It has nothing to do with what I do. It has everything to do with what Jesus did for me. The reality is that Jesus was the one and only "alright guy" and my dependence on Him is my one and only hope.
The Master said: "These people make a big show of saying the right thing, but their hearts aren't in it. Because they act like they're worshiping me but don't mean it.... Isaiah 29:13 (MSG)
Sometimes, I step back and try to see a bigger picture. I look at my life and everyone in it like a Where's Waldo book in which everyone I know is walking around on one big opened, panoramic page. I look and see believers who say all the right things and are sure to be seen in the right evangelical circles and settings, but then I listen as they make contemptuous observations about others and pass judgment as if their butts were big enough to occupy the Judgement Seat of Christ. I see the blissfully ignorant. I see hard-hearted standing in their own form of judgmental obstinance. I see the runaway. I see the rebellious. I see the broken, and I see genuine hearted searching.
Looking at the broad mental picture of these different individuals and groups, I remind myself that it was the religious establishment - the good, and upright followers of God that received the lion's share of Jesus' angry rebuke. While it was the sinful, the broken, and the hard hearted who received a generous portion of Jesus' time, attention, love and grace.
Where am I in this big picture? If you look for me, where will you find Tom? Am I with the judgmental religious establishment? Am I found in the picture where I'm most comfortable? Am I found where Jesus would be (and is)?
That's the way I'd describe the past few weeks. The play consumed every available hour for a couple of weeks, then the day after the show closed, it was off to Texas on business for three days. I arrived home Wednesday night at 11:00 p.m., then hit the road at 5:30 a.m. on Thursday for Minneapolis. I made a whirlwind up & back trip, returning Thursday evening just in time (I believe Wendy would argue that I was late) for dinner with Madison. Then it was off to worship team rehearsal. At 9:00 p.m. I arrived home and had to pack the pick-up for an early morning departure for the lake. Bed at midnight, and up at 5:00 the following morning for another 5:30 a.m. departure. Wendy and I spent a cold, rainy two days working on the Playhouse, then returned in an intense storm on Saturday night, arriving once again in the late hours. I played in worship yesterday morning.
Then we got to rest.
Briefly.
Hello, Monday.
And at the harvest, the delicate herbs and spices, the dill and cumin, are treated delicately. On t he other hand, wheat is threshed and milled, but still not endlessly. The farmer knows how to treat each kind of grain. Isaiah 28:27-28 (MSG)
In the past few years I've had to adjust to the idea of my children leaving the nest. Now that the reality is here, I'm finding it an interesting and challenging new leg in life's journey. Stepping out on their own, you see them stumble, only you're not right there to reach out and catch them. You'd be happy to point out the pot-hole that's right in front of them (which you've twisted your own ankle on many times before), but they must learn the walk the road themselves.
Parenting fledgling adults is more difficult than I imagined. These emerging individuals are infinitely more complex than when they were little, and parenting is no longer a black-and-white world of authority & submission. When they are children you simply tell them to take your hand and you lead them. Now, they are traversing life's obstacle course blindfolded and you occasionally get to whisper hints and directions in their ear (though, of course, there's no guarantee they will listen). When do you speak? When do you stay silent? When do you prod? When do you sit on your hands? And, then there's the added intricacies of dealing with differences between children.
I'm gaining greater respect for God who knows how to approach each of His children, the way He knows how to treat each kind of grain. I'm in awe of God, the Father.
"At that same time, a fine vineyard will appear. There's something to sing about! I, God, tend it. I keep it well-watered. I keep careful watch over it so that no one can damage it. I'm not angry. I care. Even if it gives me thistles and thornbushes, I'll just pull them out and burn them up. Let that vine cling to me for safety, let it find a good and whole life with me, let it hold on for a good and whole life." Isaiah 27:2-5 (MSG)
Jesus said he is the vine. I am this vine. I am Isaiah's vine. I soak up God's tender care, his life-giving water, and his faithful watchfulness. In return I've given Him thistles and thorns. So often I have rewarded his loving care with sour grapes. Nevertheless, He keeps loving, keeps tending, keeps watering, keeps pruning.
Still, I'm clinging to Him for safety. And, I'm finding goodness and wholeness. Seasons pass. Old things pass away. New things come. Each year is a new vintage.
God, let my life be a vineyard that produces the choicest of wines that, in turn, reflects your skill as the Master Gardener.
God, order a peaceful and whole life for us because everything we've done, you've done for us. Isaiah 26:12 (MSG)
I spent a good part of my day yesterday listening to a person share their life story. I'm often astonished at what people will tell you when you simply start asking questions. I sat amazed at the tale that unfolded before me. It was tragic. You would have never guess that this person's journey included events of murder, abuse, addiction, and intense brokenness.
I walked away from the conversation with a greater appreciation of this person and all that they have endured. I also walked away with a renewed appreciation for how very blessed I am.
I know that every life is touched with tragedy and pain. My own path has included its share of brokenness. Your path has, too. I get that. Yet, more and more I understand how truly, lavishly blessed I am. As I read today's chapter in Isaiah, I identified with what Isaiah meant when he wrote that everything we've done, God has done for us. It's not about me. It's not about what I've done. It's about what God has done. His will, His order for us is peace and wholeness.
Today, I walk in gratitude for what God has done for me.
It was great to have a lot of family come to see KOLD Radio, Whitefish Bay this past weekend (thanks to Madison for taking lots of pictures for us!). Thanks to everyone who came to the show (and to Uncle Brad who came twice). The crowds weren't as big as we had hoped, but those who did show up left worn out from laughing! We performed four times and finished with a Sunday afternoon matinee. Then the cast and crew tore down the set and gathered one last time for a cast party.
Wendy and I had a ton of fun performing together and loved the little community of Whitefish Bay we established over the past five weeks. Now, we're happy to have our lives back. After rehearsing practically every night and weekend for weeks straight, we turned our eyes back to our messy house, stack of mail and list of to-dos.
Uff-da.
"And here on this mountain, God will banish the pall of doom hanging over all peoples, The shadow of doom darkening all nations. Yes, he'll banish death forever." Isaiah 25:7 (MSG)
Flying through Denver International airport last night, I sat and had dinner at the bar of a restaurant on the B Concourse where I could watch the Cubs get pounded by the Mets (being a Cubs fan requires a lot of faith). It was there that I met Joe, who was quite drunk and sitting to my immediate left. I instantly liked Joe. He seemed like a nice enough guy, even in his inebriated state. He was friendly and charismatic. Joe had been at the bar a long time. He'd missed two flights already according to the lengthy description of his day.
Joe talked a lot, and I got to know him quite well as I ate my caesar salad. He made his first million in Iowa. Joe had everything, it would seem. He was healthy and looked much younger than his early fifties (He thought we were the same age, and told me I looked much older than my age. Sometimes drunk people just can't filter things the way they should.). Joe was good looking. He clearly had a ton of money and all that it could buy. There were, however, two things Joe clearly did not have. He did not have a friend (I was it), and he did not have peace. Joe was alone. Joe had "the pall of doom hanging over all peoples." His spirit was tortured. I could see it in his eyes. It was in his posture. I heard it in his slurred words.
I listened to Joe's story. I learned of his many broken relationships. He told me about his inability to perform sexually with his young girlfriend. His life was a total mess. All the money and success were worthless to provide that which he truly needed. He was an empty shell of a man medicating himself from the pain of his soul. I tried to be a good friend and love Joe well in the few minutes that our lives touched.
Today, I'm praying for my friend Joe. I'm grateful for God's amazing grace in my own life, which I do not deserve. I'm thankful that Jesus came to banish death and it's morbid pall. I'm praying that I will be an instrument of God's peace, that where there is despair I can sow hope, and where there is darkness I can shed light.
Even at the bar on Concourse B.
