John's Blog
Give Jesus
OK, this is really worth whooping over: I just heard about a guy who posted an offer to his 600 Facebook friends, offering to give them a free copy of Beautiful Outlaw, no strings attached. All they have to do is reply yes, they'd like one, and give him an address, and that's it. He'll send one asap. Wow. Talk about Merry Christmas. What a cool idea. I'm blown away by the generosity. But also by the Intentionality. I mean, right – let's get Jesus out there, every way we possibly can. This Jesus. This beautiful portrayal. O may it be a rescue for those lost in the religious fog, and may it be a enticing introduction for those who don't yet know Jesus. When I heard about the offer, it moved me to think again about who I can give a copy to. Right away my neighbors came to mind, who we've been wanting to share Christ with, but something always seems to delay the moment. To send a few out to family as well. Heck, if I had a Facebook page, I'd do what this guy is doing. Let's get extravagant with Jesus! So…how about giving Jesus for Christmas. You can get awesome case discounts on Beautiful Outlaw at our website store. After all, Bethlehem was an invasion. Let's celebrate Christmas by carrying it on.
John Eldredge
Loving Jesus in the Pain
This has been a tough year for me. A year with a lot of suffering. Both Stasi and I have been through a lot of physical affliction. There were accidents. Betrayals. My father died this year. On top of this, my friends have been suffering. A year with a lot of pain in it. And there is nothing like suffering to wreak havoc in your relationship with God. The damage pain does to our relationship with Jesus is often far, far worse than the pain itself. Every time I turned to Jesus in the midst of one episode of heartache then another, every single time I turned to him, the first thing he would say was, "Love me." At first it surprised me—Aren't you supposed to say you love me? I'm the one who's hurting here. But somehow, instinctively, I knew what he meant, knew what he was after. "Love me now, in this—not for this, but in this." And those words have been a rescue. Here's why: Pain causes us to pull away from God. At the very moment we need him most, we pull back. Our soul withdraws, like a snail into its shell. Then you not only have the heartache, you have "lost" God for awhile too. Desolation on top of suffering. Sometimes it takes months, even years, to recover the relationship. Jesus was rescuing me from that cycle by telling me to love him now, right in the midst of the pain. On a soul level, when I love God in this place, it opens my heart and soul back up to him right where I need him most, right in the center of the pain. Too often what we cry out for is understanding —Why, God? But I've learned over the years that when you are in the midst of the suffering, you don't often get understanding, and frankly, you don't need understanding. You need God. And so, dear friends, I wanted to pass this along to you, for it has been a great help to me. Love Jesus, right there, right in the midst of the pain. Just start telling him you love him, right where you are hurting. For as you do, it enables your heart to open back up to him; it enables him to come to you in this very place. And it is Jesus that we need. Desperately.
John Eldredge
Jesus Freaks
Last Wednesday night I was speaking in Dallas on who Jesus really is, his actual personality, what he's really like. It is by far my favorite thing to do. Afterwards a woman came up to me, big smile, bright eyes, and said, "I'm a Jesus freak too!" It made me laugh; it gave me joy. It also got me thinking. Jesus freak. I'm pretty sure that phrase began back in the late 60's early 70's with the "Jesus Movement" that brought so many people to Christ. The hippie culture met Jesus. I was in on the tail end of that. We liked being Jesus freaks, meaning, people who were totally in love with Jesus. What blows me away is that it would be considered something of a freak to be totally sold out for Jesus. I mean, how does that make someone a freak? Isn't loving God the single most important thing any human being can do? (Isn't it the first and greatest of all the commandments?!) Love God. With all your heart, soul, mind and strength. It's first, it's basic, it's what it means to be human. Let's connect the dots. God has a name. It happens to be Jesus. So, loving Jesus is the first and most essential act of any human life. First. Most essential. I tell you what is freaky - living in a world where loving Jesus sets you so radically apart you stand out like a sore thumb. Anyhow, here's to the Jesus Freaks. Go ahead and love him gang. With all your heart.
John Eldredge
When Jesus is Near
A friend of ours had an encounter with Jesus this weekend in which she received his healing from a very traumatic time in her life. She wondered if she would ever find Jesus in this place, and this weekend, he came. O, to have Jesus. How beautiful. There is nothing like it in the world. As A Kempis said, "When Jesus is near, all is well...when he is absent, all is hard." I am so very, very excited to tell you that finally, Beautiful Outlaw is here!! Amazon started shipping it last week. This is the book I've been telling you about, on the personality of Jesus. You're just gonna love it. Love it. This is huge, friends. Because this book is going to bring Jesus near. Our friend Becky is a woman who has walked a lot of years with Jesus; she is one of those real streasures of a soul who love him and know him intimately. The kind of person you just want to be around. I was kind of nervous and anxious to have her read Outlaw. After all she's known, would it make a difference? She sent me this in an email: "I have never laughed and wept so often through a book. I have fallen in love with Jesus again." So friends, you must grab Outlaw as soon as you can. Devour it. And then, tell the world. O, and we are offering some beautiful videos that go along with the book free to you (yep, free). You can find those at www.beautifuloutlaw.net. Come Jesus. Come.
John Eldredge
Experiencing Jesus
Whatever else it is we need, or think we need, we need Jesus. He is our life, our restoration, our everything. To have Jesus is to have the greatest treasure in all worlds. So - how do we find him? How do we experience him? Just begin by loving Jesus. Make a pratice of loving him. This will open up your heart and your life to experience him. For he said, "He who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love him and show myself to him" (John 14:21). Love me, he says, and I'll show myself to you. It makes sense. I mean, you don't go around opening up your heart and your life to just anyone. The people in your life that get to have you, have the real you, are the people who love you most. As it ought to be. Well, the same holds true for God. Now yes, yes - he extends us extraordinary amounts of grace and mercy, and he reaches out even to those who hate him. However, those who get to know God intimately, those who get to experience Jesus are those who love him. So, just love him. As you move through your day, just turn your heart to him in love. "Jesus, I love you." As we make a practice of this, we experience more of him. Which is the best thing in the world.
John Eldredge
How to Find Jesus
"Without a friend you cannot live," said A'Kempis, "and if Jesus be not above all a friend to you, you will be sad and desolate." Ain't that the truth. We often don't recognize our desolation for what it really is - missing Jesus. A longing for Jesus. After all, he is our life. Without him, there is no life. So our basic task, whatever else it is we might be doing, is to find Jesus, and stay with him. Not an easy thing to do, as you've discovered. But here is one thing that will help you immensely both find Jesus, and find a closer union with him: Love Him. Just start loving Jesus. Whatever the emotions you are feeling, whatever it is you are facing, just return to loving Jesus. "Jesus, I love. I love you. I love you." It will open the door for him to come closer; it opens our heart to experience him with us; it also ushers in his presence into those parts of our lives where we find it most hard to find him. Love Jesus there, in those very places. I literally say, "Jesus, I love you in this, right here, in this. I love you Jesus." It will help. And having Jesus, well, is the best thing you can ever have. Nothing else even comes close.
John Eldredge
Baby Jesus had Poopy Diapers
Last May I had the opportunity, while in London, to visit the National Gallery. Loving art, and being with my son who is an art major, I was excited to spend hours there. I loved the Van Gogh, the Monet, the Rembrandt paintings and many more. But there was one massive disappointment. No, it was more than disappointment. Massive frustration. I did not see one portrait of Christ, in all the famous works of him, that came anywhere close to depicting Jesus as he really is. Not one. They are all wispy, pale Jesus, looking haunted, a ghost-like figure floating along through life making vague gestures and even vaguer statements. The Nativity scenes were particularly ridiculous. The classic art depicting the infant – themes now repeated on Christmas cards and in the creche scenes displayed in churches and on suburban coffee tables – portrays a rather mature baby, very white, radiantly clean as no baby is ever clean, arms outstretched to reassure the nervous adults around him, intelligent, without need, halo glowing, conscious with an adult consciousness. Superbaby. This infant clearly never pooped his diapers. He looks ready to take up the Prime Minister-ship. Why did it make me angry? Because when we lose his humanity, we lose Jesus. The Incarnation is one of the greatest treasures of our faith. The world keeps pushing God away, but in the coming of Jesus he draws near. Incredibly near. He takes on our humanity. "Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity..." (Hebrews 2:14). But we have so sanitized and religious-ized the baby Jesus that most of our imagery of the Nativity now adds to those horrible religious views of him. Jesus becomes a vague though impressive figure with wonder powers who is floating above this life that the rest of us are slogging through. Life was easy for Jesus, right? He barely broke a sweat. O, wait - there was that terrible sweat in Gethsemane. Hmm. The Incarnation – the beyond-all-doubt evidence that whatever else he was Jesus was surely a human being – it has been stolen from us. And with it innumerable treasures regarding the humanity of Jesus and, therefore, our humanity too. One of my favorite Christmas meditations comes from this passage by Chesterton. (He is speaking of Bethlehem, and what it held in its hills that fateful night.) "…as the strange kings fade into a far country and the mountains resound no more with the feet of the shepherds; and only the night and the cavern lie in fold upon fold over something more human than humanity." Savor that last passage for a moment. That feeding-trough-turned-cradle held something more human than humanity? What? Do you think of Jesus as the most human human-being that ever lived?
John Eldredge
Doubt Is Not Humility
I don’t even remember the issue we were talking about—it had something to do with Christianity—but I do remember my friend’s response. “Gosh, I'm not really sure," he said. And I thought it a humble and gracious posture to take. Only, it's been five years now. And he's still saying, "I'm not really sure." He has landed in that place. Now I see what happened. He has chosen doubt—a posture very attractive and honored in our day. Doubt is “in.” Listen to how people (especially young adults) talk. “I don’t really know…I’m just sort of wrestling with things right now…you know, I’m not really sure….” And if, in the rare case, someone actually says what they believe, they quickly add, “But that’s just the way I see it.” As if confidence is a bad quality to have. Certainty is suspect these days. For one, it doesn’t seem “real,” or “authentic.” It’s human to doubt. So it seems more human to express doubt than certainty. We end up embracing doubt because it feels “true.” But there is also guilt by association. Dogmatic people—people certain they know what’s what—have done a lot of damage. Particularly dogmatic religious people. Good people don’t want anything to do with that, and so—by a leap of logic—they don’t want to be seen as having strong convictions. Certainty is not something they want to be associated with. I’m thinking of this quote by Alan Bloom; referring to a fundamental assumption the postmodern makes, he says, “The true believer is the real danger. The study of history and of culture teaches that all the world was mad in the past; men always thought they were right, and that led to wars, persecutions, slavery, xenophobia, racism, and chauvinism. The point is not to correct the mistakes and really be right; rather, it is not to think you are right at all.” And so Doubt, masquerading as humility, has become a virtue. A prerequisite for respect. People of strong conviction are suspect. Now, I appreciate the desire for humility and the fear of being dogmatic. But let us remember that conviction is not the enemy. As Chesterton said, "An open mind is really a mark of foolishness, like an open mouth. The object of opening the mind, as of opening the mouth, is to shut it again on something solid." Enter Jesus, who is always so wonderfully counter-cultural. He knows humility. But doubt (this will be a great surprise to many people) is not something Jesus holds in high esteem. “Stop doubting and believe” (John 20:27). Hmm. I think we've stumbled onto another vital expression of not letting ourselves be corrupted by the world (James 1:27). We breathe this cultural air; we take in its assumptions. So let us remember this truth: Doubt is not a virtue. Doubt is not humility. Doubt is doubt. Jesus understands doubt, and he wants us to get past it, not embrace it, for heaven's sake.
John Eldredge
Of Course
My son told me recently that at his Christian college a student has chosen to fly Buddhist prayer flags off the dorm balcony. Perfect. Of course they did. It is a classic picture of the culture at this moment. A self-revealing snapshot. Too many years ago to count, Alan Bloom came out with a celebrated (and prophetic) book called The Closing of the American Mind. In it, Bloom - a university professor - observed that the last value held by college students in this post modern world is tolerance. A value held passionately. Almost religiously. Those college students grew up, had children of their own, and shaped the culture we have at present. We are so steeped in the tolerance=compassion=human rights=all faiths have goodness to them=the important thing is to be sincere mindset now that a Christian student flying Buddhist prayer flags is met with this sort of reaction: "It's kinda cool." "It's not big deal." "It's a symbol of tolerance." "It's a way of standing with the oppressed Tibetan people." It is, in fact, very naive. The flags contain prayers (mantras) and symbols to gods other than Jesus Christ. They are, in fact, an invitation for demons to come and take roost. By your permission. But doesn't my saying so seem just a little...too obsessive? I mean, c'mon. Lighten up. As proof that we are so accustomed to the laid-back paganism of our times, notice than on the whole we are more uncomfortable with someone saying, "umm...that's demonic" than we are with a Christian student flying Buddhist prayer flags at a Christian college. It would be a very uncomfortable community exercise to ask, what does James 1:27 mean for this culture right now? "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world" (1:27). We are really, really big on the social justice part right now. That is super cool. Very "in." But we are unsure if we want to deal with the second half of the passage. That part is not so cool at the moment. So, the prayer flags summon away.
John Eldredge
Healing the Past
I had a remarkable and unexpected opportunity this last weekend. I'd gone back to southern California to visit my aging parents. My dad is in a nursing home know and it was good to see him. My mom needed some help around their old house as well, and I was glad to be able to fix some things for her. But the unexpected gift came as I drove around the neighborhoods in which I grew up. I found myself praying through my past. The loneliness of my junior high years. The rebellion of my high school days. As I drove around I would remember a person or an event, and simply invite Jesus into it. It was extraordinarily redemptive. It felt like Jesus and I were walking back through all sorts of things from the past, and as we did I could feel the emotion or the old way of looking at things, and I could invite Christ into it to make it his own. I think God actually does this more often than we know. He'll bring up something that will trigger a memory - we might have a dream, or visit an old haunt of ours, we might see an old friend or sometimes all it takes is just a certain smell like cut grass or a donut shop and bam, we are back in some period of our life. In those moments, invite Jesus into it, into that period in your life. And linger there for a bit, allowing his Spirit to show you what to pray. I found myself asking his forgiveness for the sins of my youth (Psalm 25:7) and the cleansing of that felt very important for my life and freedom now, in the present. (So many of these things retain a kind of hold on us, decades later.) At other moments I found myself inviting Jesus into an old relationship and what I found there was his love re-writing my past, coming into it. But most of all, I found myself expressing gratitude for how he has truly saved me. The contrast of my life from then till now was stunning to me. Change and sanctification take place so gradually that we often don't see how far we've come until we look back. It is a powerful thing to redeem the past, bring it under the rule of Jesus and invite him to fill it. I think this is why he will bring it up in the present through some reminder of days gone by. When he does, invite Jesus into it, give it to him, let him heal or affirm or cleanse or redeem or return to you some gift of life he gave but you lost over time..
John Eldredge
Jesus Really
Stasi and I ran into an old acquaintance this last week. Someone we hadn't seen in what felt like eons. My reaction was somewhat surprising. I wanted to throw myself on the ground and thank Jesus for delivering us from that view of God. (Now, that would have been a little awkward to do in their presence. So, I waited till I got home.) By "that view" I mean a view of Jesus and Christianity that is so very widespread in the church. It goes something like this: You can't really know Jesus intimately. He is about more important things. But you must revere God from afar, because he is so high and lifted up and you are nothing. Humility is best expressed as self loathing. Godliness is available apart from intimacy with Jesus. It involves morality, mostly. But more so, holding the correct positions. Knowledge about God is mistaken for knowing God. Righteousness is purely external, behavioral. The heart is never to be looked at. Jesus is never someone you could hear laugh, or who would be concerned with the longings of your soul. In fact, Jesus isn't used much; "God" is the preferred person whom we address. Using Jesus is simply looked upon as too casual. I once held to that. And I shudder. As George MacDonald wrote, "Good souls many will one day be horrified at the things they now believe of God." You understand, I trust, that there are many views of Jesus out there in the church. Some are closer to the truth than others. You also understand, I hope, that a false view of Jesus is worse than no view, because if you think you hold the right thing you never go in search for him really. A dear friend heard a sermon recently that basically went like this: You can't really know Jesus, because he isn't like your friends. He is vastly different from us. I think the attempt was to invoke reverence. But the teaching is from hell. You can know Jesus intimately, better than your friends. Or what in the world was the incarnation for? Jesus came for the very purpose that we might know God. Be intimate with him. Everything else is a sideshow. And so the very best thing you could ever pray is "Jesus, I ask you for the real you; take away every false Christ and show me the real you."
John Eldredge
Burritos
I love a good burrito. Warm, home-made tortilla, carnitas or barbacoa steeped in their own juices for hours, fresh salsa, rice, beans, guacamole - o man, I'm making myself hungry just talking about it. If you've had a really good burrito, you know what I mean. Here's the problem: you can get something called burritos at any gas station these days. They typically come frozen and you're supposed to put them in the microwave to resuscitate them. Now, they look like a burrito...kind of. They smell like a burrito...kind of. But they are not even close to the real thing. And yet, they are called "burritos." It says so right on the plastic package. Burrito. This is where we are with the Gospel now. You can pull into any church or ministry and be offered something called "the Gospel." And there's just enough Jesus words to make it sound like the Gospel...kind of. It looks like Christianity...kind of. It smells like Christianity...kind of. But it isn't even close to the real thing. And yet, it is packaged and marketed as Christianity. So here's a simple test: Does it do what the Scriptures say the Gospel will do? Does it heal the brokenhearted? Set captives free? Does it draw people into a genuine intimacy with God, where experiencing his presence is normal? Really? If not, dump it like a gas station burrito. Go get the real thing.
John Eldredge
I'm Back!
hi gang. I'm back. From my sabbatical. (In case you were wondering "where the heck has he been?" I've been on sabbatical for the past several months.) It was really good. I was in desperate need of rest and restoration - physically, emotionally, spiritually. And I don't do rest well, so God had me get to the point where I simply had to break away. A few years ago I was watching a special on the Iditarod and was absolutely intriuged to learn about the sled dogs that can run such a ruthless race. That sled dogs are the most physically fit animal in the world. That they love to run, live to run and the problem with that is...they don't know when to stop. The men and women who win the Iditarod have calculated down to a science the best way to run their dogs. Now for the part that blew me away: they have discovered that the perfect formula is to rest the dogs more than they run them. (That was completely unnerving o a guy who loves to run, lives to run, and doesn't know best when to stop.) Of course, the dogs won't adopt this formula on their own. They have to have good masters who make them rest. Otherwise, they'd just run themselves ragged. (Hmmm. I am a sled dog.) It brought new meaning to the 23rd Psalm: He makes me lie down in green pastures, he restores my soul. We all want the restored soul part. But it only comes when we accept the lying down part. So, God makes us...if we will cooperate. Anyhow, that is where I've been. Seeking rest and restoration. And, its great to be back. I have SO much to share, I hope to get back into a regular rhythm of blogging. Meanwhile, where does your soul need restoration? And how are you seeking God's plan for that?
John Eldredge
"Where the heck have you been?"
I know. I know. In the world of blogging I have been gone since, like, the 17th Century. I woke up this morning and realised, "You just disappeared, John, and didn't tell them where you were going." As soon as we returned from the epic Wales Boot Camp in late May, I began a sabbatical. Part spiritual, part medical, this sabbatical was longgggg overdue and desparately needed. So, I sorta ran out the door (literally) with a bag stuffed with clothes, books, journals, cigars, fishing gear, granola bars and yep, pretty much fell off the planet. at least you now know why I've been silent as a blogger. Now, truth is, I thought I'd blog through my sabbatical. You know, honest thoughts about how important sabbath is, and raw stuff on what taking sabbatical is like. Then I realised, how twisted is that? I mean good grief. The whole purpose of a sabbatical is major unplug for restoration. Part of what I needed to deal with on sabbatical was this irony of "be productive, keep your voice out there, have something to show for this" stuff. I was even going to video some of it. Whew. Pretty wacked out. I mean, the opposite of sabbatical, right? so, that's why I have been offline. And will be for a bit longer. But I did want to say hello, and I'm doing well, and sorry for dashing out the door and leaving my cereal bowl on the counter and my socks on the floor. Hope you are well, too. Do sieze what you can of summer joy before the rush of the fall demands swallows you up in its momentum.
John Eldredge
Summer sabbath
So, yesterday was the official "first day of summer," if you hadn't noticed. Summer has begun. Though my hunch is, most of us have already jumped the gun and embarked on summer like intentions. The bar-b-que is out, we've gone to the lake once or twice, or enjoyed eating outside or working on a tan or got our tomatoes planted or maybe only (at least) begun to think about what we'd like to do with summer. I, for one, am trying to get a bit of sabbath rest this summer. To help me, if not get the rest than at least think about sabbath a bit more than I do, I've been reading Dan Allender's wonderful book entitled (waddya know) "Sabbath." In it Dan recounts a conversation he overheard, two people "boasting" about the amount of email they get and how much work they have to do. A very common conversation, on I bet we've all been a part of. Dan then notes this: "Boasting about work is a national pastime. The one who works harder, against greater odds, and with fewer resources to gain the greatest ground wins. We are proud that we shoulder such immense responsibility..." Yikes. We say we don't like to be so busy, but the truth is, we are absolutely addicted to it. Just trying slowing down a little and you'll see. Try ignoring your cell phone for 24 hours. Don't use facebook. Don't check your texts or emails. You'll see. Anyhow, we went to the beach for a few days to relax and drink in warmth. I was amazed at the amount of activity was going on in a place of "down time." Folks were surfing, kite boarding, windsurfing, running on the beach, doing yoga in the park, paddle boarding, activity everywhere. Classic. Folks were spending their precious vacation sabbath going hard at it, just like they do the rest of the year. Intense about vacation, how ironic is that? It got me thinking about how much we feel our worth through what we do, what we accomplish. How we also derive a sense of security through frantic activity, by getting on top of things. And then God says, commands even, that we take a genuine sabbath, and we don't know how. I, for one, want to find it. So I'm going to continue this wonderful book of Dan's, and stop blogging. Just wanted to throw the thought your way that work might be in the way (even play as work) and suggest a little summer sabbath.
John Eldredge
God as Deliverer
I was thinking about the name of Jesus. How it means "God saves," or, "God is our deliverer, our salvation." Which got me to thinking about the idea of God as Deliverer, as opposed to, say, the preferred idea of God as Preventer. It made me realize how much I want God to be my Preventer more than Deliverer, meaning, I want him to prevent bad things from happening in my life. Prevent means it never happens to me. Deliver means I am in deep trouble and need God to rescue me. I think we all prefer the notion of God as Preventer. And yet, God is so much more often presented in the Bible as Deliverer. My goodness, just read the Psalms. "Arise, O Lord! Deliver me!" (3:7). "Deliver my life from the sword" (22:20). "For he will deliver the needy who cry out" (72:12). And just think about the history of God's people; it is one deliverance after another. Paul's life is as well, which causes him to say, "On him we have set our hope, that he will continue to deliver us" (2 Cor 1:10). Not prevent. Deliver. It is a very different view of life with God. Now, let me be quick to say that I believe God is also our Preventer. Scripture also presents him as our shield. And we have no idea all that he has shielded us from. Which is actually my point. You don't notice God as Preventer, or shield, because you don't know what was going to happen to you since God shielded you from it. All we experience is those things where we need God to rescue us, to be our Deliverer. I think it would be helpful to come to terms with how much we'd all prefer God to be our Preventer. Because when we hold fast to this view, we experience a lot of turmoil with all those things that don't get prevented. Why did God...how come this...did I not.... You know how this works. Notice how when he doesn't prevent bad things from happening, it often throws us for a loop. We get shaken. We go to doubt, or some sort of self-accusation and blame. It causes a lot of distress. But when we realize God is our Deliverer, it helps us not be thrown by the fact that we sometimes find ourselves thrown into the furnace. God has not abandoned us. We have not blown it. We understand God is far more Deliverer than Preventer, and we can then cry out with confidence "O God, deliver me" and wait with hopeful expectation that he will deliver. Anyhow, the categories are beginning to prove helpful, so I thought I'd share them.
John Eldredge