John's Blog
Even in the Small Things
Last Sunday night my friend Darrell Evans (worship leader; we use his music a lot at our retreats) was playing in town and Stasi and I had been looking forward to it. Even bought tickets in advance. But then the weekend took its usual toll, and we were both tired and in that Sunday evening place of "time to veg." We made the mistake of settling into a good movie when Stasi suddenly asked, "What time is it?" It was 7:51. Darrell was starting at 8:00. Across town. I was about to run up the white flag when Stasi said, "We should go. I want to go." I wanted to protest. Make excuses. So I quickly did what I often do—what I have learned to do from many mistakes—I paused, and internally I asked Jesus what he wanted us to do. He said, "Go." So we went. And it was awesome. Just what we needed—a really intimate evening of great worship. And a chance to reconnect afterwards with Darrell. Honestly, it felt like one of a thousand little rescues this year simply from asking Jesus what he has for us. Even in the small things. Even when I don't really want to. "You show me the path to life" (Psalm 16:11). Every time. By the way, Darrell is on tour to like thirty cities, and if you can you should go, too. You can find his tour schedule on his website at http://darrellevans.com/
John Eldredge
Why We are Urged to Remember
Today we remember the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. Smoke billowing from the Trade Center towers; their sudden collapse; the Pentagon on fire; the wreckage in a Pennsylvania field. Remembering is a really central theme in scripture. “Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them” (Deuteronomy 4:9). All those commands to write it on your foreheads, inscribe it on the door post, teach your children these things. And of course there is the Lord’s supper, in which we are urged to remember. Forgetfulness was viewed by saints before us as something very dangerous. It is vital we remember. But for what purpose? Why pause today and recall the nightmare of twelve years ago? There is something you must understand about human nature – we just want life to be good. Nearly all our energies, every day, are spent trying to make life good. But of course – we were made for Eden; we were made for life to be good. This part of our nature is completely understandable. The problem is this – we do not live in Eden; that is not the chapter of the story we are living in. We live in a world at war; we live in a larger story that is far more urgent and noble and startling than “making life good.” And this is the other part of human nature we must understand – we just don’t want to face all that. We want to find some way to numb ourselves out of the present reality and re-create some level of the pleasures of Eden. We just want life to be good. I was thinking about Aldous Huxley’s book Brave New World, a futuristic novel written in 1931. In that future world (which now looks more and more familiar) there is a drug called “soma” which is used to keep the people numbed to the realities around them. And the people crave it. They want to be numbed. This is that part of human nature we must be also aware of. How ironic that when I checked the BBC News website this morning, right next to the report on 9/11 was an ad – equal in size to the article – for Pottery Barn and some pillow sale. When I clicked on the article itself, a new ad appeared next to it, running down the entire right side of the page, selling retirement planning for those who want to be “comfortable.” Right next to the article on 9/11. Do you see it?! Soma. Numb me. I don’t want to face reality. I just want life to be good. And that is why we are commanded, hundreds and hundreds of times throughout the Bible, to remember. We must continually be re-awakened from our sleepwalking. A friend sent me an email last week. She’s teaching the high school Bible class at her local Christian school. She wanted permission to use excerpts from Waking the Dead because, as she put it, “I’m really trying to pound home the understanding that they are living in a ‘world at war’ and nothing will make sense until they get that!” You live in a world at war. Nothing will make sense until you get that. Not Syria, or Sandy Hook, or 9/11. Remembering brings us back to reality; breaks the spell of “I just want life to be good.” It invites us up into the story of God, invites us to take our role in a much greater purpose, to join him in his battle against evil and in bringing Jesus Christ – the only solution to this broken planet. Soon a day will come when life will be good. Till then, we must remember, or we’ll be numbed by forgetfulness and sedated by that baser part of our nature that just doesn’t want to face reality. Jesus said nothing about pillows and comfortable retirement. He launched the invasion of the Kingdom of God into a world held by darkness. He invites us to join him in living in that startling, dangerous and beautiful story. And so we remember.
John Eldredge
A Fresh Encounter with the Love of God
Some of my blog readers aren't aware that I write a monthly newsletter (that's right, an actual letter—comes in an envelope, printed on paper, delivered by the postman. Remember letters?). So I thought I'd share this month's letter with you here... Dear Friends, This letter began with a stone. Well, actually, it began with a question. The answer to which was a stone. I’d written you a different letter this month but it just didn’t feel quite right. So I let it sit on my computer overnight, waiting to see if it was just me not liking what I’d written, or if it was in fact not the right letter. Tonight I was walking around the house praying, asking God, “What do your people need this month, Lord?” (We all have plenty of information; we all have more than enough to do and to think about. What we need is what God has for us, what he knows we need. That’s why I was asking the question.) I wandered into my bedroom looking for a tip to the arrow I was carrying. (Don’t you do that’s sometimes – wander around playing with some object in your hands as you think about or pray about something entirely else? Please tell me you do.) As I was reaching into a little bowl of stuff I keep on my dresser, I asked again, “What do your people need this month, Lord?” I put my hand in hoping to retrieve the missing arrowhead but instead pulled out a little stone I had completely forgotten I’d put there. On the stone a word is engraved: Love. We need love. Now, I’m gonna be honest with you. That’s not like a super amazing insight or a new prophetic word or some revelation from the deeper secrets of the scriptures. In fact, it seems a little anti-climactic, doesn’t it? Yes, yes, of course love is important, but it’s just so…I dunno…over-used? Commonplace? Churchy? Maybe this is just a guy thing; maybe you ladies are already resonating, “Yes! Love! That’s exactly what we need!” Except, I know a number of very fine ladies and the questions they are asking and the answers they are seeking from God right now seem a lot more urgent or weighty – one needs healing, another needs major direction and a third needs work. Doesn’t love sound a little obvious and kind of like a concession prize? A comfort and balm when the rest of your life doesn’t work out? Over the past several months – months which for me have had their fill of middle-of-the-night-spiritual trials – I have often asked God, “What do I pray, Lord? What do I need?” And his answer has been, My love. That my Love would fill your heart, fill you and surround you. And my response has been along the lines of Really? It seems like guidance would go a long ways right now, or breakthrough, or angelic help or how about power and glory? God seems to feel that love is far more urgent, or necessary. I found myself drawn to this passage from Ephesians, I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge--that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God (3:14-19). The last sentence grabbed me: “That you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” Yes, that’s what I want! I want to be filled with all the fullness of God! The path to this is what surprised me – knowing deeply, knowing truly, in the depth of my being, the love of God. Really? This leads to that? I don’t think I’m rooted and grounded in love; at least, not as I need to be. Bad news still throws me; I’m cautious about dreaming; I’m driven; I seem to care just a bit too much about what others think of me; my relationships feel guarded; I still feel guilty about things that are decades old; and my prayers don’t seem rock solid. I think if I was rooted and grounded in love I’d approach life much differently. I think you would, too. We need love. Flash to a conversation I had with Morgan a few weeks back. We were talking about what was current in our lives, battles we were facing, what we found ourselves praying and he said, “I am asking God for a revelation of the Father’s love. I’m done with information. I want a personal revelation of the Father’s love for me. I’m asking for this every day.” It sounded to me exactly like what Paul was so earnestly praying for us in Ephesians. I wonder just how marvelous this would be – if we each had a personal revelation of the love of God for us, frequently. So let’s ask for it! Let’s each of us ask God daily, or as often as we can remember, for a personal revelation of his love for us. AND for the grace to accept it when he gives it. I’m hopeful, John If you'd like to receive my monthly letters, you can sign up on our website here: www.ransomedheart.com/newsletters . You'll also find a library of past (wonderful) letters there, too!
John Eldredge
What Was Easter Week Like for Jesus?
This coming Sunday begins a Very Big Week for Christians. Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday is the triumph not only of Jesus Christ, but of our lives as now intertwined with his. This week is the triumph of our faith. But some of the power of this story gets lost in our familiarity with it, lost to us because we know it so well. It's a bit like watching a movie you love...for the 42nd time. I find myself wondering... What was this week like for Jesus, internally? How did he experience it, as a man? Gethsemene makes it very, very clear that Jesus felt all of this not as a superhero, but as a human being. What was it like for him, whose heart is the greatest heart of all? Staring this Sunday, our special Easter week podcasts take you on a journey through this week from the perspective of the inner life of Jesus. Why did he leave Jerusalem every evening, walking the two miles back to Bethany to spend the night? What was the cursing of the fig tree all about? I'm fascinated by his tears over Jerusalem, and also his stern warnings about the end of the age. I hope you can join me as we explore the greatest week any man every lived...from the viewpoint of his own internal world. click on the image to join us!
John Eldredge
Hope
Stasi – my source of great worship music – just played a new song for me last night that captures something God put on our hearts in a big way these past few months. It’s called “Suddenly” (by Daniel Bashta) and the opening lines go like this: We are longing for your coming We are desperate for your presence And the refrain goes, Suddenly come, suddenly come, suddenly come just like you promised. Oh friends, it is nearer now than ever. Back in November we held a small retreat here in Colorado. As the event drew near, Jesus gave us a new topic, and in doing so we knew that he had something on his heart for us. Not just for us at the retreat, but for all of us who love him and call upon him. The subject was hope – more specifically, hoping in the coming Kingdom of God. As I began to do some study I was pretty blown away by the assumptions the Scripture makes about our hope and Jesus’ return. For one thing, Paul says that our faith and our love spring from, or flow out of, or find their foundation in, our hope in the Kingdom of God: “because we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love you have for all the saints - the faith and love that spring from the hope that is stored up for you in heaven” (Col 1:4-5). I thought, Well…maybe the reason my love and faith are kind of flagging is because my hope isn’t really that vibrant. I mean, how often do I even think about the coming Kingdom? The Scripture also assumes that this hope is where our truest hopes are set, assumes that because of it we are “filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy” (1 Peter 1:8). Yikes. Ummm…that’s not exactly how I would describe myself most days - filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy. Maybe I’ve missed something here. And so the weekend turned out to be rich and powerful and more than we had planned. Hope began to return, rising up from the depths - in some ways an old hope restored, in other ways a brand new hope discovered. I’m embarrassed how caught up in this world I had become – preoccupied with many concerns, good concerns, some of them might even be called noble concerns, but they had crowded out the core of my faith, which is my hope in the return of Jesus and the beauty of the Kingdom he ushers in. I wanted to make sure you were aware that we just released those talks in CD form, and as a digital download, so that the hope which is yours might come to you as well. So that your heart might be lifted. Maybe even find yourself filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy. I would love that for you! You can access the message here:
John Eldredge
Not so strange bedfellows
Was anyone else a bit shocked last night when, in the midst of the Academy Awards, we were taken live to the White House to behold the First Lady assume the role of a presenter??! It was very, very telling. A parable of our times. For one thing, we watched the utterly seamless blending of the most serious office in the nation with one of the silliest. The princes of make-believe joined with the office of grave events. The jester and the Queen went on a date. Does anyone else see the problem here? The Academy Awards can be a fun evening some times, a politically correct event other times, and always a rather incestuous affair as the world watches Hollywood give itself awards in a self-congratulating love fest. It is to be taken about as seriously as you take the lottery, as you take any soap opera. Then, suddenly, in the midst of the glitter and gloss, we have the First Lady—dressed for the occassion, looking like every other actress, taking the role of presenter with complete sincerity. In as smooth a transition as could be wished by any director, the world of global leadership blended with the world of sham, of pretend, of make believe. I hope at the least you are very clear now how much Hollywood adores the Obamas. Given the prevailing political winds of Tinsel Town—as radical and preposterous as a set of views can get—the ease with which Michelle Obama took part in the evening ought to give you shudders. Who is influencing our nation's leaders? But the additional shock provided us last night was the picture of how our country confuses politics and film making. I can bet you that for the most part folks were charmed by the guest appearance of the President's wife at the Academy Awards. I wager that most folks were not troubled by the ease with which the First Lady became an acress/presenter nor saw in that a deeper reality exposed. The line between story-telling and truth telling was long ago abandoned. "Sincerity" is enough to convince us now, whether it be on the silver screen or from the White House. We are entertained by our leaders and led by our entertainers. All is one.
John Eldredge
How Are You Interpreting Reality?
"Why, God?" The young man was lying on the bathroom floor, in a foreign country; he had passed out and was covered with yuck. He is a beautiful young man, a friend of my sons, a follower of Christ, bright, creative, gifted. He has also known more than his share of strange physical afflictions, and this one—passing out in a sketchy bathroom and hitting his head far too hard on the tile floor thousands of miles from home, on a trip that was supposed to be hopeful and adventurous and maybe even romantic—this brought the cry from his heart. The first thing he said when he came to was, "Why, God?!" The story broke my heart. This young man does not need one more reason to doubt God. And so the story also made me very, very angry. Not at God; not at the young man—at the view of the world he was handed. "Why, God?" reveals a lot. I think our friend assumes something like this: The world is a broken but still pretty decent place, and while awful things do happen, for the most part we're going to be okay because God can help us find a life worth living. If he cooperates. To give you a vivid contrast, Jesus says: "I am sending you out like sheep among wolves" (Matt. 10:16). He said this to his dearest friends. I'm sure the illustration was chosen to shake their assumptions, grip them to the core. But since most of us have never lived with sheep or seen a wolf operate in the wild, let me attempt a translation: I am sending you out like puppies on a freeway. Or better, like three-year-olds into a maximum security prison. Let it sink in. Jesus assumes a dangerous world. Not an unpredictable one, but clearly a world in which we find ourselves in a great battle with evil. Oh, yes, he assumes God is our ally, but not primarily to help us find a simple life. That's not what is going on here. My response to our young friend's fall was not "Why, God?" but rather, You bastard. Meaning, my fury at the evil one. It is not a story of abandonment, yet another reason for unbelief, but rather one more clear illustration that this is a world in a brutal war and we must live like it. Friends, what are the assumptions you are holding about the world, about life? What surprises you? Your convictions will shape your every interpretation of events, and if they are mistaken, they will break your heart and cause you to give up on God, the only person who can help you find your way through.
John Eldredge
How to Pray Life Against Death
Friends, a few days ago I posted a blog on the Newtown massacre. Crucial as that alert is, this is even more important than that one. I need to help you pray a shield of Life around your households. About a month ago I experienced a very strong spiritual attack. It was quite dark, and took serious prayer to break off. It was, in fact, a spirit of death. As I prayed against it I sensed that it was not something specifically against me, but rather, it was a death attack that had been released upon the earth. I soon discovered that at the same time I was battling, a number of our friends were slammed with something similar, though they might not have identified it with death. It came as a malaise, a crushing, physical affliction, various “fruits” but the same spirit. God began to reveal even more; I just found out this week that during this same time period my son was praying for students at his school battling with suicidal thoughts, or even attempted suicide. Then came the massacre at Newtown, CT. That same week there was a shooting in an Oregon mall. Our dentist was killed with his father in a small plane accident. At this same time the nephew of a dear friend overdosed. All within hours of each other. The stories go on. I hope this information begins to fill in a picture for you. Not fear, but awareness. As Paul said, “For we are not unaware of [Satan’s] schemes” (2 Cor. 2:11). I want to encourage and equip you to be praying Life over your households. Some sort of death assignment and/or spirit has been released, and we need to bring the power of the resurrection of Jesus Christ against it. We have a prayer here on our website we call the Life Prayer. It is the perfect tool for this moment. You can find it here. Please share this post, pass it on to your circles and email lists so that we can get folks protected, and get the saints united in praying Life. If you read my post on Newtown, this is Part II—this is how we unite to bring Life at this very moment. This is the far more important part. United with you for Life, John
John Eldredge
Why Newtown is More Important Than We Think
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. (Yeats, The Second Coming) Evil struck again. And while I would prefer a solemn silence—the only good thing Job’s counselors offered him—so many unhelpful things are being said and suggested around the Newtown massacre I found myself compelled to write. Because the question of evil may be the greatest question the world faces today. How do we deal with evil? How do we prevent such tragedy? It all depends on what you think is causing this. I hope you will forgive my honesty, but I do not understand the shock. The grief I understand. The speechlessness, the staggering, the profound sorrow, the overwhelming sense of violation—these I understand. We are reeling from yet another assault of darkness. But our shock reveals something else altogether, something even more dangerous than armed violence. I am describing a naiveté about the world that Christians, at least, should not be toying with. In his brilliant essay The Wind in the Trees, GK Chesterton explains our misunderstanding by means of a great storm he experienced: “I am sitting under tall trees, with a great wind boiling like surf about the tops of them, so that their living load of leaves rocks and roars....The wind tugs at the trees as if it might pluck them root and all out of the earth like tufts of grass. Or, to try yet another desperate figure of speech for this unspeakable energy, the trees are straining and tearing and lashing as if they were a tribe of dragons each tied by the tail. As I look at these top-heavy giants tortured by an invisible and violent witchcraft, a phrase comes back into my mind. I remember a little boy of my acquaintance who was once walking in Battersea Park under just such torn skies and tossing trees...he said at last to his mother, ‘Well, why don’t you take away the trees, and then it wouldn’t wind.’ Nothing could be more intelligent or natural than this mistake. Any one looking for the first time at the trees might fancy that they were indeed vast and titanic fans, which by their mere waving agitated the air around them for miles. Nothing, I say, could be more human and excusable than the belief that it is the trees which make the wind. Indeed, it is a belief so human and excusable that it is, as a matter of fact, the belief of about ninety-nine out of a hundred of the philosophers, reformers, sociologists, and politicians of the great age in which we live. My small friend was, in fact, very like the principal modern thinkers; only much nicer.” Chesterton was describing the naiveté that has since paralyzed the world, a naiveté revealed by our shock. What do you really believe about the cause of the "storm?" You would think that after a century which included the Holocaust, Stalin, the Khmer Rouge, and the rise of terrorism to name but a few, we would have been cured from our childish ideas about evil. You would think that after any one of the hundreds of atrocities of the past few years, we would have been cured. Rwanda, 9/11, human trafficking—what is it going to take? I was heartened at first by the early words of Connecticut Governor Dan Malloy when he said, “Evil visited this community today.” That is exactly right; that is precisely what happened. But the clarity—he may have only been using a metaphor—was quickly lost in the subsequent media barrage. Our leaders are reacting to the Newtown massacre by calling for gun control; how unspeakably foolish. Now, this is not an essay on gun control; I am speaking to our understanding of our situation and the forces we are dealing with. But the cries for gun control reveal the naiveté—they are crying for the trees to be cut down while they ignore the wind. It is this naiveté regarding evil that is the crisis of our age. And it is most dangerous. For the Christian knows certain things about the world, things we must never ever lose hold of. We know from whence evil comes; we know what to do about it. We know—or we are supposed to know—that we live in a world at war; we are living in the midst of a very real and extremely brutal battle with the kingdom of darkness. While most Christians are still playing at happy little life (and angry at God for “allowing” terrible things to happen), the Scriptures continually warn us of a great evil power, who rules the world, whom we must contend with. “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Ephesians 6:12). In other words, with the demonic. But, apparently T.S. Eliot was right: “Humankind cannot bear too much reality.” We seem utterly devoted to avoiding the question of evil, to misdiagnosing it, completely committed to a childish view of the world. And our foolishness is proving very costly. For as Chesterton went on to say, “The great human heresy is that the trees move the wind.” By this he means the heresy that it is economics, race, poverty, a political party or doctrine that are the real causes of evil in the world; in this case, that it is the lack of gun control that causes evil in the world. Is the evil therefore located in the gun? Far more people are killed by automobile accidents each year in the U.S.—is the evil located in those vehicles? How long will we continue to ignore the actual wind that tortures this world “by an invisible and violent witchcraft?” Chesterton concluded his essay with a warning: “When people begin to say that the material circumstances have alone created the moral circumstances, then they have prevented all possibility of serious change....And nothing will ever be reformed in this age or country unless we realize that the moral fact comes first.” Good and evil come first. We prevent all possibility of serious change when we hold childish views regarding evil, regarding the Great War in which we find ourselves. I suppose for the world the naiveté is understandable. For the Christian, it is inexcusable. We cannot toy with sociological, psychological or political explanations for the evil now ravaging the planet. Because we have answers. There are answers both to the evil in the world, and the evil in the human heart. God moved long ago to deal with both, and triumphantly. What greater hope could possibly be spoken? This is what the world longs to know—"Why doesn't God do something?" God has acted; he has intervened, at the cost of his own life. There are answers, there are solutions, there is a way out. But we will not seek them while we take a four-year-old view of the world; while we blame the the "trees" for the raging storm. How differently would the church pray if we really believed we are at war with the kingdom of darkness? How differently would we live and act in this world? That “difference,” my brothers and sisters, would make an enormous difference.
John Eldredge
Jesus and Assumptions
We received a letter the other day asking a really good question about Jesus and the way he looked at life. From time to time I talk about the “assumptions” we hold about life, and God, and wonder if ours are the same assumptions Jesus was operating by. Sadly, the word created problems. In her letter, a woman told us that, “This statement (‘Jesus' assumptions’) totally tripped up a Christian woman who was going to do the Walking with God study with me. She said that because Jesus is God he wouldn't hold any assumptions. I don't know how to respond to her.” Here is my response: Well, with regard to her predicament, it really is probably solved by word choices. Your friend doesn’t like "assumptions." I'll bet that's because the word sounds to her like "uncertainties" or "guesses at life's big questions." By assumptions I don't mean guesses. I mean "convictions we hold," or, "our core convictions about life" or, "the core truths we operate by." In this regard, of course Jesus had convictions. His were the deepest of all. I wonder if your friend simply substituted the word "convictions" or, "core truths" for assumptions if the issue would be resolved. Because, I'm betting that by saying Jesus held assumptions, she heard me saying Jesus wasn't sure about things, was just taking his best guess at the truth. I do not believe that. Jesus called himself the way, the truth and the life (John 14:6). He calls the Holy Spirit the Spirit of truth (John 14:17). He told us that only when we really know and hold to the truth would we be his disciples, and be set free (John 8:32). Jesus' life is deeply anchored in the truth. I think it would help her to know that. Yes, Jesus holds assumptions. By that I mean Jesus assumes that truth exists, truth is knowable, and truth is essential. He’s not taking guesses at things.
John Eldredge
An anchor for your soul
So, I've been captured by two verses recently. The first goes like this: "We have this hope as an anchor of the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf" (Hebrews 6:19-20). My first reaction was, No we don't; I hardly know anyone who actually has this anchor for the soul. If there is anything that characterizes the souls of this postmodern age, it is adrift. Not anchored. Anchorless. But God promises we CAN have this anchor, this hope, if we choose so. What is the hope? The Kingdom of Jesus; the sure and certain reality of the Kingdom of God, and the coming of that Kingdom. If you put your hopes in that, it will anchor your soul. The second verse comes a bit later in Hebrews, but returns to the same theme: "Since we are receiving a Kingdom that cannot be shaken..." (12:28) This felt particularly appropriate today. Our country (the U.S.) is obviously as deeply divided as we were in the Civil War (probably never, in fact, recovered spiritually from it). But friends, a reminder—we are citizens of a Kingdom that is as beautiful and true and glorious and loving as this world is not; we are receiving a Kingdom that cannot be shaken. If we set our hearts there, we find that we, too, cannot be shaken. Thought this might be helpful in the midst of the maelstrom.
John Eldredge
Table for Two
This is headed in a good direction. Just wanted you to know that. We've always made family dinners a priority (thank you, Stasi). They really are the centerpiece of a family life, the places where stories get told and life gets processed and a lot of informal teaching gets passed along. Laughter, banter, pass the salt and you gotta hear what happened today. When our oldest son, Sam, left for college, there came that night where we no longer set a fifth place. Four placemats, and we all had to face the loss. Then Blaine left, and it was three placemats. There have been a lot of quiet dinners these past three years; Blaine brought a lot of life to that table, and it's hard to be the one son left with mom and dad. After we took Luke to college Labor Day weekend, Stasi and I came back and basically avoided dinner for two weeks. There was company, and some travel, and late days at work...and we were avoiding the inevitable. Neither of us wanted to sit down at a table for two. What I wanted to share in all this is something beyond our sadness. I've been so keenly aware how easy it is when you are hurting to make agreements. This is the time you've really got to watch over your heart (Prov. 4:23). Too easy to go from the immediate pain, which is real, to something sweeping like, "Life is just loss." Or, "I hate change." Or, "What is there to look forward to now?" Pain can so quickly open the door to other things you don't want to let in—like despair, or hopelessness, or resignation. And what has been most noticeable is that we actually have a choice whether we will let Jesus comfort us. Really. Pain can feel so "true," so "real," that we actually push the comfort of God away because we feel we need to stay in the pain to honor it, or because it might be the most we've felt anything in a long time, or because those subtle agreements have begun to creep in and we give place to pain as what is most true about life. And I don't want to do that. You don't want to do that. No agreements. No pushing Jesus away. Whatever the loss may be.
John Eldredge
The Last Cup of Tea
I've been avoiding this blog too long. The story goes like this... Three years ago our middle son Blaine left for college. He and our youngest, Luke, were very, very close and I knew Blaine was leaving a big hole in Luke's life. Luke was only a year into a high school experience that would prove very hard and very lonely. My father's heart ached for him. So every morning, I would wake before Luke and make us both a cup of tea. We'd share those early morning moments in the kitchen, sipping tea, sometimes talking, sometimes just being quiet. Then, we would pray together, and I'd send Luke into his day. I might have missed a few mornings here and there, but this was our ritual every morning for three years. Tea, and prayers. As May approached, I could feel a knot in my stomach. I knew the morning was coming when we would have our last cup of tea. High school would end, summer would pass too quickly, and Luke would head of to college himself...and these days would be over. Forever. Yesterday Stasi and I got home from taking Luke to the university where he'll spend the next four years. Out of state. We walked into an empty house. An era has ended. Twenty-four years of life with sons at home and in one moment we are suddenly in the next stage of life. Now yes, yes...we will always be parents. In fact, our relationships with Sam (now out of college) and Blaine (a senior) are in some ways better than ever. But the golden days of boyhood and family are over. The house is very, very quiet. Man I hate goodbyes. I really do. This morning I made just one cup of tea.
John Eldredge
Practicing the Presence of Jesus
I’m a late-comer to the worshipping world. Years before me Stasi began to discover the beauty and intimacy of personal times of worship. She’d tuck herself away in our bedroom with her headphones and iPod, and just worship Jesus. Never once did she reappear to say, “Well…that was a waste of time.” It took me several years to catch on, but I began to do the same. My preference would be to worship on a run, or, driving in my car. I began to look forward to longer drives, because of the extended time it would give me to listen to, soak in and respond to good worship music. (This is now my favorite way to pass airplane flights.) But more often than not, its simply grabbing some time in my office with the door shut and the music cranked. I almost ALWAYS have seven other things that seem far more practical or pressing to do. But not once have I felt, having made the choice, “Well…that was a waste of time.” I found myself wondering today if you are practicing the same. Rather than taking it for granted, I thought I’d put the recommendation before you. Here are a couple of songs/albums I’ve really been enjoying the past few weeks: Here on Earth by Bryan and Katie Torwalt (especially “I See Heaven,” and “I Breathe You in God”). Also The Loft Sessions by Bethel Music (especially “Come to Me” by Jenn Johnson). Gosh, I could make a dozen more suggestions, but Stasi’s at the retreat and I gotta go make dinner. So, there you go. Try it. Or, come back to it.
John Eldredge
A Fresh Start
This is that time of year we start thinking about making changes – “new year, new you” and all that. This is a good time to ask yourself, What do I want to be different this year? Really. Sit with that for ten minutes. Let your heart surface. Write it down. And then…take it to Jesus in prayer. Lord – come into this. Show me the way. Give me the first step, or the next step. Ask Jesus, What is the theme of this year, Lord? I do this every January 1st, and it has proven a mighty rescue many times over. Usually Jesus will say one simple thing. Three years ago it was, “Love.” And all through the year, I found myself needing to return to the simple truth of love. Two years ago it was, “Restoration,” and that proved to be the year I took a short sabbatical and sought the restoration I needed. Last year it was, “My glory,” and wow – it was the year of Beautiful Outlaw and I could say a hundred things about how “My glory” proved true. So ask Jesus, What is the theme of this year, Lord? And when he speaks, write it down! Post it somewhere you will see it often. In very big letters. Pray the “Daily Prayer.” Its not a magic wand or a lottery ticket, but the folks who have made a practice of this will tell you it has been huuuuge for them. So simple, really. But a rescue. A breakthrough. It clears the fog. And so much more. You can find a version to print or an audio download free at www.ransomedheart.com. Look under “More,” then “Prayers.” Times are hard. Quick little, “Jesus be with me” prayers just aren’t going to cut it anymore. Get yourself into some sort of community. I know, I know – its hard, its messy, it is never ever exactly what you want. But you need it anyways. Look at Jesus – even the Son of God chose to live in community with a handful of men and women because he needed to. Now, community is not 5,000 people on Sunday morning. That can be awesome, but you need people in your life. Start a small group. Take the risk. Invite some folks over and spend three months going through one of our DVD series. Just give it three months and see what Jesus does. Take the battle seriously. Too many folks are still trying to live as though there are only two big players in their life – them, and God. And they’re mad that God isn’t coming through more often. Friends, enough with the naiveté. You live in a world at war, and that war is heating up. Live like it. Fight back. There is more freedom than you ever thought possible…but only if you fight back. Stop interpreting hassles as merely “hassles.” Stop thinking things will get better with time. This is Normandy – live like it! Take your healing seriously. Yes, you can have a new year, new you. You can. If you’ll take your healing seriously. I mean your inner healing, the restoration of your soul. We’ve all taken hits in this war, and our souls are in great need of wholeness and freedom and life. Well…it isn’t going to happen unless you pursue it! Get some counseling. Or healing prayer. Ask Jesus, What do I need to do for my healing and restoration? What do you have for me, Lord? Where are you leading? With a whole heart, you are unstoppable. With a wounded heart, you are limping along. With a broken heart, you are very, very vulnerable. Fall in love with God again. There’s a reason “love God with everything that is within you” is the first and greatest command. Nothing in life works right until we practice this. But when we do fall in love with God, love him with everything we are, it is the single greatest act of re-orientation we could ask for – the single greatest shift towards wholeness, happiness, life and clarity that any person could ever choose. But the funny thing is, even among God’s own people, very few actually make this the main thing. Friends – this is the main thing. If it’s been years since you read The Sacred Romance, read it again. If you haven’t yet opened Beautiful Outlaw, now is the time. OK, this was a little fatherly counsel, here at the start of 2012
John Eldredge
I Am Bethlehem
And so we have celebrated Christmas, the coming of Jesus to this world. And O what a thing to celebrate! The manger, the angels, the shepherds…the focus of the entire pageant comes down to this: Jesus became a man. “Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity…made like his brothers in every way” (Hebrews 2:14,17). Jesus took on a genuine humanity. Pause, and let that sink in – Jesus shared in your humanity. Baby Jesus wasn’t wearing a halo. Apologies to Away In a Manger, but yes he cried; he spit up his food; he needed to be held, and his diapers needing changing; this infant was a real infant. He needed to learn to walk, to talk, to tie his shoes. That alone is stunning, stunning, stunning. And Jesus the man wasn’t faking it, either – Gethsemane was real. The sorrow, the anguish, all of it. His humanity was real. It makes his life all the more stunning. Jesus took on a genuine humanity. This is at the center of our Christmas celebration – his Advent, his coming to earth. And of course, this late in the story, I hope it is nearly impossible for you to celebrate Christmas without your heart turning toward his return. One day soon, Jesus Christ is going to return to this earth, with his army, to make a final end of evil and to usher in the coming of a Golden Age. We refer to this as the “Second Coming.” I find myself praying for it nearly every day. But what struck me this Christmas was this: The Second Coming is actually - in fact and in reality - the Third Coming. Christ came to Bethlehem. And then, he comes to dwell in us, to be born in us. The Second Coming is actually in us – Christ is born in us, and is formed in us. He is here, right now, in us. Paul says that his whole life of labor was so that the Incarnation might continue…in us. “My dear children, for whom I am again in the pains of childbirth until Christ is formed in you” (Galatians 4:19). Until this man, this life, is formed in you. Christ was first formed in Mary’s womb; now he is being formed in us. It is a truth unique to Christianity and no other religion. "…the mystery that has been kept hidden for ages and generations, but is now disclosed to the saints…Christ in you, the hope of glory" (Col 1:25-27). Jesus made his first invasion into Bethlehem. His second great act of indwelling happens when we open our hearts to him, and he comes to live in us. Think of it - Jesus Christ is inside of you, now, this very moment. A friend of mine who lives in eastern Europe sent me this in a late night email. (He is responding to a passage in Beautiful Outlaw): “It is late night and I was putting my little ones to bed (they are not that little any more but they like it anyways). I'm still sitting here next to their beds and they had fallen to sleep at least an hour ago but I'm reading on the Humility of Jesus. I am disarmed, naked, amazed and in awe with this Jesus. It is like a new Incarnation – the Word is becoming Flesh in me now. I think the Incarnation didn't finish but it continues." The Incarnation didn’t finish but continues. It is one of my favorite phrases. The Incarnation continues…in us. And so on Christmas Eve, as our family and a few dear friends were having a quiet service here at home, and I was sharing these very thoughts about the Second Coming actually being in us, suddenly the Spirit leapt in me and I practically shouted, “I am Bethlehem.” And you are Bethlehem. The Incarnation continues, just as real as it did that fateful night. It continues in us.
John Eldredge