We'll Remember

“When shadows fall on us we will not fear we will remember.”

We’ll remember the call; we’ll remember the light at the end of our dark night. We’ll remember the cross; we’ll remember the resurrection and our subsequent salvation. We’ll remember the cost; we’ll remember blood, the sweat, the tears, we’ll remember our fear now relieved.

We’ll remember the end of death and the first breath of life; we’ll remember the beginning of our sanctification and the end of our damnation; we’ll remember the beginning of all of forever of the life we’ll live with God; we’ll remember the first glimpses of the glory of the King who saved us and bought us with himself – for himself.

We’ll remember the God who did not delay but sent his own Son to die for us because he loved us with a great love – so great that it spelled then end of the end and the death of the grave. We’ll remember that our help comes from the LORD the maker of heaven and hell and all that is between them.

We’ll remember that neither death nor life nor things present nor things to come, nor angels, demons, heaven, hell, Satan himself and all the hosts of the man cannot separate us from the love of our God!

We’ll remember that all we are is nothing apart from him our everything. We’ll remember that we have been bought with a price and that it’s no longer we who live but Christ who lives in us. We’ll remember each breath is grace and each second is a second chance, that each life encountered is a life to be spoken into, that each life is a soul and each soul is eternal and each eternity can be impacted for the King by his poor ambassadors.

We’ll remember the cost of the cross and the call of the King. We’ll remember each step is faith and all faith is God’s. We’ll remember that what we deserve we do not get and what we do not get is what we deserve. We’ll remember that the closest to hell we’ll ever get is this life – this life with all its raindrops and smiles, all its baby laughter and nephew hugs, all is kisses of spouses and providences of God. We’ll remember the beginning, middle and end of all of everything in our small little lives is the cross of Christ, the empty tomb, and the love of God for us.

The Dad

So my dad, right?

He and I were sitting in a conversation yesterday, a conversation I was honored to be a fly on the wall at.

Have you ever had a moment of decent clarity, when you’re there, but you feel so distant because the way you’re seeing something has changed perspective? Do you know what I mean?

The gospel. Straight forward the gospel, unmingled with cultural wish-wash or downplaying on the blood, sweat and tears of the difficulty and beauty of a life lived in faith.

“This is what makes us men, what completes us,” he said while point at a line on a page, which read, “You must love Jesus.” “He is the truth of the universe, which holds all things together that are, and if we don’t love him we are lost men.”

That’s my dad, preaching the gospel with passion, fervency. Casting all his hope onto the 2000-year-old reality, Jesus saves sinners. “I was saved 2000 years ago when Jesus died on the cross for my sins and all of my life I’ve been coming to understand that more.”

Yet, this post shouldn’t be a praising of my dad, he’s cool alright (and he has Harry Potter classes), but he’s just a sinner. No, this should be a post which is interpreted as this:

 “[They] find so much perfection and goodness [that] not only answer and satisfy [their] affections, but master and  overpower [them] too: [they] find all [their] love to be too faint and languid for such a noble object, and [are] only sorry [they] can command no more. [They] wish for the flames of a seraph, and long for the time when [they] shall be wholly melted and dissolved into love: and because [they] can do so little [themselves], [they] desire the assistance of the whole creation, that angels and men would concur with [them] in the admirations and love of those infinite perfections.” ~ Scougal

May dad and I get to worship the same God together. Be infatuated by him, be set aflame by him, preach and teach to others about him, live and die in him. And that is well worth writing about.

Mid-Finals Thoughts (Spring '12)

Finals are here… again.

So! Here are mid-finals thoughts:

1) I’m naturally a cynic, but this time of year, I’m a die-hard the-world-is-dark-and-I-want-to-sleep-and-everyone-to-go-away cynic. Nifty, right?

2) Finals diet: comfort food, comfort drink, comfort food, comfort drink… repeat.

3) My two busiest weekends at the church fell during my two busiest weeks of school. Conspiracy.

4) I shall pass College Algebra, or I shall die.

5) I want to go to Nashville.

6) Jack White album, it’s beautiful. ‘Nough said.

7) My blood will run black with coffee by the end of the week.

8) Wait, you get awards for loving to talk? Take that every-teacher-who-said-I-talked-too-much-in-elementary-school.

9) Is it socially acceptable to fall asleep in public places only to be woken up by the loudness of your own snoring? Cause I don’t do that… my friend does.

10) This Friday night as I’m falling asleep, I’m going to turn my phone off. You know like completely and totally off. Then I’m gonna wake up on July 4^th.

Bonus:

11) My foot is asleep.

Altar of Propitiation

Today is the day we celebrate and remember a death.

Today is the day we fight to see clearly.

Today is the day we remember blood and gore.

Today we look at brutality and murder.

Today we look at lying and slander.

Today we look at our own hands covered in blood.

Today our hearts are pure.

Flogged, to the point of unrecognizable. Nailed to a piece of wood like a hunk of meat. Left to die in agony. This is the scene of salvation.

It’s not beautiful. It’s dirty.

It’s not cute. It’s hideous.

You don’t want to hug it.

You don’t want it on your carpet.

Yet it is the supreme center of all of our reality. Hope of all our lives. The salvation of our souls.

It’s more important than our clothes, and more impactful than our friends. It’s more gorgeous than the stars, and more empowering than positive thinking.

While breaking it makes whole.

While turning upside down it turns us right side up.

While making us weep it makes us laugh.

While showing our failure it shows us our righteousness.

Here, on the Alter of Propitiation, the Lamb is slaughtered. All his blood is poured out until his veins run dry. Everything he ever was, all his perfection and goodness is extravagantly spilled to assuage the right wrath against sin.

Messiah, the longed for Deliverer.

Christ, the coming King.

Jesus, the Son of God.

Today, he is publically portrayed as crucified.

The Siren

The Sirens call our names. Calling us to the ‘freedom’ they offer, the ‘hope’ they can give and the ‘peace’ they’ll bestow. As we sail near their islands, their islands which dot every turn and point of our lives.

Yet we know, from devastating experience, these Sirens will kill us on their rocks. There is no island, there’s no hope, no peace, or no freedom, just some jagged rocks, which will do nothing but rip our souls to shreds and sink us in an ocean of despair.

It’s true to say that the valley of the shadow of death knows our names. We know its depths and we’ve seen its turns. We know how it affects our hearts and minds.

But a symphony of blood calls out; it speaks a better witness than the blood of Abel. It rolls back the clouds to reveal high noon in the valley of the shadow of death. All the Siren’s calls are shown to be faux and the despairs we’re in are shown to be nothing in comparison the one who shed the blood, which sings in our defense.

The sea we are in is a sea of grace; the valley we are in is a valley of beauty. We’re lost inside the grace of God. And his grace toward us is not in vain; it will never be in vain.