A Love Letter to the Spirit of Might

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Dear Holy Spirit,

Thank You that You are not dead. That would be very sad. Thank You that You have not stopped playing and dancing and acting and participating with all of humanity. I really like You. There have been many wonderful, wonderful things that You have worked in my life. For instance, I can breathe—which is very much to Your credit.

I want to apologize for the times that I have backed away from Your displays of power because I have seen and experienced power misused. Thank You that You are kind as well as mighty. I apologize for doubting Your goodness when I read things in scripture that I did not understand and heard other people get offended by who they thought You were. I also apologize for the times that I acted proud and tried to defend myself instead of allowing You to defend me.

Thank You that You are very sweet. You remind me of a kind older brother who will not stand for anyone dishonoring or beating up on his sister. You also remind me of a mother who is very nurturing and gives good hugs.

You are strong and tender all at once.

You are also very forgiving. I can feel Your love and compassion radiating out to the hardest of hearts. There is not a single one who You would see lost. You treasure all of your children. You are extremely patient with us. Thank You.

I want to cuddle with You and be Your Bestest Friend.

Love,

Your Dear One

 

 

 

Too Far Gone? Oh, Really?

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I would like to dedicate this blog post to calling some crap for what it is.

Did you know that saying, “I am too far gone” is one of the most prideful and arrogant things a person can say?

You heard me.

With your very own limited cranial capacity, you have decided that you are doomed. Multiple resources are available. Information that you are not aware of. And yet . . . and yet, you have decided that you are basically as good as yesterday’s trash.

That’s just a mess of crazy right there!

One of my favorite bible verses is found in the Book of Revelation, which I actually believe to be one incredibly hopeful book—despite how I get the sense it has been radically misinterpreted by those determined to see an angry, vengeful god bent on whooping some butt. Revelation 22 talks about who’s inside the walls of Heaven’s gates and who’s outside. But Revelation 21 happens to mention this one very key fact: the gates are always open. What you got here is a walled city—with gates. Open gates. The walls are there to stop anyone who wants to ruin the party from ruining the party. But, let me reiterate: it’s got open gates.

The book closes with an invitation to come!

Come! Eat! Drink!

You want inside? Let go of that sad little declaration of self-rejection. Let go of crappy self-identifiers that totally under-describe how chock full of glory you are. Put on that new outfit of what God has to say about you! It’s basically a massive hug-tackle. Acceptance. A declaration of how completely legit you are in God’s eyes. Waves and waves of love that ever crash upon you.

Don’t be a petulant, whiny little thing with a stick up your rear. Come join the party!

 

 

On the Subject of Things That Go Bump

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IMG_0820Fear. An intriguing topic. A strange topic.

Fear. It’s been accepted as a norm. People are expected to be afraid. It’s the only reasonable sort of thing to do when faced with certain things. Certain things like the dark, the unknown, things outside your control, mysterious supernatural happenings, that one cockroach that just jumps out at you, those people who dare think differently, eschatological theories, immigrants, Donald Trump, Democrats, Republicans . . . and—most frightening of all—YOUR OWN REFLECTION!

But, why?

Are we simply going to accept that this is the sort of way we must live our lives? Just believe it because we were told this is just the way it is? Frankly, I find this bothersome.

I once heard a story about this one man from a favorite preacher of mine, John Crowder. Crowder said there was this fellow who was being martyred for his faith. (I think it might have been St. Lawrence.) Burned to death, to be precise. But was he doing as the “end” drew near? Joking with his persecutors. Dude was so full of joy that he didn’t flippin’ care he was being burned to death.

Now, that is what I call living!

I remember the first time I had an open vision of “the forces of darkness,” if you will. I was inside this magnificent old church. St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, I believe. Huge dome. Beautiful pipe organ music and incense. My first visit to an Anglican church. Everything had been going wonderfully. I was feeling so sensitive to God’s presence. So peaceful.

Then, out of nowhere, we switch from that ambience to the pipe organ playing something akin to “Phantom of the Opera.” It was so random. I see these two sizable shadows moving up on the ceiling. I look around to see what they could belong to, but there was nothing. They just kept flitting around on the ceiling while this music played.

I laughed.

I realized something then. God is very big and very real and very good. These things are like a joke. Their presence (or lack thereof) couldn’t drown out the awe and the majesty of the imminent and transcendent one. I didn’t have to be afraid of them.

Call Me a Silly Little Donkey

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Call me a silly little donkey. Call me a mad fool. Declare me out of my pretty little mind. That I may be! I see the treasure even in those who insult me. What, after all, has shadow to with substance? A question to ponder.

Can you truly threaten me by disagreeing with me? Shall I lose even an aspect of who I am if you call me an a–? I think not. I shall laugh as one who has had a bit much to drink and give you a hug, madman that I am. Or madwoman, haha!

Go on. Call me a silly little donkey!

Tell the Truth

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I have a bible verse that has become a personal favorite of mine over the past year. It comes from Ephesians 5:11. It reads “Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them” (NIV).

This has become a very personal thing for me.

I have watched havoc be wreaked on the lives of people I know—including myself—because they were afraid to tell the truth. And there are always a myriad of reasons to conceal something. There’s always a rationale. Maybe you’re trying to protect someone. Maybe you want to avoid hurting someone. Maybe it’s self-interested. You think your entire world will shatter if you open your mouth. You don’t want that change.

It’s way too scary.

But scary has gotten to a point where it’s sick of living with me now, and I have realized that scary doesn’t really have much to do with who I am. Sure, I feel fear every so often. But that’s like a radar picking up on crap in the surrounding environment. That doesn’t have a fudge to do with who I am.

“Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.”

Ever think about the wording of that verse? I know if you grew up hearing it in Sunday School, it’s a bit easy to just brush under the rug. Oh, I know that one. I have heard it a million times! But if you think like that, chance are, you miss the humor. (The Bible, by the way, is a very funny book!)

Think about it. “Fruitless deeds of darkness.” The deeds of darkness have no fruit. It’s a bit hard for death to leave a legacy, actually; everyone committed to it turns to dust! It’s bound to fail.

And then life inevitably plants seeds in the dust of death and makes a frickin’ garden out of the whole thing. There’s irony for you!

So, telling the truth is something to do because it’s a whole lot more fun. There’s a bit more party involved in telling the truth. A bit more dancing involved at a light-show. And, oh, look! Read it in context, and Truth is Love is Life is the Way is God. Time for some happy-dancing. Go tell the Truth.

 

Shameless

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I really miss those pants.

Such fun I had dancing in those pants. They just would go *swish* *swish*  and swirl and twirl around me when I moved.

Such happy pants. 

Anyways, I am alive. I am alive, and that is awesome. My sheer existence is a miracle. I am irreplaceable. Did you know that you are irreplaceable, too? I know; I know. You may or may not hear that at your job. You might have that one relative who spouts criticism 24/7, it seems. But you are! You are irreplaceable!

You are one of a kind. You are full of glory. You could literally just sit there on your butt all day, and you would be breathtakingly amazing. (Not that I recommend that; you could get stiff after a while.) You are a treasure. You are a gem.

It is time that we tossed shame to the door. We do not need it. It is not humility. It is like an evil version of Pac-Man who wants to eat you alive and put out your fire. For those of you who need the reminder: God does not see you as a worthless piece of crap sinner who He looks forward to “teaching a lesson” or tossing into a hot, fiery pit of lava to scary little creatures with pitchforks. You are precious in the sight of God. God is not ashamed of you. In fact, God is delighted with you. Yes, go ahead. Get over your crappy self-perception!

LIVE SHAMELESS.

Mr. Truth and the Con-Man

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Every so often, I run into some pitiful, depressing sort of message, article, and/or piece information that claims “I am Reality; I am Truth.”

I like to laugh at such things.

Why?

Because I find the underlying logic required to believe them preposterous.

Have you ever met a con man? Somebody pretending to be someone or something that they are not? Bold. Fresh. Confident. They must be who they are because they claim to be who they are. Why question them? After all, they are confident. 

Now, suppose one of them walks right in the door. He’s got the strut. He’s got the swag. And he says, “Hello. My name is Mr. Truth. Care for a dance?”

He bats those long eyelashes at you. 

Suppose you believe him. Now, from this point on, everything he says or does—everything you notice or observe—about him will register and be identified with “Mr. Truth.”

Now, suppose he’s a rather wicked man. He rapes you, steals your wallet, slanders your best friend, blows up an elementary school, deliberately starts World War III,  and . . . well, you get my drift. 

What’s your grid for “Truth” going to be?

If you continue to believe that he is who he said he is, then you will come to some rather nasty conclusions about Truth.

But did you ever stop to ask yourself: is he really “Mr. Truth?” Does he even legitimately own that name? Because you see, if he was actually not Mr. Truth, then all of those ways he acted, all of those ways he treated you, all that information you gathered “Truth” were not actually legitimate expressions of Truth. And if he is not Mr. Truth—-but in fact a con man—then who shall we call him? What should his proper name be? Hmm?

Perhaps we should call him “Mr. Lie.”

I don’t believe that Mr. Truth has the character attributes that the above-mentioned hypothetical man does. I believe that Mr. Truth is a rather noble person. A good person. A kind, compassionate, loving person. Someone I can trust. Really trust. 

Now, I have challenge for you: Go back through this little blog post, and replace “Mr. Truth” with “God.”