Articles & Posts
Our Motives for the Kingdom
Recently I dropped in on a group of men I used to pray with weekly years ago. They are active in a business men’s ministry in Southern California where I came to faith back in the early 1980s. These are such good men, pursuing the Kingdom in their respective worlds of business. I visited and participated in a discussion where the question on the table was something to this effect: “How can we become more engaged and intentional in the Kingdom work available to each of us?” It’s really quite astounding that men (myself included) who have walked in their faith for decades can become deer in the headlights when confronted with such a question! Men quickly began telling stories of all they ways they had shared the Gospel, from speaking in pulpits to one-on-one encounters. These stories went on for several minutes, until the facilitator said, “Yes, but how do we have more passion and excitement in what we do?” He—and we—could hear in the voices of these men a kind of defensive tone as they described how they were actively and personally involved in sharing their faith. When I was asked for my thoughts, I began by saying that when I share my faith, I have to search my heart for the motive out of which I am attempting to advance the Kingdom—sometime my motives are honestly not as noble as I might like to pretend. Some days I really suck at my faith, because my motives are really more about me and how I can exalt myself in appearing to advance God’s Kingdom. But to get my heart into a motive that brings acclamation to God rather than to myself, I have to stop and ask, “What is motivating me in this opportunity?” It becomes pretty simple, as I have learned to name my motives in generally one of two categories: a motive centered on myself or a motive centered in love. The motive of love is not turned on by some switch or lever; acting out of my flesh is what compels me to keep trying to find that switch. But the reality of this search comes only out of the truth of 1 John 4:19. “We love because he first loved us.” I cannot really love others until I experience the love of God. Can I repeat that? I cannot love others until I experience the love of God. Experience is key—and not just knowledge of God loving us. Experience comes out of a relational intimacy with God, and when we experience the love of the Father as a beloved son or daughter, that is where the noble motives of love live. Again, I suck at this many days, but as I can name my motive, it sends me back to the Father to experience Him. And that is where the Kingdom can advance. Father…Son…Holy Spirit, keep me close and give me eyes and ears to see and hear the ways You are throwing Your love toward me, that I may be aware of Your love and receive the capacity to act out of the motive of love.
Bart Hansen
Restoring Hope
“We could sure use some hope right now.” I was chatting with a friend last week about the things going on in our lives and in the world, when she said this. We weren’t talking about major loss, or suffering—just the way everyone seems to be facing some hard thing or another. There was a pause in the conversation, and my friend—normally a very buoyant woman—said, “We could sure use some hope right now.” We sure could. Hope is one of the Three Great Treasures of the human heart: “Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love” (1 Cor 13:13). A life without faith has no meaning; a life without love simply isn’t worth living; but a life without hope is a dark cavern from which you never escape. These things aren’t simply “virtues.” Faith, hope and love are mighty forces. And hope is the cornerstone; the fate of the other two depend upon hope’s resilience: ... we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love you have for all God’s people —the faith and love that spring from hope... (Col 1:3-5) Isn’t that surprising—both our faith and our love “spring from” or “result from” our hope. But of course. Hopelessness makes it impossible to care. Without hope faith is just a doctrine gathering dust on our shelves. The highest things that make a heart worth having and a life worth living—they rise or fall upon the condition of our hope. Which makes hope the mightiest force of all (love is the noblest; hope is the linchpin.) It would be good to pause and ask yourself, How is my hope these days? The answer may be startling to you. Because it is such a very precious thing, you want to be careful with your hope. So much of the disheartening and devastation that the soul endures comes from misplaced hopes. Hope is one of your heart’s greatest treasures; it is a dangerous thing to let your hope go wandering. Now, Christianity was supposed to be the triumphant entry of an astonishing hope breaking into the world. A hope above and beyond all former hopes. An untouchable, resilient hope. But I’ll be honest—far too often what gets presented as the “hope” of Christianity feels more like a bait-and-switch. “We understand that you will eventually lose everything you love; that you have already lost so much. Everything you love and hold dear, every precious memory and place is going to be annihilated, but you get to go to this New Place Up Above!” Like a game show, where you don’t win the car and the European vacation, but you do get the luggage and the kitchen knives. This is the hope that is “the anchor of the soul” (Hebrews 6:19)??? The world doesn’t believe it. And we must understand why. When you consider all the heartbreak contained in one children’s hospital, one refugee camp, one war-torn city in one day—then multiply that by the factor of the entire human race, times history...It would take a pretty wild, astonishing, and breathtaking hope to “overcome” the agony and trauma of this world. Enter Jesus and his “gospel.” The way he chooses to describe the wonderful news of the kingdom of God is absolutely stunning: I tell you the truth: at the renewal of all things, when the Son of Man sits on his glorious throne...everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life. (Matthew 19:28) At the renewal of all things?! The coming kingdom means the renewal of all things? That’s how Jesus understood it; that’s how he described it. “The re-creation of the world,” “when the world is made new” (The Message, NLT). A promise so breathtaking, so shocking and beautiful I’m stunned that few people even know of it. Oh yes – we’ve heard quite a bit about “heaven.” But Jesus is clearly not talking about heaven—he’s talking about the recreation of the earth we love. We have been looking for the Renewal all our lives. It has been calling to us through every precious memory and every moment of beauty and goodness. It is the promise whispered in every sunrise. Every flower. Every wonderful day of vacation; the birth of a child; the recovery of your health. The secret to your unhappiness, the secret to your being and the answer to the agony of the earth are one and the same: we are longing for the kingdom of God. We are aching for the restoration of all things. That is the only hope strong enough, brilliant enough, glorious enough to overcome the heartache of this world. “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure” (Hebrews 6:19). The renewal of all things is the most beautiful, hopeful, glorious promise ever made in any story, religion, philosophy or fairy tale. And it is real. And it is yours. Our job is to “grab the promised hope with both hands and never let go. It’s an unbreakable spiritual lifeline” (Hebrews 6:18 The Message). Grab hard, hold tight friends. PS- We are now accepting applications for the May 2017 Become Good Soil Intensives in Colorado and Australia. Find out more here.
John Eldredge
Jury Duty
I wasn’t picked in the final selection for the jury, and I was so relieved. When I filled out the form provided at the court asking if there were any types of cases I might find it difficult to be a fair and impartial juror on, I had answered, “Yes.” I thought I might possibly have trouble in a sexual assault case. I understand and value our justice system—being tried by a juror of your peers, being innocent until proven guilty—as invaluable mainstays of our democracy. But I thought it possible that I could be personally triggered in a case like that and that it could impair my judgment. Give me a civil case! Please. Instead, I was given an additional questionnaire. It told me in the introduction that the case I was being considered as a juror for was a sexual assault case. My heart sank. I inadvertently gasped. Personal questions followed, which I answered as honestly and briefly as I could. Then came the call to the court. I was seated in the front row of the jury box and felt a little bit like I was in a movie—an exciting, very important, life-changing-for-somebody movie. The court room was filled with judge, district attorney, defense attorney, defendant, court reporter, mystery people at other desks, policemen, many other potential jury members, and somber air. The judge wore a bow tie. I liked that. The defendant wore a suit and seemed uncomfortable. That was good, too. I sat still and listened and corralled my thoughts to the truth that I could be an impartial juror. Jurors are important. I want to be a juror. I want to serve. I like being a citizen of the United States. I hope they pick me. I hope they don’t pick me. After a long morning came a break for lunch and then, based on the answers we provided on our questionnaire, some potential jurors were called back for individual interviews. I was one of them. After walking into the courtroom, filled—did I mention filled?—with the judge, the prosecutor, the defense attorney, the defendant, the court reporter, the mystery other people, and the policemen, I was politely instructed to sit in the jury box and then asked personal questions by a kind judge. Very personal questions. Jeez friggin’ louise, that was hard. “Can you tell us more about that?” How much more? My mind raced. What is the bare minimum? Which experience to I tell? How do I generalize? How can I tell you more and not tell you all? How can I tell you more and protect my heart, my heart that feels completely unsafe and unprotected right now? I did my best. Then I left and shook for the next hour. I shook inside and had tremors outside. I wanted to run but didn’t know where and couldn’t anyway. Court would reconvene in an hour. “Jesus, come.” I prayed. “Jesus, catch me. Jesus, I didn’t expect to go back to these experiences today, and I certainly didn’t expect going back to them to trigger such an emotional and physical response. We have dealt with so much together. I thought I was done. Suddenly, I’m not done. Wait. I’m not done? Okay, then, God. I take this as Your invitation for more healing. I don’t want my past to color my present and affect my perception of others.” One woman during jury selection had said that since the defendant was arrested, she assumed he was guilty and they now needed to prove to her that he was not. That’s backwards. And in her words, I unwillingly recognized myself. I knew I could wrestle my thoughts and perceptions into being a fair juror. I knew the defendant deserved a fair trial. But I was sad to recognize that controlling my thoughts and perceptions was something I was going to have to work very hard to will myself to do. It wouldn’t be an easy and natural outflow. (Give me a civil case!) Though I could have done it, I think it was a very good thing for everyone that I got excused. So a scab that I didn’t know was a scab was ripped off, and the work—the healing, the repentance, the honoring (did I mention the healing?)—continues. Yes, God. The thing is, we just never know what God is going to use in our lives to invite us to pursue deeper healing. In His fierce resolve for our restoration and wholeness, He will use anything and everything. For me, He just snuck up on me through jury duty. So I pray. Jesus, please bless and reign in that trial. Reign with truth in our justice system. Reign in our Nation. Oh, Father, who reigns above all, reign here. Reign in me.
Stasi Eldredge
You LIKE Reading the Bible?
I was recently at a Q&A gathering where a dear woman asked for help. She had one question, really, but as all questions do, it came in a context. Her question was, “I try to read my Bible, but I just don’t get anything out of it. What should I be reading? What should I do?” Now the context. She—let’s name her Alice—came from a religious home. Hers was a churchgoing family. But then Alice came to know Jesus in an intimate and personal way. She experienced his presence and his love pouring into her heart, and she came alive. She wanted that for her family as well. So with much joy and excitement, passion and conviction, she shared her new faith in Jesus with them with unguarded zeal. Their response was anger, disdain, and judgment. Who did she think she was to belittle their faith? How dare she think she knew something of God that they didn’t? How rude! It’s not that strange of an event. As a new believer, Alice was full of joy, innocent as a dove but not wise as a serpent, and worse—completely naïve. She was as naïve as I was when, as a new Christian, I did the same thing with some members in my family and damaged our relationship in ways that took years and much prayer to repair. Alice didn’t know, nor did I know, that we were not sharing our faith with our family members in a neutral environment. We were in a battlefield then, and we are in one now. For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. (Ephesians 6:12) The battle is raging. Truth versus lies. Good versus evil. Love versus hatred. Life versus death. This woman’s family rejected her faith and rejected her. They judged her and belittled her and cursed her. She felt the outcast because she was the outcast. She felt the failure, because she failed to usher them into a relationship with Jesus. She was confused by their response and felt she must have "done it wrong." And then something happened to her connection with God. The Word no longer felt alive to her. She didn’t sense his presence or feel his love. Still, she knew it was all true, and she clung to her faith. She pressed into pursuing God through Bible study and being faithful in church. But the passion, the zeal, and the joy…those were gone. They had been gone for 57 years. Pause. Let that sink in. Fifty-seven long years. “Sorrow may last for a night but joy comes in the morning.” (Psalm 30:5) Her night was 57 years. Oh, mercy. I wanted to weep. And then I wanted to bow before her and kiss her feet. To cling to Jesus in a dry and weary land—where the cold water everyone keeps talking about never quenches your own thirst—is miraculous. She may not have experienced the outcome of her faith yet, but the gold that had been forged in her refusal to “curse God and die” has brought and is bringing untold glory to her God. Her faith had been tested, tried, and proved true. And she had suffered for it. I’m certain there were a lot of factors going on in her life. Her story is like ours, rife with good and bad, successes and failures, gains and losses, beauty and sorrow, sin and repentance. But let me speak to this one thing… Her faith was assaulted at the starting gate in the same way that many marriages are assaulted on their honeymoon. Her family rejected and shamed her. They spoke words of condemnation and mockery and judgment to her, about her, over her. Those are curses, friends, and curses are powerful. The Bible takes the power of our words very seriously. “The tongue has the power of life and death.” (Proverbs 18:21) Curses have a power to them that affect our lives. This is no “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me” nonsense. Jesus took all the curses against us into his body when he suffered and died on the cross. “But Christ has rescued us from the curse pronounced by the law. When he was hung on the cross, he took upon himself the curse for our wrongdoing. For it is written in the Scriptures, 'Cursed is everyone who is hung on a tree.'" (Galatians 3:13) A simple but powerful prayer to cut off all curses and judgments from us and to send them into the body of Jesus Christ—cursed for us—is powerful. (See more at https://wildatheart.org/prayer/prayer-breaking-curses.) Look. Curses against Alice’s faith battered her faith, but they didn’t take it away. Curses and judgments against her faith couldn’t touch her salvation or her place in the heart of God. Her name is written in the book of Life. She is seated in the heavenlies with Christ Jesus. Done and done. But curses can and did affect her experience of her faith. They can keep her (and us) from all the joy that she and we are meant to know. Curses at their least damaging are like heavy weights on our souls that separate us from the truth of who we are in Christ. At their worst damaging…well, too much to say there. But curses are a tool in the enemy’s hand and serve his purpose to steal, kill, and destroy. Satan cannot steal us out of God’s hand. He cannot steal our salvation. But his lies and accusations can pin our hearts so down that we do not walk in the fullness of God’s love, know him as deeply as we can, or embrace and walk in the destiny that he has for us. Or enjoy reading his Word and have it come alive in our spirits. That’s how it was for me for many years. I believed. I knew Jesus was the Son of God. My life didn’t bear much fruit and I didn’t experience joy, but dang, where else was I going to go? There is more for us, beloved. We have to take our lives seriously and realize that we are living in a war zone. Your life matters. Your heart matters. His Spirit that lives mightily in you means for you to KNOW Jesus and experience his power and his presence. This life is a battle and it requires that we Armor Up. The turning point for me after way too many years came in just a few hours by praying through Neil Anderson’s 7 Steps to Freedom in Christ. Okay. I’m not a big seven steps to anything kind of gal, but these are a powerful and essential starting point for every Christian. I mean it. EVERY CHRISTIAN. Every Christian is under regular sustained spiritual attack. It comes with the territory of being a Christian. Become a Christian, and a target it painted on your back. Shield up, friends. Back to Alice. So here is this lovely and beleaguered woman wondering what she has done wrong and which version of the Bible she needs to be reading, when she has been the recipient of a long and sustained assault upon her heart. Alice may need a new version of the Bible, but she definitely needed prayer. She needed the power of the curses and judgments and generational sins broken off. (Just like we all do.) But I've gotta say, what the devil meant for evil, GOD MEANT FOR GOOD. And the devil’s assaults on this woman FAILED. He meant to keep her from Jesus. He meant to keep her from knowing God deeply and operating fully in his gifting, experiencing the fruit of the Spirit, and sharing the Gospel with power and joy. He may have kept her down, but she was not out. NOPE. In the decades of wondering, she never wandered. In the years of lack, she never listed. She held on to her faith. She continued to look to God. She persevered. And her faith—her testimony—has been through the fire. Tested. Purified. Glorifying to God. Oh, the crowns she is going to receive! Oh, the joy she has brought him. We tend to judge other people very quickly. We are urged NOT to do it. We look at other people’s lives or walk with God and compare ourselves. We may think they aren’t living very joyously or victoriously. Or we may think they are soaring in the heavenlies on some untouchable plane. BUT WE DON’T KNOW. We don’t know what portion God has given them. We don’t know the deposit of faith entrusted to them. We don’t know how many gifts. We don’t know their internal battles. We cannot measure the value of the widow’s mite. In the company of the Q&Aers, Alice may have looked like the least of these. But believe me, friends, she was not. Oh, Jesus. Continue to come for her and for all of us. Let your Word be as bread to our hearts. Let nothing keep us from knowing you as you long for us to. Let us be vigilant and take the battle seriously. Help us to “Armor Up” and press on and through and fight for our freedom that we might fight for others. Yes and amen.
Stasi Eldredge
No B.S.
We here at Wild at Heart are still in a season of grieving over Craig’s departure to the Kingdom. The mission goes on and there are things we must do to sustain what God has called us to do as a ministry; however, we are still—as a fellowship and individually—grieving the loss of Craig. In times of grieving and loss, God is speaking to us as we lean into him in those tender places. Although none of us relish loss and grief, it’s a unique time not to waste what God can be screaming at us. The challenge is to have the intentionality at such tender times to ask God what the grief might be surfacing. God has taken me back into conversations I had with Craig years ago, and this has produced some gold in my life going forward. It has come not as I try to chase away the sadness of loss, but rather as I lean into God and ask, “Do you have anything for me in this moment?” During one of those times, God took me back to a conversation with Craig years ago when he had just discovered the cancer in his body. He was not yet suffering from this dreadful discovery. We were having lunch and some time together, and Craig, in the soberness of this cancer discovery, said to me, “No bullshit.” When I ask him to expound, he said, “I feel the reality of my days being numbered (not to make any agreements with death or assume God couldn’t heal me) and I want to live each day with ‘no bullshit.’ I want to be intentional with the value of every day from here to wherever the finish line is for me. I want to live courageously in love and in honesty with how I relate to people, not hold back what I need to do or say as I encounter the lives of other people.” He said to me directly, “If I see you posing, I’m going to point it out, and I expect you to do the same with me.” Now, it wasn’t like Craig was not already living with intentionality, courage, and honesty before this declaration, but he drove a stake in the ground that day. I saw something shift in him and in his walk with God, and I experienced this shift in Craig over the next years as he battled cancer. I remember him, in love and courage, confronting me about how I was not fighting for my marriage. Conversely, I remember him coming into my office one day and telling me how proud he was of me for fighting well for my marriage when I could not see it. I experienced his love and his courage in those hard-to-hear conversations and also in his love and affirmation when I did not have the eyes to see it. That was the shift to “no bullshit” in Craig: he was very intentional in his relationship with me, rather than being passive and unengaged. As I experienced Craig, I want to live my life with “no bullshit” and relate intentionally in love and strength and honesty to the people around me. And I want to discover this without the threat of some terminal illness to soberly remind me how our days and the relationships we are involved with are too valuable not to be honestly engaged. So thank you again, Craig, for your sacrifice and courage to bring me to this reality. Though your physical presence is no longer here, the effect of your life still is in many ways and...no B.S.!
Bart Hansen
Soul Care
September 2016 Dear Friends, Thank you for all your loving care this past month - your kind notes, posts, and emails surrounding Craig’s passing have been such a gift to us. Thank you for your prayers as well; we feel upheld. Lori feels upheld, too. I thought a few words on soul care would be timely this month - not just because of our story, but because every time I get a chance to have an honest conversation with someone, I'm reminded that there are very few people whose life is a houseboat in paradise right now. It is a time to practice soul care, and so I have been asking Jesus what that looks like for me. One of the things that accompanies grief is anger – not so much anger at God, but anger at death, anger at suffering, anger at the “wrongness” of the world groaning for the restoration of all things. So a few weeks back I walked into the woods with a box of shells and a Remington 870, and began blasting away with abandon at tree stumps and fallen logs. I felt a keen need to blow things to smithereens, and a twelve-gauge at close quarters certainly does the trick. The explosive concussion of the blasts, flying fragments of wood and clouds of dust made me very happy. I was practicing soul care. Now, let me put your hearts at ease - I am well. Our team is well. Anger is part of the grief process and you’ve got to do something with it. I realize that I am in a heightened state of sensitivity, in this season of grief, but I am finding it revealing for that very reason. I can tell immediately what helps and what hurts my soul, what draws it towards restoration and what simply wears it down even more. It is very enlightening. Even though I usually enjoy vegging out over international soccer or some nature show, I can’t do TV. Isn’t that fascinating? It simply does not feel nourishing. At this moment the person sitting next to me on this flight I’m on is watching Gladiator. Normally, I love that movie, and I watch over their shoulder. The scene right now is the big coliseum battle, but every time I look over, while part of me is drawn in to the fight, the deeper part of my soul cringes; it is not helpful right now. It makes me wonder what I normally subject myself to. There is research that indicates simply watching traumatic events does damage to the soul - and if you consume any TV or movies at all, you have seen thousands of traumatic events. I also needed to give up stimulants for a bit. Caffeine, sugar, nicotine - all those things we use to prop up our daily happiness over time burn out the soul. Because the soul can’t always be “on.” I was in one of those gas station quick marts the other day, and I was shocked at the entire cooler devoted to “energy drinks.” It used to just be Red Bull and a few others; now there are dozens and dozens. They take up more space than water. We are forcing our souls into a perpetual state of anxiety, and that is super damaging. But I did take up comfort food. BLT’s in particular. Yes - I’m completely aware what I’m doing; I am medicating. But sometimes you need a little comfort food. Notice the Psalmist says, “My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods” (Psalm 63:5). (I don’t have an eating disorder; food is not on my list of possible addictions. If it is on yours, choose something kinder as your comfort.) But of course, there is a huge difference between relief and restoration; much of what provided me relief in the past is not helping my restoration. The state of grief is giving me fresh perspective on what actually helps my soul grow strong, and what doesn’t. Allow me to share my current personal observations, as a way of stimulating your own reflection… Helpful: Generous amounts of sunshine. Gardens, the woods - everything living and green. Long walks. Lonesome country roads. Swimming. Beauty. Music. Water. Friendly dogs (I’ve never understood it when someone says to me, “Yeah - we’re not really dog people.” That’s like saying, “Yeah - we’re not really joy people”). Chocolate. Kindness. Compassion. Not expecting myself to produce the same level of work I normally accomplish in a day. Yard work. Building a fence. Unhelpful: Grocery stores. Malls. Television. Traffic. Draining people wanting to talk to me (friends and family are at this moment wondering which category they fall into. It’s quite simple - draining people are those who live out of touch with their own soul, and thus mine). Airports. The news - especially politics. Social media. Your typical dose of movie violence. Now - which cluster of the things I've just named make up most of your weekly life? Do you begin to see how essential soul care is? “Soul care” is not a category for most people. They don’t plan their week around it. Maybe it feels unnecessary; maybe it feels indulgent. It certainly wasn’t a category for me for too many years. But my friends, the harsh reality is this: life is probably going to get worse on this planet before it gets better; all signs indicate it is getting worse at an alarming rate. “If you have raced with men on foot and they have worn you out, how can you compete with horses? If you stumble in safe country, how will you manage in the thickets by the Jordan?” (Jeremiah 12:5). In other words, if you think this is hard, wait till the dog squat really hits the fan. We are going to want our souls strong and ready for the days ahead, not weary and weak. We are going to need our souls strong. So we must practice soul care. I, for one, am trying to make room for it as part of my “routine.” It really is helping. Hope these thoughts are helpful. And thank you again for all your love and prayers! We really do need them! Love, John and the Wild at Heart Team PS If you would still like to honor Craig with a donation to the McConnell Memorial Fund, you can do so in the envelope provided, or online at ransomedheart.com/Craig. Those funds will be used to carry forward the boot camps around the world that Craig so loved.
John Eldredge
A New Season
I have a hard time moving on to the next. Not regarding spiritual, physical or emotional growth, but to what feels like loss. I’m talking about…CHANGE. I don't like change. All change feels like loss. (Except when the scale goes down or I get my hair done or happy changes like that.) Okay, what I really don't like are ENDINGS. I don't like GOODBYES. I cringe at the end of summer—which is my favorite season. It's my favorite because that's when I have rest and an influx of beauty and time with my family. Connection. Shared laughter around a fire. Lingering evenings that last until the stars have revealed themselves in all their glory. I like green. Warm rivers. Warm evenings. Warm breezes. And those long days are coming to a close. The other morning it was 24 degrees. Oy. Though most of the trees in town still hold their deep emerald leaves, a shift is in the air that I cannot ignore, and yellows are starting to be sprinkled in to the boughs. Higher up the hills, the golden aspens are beginning to outnumber the green ones. It's happening. Time marches on. I hate goodbyes to seasons, and I really hate goodbyes to people. Partings are painful, whether they occur at the end of a visit or the end of a season. People move. People move on. People even move on to heaven. Letting them go, releasing them to God, is essential and I do trust Him, but even though trusting God is getting easier after experiencing so many decades of His faithful goodness, goodbyes remain etched with my tears. And in the midst of change and the middle of goodbyes, God is calling me to live with an expectant heart. Expectant of goodness. Expectant that the best is yet to be. Certain that though I don't know what is coming, He does and He promises to be there with me. His promise that He will never leave or abandon us—ever—is one that, when pondered, fuels our joy and our strength to press on. He'll never leave? Never?!?!? Never. Never ever. I can't see what is around the corner, but He can. And regardless of what comes, be it trees ablaze with color or barren in winter's chill, His beauty and Presence can fill it all if I will but turn my gaze to Him and cultivate a heart that has eyes to see. Yes, time marches on. Time here is our fleeting gift. I don't know how many days I have been given, and neither do you. But I do know that spending them in regret, my fist clenched to hold on to the goodness I do know, prevents me from receiving the good gifts that God has in store for me. Time spent in reflection is necessary and good. It buoys my heart to remember. We've come far, God and I. He's given golden nuggets in the midst of the bleakest of times. He's been lavish. And He doesn't change. If He's been generous and kind and good in the past, won't He remain so in the future? Yes. Yes, He will. Time spent remembering who God is, what He's like and what He's done, breathes life into my soul whether my soul feels green or frozen. Time letting His living Word wash over me infuses me with life and hope. It is the water and food that we all crave. So in obedience and with hope, I am saying "Yes" to the next season. I am speaking it out loud. Yes to the "New." Yes to believing that God is good and has good in store. Yes to letting my sorrow at goodbyes deepen my soul's dependence on Him. Yes to Jesus. I want to be able to say "Goodbye" with an open hand and welcome every new season. Jesus, help me to do that. Help us all. Please. We trust You. Help us trust You, the only One who never changes, more.
Stasi Eldredge
Craig's Love to the End
It's hard to believe he is gone. I just walked past his office and saw his desk, fixtures, his computer, and his books; everything pretty much as he left it weeks ago. Craig unexpectedly had to leave Colorado Springs and head to Houston because, suddenly out of nowhere, a new and aggressive cancer appeared that took him in a matter of weeks. Wow, so staggering how quickly things changed! Looking in his office, I'm expecting to find Craig walking out to give me a hug and then proceed to tease me about the way I said “howdy” with a bit of Texas drawl or prodding me that my baseball team didn't make it to the college worlds series. Then he would smile and say, "you know I'm kidding you." In those last 50 days when Craig was in the hospital in Houston, we were able to see him in the midst of his battle, as his body was being overcome by this new killer cancer. Even in the midst of all of that, he would cut up and take swipes at me with that loving tease that made me feel like a brother. He asked to see a picture of our newly born grandson and then he’d comment how fortunate my grandson was not to get my looks. He’d then be looking at me and laugh. I loved his kidding...it always made me laugh and smile even when I was the brunt of it, which often I was. It was never offensive though, as that is part of the way Craig loved you. That's what I am missing already about our beloved Craig, is just how he loved so well even in the midst of his deep suffering. Craig's incredible gift of joy and humor were something I once envied (future blog on that). He passed with such grace, peace, and dignity in the midst of excruciating suffering because he continually loved outwardly toward the doctors, professionals, his friends, and all who were exposed to his life and ministry. Within a couple of weeks to the end, I happened to be there in Houston with him in his hospital room when he told his leading doctor that he wanted to spend his remaining days loving people at home rather than fighting this battle he knew was close to its end. That is how I remember him...his desire to love people to the very end! I love that he chose love rather than bitterness when he was so close to remission, when his battle became so desperate and his life overrun by his enemy, this new and aggressive cancer. There is a similarity with his father's life ending; he died in The Korean War (when Craig was 6 months old) when his position was overrun by the charging enemy and he was killed at the end of the 14th day of a 14 day battle. I smile knowing that Craig has met his earthly father for the first time with perhaps Jesus making that introduction! My goodbye to Craig was a couple of days before he passed. I got to pray over him as I watched him smile and see his lips say, "thank you, thank you." I love his courage. I love the integrity of his life. I love you back Craig in all the ways you have loved me. I'm a better man because of you!
CM
Craig McConnell
We Live Forever
August 2016 Dear Friends, That word – friends – feels so comforting to me right now, as I write you the kind of letter you never want to have to write, but wouldn’t not write for the world. I need to share some words about the passing of our dear friend, colleague, comrade, abbot, Craig McConnell. Most of you know that Craig was in a seven-year battle with cancer. A battle with some highs and terrible lows; a battle he fought valiantly. Many of you prayed earnestly for Craig and Lori over those years, and we are so grateful. Suddenly, back in June, there was a startling turn of events: a CT scan revealed that Craig's leukemia had transformed into an aggressive lymphoma, and barely eight weeks later he ended his pilgrimage here on earth. Craig was at home; he was not in pain; Lori was right there with him, along with his daughter Lindsey and son-in-law Jon. On the first of August, at 6:30am, Craig took his last breath, and exhaled. It had been a still morning; at that moment a wind blew into the house, lifting the curtains, swirling around the room for more than thirty minutes. Holy. So holy. But so very hard now for those who have to say goodbye. It all happened so fast. I hope this isn’t the first you are hearing the news; we have been sharing our journey via social media and on our podcast. I’m truly sorry if you are learning of Craig’s passing for the first time as you read this. Jesus - catch our hearts. There are so many things to say. I want to talk about his life; I want to talk about grief; about the centrality of hope to the Christian faith. Death is such an assault on the soul. Having someone you love, someone you have shared so much life with, suddenly yanked from your life is a violent and disorienting experience. Death is so hostile, so explosive to God's design for us, the soul experiences it as trauma. This wasn’t meant to be. I think that was part of the tears we see in Jesus’ eyes, as he stands at his friend Lazarus’ tomb - This wasn’t meant to be. Our souls were never meant to go through this, so we reel like a ship in high seas. I’m grateful for Jesus’ tears. Even though he knows he is about to raise his friend from the dead, there are tears. That provides space for our hearts to express our tears, too. We know we will see Craig again; we will have him forever. All the playfulness, the kindness, the wisdom, his quirky humor - we will enjoy forever. Craig is our friend, forever. What we are grieving is missing him now, in the meantime. It’s the small things that wreck me. I was in his office the other day, and the little red “you have voice mail” light was blinking on his phone. I thought, That will never get an answer. There is a hole in the world now. A center like no other of memory and hope and knowledge and affection which once inhabited this earth is gone. A perspective on this world unique in this world is gone. The world is emptier. (Lament for a Son) The world is emptier; there is a really big hole in the world now. Craig was such a vast, colorful, rich soul. He loved equally the Rolling Stones and killer worship; on any day you’d find one or the other cranked full-blast in his office. He loved to joke; his humor could have you gasping for air. He would also stop on a dime and listen with compassion and kindness to someone’s life story. He loved sitting on the beach in board shorts and flip-flops with a good autobiography (boy did he love vacation). But he also loved being on mission, loved Boot Camps – especially his one-on-one opportunities fighting for men’s hearts. He loved a good Manhattan and Lori’s gourmet cooking; he also loved a taco truck and Cheetos. He loved the mountains of the high Sierras; he loved the cliffs overlooking the Pacific in Palos Verdes; he loved his back porch in Colorado and he especially loved his favorite chair, early in the morning, with a cup of coffee and the scriptures. He would show up at our Christmas party in a Santa suit; he’d even wear it standing out on Pacific Coast Highway in California, waving to passing motorists. He had a legendary snore; we recorded it echoing off canyon walls on a camping trip (after which he totally denied it could be him). He had a jackalope hanging on his office wall, wearing mardi gras beads. Next to it are volumes and volumes of his vast library on theology, counseling, and leadership. Next to that a bumper sticker that says, “Jesus loves you. Everyone else thinks you’re an ass*@!!.” He loved the true Gospel – loved to teach, loved doing podcasts, writing blogs, speaking at events. Whatever counseling issue you brought to his office, you’d leave with a deeper connection to God. His life was all about Jesus, and the Larger Story. As Craig was making the hard decision to leave treatment down in Houston, and return home for what he knew would be the end, he said, “I don’t want to die fighting cancer; I want to die loving people.” That is vintage Craig McConnell. And he did; he sure did. He loved people, and he loved God, right through the finish line. As I sat with him for the last time, I was able to say, "Craig - you won. In everything that is important, you won." And now he is fighting the Great Battle from heaven’s side. Surely you understand that Craig is not dead; not even close. He’s not in “eternal rest.” Not asleep; not at the everlasting church service in the sky. He is more alive, more himself, and more in partnership with Jesus than ever. Either this is true, or nothing Jesus said was true. I’m not sure what you’ll do with this, but I saw him, just the other night. I was asking Jesus to show me His Kingdom, and suddenly I saw Craig. He was surrounded by a company of people. It was not a party, not his homecoming; that apparently had already taken place (this was about a week after his passing). It was a sober gathering. I saw Craig standing in the middle, and then bow his head. I saw Jesus before him, placing over his head and onto his shoulders some sort of medallion, or reward, or symbol of office. As I was sharing that picture with Alex on our team, before he even knew what I was about to say, Alex heard from God, It was his promotion. The day before I received an email from an ally who knew nothing of this story; the title of the email was “Craig’s promotion.” Craig has joined the Great Cloud of Witnesses who “reign with Christ” from heaven’s side. He has become a general in the Kingdom. Death, of course, tries to present itself as the ultimate reality. It is brutal, and filled with so much mockery. Death wants to make everyone think it is the real end. It feels so final. But it is here that Christianity shines like no other view of reality. For we know that death has been defeated. “Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die’” (John 11:25-26). This is the most stunning news in all worlds: Death is defeated. You live forever. Craig believed this with all his heart, and he is experiencing it full-blast now. Mardi gras beads and all. With some of his last cogent words he wanted to share the news of his passing himself, so he dictated a few words to his daughter: “I want to say goodbye, dear friends. I want to thank you for the role you have all played in my life. Til Heaven, Craig" That “til heaven” is everything. Everything. Goodbyes are brutal; I hate goodbyes with all my being. And thanks to Jesus, thanks to all he has won for us, we know that we never actually say goodbye to a brother like Craig. Instead we say, “I’ll see you soon.” And what a difference that makes; it is all the difference in the world. Now I am aware of the ridiculous limitations of a newsletter. I can’t do anything justice here, so let me say that we’ve devoted our four August podcasts to the story, and some beautiful words from Craig’s prior recordings. You might find those meaningful to listen to now. We are also making the video of his memorial service available online. You can find all that at ransomedheart.com. We have established a memorial fund in Craig’s honor, to carry forward the boot camps he so loved around the world. You can make a contribution online or in the envelope provided (please mark your check “McConnell Fund”). Finally, friends – there’s that wonderful word again, friends – we do need your prayers. This was a long, long journey for Lori, their children and grandchildren. They need your prayers. Craig leaves a massive hole at Wild at Heart now, and we need your prayers, too. Thank you so much. All mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again, for that library where every book shall lie open to one another. (John Donne) I am so deeply looking forward to sharing all those stories, our stories, when our scattered leaves are gathered up again by the Hand that wrote them all. My ache for the Kingdom is greater than ever. Come quickly, Lord Jesus. Meanwhile—we advance the Kingdom. We hasten the day. With much love, John
John Eldredge
From Glory to Glory
At 6:30 Monday morning, Craig was completely healed. He is in the Presence of God and seeing Jesus face to face. He has moved from glory to glory. He was at peace, surrounded by his beloved family. We will share more in the days to come.
John Eldredge
Important News on Craig McConnell
Friends and Allies of Wild at Heart, I have some hard news I need to share with you... Most of you know that our dear Craig McConnell has been in a seven-year fight with cancer. So many of you have been praying earnestly for Craig and Lori over these years, and we are all so very grateful. Suddenly, over the past 6-8 weeks, there has been a startling turn of events. Craig's leukemia transformed into an aggressive lymphoma, and Craig is now in hospice as he nears the end of his pilgrimage here on earth. He wanted to share the news himself, so he dictated a few words to his daughter: "Wow, things can change so fast. So fast it strikes you as wrong, unfair. I was a hair away from remission. Then a rather routine CT scan rang our bell. Now I am fighting stage 5 Richters Transformation of CLL. I want to say goodbye, dear friends. I want to thank you for the role you have all played in my life. Til Heaven, Craig" I know, I know - we are reeling too. It all happened so fast. And yes - every route towards healing has been pursued. But there is a time, dear friends, for every saint to take the sacred passage into the full Kingdom. This is not defeat; for the Christian, death is a mighty victory because we know that we do not EVER die. But at some point in life we do leave our frail bodies and step into the fullness of the presence of God. Every person takes this journey. "For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die" (Eccl 3:1-2). Even Jesus took this journey. And now, Craig's time is drawing near. Hospice is always an unpredictable stage, he may have days or weeks left. He has fought a valiant fight. As Stasi and I sat with Craig and Lori yesterday I was able to say, "Craig - you won. In everything that is important, you won." He has loved God and people so stunningly well, through it all. He has championed the faith. He is about to finish his race now. There is so much more to say and I know we will devote some podcasts and more to you on this story. For now I need to alert you to a couple of things... Please do not reach out to Craig and Lori at this time. They are surrounded by their children and grandchildren, and by a community of intimate friends. Further contact will be a burden and I know you wouldn't want to increase the burden. I also need to let you know that after hours of prayer and deliberation, we hear Jesus counseling us to cancel the August Boot Camp and the October Captivating events. This has been a long and heartbreaking journey for our team, which is like a small family. We need to be honest about the cost to us, and what the next few months will be like as we grieve Craig's passing. We will contact those registered for the events immediately; please wait for our email giving you further instructions on how you can carry your registration forward to the next event. Meanwhile, I know I can call upon your prayers - for Craig, and Lori. For their children and grandchildren; for our team as we navigate these deep waters. We do need your loving prayers. I wrote this article a few days after receiving Craig's news; I think it will help your hearts in this as it is helping ours. I will be back to you with more as this story unfolds. For now, we remember that, "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints" (Ps 116:15). In Love, reeling, but held by Jesus so closely, and rejoicing that death has lost its sting, John and the Wild at Heart team
John Eldredge
Spirit of the Age
July 2016 Dear Friends, This may be one of the most important letters I’ve written you. I want to deepen our understanding about something I wrote you last month—how Hatred has become the new “spirit of the age.” I wrote that before the police shootings in July. The mounting racial tensions in this country are symptoms of a much deeper reality. We need to grasp what is taking place in our world, so we know how to live and how to respond. In the Beatitudes Jesus warns against murderous rage and consuming lust. I don’t think that was by accident; I don’t think he randomly chose two vices from the litany of human sin. The more you understand the essence of human nature and human conflict, you understand what Jesus was pointing to. Human beings are ravenous. A famished craving for life haunts every person. We crave fullness; it is our design. We were created for unceasing happiness, and joy, and life. But ever since we lost Eden, we have never known a day of total fullness. We are never filled in any lasting way. Human beings are like cut flowers—we appear to be well, but we are cut off from the Vine. And we are ravenous. Until we return to God and actually abide in him, until we experience God as our daily source of life, we are desperate creatures, lustful creatures. We look to a marriage (or the hope of marriage), a child, our work, some food or drink or adventure, the next dinner out, the new car—anything to touch the ache inside us. We are ravenous beings. That is why Jesus warned about consuming lust. Then, the world does not cooperate. Far from it—the world gets in the way of our ravenous ache. It constantly thwarts us. People don’t treat us as we long to be treated; we can’t find the happiness we crave. Our boss is harsh, so we sabotage him. Our spouse withholds sex, so we indulge online. The ravening won’t be stopped. But boy o boy—when somebody stands in the way of our desperate hunger, they feel the fury of our rage. We are ready to kill. People shoot each other over traffic incidents. Parents abuse a baby who keeps them up at night. We shred one another in social media over political disagreements. That is why Jesus warned about murderous rage. This is the human condition: ravenous, and ready to kill anything that gets in our way. Now, enter two more dynamics. The first is the hour in which we are living. These are the last hours of the age, and Scripture describes them with startling clarity: …in the last days there will be very difficult times. For people will love only themselves and their money. They will be boastful and proud, scoffing at God, disobedient to their parents, and ungrateful. They will consider nothing sacred. They will be unloving and unforgiving; they will slander others and have no self-control. They will be cruel and hate what is good. (2 Tim 3:1-3). Sin will be rampant everywhere, and the love of many will grow cold. (Matt 24:12) Human beings lose their capacity to love when their own souls are parched, tormented, and thwarted. When sins rages, when cruelty, selfishness and hatred rule the day—yes love is hard to cultivate. Yes it “grows cold”—even in the best of us. Enter dynamic number two: the spirits of the age. Here comes the Perfect Storm. Spirits of Hatred, Violation and Violence have been released on the earth here in these last days. Paris, Brussels, Orlando, Dallas—how much more proof do we need? Hatred, Violation and Violence are sweeping the earth—and they find massive opportunity in humanity’s current condition. Someone (remember they are ravenous) feels violated; the spirit of Violation jumps all over it, and inflames it like gasoline on fire. Hatred joins in (like sharks smelling blood in the water); they feel hatred—they want to retaliate with a murderous rage. Thus Violence. Friends, this will shed so much light on so many things for you. Not just "out there" in the world; it is so close to home, too. I am finding that normal relational tensions are open doors for this darkness; this "violation" followed by "hatred" jumps on every opportunity. It can be triggered by an unkind email or Facebook post or remark. Even just driving. Simple irritation becomes an open door to suddenly feel a whole lot more than just irritation. Never before has Love been more important to cling to, to pray, to invoke. You are going to need to be vigilant—no little grievances, no offense, no revenge, no open door to any of this. Now I understand why Jesus keeps bringing us back to love, to pray love, to enforce love. Forgiveness, mercy, overlooking offenses, breaking any agreement with violation, hatred or violence. So often these days, as I ask him what to pray, he responds with, "Love." "Jesus, we love you. We really do love you. We turn our hearts towards you in love. Jesus - we receive your love. We take refuge in your love. We make our deepest and total agreement with your love. We receive your love. We take refuge in your love. We make our deepest and total agreement with your love. And Jesus - we dedicate our lives and our kingdoms to your love. We devote our kingdoms to the love of God. We command that the love of God fills our kingdoms, in every way. May the mighty love of God flow like a river over and through our lives. Love like an ocean around us. We bring the love of God against all violation, violence and hatred. We bring the love of God against all envy, jealousy and judgment. We bring the love of God against all cursing. We choose love. We align ourselves with love. And we command the love of God through our lives, our homes, our kingdoms. In the mighty name of Jesus Christ our Lord.” Amen! Just stay with that kind of praying. It will really, really help! God is love, and as we call down love we call down the heart of God himself, and we call down the power of his kingdom. Offered in LOVE, John
John Eldredge
Arising
St. Patrick’s Breastplate – a powerful prayer – begins in this way: I arise today Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity, Through belief in the Threeness, Through confession of the Oneness of the Creator of creation. I arise today through a mighty strength…Oh, wouldn’t that be nice? I want that to be true of me but what is true of me, on most mornings, is I arise today through a fog of despair. I have to claw my way out of cloying depths back into the dawning light of truth and breath. This morning, I arise today through a veil of guilt and accusation. Different mornings provide alternative options of shame. Frequent thoughts that take my heart hostage are: You are a terrible friend. You are a failure as a mother. You are not invested in people’s lives. You do not love well. You are alone. You are on the outside. You are a selfish person. And repeat. Today’s litany is a shorter version. The accuser is battering my heart with “Terrible friend. Terrible friend. Terrible friend. Not even a friend.” The crushing weight of the burden of shame is reinforced by memories (and cruel, twisted, but seemingly real interpretations) of my not being a good friend parading across my mind. Why get out of bed? The prayer continues. I arise today Through the strength of Christ's birth with His baptism, Through the strength of His crucifixion with His burial, Through the strength of His resurrection with His ascension, Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom. Wow. Well, okay then. I don’t arise today through my strength to figure it out or to pull it off or to change or to become an amazing woman who loves everyone at all times perfectly. I certainly don’t arise today by arguing with myself and the oppressor of my soul out of accusation. I arise today by turning my gaze onto Jesus and what He has accomplished for me – because I needed Him to accomplish it. I don’t arise today by my strength but by His. I simply don’t have the capacity to get out of bed this morning buried under the landslide of accusation and shame that has a list of proof ready to convict me and send me into a prison of self-loathing. NO. Still feeling the weight of failure, I turn my gaze onto my Jesus and His finished work on my behalf. I need a Savior. I have one. I begin to ask Jesus for the truth and tell it to myself. I am not a perfect friend but I am a good one. I fail as a mother but I am not a failure. But best yet – I take my gaze off of me and my performance and turn it onto the King and His character: His faithfulness. His goodness. His mercy. His strength. His might. I arise today, through God's strength to pilot me, God's might to uphold me, God's wisdom to guide me, God's eye to look before me, God's ear to hear me, God's word to speak for me, God's hand to guard me, God's shield to protect me, God's host to save me From snares of devils, From temptation of vices, From everyone who shall wish me ill, afar and near. And I hide myself in Him. And in Him I find my strength to rise. For He does not accuse me. He blesses me. He invites me further up and further in to be changed into His likeness and to not gaze at myself – but to gaze at Him. Perfection. Might. My Victor. My Savior. Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ on my right, Christ on my left, Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise, Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me, Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me, Christ in every eye that sees me, Christ in every ear that hears me. So good morning. Honestly. Because of Jesus, it is a GOOD morning! I am arising.
Stasi Eldredge
The Prophecy All Around You
“I’m having a crisis of imagination,” my wife said to me just the other day. “About heaven.” It’s been a tough year for our family and those near us. A tragic suicide, followed by the loss of our first grandson. Eight months of chronic pain—the kind only narcotics give you any relief from—ends in a total hip replacement for Stasi. Having lunch with some dear allies, they tell us their nine-year-old boy is going blind. And then a friend calls us a few weeks ago to say her body is shutting down and she has months to live. I could go on; we’ve just been around too much loss, and when you do, you grow weary of this hurting world and wonder if the next chapter is really going to make it all worth it. Thus the comment about heaven. And it made me sad, because there is such thievery behind that confession. We have been robbed. Our imaginations are victims of identity theft, and we are left utterly broke. Look at the evidence: What are you fantasizing about? For me, it’s a stream in a canyon that takes massive effort to get to so nobody ever fishes it and I haven’t been there for two years and can’t wait to get there this month with a fly rod and no curfew. I’m fantasizing about a road trip through the west. The evening float we do on the Snake River. Heck—I’m fantasizing about the cinnamon twist from the French bakery and the coffee ice cream I know is in the freezer. It’s human nature to daydream. And you? What are you fantasizing about these summer days? Very few people are fantasizing about heaven. And I get it. C.S. Lewis said you can only hope for what you desire, and frankly, most of our images of “heaven” just aren’t that desirable, so it doesn’t fill our souls with hope. I’m glad Stasi named it as a crisis of imagination because that is exactly what it is—not a crisis of doctrine, not even of belief, but of imagination. We can’t conceive of it, so we simply don’t think about it. Vague ideas do not awaken fantasies. The schoolboy does not dream of his wedding night, but the young groom, having relished it, is already dreaming about tomorrow night. After Stasi confessed the crisis, I simply replied, “Think of the Tetons.” Her face lit up like a young girl who wakes and remembers it is her birthday. I was referring to Grand Teton National Park in the northwest corner of Wyoming, a place where the Rocky Mountain West does some of its best showing off. It also happens to be our favorite family place, filled with summertime joy and adventure. Alpine hikes among cathedral peaks in order to rock jump into cold, clear lakes. Huckleberry picking with black bears. Watching moose and grizzly and bison and bull elk in their happy sanctuary. Canoeing the Snake River at dusk, when mist begins to fill the meadows and wildlife comes out to drink, slipping along silently on the river surrounded by virgin forests and you feel you have stepped into The Last of The Mohicans. For us, it is a magical place. And that’s the key—imagination needs a magical place. “Think of the Tetons,” I said, and suddenly her face looked 10 years younger, and I went on, “There you go—that’s the Kingdom.” Now—is this just wishful thinking? Am I just offering a kind of vapid comfort, a sweet and syrupy all-dogs-go-to-heaven kind of theology? Buckle your seatbelts. One of the most stunning things Jesus ever said, one of the most absolutely-blow-your-mind revelations that nobody seems to have paid much attention to is this: Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, at the renewal of all things, when the Son of Man sits on his glorious throne…everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life. (Matthew 19:28-29) Pay very close attention to that first part: “the renewal of all things.” Jesus describes the next chapter of our lives as the restoration of everything we love. A claim so wildly bold and outlandishly hopeful how can we not have this tattooed on every part of our body? A revelation repeated in Acts, and (pardon) Revelation: For [Jesus] must remain in heaven until the time for the final restoration of all things, as God promised long ago through his holy prophets. (Acts 3:21) He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” (Rev. 21:5) The renewal of all things simply means that the earth you love—all your special places and treasured memories—are completely restored and renewed and given back to you. Forever. Eden was our home, and Eden is our destiny. But nobody seems to have heard this or paid much attention to it, because, for one thing, nobody I know is fantasizing about it. When was the last time you eavesdropped on a conversation at Starbucks about the restoration of all things? And for another thing, everybody I talk to still has these sick, wispy views of “heaven,” as a place up there somewhere, where we go to attend the eternal-worship-service-in-the-sky. I don’t even like the word heaven any more because it has been so saturated with religious poisons, leaching in from underground like the water table poisoned by a toxic waste dump. Meanwhile we fantasize about that boat we’d love to get, or the trip to Patagonia, the chocolate éclair or the girl in cubicle next door. Of course we do—we are made for utter happiness. But the restoration of all things—now that would change everything. Which brings me back to imagination, the Tetons, and the message summer is singing to us. God speaks through nature. Can we just start there?—God clearly speaks through nature. Creation is no accident—it is a proclamation. A wild, bold declaration. (This will rescue you from so many things; pay very close attention.) Every day sunrise and sunset remember Eden’s glory and prophesy Eden’s return. So what is summer proclaiming? Allow me a story. Last week I spent two very long days in the hospital with a friend. Hospitals are melancholy places. Don’t get me wrong—they can also be places of immense relief and hope. I think the people that serve there have taken a heroic stand on the side of hope. But let’s be honest—on the user side, no one there is there because they want to be; they are there because something is wrong, usually very wrong. It is a community of the hurting. People don’t play pick-up games of Frisbee in the halls of hospitals. You don’t hear folks loudly cracking jokes. The corridors are filled with hushed tones and a shared sobriety. Apart from the maternity floor, the staff, patients, concerned visitors all agree, This is serious business. Somebody could be dying in that room you just walked by. I’d just spent 48 hours in a hospital room with my dear love and I had slipped into that place where you come to think this is all there is in the world—monitors going off all day long, staff coming in and out with urgency, hushed hallway conversations, the stupor of drug-induced rest, the IV and cold rooms and artificial everything. I left at 5:30 to go grab us some dinner, and as I stepped outside I was literally hit with a wave of the glory of a summer evening. It was wonderfully warm. The cumulus clouds were building towers for their evening show. Meadowlarks across the field were singing and singing. I could smell flowers; the aspens were shimmering. All the wonderful fragrances and feelings of summer. It was like experiencing The Renewal of All Things. Summer is God’s rescue from all the creepy things we’ve been taught about heaven. Summer is the annual pageant on behalf of The Restoration of All Things, all nature practically shouting at us because we are tone deaf. That’s why you love it so much. We pack up the car and head to the lake or the park; we break out the grill and have friends over, laughing late into the starlit evening; we dive into waters and bake in the sun and in this way we get a good, deep drink of the Great Restoration. Drink it in friends. Let it speak. You don’t need a bucket list, because all of it is yours, forever. Very soon. I had lain down under the shadow of a great, ancient beech-tree, that stood on the edge of the field. As I lay, with my eyes closed, I began to listen to the sound of the leaves overhead. At first, they made sweet inarticulate music alone; but, by-and-by, the sound seemed to begin to take shape, and to be gradually molding itself into words; till, at last, I seemed able to distinguish these, half-dissolved in a little ocean of circumfluent tones: "A great good is coming—is coming—is coming to thee…" (George MacDonald, Phantastes)
John Eldredge
Disappointment in Prayer
Dear Friends, “Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up” (Luke 18:1). I find that line immensely encouraging; I’m grateful Scripture precedes the story of the “persistent widow” with that little comment. It’s encouraging because Jesus obviously understands that we all have reasons to give up. Stasi just called me into the living room. “I have disappointing news,” she said. My stomach had that queasy oh no—what next? feeling. I braced myself. We’ve had several rounds of bad news this spring and I just don’t know how much more I can take right now. “The radiologist called and gave me the report.” I sat down and listened. It wasn’t what we were hoping for. It certainly wasn’t the report of healing we had been praying for over the course of the past seven months. My heart sank. “But we prayed.” I know we all have stories like this—stories of disappointment in prayer. We tried, we put our faith in God, but nothing seemed to change. It can be brutal on the heart and on our relationship with God. When prayer doesn’t seem to work, it can really knock the wind out of you. How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me? (Psalm 13:1-2) Which brings us back to not giving up. Jesus urged us not to give up. When Stasi gave me the bad news this morning I wanted to go “global”; in my disappointment I wanted to say, “Prayer doesn’t work. I’m done praying about everything.” When the truth is, we have seen stunning answers to prayer over the years, many answers to prayer. No—not all the time. But many times. Yet when my current prayers don’t seem to be working, I forget all the answers I have seen over the years. I have to catch myself and remember what is true. This is exactly what the Psalmist does, just a few lines later: But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me. (13:5-6) He reminds himself, “God does love me; he has been good to me.” This moment may be heartbreaking, but this is not my total experience of God, not even close. I have to anchor myself in what is true: God is good. He cares immensely. He is involved. When disappointment strikes and my prayers seem to be bouncing off the ceiling, I simply must anchor my heart in these truths or I will go down like a sinking ship. The story of the persistent widow is a story about persevering in prayer. Most of the great biblical prayer stories are. How many times did it take Elijah to call down the promised rain? Not once; not twice; eight rounds of all-of-your-heart-soul-mind-and-strength prayer. In Acts 12 James had been seized by Herod and executed. He then arrested Peter and put him in jail and the outcome looked the same. But the story shifts with the phrase, “But the church was praying very earnestly for him” (v. 5). The Greek for “very earnestly” is the same description of the prayers of Jesus in Gethsemane. This is serious prayer. The text also indicates that the church is praying for Peter all night long. And Peter is rescued. In humility I don’t think we can begin to discuss the dilemma of “unanswered prayer” until we have learned to pray like the persistent widow, Elijah, or like the church in Acts 12. “Lord, teach us to pray” (Luke 11:1). The disciples asked Jesus to teach them how to pray; prayer is something to be learned. I assumed it was more like sneezing—you just sort of did it, and God took care of the rest. A very naive view of prayer. You couldn’t get away with that attitude in your marriage, or career, not as a parent, or in anything you enjoy doing. Everything you value in your life you had to learn. And so it is with prayer; especially with prayer. Prayer is our great secret weapon, friends. It is powerful and effective. James says, “The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective” (5:16). If it is, I humbly accept that it is something I want to be trained in. I understand disappointment in prayer, I really do. I also understand there is nothing my enemy would love more than for me to give up praying. So I return to the Psalms, and let them express my heart: both “How long, O Lord?” and “But I trust in your unfailing love” for you have been good to me. And back to my knees I go. If you haven’t yet picked up your copy of Moving Mountains – my new book on prayer – it might be the most important thing you do this year. Because everything else will be changed by your powerful prayers! In fact, Stasi and I are reading it aloud to each other in the evenings; it is really strengthening us! Love, John PS Don’t miss the one-night-only nationwide premier of our first film – A Story Worth Living – May 19th! Catch the trailer and find your local theater at: astoryfilm.com
John Eldredge
There's More To The Story
I stumbled upon George Bellows's painting, "Dempsey and Firpo". Considered by many to be the greatest American sports painting it captures the dramatic moment in the 1923 World Heavyweight Championship fight between Jack Dempsey (the reigning champ) and Argentinian Luis Angel Firpo, nicknamed "El Toro de las Pampas" ("The Bull of the Pampas"). 80,000 fans paid to see the fight live. The painting is straightforward – something is at stake, there is a violent battle, there is a victor and the vanquished. Something about the scene pricked my interest and, as God so often shows up in the simple affairs of our lives He was there. Next to me. Together we lingered on the painting and He whispered, “It is your story Craig”, which I loved hearing but having felt like both fighters I needed help with the interpretation. My initial read was, “I’m the victor in the ring having just connected with a swooping haymaker that launched my opponent out of the ring into a row of reporters. Yeah!” I’m still standing! I’m in the ring bruised, bleeding, battered; I’m winded and wobbly from the body blows, a little foggy on how many rounds are left but I’m good. I’m still standing!” “Frap” you cancer! Curious about the fight and the painting I found the scene was in the first round, the Champ, Dempsey, was sent into orbit out of the ring, seriously gashing his head on a typewriter in the row of ringside reporters. Whoa, the hero is getting his butt kicked? What kinda story is this? Dempsey takes a full eight count (and some would say a very, very slow eight count) to get back into the ring and staggeringly faces his opponent. Then in the second round, in a dramatic reversal it’s Dempsey that plasters Firpo, flooring him seven times and with a minute left in the round clobbers Firpo, knocking him down and out to retain the Championship. Now the picture hits deeply. I’m Dempsey flying out of the ring? Okay, that’s a twist on my original interpretation but yeah; I’ve been beaten up pretty bad, real bad. I hear a "Hold on Tiger..." The story doesn’t end with the picture. There’s more, there’s always more to the story. The rest of the story is that Dempsey and I climb back into the ring and with a fierce and holy rage overcome my/our opponent. It’s an epic battle and a glorious victory. Victory, in the end is mine. In that moment, focused on the print in a high end art store I can feel the affirming smile of God throughout my entire body and being. I wanted to yell with God as loud as we could, "Yes! Yes! The story ends gloriously! Given the setting we tempered our excitement to a conversational volume and a simple, "Cool, very cool.". Victory in the end will be mine! The physical, spiritual, relational and financial hits of a vigorous cancer can easily launch one into hopelessness and despair. Unless you’re healed or go into remission it’s an inescapable battle that lasts far longer than you’re prepared for with unimaginable ups and downs. But there have been so many transcendent moments in the presence of God where battle, pain, fear and death fade into a “peace that passes understanding” and the story moves from my suffering to my loving others. It is, for now, beyond my ability to fully describe. My Story is that God has come, I feel good, strong and in many ways “Back”. I have been places and experienced things that give credibility to the message that God is good, so worthy of our full-hearted worship and adoration; that in His presence all we bear, fear, suffer and grieve is recalibrated and grows strangely dim. In Him there is comfort, healing and the passion to pour into others a supernatural grace only available at the Cross. I worship our God with all my heart. Specifics: · I’ve been in the current stage two Clinical Trial for a year. The investigational drug ABT-199 has been great for me. My cancer, though incurable, is kept at a lower threshold without some of the horrific side effects I’ve had with my other treatments. · I now fly to Houston quarterly instead of weekly or monthly for testing and restaging. On a monthly basis my local Oncologist does blood work to early alert my Houston team on any sudden change. · I’m pretty close to the “R”” word. “Remission” would be a wonderful word to hear when I return to M.D. Anderson this June. I will be very emotional at that moment. The culmination of so many prayers over such a long season. · To be in remission I have a couple of lymph nodes that need to shrink a little bit more and some improvement in my blood. Even in remission the descriptive medial term for my prognosis is “Wait and watch”. Their prediction is the cancer will return, mine is that Jesus returns sooner. · Lori and I are trying to address the trauma and PTSD that can immobilize us with anxiety, loneliness and malaise. LiveStrong Cancer Survivor Courses, trauma yoga, breathing techniques, a lot of surrendering to God, counseling and the love and support of others is huge. Your prayers, friendships, conversations, support and love have pushed us through the gauntlet of Stage 4 Leukemia to a hair’s width from Remission. It would not have happened with out your prayers and love. Love you, thank you, Craig and Lori McConnell
CM
Craig McConnell