Articles & Posts
Worship!
I love to worship God. (As much as I love it, you'd think I'd be spending more time doing it. Well...I'm going to!) Our God loves it when we spend time simply adoring him! Shifting the gaze of my heart onto his beauty and goodness and away from the clamoring of my world refreshes my soul like nothing else. That said, I wanted to share with you some of my current favorite worship songs, songs that help to usher me into his Presence. Here's my playlist for May! Enjoy! God will enjoy it, too! Beautiful Things - Gungor - Beautiful Things Suddenly - Daniel Bashta - The Invisible Just Give Me Jesus - Daniel Bashta - The Invisible One Thirst (feat. Jeremy Riddle & Steffany Frizzell) Bethel Live - Be Lifted High Waiting Here for You (Live)Christy Nockels - Passion - Here for You (Deluxe Edition) You Know Me (feat. Steffany Frizzell)Bethel Music & Steffany Frizzell -The Loft Sessions (Deluxe Edition) How He Loves Us - Will Reagan and Laura Hackett - Hold On Closer (feat. Steffany Frizzell-Gretzinger) [Live]Bethel Live - For the Sake of the World The Fragrance of Your Name - Cory Asbury-Holy Behold the Lamb - Daniel Bashta - The Invisible Yeshua (Live)Will Reagan & United Pursuit - Live At the Banks House Great I AM - Jared Anderson Okay—there are a zillion more that I love but I will stop here. And in a month or so, I'll share again!!!
Stasi Eldredge
Intentional Rest
Yesterday morning, John shared this story with me: When Dallas Willard was asked by a friend, "How do I best teach people about Jesus?" Willard thought, then replied, "You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life." Of all the things he could have said, he responded with that? Ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life? I told John that it sounded really interesting and I’d like to hear more about it but I was in a hurry. I was making a joke, but we both knew I was also telling the truth. I had so much to do that I sped from the room to attack the many requirements presenting themselves for my immediate attention. Ruthlessly eliminate hurry? Oh man. I feel so busted. This has been an extremely full season. A full year, really. Lots of change. Lots of good activities, meetings, work, ministry, life. And I have been running. Haven’t you? Aren’t we all running? We are. We are running a marathon. Hebrews 12:1 “And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” Other versions say, “Let us run with patience” or “let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.” 1 Corinthians 9:24 says, “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.” We want to run well. Live well. Love well. Finish well. So in order to do that, we need to rest. To keep running, we have to stop running. All you athletes out there know that runners need rest days to recover and repair muscles in order to get stronger. Runner's World says, “It is important to realize rest days are when improvements are actually made as opposed to during the days when the runner is training.” Who knew? I can feel lazy or self-indulgent when I actually do nothing. Schedule nothing. Say no to events, appointments, gatherings in order to...simply care for my own heart and body by choosing to rest. But I need it. We all need it. Intentionally resting is vital for all of us. Be still and know that I am God. (Psalm 46:10) It’s when I slow down and stop that I become more aware of God’s loving presence. That’s when I become aware of my own breathing, even aware of how tired I am. When I am still, I step back from my hurry and step into the timelessness of our King’s merciful and restorative embrace. I’m choosing to rest more these days. And I’m not waiting for my official vacation to begin. I’m going to practice it even today. I don’t want to hurry. I don’t want to rush blindly by, forging ahead in the daily rigors of my life and miss my heart. Miss beauty. Miss others. Miss Jesus. I don’t know if I can ruthlessly eliminate hurry from my life. But for today, well, today, with the help of Christ, I think I can. Maybe, just maybe, with his help, we all can. "Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." (Matthew 11:28-30 MSG)
Stasi Eldredge
This Time of Night
I like this time of night. The house is quiet save for when the wind blows the aspen branches too close to the window. They scratch to get in. Maybe they don’t want to get in at all but are simply asking for attention. Have you noticed our new buds? The night is quiet save for the occasional breeze gently massaging the larger pine trees up the hill. What a warm sound it makes. But the night is not dark. Not yet so very dark. Not still. Not scary. Not unkind. The night is inviting. Strong. It is unabashed beauty that welcomes. The ridiculously magnificent crescent moon is glowing with an otherworldly hue. It slips behind the hills leaving only a golden glow. See, it says, I was here. No stars can be seen tonight through the billowing pirate ships of clouds. I like this time of night. All the day done. Nothing on the list of to do’s that can’t be edged over onto tomorrow’s. The house is still. The night a promise of recurring beauty steady in its offer if I will but walk out my front door and breathe it in – through my nose, my mouth, my eyes, my skin, my soul. And be still myself. “Be still and know that I am God.” I seem to know he is God best in the stillness. In the quiet. When duty and obligation and responsibilities and taskmasters are silenced and the only requirement that remains is to allow my soul to rest and know that God is God. Well, let me be quiet then. Let me be silent. Let me be still. Let me breathe him in through my nose, my mouth, my eyes, my skin, my soul. And know I am held. Surrounded. Know that he is God. Know that my silence speaks to him and his to me. I like this time of night.
Stasi Eldredge
This Time of Night
I like this time of night. The house is quiet save for when the wind blows the aspen branches too close to the window. They scratch to get in. Maybe they don’t want to get in at all but are simply asking for attention. Have you noticed our new buds? The night is quiet save for the occasional breeze gently massaging the larger pine trees up the hill. What a warm sound it makes. But the night is not dark. Not yet so very dark. Not still. Not scary. Not unkind. The night is inviting. Strong. It is unabashed beauty that welcomes. The ridiculously magnificent crescent moon enchants with an otherworldly hue. It slips behind the hills leaving only a golden glow. See, it says, I was here. No stars can be seen tonight through the billowing pirate ships of clouds. I like this time of night. All the day done. Nothing on the list of to do’s that can’t be edged over onto tomorrow’s. The house is still. The night a promise of recurring beauty steady in its offer if I will but walk out my front door and breathe it in – through my nose, my mouth, my eyes, my skin, my soul. And be still myself. “Be still and know that I am God.” I seem to know he is God best in the stillness. In the quiet. When duty and obligation and responsibilities and taskmasters are silenced and the only requirement that remains is to allow my soul to rest and know that God is God. Well, let me be quiet then. Let me be silent. Let me be still. Let me breathe him in through my nose, my mouth, my eyes, my skin, my soul. And know I am held. Surrounded. Know that he is God. Know that my silence speaks to him and his to me. I like this time of night.
Stasi Eldredge
Help!
You’re not supposed to blog on Fridays. Or so I’ve been told. But I am not good at timing these things. Nor at following directions as to what I’ve been told. The thing is, Friday or not, I need help. So I reach for the Word and I look up references for “help” and God leads me to exactly what my heart needs. I need to know that he will help me. I am the man in Mark 9, asking again, “But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.” “'If you can?'” said Jesus. “Everything is possible for him who believes.” Immediately the boy's father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief.” Psalm 18:6 In my distress I called out the LORD; I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice, my cry came before him, into his ears. 18:16 He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters, he rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me. They confronted me in the day of my disaster but the LORD was my support. He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me. Psalm 30:2 O Lord, my God, I called to you for help and you healed me. Isaiah 40:27 Why do you say, O Jacob, and complain, O Stasi, "My way is hidden from the Lord, my cause is disregarded by my God"? Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. 41:9 I called you. I said, “You are my servant. I have chosen you and have not rejected you. So do not fear, for I am with you; so not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." I need help. Even if it’s a Friday. I need help to believe that the issues in my life that I am tired of losing battles to are not disregarded by or unimportant to God. I need help to believe that though I am ashamed of my failures, God is not. I need help from my strong God to reach down and take hold of me, to rescue me from enemies and patterns of behavior and beliefs that are too strong for me. I need to know that my God is doing this because he is good and he is mighty and because he delights in me. My faithful God answers my cries for help. He knows what I need. I look again to him with faith, in weakness, unable to save myself, and I cry for help. I look again to him who does not grow tired of me or my cries—to the One who has called me and chosen me and promised that he will help me. And I feel my faith rise. My belief. My knowing that nothing truly is impossible for God—not ever changing, freeing, delivering, and helping me. Jesus still says, “Everything is possible for him who believes.” Living water has been sprinkled on my parched faith, my battered hope. I cannot make my own heart rise, but this God, this Jesus, this faithful one—he reaches down and rescues me. He rescues all of us again and again and again as we call out to him for HELP! Each and any day of the week. Even Fridays. Thank you, God. Oh, thank you.
Stasi Eldredge
Forgive me.
I'm on a "business" "ministry" trip! Here I am, all grown up and traveling by my lonesome. Just me and Jesus all the way to Dallas where the grass is green and the trees have leaves on them! Yay! I left a snowstorm for this! I'm attending/speaking at Catalyst/Dallas—my first time. Everything is new to me and I'm new to it. Learning. Engaging. Meeting folks. Really great folks. It would all be so wonderful—such a fun trip—if God would just stop convicting me of sin. It all started at the airport. I got to security and miraculously there was only one woman in front of me. One woman who must not have flown in quite a while and didn't know she had to have her driver's license handy to show the TSA fellow before entering security. One woman whose driver's license was buried in the mysterious caverns that is a woman's purse. It's good. I'm good. I'm not in a hurry. Grace! Mercy! Then came the laptop not being removed from her carry on. Then came the inevitable question about liquids. Then came the awareness of my ugly irritation. Then finally came my prayer for her—to not be embarrassed, to know grace. "She's on my flight, isn't she, God? I'm going to sit next to her, aren't I? That's just what you'd do." I won't even talk about what happened to the poor gal when the flight attendant questioned the size of her carry on. Lots of people had suggestions then. They weren't mean. Just opinionated. I didn't sit next to her. I was all ready to and everything, but no. No, I sat near a different woman who came on the plane very late, causing quite the stir of exchanging seats and loud dialogue and the smell of liquor and the pungent memory of living near addiction. My heart did not rise up in grace. I'm so sorry to say that it did not. I was emotionally triggered. I was twelve and fourteen and sixteen and twenty and confused. I was irritated. I did pray for her—in many ways—but not until about forty-five minutes into the flight. My spirit and my will rallied, but my heart did not. "Stasi, do you see?" Gently, tenderly, precisely, the Holy Spirit revealed a critical spirit in me. I'm judging others. It is voraciously ugly. Oh, I see, God. Please, forgive me. Forgive me again. I choose to bless! I choose LOVE. Please. Please, Christ in me, love through me! I am perfectly loved. I do not love perfectly. It is God's kindness that leads to repentance. So—I choose love. I choose repentance. I choose to receive his forgiveness. And how I wish that my bent towards sin here against others and against myself ended immediately with the receiving of his complete forgiveness. But I am in process. God is revealing yet again, deeper issues in my heart that need his tending. Areas I need to repent of and receive his forgiveness and perfect love in. Areas where I am harsh for some underlying reason that I need Jesus to reveal and heal. That's what he's up to. This crazy, wild, relentless, fabulous God of ours. He's after my restoration. My healing. My deliverance. My freedom. And he's after yours. So—come on, God. I say yes to you. I don't like the ugly, but I'll stay in it if you don't show it to me. So show me. And grant me the grace of a deep and true repentance...and then, the gift of a truly grace-filled thankful heart. Even in airport lines. I am held in his grace. I am held in his love. I am being restored. I'm going to be so much nicer on the flight home. I hope.
Stasi Eldredge
Always
I stopped getting the newspaper years ago because my heart couldn’t take it. I would open it up and weep. I didn’t know my tears were intercession, but they were. They were then and they are now. It’s been a week. 2:50pm a week ago today the first bomb went off, exploding our sense of safety and so much more. I find myself today so very sad. How are you doing? My prayer is that my tears and yours join in the intercession for the many to aid in their healing and to bring the presence of Jesus. He is our refuge. He is our strength. He is our ever ready help in time of trouble. And we are surrounded by trouble. But he is greater. Always. Earlier in the week I wrote some paragraphs that would be served well by the accompaniment of a trumpet. Or better, a shofar. They are what follows. In this week of national tragedy—a terrible invasion of murder, terrorism, poison letters, explosions, death, mayhem, and manhunts—mercy, courage and valiant heroics still triumphs. Love still wins. Love always conquers. We were surrounded, as we always are, by darkness—but by light too. Our normal every day life includes loss, sorrow, death and the choice to believe that Life still wins. No matter what. In this week of national tragedy, my personal tragedy included the fact that a precious aunt died, so did a best friend’s mother. Another friend’s mother was put into the care of hospice. A dear friend slipped and fell on the ice and was hurt, and a lovely niece had her first child. I took a one-day personal retreat—recovering from the exhaustion of three intense weeks of ministry, my husband traveled out of state to speak of the Kingdom of Heaven, and we had a blizzard. I grocery shopped. I paid bills. I made dinner. I prayed. I met with God and he restored lost places in my heart with his love, his take, his perspective. In this week of national tragedy, hope was born, evil corrupted, children were sold into slavery, genocides raged, children were rescued, and the Kingdom of God advanced. This world. This fallen, broken, heartbreakingly beautiful world of ours is not our home, but we do have one. And on our way there, the less harshly we judge ourselves, the less quick we will be to judge others. The more we are able to believe and receive the love of God, the more authentically we will be able to love those around us. The degree to which we are able to offer ourselves the mercy God is constantly offering us is the degree to which we will be able to offer it to others. To love our neighbor as ourselves requires that we love ourselves. Even in the midst of national and personal tragedy. Even in the midst of disappointing people. Even in the midst of looking to people to meet needs they were never meant to and being disappointed ourselves. Mercy trumps judgment. Forgiveness wins over offense. Love vanquishes fear. Life conquers death. Always. Jesus is alive and well and moving. Even this week. Even this moment. Look to him. I lift my eyes up to the hills. From whence does my help come? My help comes from the LORD, the maker of Heaven and Earth. Jesus told us things were going to get pretty dark before the dawn. Things have gotten pretty dark. Two brothers set bombs to destroy and kill. A doctor in Philadelphia is on trial for cutting the spinal chords of full-term babies whose mothers didn’t want them to live. A man lies in the hospital recovering from his legs being torn off by a coward’s attack. Near him, recovers the coward. There is evil all around. But there is good, too. And good not only wins, it already has won. Lift your eyes up, swing wide, you heavenly gates. Open up your heart to the King of Glory. Receive his mercy, his forgiveness, his love and his Life. Receive the endless safety of his refuge. Receive his hope and truth and steadfast faithfulness. Receive his good trustworthy heart that knows we sorrow here. We bleed here. He is well acquainted with it all. Love bleeds. He bled. His blood heals. Love heals. Receive him. Jesus. The one who saves and who is saving still. Always.
Stasi Eldredge
The Lens
I just had my picture taken. Really, no big deal, right? I'm doing some audio recordings and thought, hey—let's take a picture and I'll put it on my Facebook page. (I'm trying to become social media savvy woman.) So, a friend took two pictures. Which I looked at and then deleted. You're not going to see them. (I look like that? Bummer, man.) I was not looking at myself through the eyes of Love. My old lenses of self-contempt and rejection had snuck back on my face. I didn't even realize it had happened. They are a familiar fit. Oh, come, Jesus. I want to replace my out of date, cracked and unbecoming lenses with yours. I want, no I need, to see myself through your eyes. I choose to exchange my lenses of self-hatred with your lenses of mercy, truth, goodness, acceptance and love. He says, "How beautiful you are, my Darling. Your eyes are like doves." How beautiful you are, my Darling. I am his Darling. He thinks I'm pretty! I can feel my heart begin to rise even as I dare to receive this divine exchange! Oh, to see ourselves only through the lenses of our God's love. Yes and yes. That's worth posting. That's worth framing. That's worth believing.
Stasi 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
He Calls You by Name
I’ve been thinking a lot about Mary Magdalene lately. Especially her experience on that first Easter morning that took place just a moment ago. You remember how it went—on the third day, at the crack of dawn, at the first possible moment, Mary Magdalene and a few other women went to Jesus’ tomb with their spices and oil to minister to his body. To their utter dismay, they discovered the tomb was empty. And Mary was frantic: A man spoke to her and asked her, “Woman—why are you so upset?” “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him.” (John 20:2) She assumed the fellow was the gardener, and asked him if he had taken the body. Then Jesus revealed himself to her simply by saying her name, “Mary” (v. 16). Oh how sweet that must have sounded. When Jesus simply addressed her as “woman”—Mary didn’t recognize him. Any woman could be addressed that way. But when he spoke her name—her name—her heart must have stopped and leapt and burst all at the same time! She recognized Jesus when she heard her name coming out of his mouth. How would he have said it? Depending on how someone speaks your name—you can tell what's coming. When I was young and got in trouble, my mother would use my full name. Stasi Eileen Morris—get in here! When my sons were in trouble—big trouble—I wouldn’t always use their full names but by the way I said it they knew what would follow. Well actually, in the heat of the moment, I was never too good with names. Whichever son’s name I was reaching for would usually come last. I’d use every other name—sometimes even the dog’s before I got to them—Samuel, Blaine, Oban—Luke! Did your parents do that to you? Rebecca Marie Jones! Christina Ann Smith! Or how did it sound when your name was spoken with gratitude? How did your parents say your name? What about how a person’s name sounds when spoken by one who adores her? John can say my name in many ways—but my name is always safe in his mouth. He loves me. No one says my name like he does. And Jesus—Jesus who calls you by name—how does he say it? Your name is always safe in Jesus’ mouth. He loves you. Jesus loved Mary Magdalene. He spoke her name. And her response? She fell at his feet and worshiped him. Just stay with that moment for a second. She saw him crucified. She watched his broken and bloodied body be wrapped and laid to rest in a tomb and now she has come to anoint his body with herbs and spices and he is gone. Did Mary understand what Jesus had said about rising from the dead? Maybe—maybe not. But her first thought in this moment—is that his body has been stolen. And not by those who love him. She is panicking. And then Jesus is standing before her—fully alive. Fully himself. Speaking her name. Oh, what a sound. Oh, what a moment.
Stasi Eldredge
Overdue
I’m overwhelmed looking at a very full email inbox. I get the same feeling looking at a stack of unpaid bills. Overdue bills. How does so much time pass between my good intentions, responding promptly, and my actual follow through? It’s embarrassing. Worse yet, I really don’t want to lose touch with those God has circled around me. I’m exposed as someone I wish I weren’t. I get that technology is a squawking hole luring me into the godless pursuit of being present/connected to everyone, anyone. I feel no guilt on that front! However, there are characters that move in and out of our story as the chapters roll by… characters you love, bleed with; men and women who’ve found a place in our heart. Staying engaged, present, connected with these soul mates isn’t a courtesy. It's life. We can’t do this alone. I can’t anyway. The Author of the story that is mine has put warriors, lovers, a Methodist, poets, a couple of doctors, Oregon wine lovers/intercessors, more than enough prophets, a retired trial attorney, several Swiss, artists, and salt of the earth folk in my life. I love them… may they know it. Lord, I long to be like you, to love like you, offering yourself, present, strong… engaged. - Craig McConnell
CM
Craig McConnell
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
Our Dad
I am marinating in this passage these days: John 14:7-11 (NKJV) “If you had known Me, you would have known My Father also; and from now on you know Him and have seen Him.” Philip said to Him, “Lord, show us the Father, and it is sufficient for us.” Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you so long, and yet you have not known Me, Philip? He who has seen Me has seen the Father; so how can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father, and the Father in Me? The words that I speak to you I do not speak on My own authority; but the Father who dwells in Me does the works. Believe Me that I am in the Father and the Father in Me, or else believe Me for the sake of the works themselves." I love who Jesus is. I love his personality! His tenderness! I love his strength, his passion, and his mercy. I love his generosity, his humor, his power. He is so profoundly attractive in every way! He heals people but he does it with such tender love. He is whimsical and authoritative and anointed and everything good. Remember how his disciples would argue over who got to be closest to him? They looooooved him. They wanted to be near him! People were ripping the roofs off to get to him. And Jesus says, everything you love about me—you love about my Dad. As much as you like me, you'll like him. I'm just like he is! Sometimes because of my own past experiences with my earthly father and other authority figures, my perception of my Heavenly Father has been distorted. And not in a good way. But the more I know him as he really is (and he's just like Jesus!), the more I want to simply RUN to him. And then rest in his marvelous, generous, complete affection. Corrie Ten Boom told a group once, don't wrestle with God, nestle. Our God is mighty. And our God is the best father ever.
Stasi Eldredge
A Park Bench—The Presence of God
Over the last several months I hit a bottom, probably not The Bottom, but a true and new bottom for me… an immobilizing of my heart, passion, soul, relationships, and spirit. I feared my state. I could share the back story but that’s not the story. This is the story… I’m at my desk staring at the computer waiting for either the inspiration, energy, or focus to accomplish a little something that might affirm my being an image-bearer of the Most High Eternal Triune God of Creation, when a Staff Member steps in to say something about something and disrupts my glazed stare. I think she was sent by God to pierce the fog of my life and leave behind some sort of a “grace-bomb” with a fuse set to go off two minutes after she exited. She exited and before I could re-enter my striving to be fruitful, I had an unsolicited and seemingly random vision or picture from God. Here it is… I’m sitting on a park bench stretched out like a warped board slouched with my legs extended out in front of me and my head resting on the bench’s back railing. It’s a beautiful park with large grassy areas separated by a walkway slaloming between huge mature shade trees. I’m checked out, not really present staring off straight ahead over the horizon at nothing. Though I’m cognizant of my surroundings there is no conscious thought. I was in that state in which you don’t ever wink or swallow, there’s no measurable brain activity and barely a pulse… you are alive but not present. That’s me! Somehow this old bench is bearing all my weight and the shit-load of all that’s weighing on me. I am certifiably detached from life. It’s mid-day and there’s a warm breeze blowing just enough to rustle the leaves of the Cottonwood that’s shading me. The scene cries summer with the air full of pollen, gnat tornadoes and the musty scent of fresh cut grass. In the background is the sound of sprinklers machine gunning water over a flower bed… chit-chit-chit-chit-chitachitachitchit. Straight ahead, a little to the left, is an old park table with four young women enjoying their Grande coffees and the reunion they’re having. To the right is a young brother and sister on their bikes playing some form of follow the leader where the leader tries to lose the follower. Almost 90 degrees to my left a bunch of pigeons are trying to enforce a clear pecking order while scrambling to eat a handful of feed someone threw out for them. I’m taking this all in but unmoved by any of it. It’s clinical; I’m an observer of life but not a participant in it. As my vision pans right, back from the birds to resume my vigilant dazed and confused gape I notice or sense something peripherally… right next to me. It’s a person. I can’t hide my being startled by this out-of-no-where stranger who’s suddenly sitting eight inches from me on our shared little bench. It’s a man, an older man with weathered but not leathered skin. Actually it’s God. Oh my God, it is God! I don’t know how I knew, but I knew (it’s kinda like living in Los Angeles and passing one of a gazillion Mexican restaurants… you intuitively know that this one serves a great combination plate though you’ve never seen it, been in it or heard of it. You just know!). Now this whole picture/vision seemed to be unfolding in a millisecond and in the next millisecond I notice my bench friend, The One True and Eternal, Just and Holy, Powerful and All Knowing God hasn’t yet said a word or even made eye contact with me. Furthermore, like me, he is slouched and staring straight ahead. And then I notice there’s a tear forming and then falls from the corner of his eye. Huh… he’s very human, common… real. Fully God, truly man. One of the things that struck me as odd throughout this picture or vision is that my posture doesn’t change, I don’t sit up straight on the bench or fall on my face… my demeanor and countenance remain the same. Though God is stretched out eight inches from me, I am outwardly unfazed! Equally unexpected is that he’s unanimated, silently slouched on a park bench, apparently killing time. If you were to have walked by us and seen us you may have muttered under your breath the commentary, “Get a life!” There we were, the two of us sharing a bench for what felt like hours with nothing said, no eye contact… just sitting and staring off into nowhere. The most stunning part of the picture was the silence. And the tears. He was silent and that was okay. That he said nothing said so much. He was just there, next to me… with me... and I was in his presence and... he’s crying. He was silent, but his tears said everything. I knew that He knows all that I’m facing: the losses and pain; the struggles and terrors; my failures and ache to live and love well. I could tell He knew, and knowing that he knew everything about me, my life and this season… brought a tear to his eye. He’s crying with me, for me, over me. The tear is everything! He didn’t offer affirmation with deeply validating words, “Craig, you have lived so well in this difficult season. Well done, my son… you’re so on the right track… I love you! Keep it up”. That he didn’t offer that seemed to say I didn’t need it. Wow! He didn’t call me out, either. There was no exposing of another deeply rooted, profoundly governing, historic and systemic sin that explains my struggle to live and love well from a heart of true adoration and worship of God. That he didn’t go there seemed to say so much. So, so very much. Apparently there was something more important than going over all of that. I cannot explain all this picture/vision of God and me sharing a park bench meant and had for me, but a mere moment in the presence of God felt as if time stood still…. It was as if I was in his presence for hours and hours. And in those moments everything lifted. In his presence, I was in a zero-gravity-of-the-soul state. The poundage, burden, pressure… the crushing of heart, soul, spirit, and desire was lifted. There was no sin; no idolatry or fear; no loss or tears: every desire we have in life-this-side-of-heaven was gone… the longings and groaning for life and all we were created to have were, in his presence satisfied. Nothing lacking, nothing missing, nothing wanted… nothing but pure, full, expansive and deep satisfaction, joy… life itself is what I had in his presence. The whole “My burden is light” thing made sense for the first time ever. With the weight I carry—that you carry—lifted we can breathe, live, laugh, worship, dance, love…. In his presence is life; everything changes because you are in His presence. Well, as it always does in the here-and-now, the picture, the vision, these moments with God transitioned... it ended and I was sitting alone in my broken desk chair like any man whom God has visited. Stunned, surprised, wanting to fall on my face in worship. I spent the next hour and then hours over the next week unpacking the beauty, power, affirmation, hope, and life of these moments. Almost immediately I was aware that while nothing had changed with my life, everything had changed with life. My cancer hasn’t disappeared, nor the anger a couple dozen people have so powerfully expressed toward me; my pesky neighbor hasn’t moved, the financial issues remain, my internal battle of withdrawing continues, an old friend still prefers being an ex-friend, and my freaking car is now acting up. Nothing has changed with difficult circumstances and challenging relationships of my life. But having been on that bench and experiencing all that comes in being in his presence, I have been introduced to something very new, though I’ve probably taught it eloquently for years: Being in the presence of God changes everything. Everything! You do not see life the same, in his presence. The very, very real troubles of life look very, very different in his presence. Somehow, in his presence, worry, fear, hatred, weakness, and pain cannot exist. You see yourself most clearly in his presence. Everything I yearn for in a world that is so violent, parched, deceptive, and unforgiving is found in the presence of God. (I have often sought God’s words, voice, counsel, understanding, guidance, and validation. Each of those are valid and necessary pursuits to go to God with. What’s new for me, in this season, is to simply pursue him and all the other things will be taken care of.) I can't tell you where I spend most of my time, but it isn't in the presence of God.... I can tell you that one moment on a park bench with him is better than a thousand elsewhere. Oh, God, extend the times we're together. - Craig McConnell
CM
Craig McConnell
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