Articles & Posts
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
Round two...
Round 2 of the 6 Round Event begins tomorrow here at my local hospital/cancer center. The drugs I took over the course of four days last month at MD Anderson will be given Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. I started to write a lengthy update of what's going on but lost energy. Hopefully our website will be further along and I can post/send out more info later in the week/weekend. Here's a summary: Symptoms. Fatigue, on various "lower levels" is pretty consistent. I lost 15 lbs. on first treatment and gained 6 back the last 10 days. I'm a little muddled in my ability to prioritize things (it's an interesting twist, everything looks like a "10" in importance; going to the hardware store to get 2 replacement 60 watt bulbs for an unoccupied guest bedroom feels just as important as calling the insurance company to argue the legitimate need of 1 (one) $40,000.00 drug. At times I catch myself staring at my "To Do List" frozen in a funky paralysis). I'd love your prayers for the side effects of chemo. My next two treatments, this month and next, will be locally. The local center has an entirely different spirit/feel. It's darker, less hope, grim… The patients seem… Resigned… To cancer, to suffering… To death(?). I hope I'm wrong, nonetheless, I'm a little anxious about the heebie-jeebies that may come my way. I'd love your prayers for a wall of protection against the spiritual forces of darkness that would love to overrun my heart. Though Lori and my friends have been incredibly supportive I often feel very alone. It's not a loneliness that the presence of others resolves. It's the byproduct of fear. Every time the waves hit God rescues me… The timing is, at times, not what I would choose; thus, fear and "aloneness" seems to linger longer than my strength to battle. I'd love your prayers for my wife and family, this is harder on them than they know. My ultimate prayer is for life; the life of God way beyond my ability to manage, govern, control or resist; the life of God in my mortal body. Thank you! I will update you as soon as I can.
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Craig McConnell
Friends Who Pray
This evening ends “Day Nine” of my chemo-journey. Here’s what I want to say to each of you, “Thank you, your prayers made a difference.” At this moment those few words capture what I believe to be true of your prayers for me over this past week. Yet, as I write those particular words I realize how overused and cliché they can sound. “Your prayers make a difference” can sound like the religiously canned illusory response effective shtick that drafty “spiritual” professionals commonly use. I ought to know I’ve been a trained, tried and true spiritual-director/pastor/Pharisee. My four days of Chemo this last week were brutal, discomforting, painful and filled with a sobering awareness of my helplessness in spades. At the same time God came in heroic ways for me. I was acutely aware of his presence, goodness, love, comfort and sovereign strength. I saw circumstances unfold in my favor and that reflected his heart, physical reactions that were relatively “mild”, and his provision of people, words, grace, beauty, joy and hope. On top of all this, he gave me eyes to see how ALL of this was connected to and influenced by your prayers. This week I ached, groaned and worshipped. Feeling good enough now to write, I wanted to give my heart voice to the gratitude I feel. In doing so I found myself using, what, to some, is a platitude, that I have ingenuously parroted in the past. For that I now repent. Thank you, your prayers made a difference. A week ago Sunday was “Day One” minus one. (In my treatment plan “Day One” is the first day of a twenty-eight day cycle, with the first three or four days involving an IV infusion of Chemo) Having just taken a taxi to M. D. Anderson/Jesse Jones Rotary House I’m rolling our luggage across the threshold/doorway into the building when I’m swiftly T-boned by a wave of emotion. I can’t immediately name it, but its deep, good, powerful and a complete surprise… “Ahh… its God!” He doesn’t speak; I’m simply overwhelmed by his presence. And it lingers. An hour later, Lori and I are enjoying a Reuben Sandwich on marbled rye and a Chipotle Salad with a couple tall frosted glasses of Houston Municipal water with a wedge of lemon when mid-bite I’m staggered to tears again as God shows up. Immediately I’m multi-tasking, trying to swallow, compose myself and interpret what God’s up to. Lori wonders out loud the very words I’m trying to spit out, “Safe, are you feeling safe?” Yes, that’s the word, “Safe”. I’m engulfed by safety, sheltered in some unassailable strong hold! And then, in His presence at that lunch table in Rice Village, he began to unpack the word “Safe” for me. “I am your fortress, your hiding place, a rock, your salvation, and your refuge. You are cherished, free from harm, impervious to assault, out of harm’s way, hidden, shielded… under my care and guard.” "Rest, lay your sword down… this battle is mine.” This wasn’t a pre-chemo catharsis, an expression of powerful positive thinking, a breakdown or me “bucking up”. This was My God bringing into my entire being all that he promises us. This was the Word. The Living Word, God being God! And a zillon passages came to mind; here are but two: The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever. - Psalm 23 Because he loves me," says the Lord, "I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation." - Psalm 91:14-16 I wasn’t to fight, I didn’t need to. I was to rest in safety, to be still and know he is God. He is a Warrior and he had me tucked away in his fortress 979 miles from the front. Thank you, your prayers made a difference. Days Three & Four. By all standards, statistically and anecdotally my oncology nurses assured me I was experiencing relatively mild side effects compared to 70% of the patients receiving the same treatment. I totally believe them… I walked the halls and saw suffering on an exponentially higher scale than my current one. Thank you, your prayers made a difference. My big-hearted Jesus loving, Mama comforting, compassionate, joy-bearing soul sister nurses were God to me! There were other nurses I could’ve had, but didn’t. I was surrounded with life-givers. (I cried saying goodbye to them Friday). Thank you, your prayers made a difference. Fatigue is the most disheartening and challenging side effect I’m experiencing from the Chemo. There are times this world changing apostle of joy who’s liberating captives and prisoners around the world has wondered, "How I can possibly move the 12 foot span between my bed and the restroom?" I have been close to total helplessness. Safe but helpless.Preparing to leave Houston I feared all that was required of me to get back home. Check out of the hotel; get to the airport, through security, to the gate, the plane, to the car and home. At the same time,God was there… in “it”, over “it”, all over “it”. I knew, really, really knew in places far deeper than my fear that God would come for me in anyway I really needed. No horse pucky, he came! I had strength, endurance and an “I’m on top of the world” attitude all the way home. It was God! I was strong in him. Thank you, your prayers made a difference. Days Five & Six. These were the most agonizing days so far. God had ushered me back to the front and with validating words told me to pick up my sword and join him in the battle. (The breaks from the front are not yet unending.) I could find no comfort. TV and music were no distraction, I couldn’t read, sleep, sit, stand or walk. The icing on the cake was opening a delightfully demonic inspired letter that had been sent over night from my insurance company informing me they had reversed their decision and would not cover any of my cancer treatment expenses at M. D. Anderson!?@#*!. We fight, we resist and at times we’re withered from the battles our lives bring but we never war alone. I was not alone in the trenches… somehow I knew that, and that was all I needed to know. I have tasted sweet victories this week, other victories are yet to come, but victory is certain. Thank you, your prayers made a difference. Days Seven & Eight. For brevity’s sake I will be uncharacteristically short. I feel great! Not 100%, but great! I don’t think my journey is really much different than yours. My best advice: love God, live free and fight viciously every foe trying to take your life. Thank you, your prayers made a difference. -Craig McConnell
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Craig McConnell
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
A Second Opinion
When cancer intrudes into your life it comes with a boatload of baggage. Some of it you’d expect: anxiety, an in-your-face mortality smack, physical symptoms, warring hell’s vermin, lifestyle changes and a profound desire to live and love as you never have. Some of the luggage catches you off guard. Shame for example, “Why am I so ashamed of myself, my life, my health, and every choice I’ve made in life?” Then there are the waves of confusion; hopelessness and despair that you thought your long storied walk with God would insulate you from. It didn’t for me. Another piece of cancer’s luggage is the “unknown”. The “unknowns” about your specific cancer’s “personality”, the staging of your disease, the multiple treatment options and ultimately your prognosis. All too soon your cancer seems to metastasize to your marriage, children, finances, plans for Christmas, career and interest in UCLA Basketball. Hoping a “Second” opinion from the best cancer center in the world, M.D. Anderson, would bring greater clarity, rid us of the unknowns and calm our troubled souls; Lori and I flew to Houston earlier this summer. How do you describe the experience of God coming for you through a hundred different people over the course of three days? That was our experience! In ways it was a rescue. We were anchored again, reoriented, saved, “found” and now rooted in some borderless circle of God’s grace and presence I came to this research center expecting scientists to view me as a specimen from which to draw blood, poke, prod and take tissue from; brainy nerds focused on numbers, levels, and statistical categories more than me… my heart… my life. We stayed at the Jesse H. Jones Rotary House, a Marriott “Ronald MacDonald” like hotel that is attached by sky-bridges to MDA. Given that the hotel is limited to cancer patients we feared it would be a horrifying combination of a convalescent hospital and battlefield surgical recovery room, with the walking dead moving through the halls. We’d been told it wasn’t that; I’m not sure we believed the reports. Our fears were totally unsubstantiated. Every, and I literally mean “every” person we interacted with, on any level, was Christ to us. From the hotel Staff, the other patients/guests (some who looked like they’d been on the battlefield), the MDA team, the shuttle drivers, bartender, food service, housekeeping… In a hundred different ways and encounters God came for us. We sat with those suffering greatly and found Jesus in their words, stories, prayers and example. We cried and found hope. The weak spoke of strength. Death’s curse and threats seemed strangely silenced. One day I had a couple of hours free and was excited to spend it walking the halls and sitting in the lobbies so I could simply be with Jesus. My friend John Moorhead shared a quote of Dallas Willard with me, “Where there’s Goodness, God is there”. We lived and breathed, swam in, drank in and were covered by Goodness… by God. This next week I begin a new part of the journey. I’ll be in an “Infusion” room with a few fellow sojourners for my first chemotherapy cycle… four days of cancer killing kick ass drugs through an IV. I’ll be chillin’ in a brown Barcalounger, covered by a blanket with an igloo packed with snacks nearby. Lori will be on one side of me, Jesus on the other as we pass the hours watchingPlanes, Trains and Automobiles, just sitting and talking about “stuff”, listening to my “Worship A” playlist, napping or flipping through the out dated People magazines laying around. I’m so glad I’m not going through this alone. There’s still a lot of unknowns and tears, but at this moment, full of hope and strength I can say, “I’m good, God is good, I’m alive and free… and cancer sucks!” - Craig McConnell
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Craig McConnell
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
Rolling in Dead Things
I love walking our golden retriever, Oban in the hills behind our home. Oban is almost 4 years old now but still such a puppy. Yesterday, he decided that he did not want to go for a walk after all but wanted to play tug ‘o war instead! In goes the leash into his mouth…back legs braced, front legs extended, head pulling and shaking enticing me to P L A Y! Ok, I know he was being bad, but he was so cute! We tugged. Back and forth and then running. He was so happy! I passed other dog walkers along the way who registered various states of disapproval. “Bad Mommy!” Oh well. Then Oban and I went up into the hills where no people were walking, no dogs tempting and off came his leash. OH HAPPINESS! He loves to run and I love his boundless doggy joy! But then, Oban found something dead to roll in. What is it with dogs and dead things? Oban plops onto his back slithering his body onto whatever gross thing he has victoriously discovered. Over and over he rolls, not wanting to miss an inch of his now stinky coat. He is savoring it, blissful as he covers his body with the scent of death. He wants to marinate in it, become one with the stench and returns to me only with the greatest of reluctance. Rolling in dead things. It’s easy to do. When I sin, it is really tempting to identify with it, marinate in it, and roll around in it. It’s so easy to believe that being a sinner is the truest me and I might as well wallow in my sin and my self-pity. Having failed again, the liar speaks with such authority to my weakened heart, saying that a sinner is who I am and sinning is all I’ll ever do so go ahead and just stay here. Roll around in death. Rolling in a dead thing. But no, the scripture says, “The death (Christ) died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus!” (Romans 6:10,11) Hah! I am not defined by sin! I am dead to sin and alive to God! I will not be like my dog that relishes the scent of death; I will be like my Jesus who is LIFE, LIFE, LIFE! How will I do that? Well, in a state of God given grace, I pray to humbly and quickly repent of sin and then turn and set my mind on things above where Christ is. He is perfect. Jesus is the only perfect One. He is my savior! I am crucified with Christ and it is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me! (YAY!) When I fix my gaze on my ugly, smelly, sinful flesh, my heart spirals downward in despair. But our Jesus urges us to “Look up! Look to ME!’ I long to do that. To fix my gaze on my God, my Life, my Hope, my Love, my Jesus. One of the ways that helps me to do that is in worship. As we enter the summer months, the pace of my life slows down a bit and affords me more time to gaze at my Savior and relish who He is. I hope you will have more time for that as well. To help you, what follows is a worship set of various songs I have been enjoying recently. They help me to stay in the Truth. The truth of who Jesus is (Truth himself) and the truth of who I am to him. Which means who I really am. And who you really are, too. I pray they bless you as much as they have blessed me. With love, Stasi Mighty Breath of God Jesus Culture Come Away One Thirst (feat. Jeremy Riddle & Steffany Frizzell) [Live] 7:05 Bethel Live Be Lifted High (Live) When I Speak Your Name (feat. Kari Jobe) 5:28 Klaus Glory My Home Is You (Live) 6:48 Darrell Evans Trading My Sorrows - The Best of Darrell Evans More Than Ashes 5:54 Tim Reimherr Let the Weak Speak Fill Me Up 6:25 United Pursuit Band EP The Fragrance of Your Name 6:40 Cory Asbury Holy Faithful to the End 4:14 Cory Asbury Let Me See Your Eyes Great I Am 5:35 New Life Worship Great I Am - Single Holy 6:36 Matt Gilman Holy Yeshua (Live) 7:37 Will Reagan & United Pursuit Live At the Banks House
Stasi Eldredge
My Tax Day Tradition
It’s tax time.I chafe paying the amount of taxes I do. I’m not an anarchist imagining “there’s no country… nothing to kill or die for and no religion too.” Nope, I’ve been there, done that! I do believe in giving back to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s. it’s just that Caesar is more and more of a greedy !*#?%! My grousing isn’t new or partisan. Decades ago, I began a tradition on the eve prior to sending in my Federal Tax check. I’d be fully present and engaged with Lori and our girls. As bedtime approached I’d make the rounds tucking in, tickling, and kissing each “goodnight” with a prayer and the benediction, “sleep with the Angels”. Then I’d hunt down the pint of whiskey buried either in the back of the spice cabinet, under the kitchen sink right next to the fire extinguisher or in the garage stowed in our Earthquake/Riot/Economic-collapse emergency bin. Now, this wasn’t some high-end trendy single malt scotch; it had to be, and continues to be a cantankerous cheap unrepentant low-end bourbon. I’d take the bottle, a glass and my Bible into our living room and park myself on the couch. The room was empty, quiet and dark. The street light in front of our home provided enough light for my passionate reading of 1 Samuel chapter 8. Chapter 8 is the story of God’s people demanding a king to lead them instead of looking to and following God as their King. God’s response to their rejection is a solemn warning... "This is what the king who will reign over you will do: He will take your sons and make them serve with his chariots and horses, and they will run in front of his chariots. Some he will assign to be commanders of thousands and commanders of fifties, and others to plow his ground and reap his harvest, and still others to make weapons of war and equipment for his chariots. He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers. He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive groves and give them to his attendants. He will take a tenth of your grain and of your vintage and give it to his officials and attendants. Your menservants and maidservants and the best of your cattle and donkeys he will take for his own use. He will take a tenth of your flocks, and you yourselves will become his slaves. When that day comes, you will cry out for relief…” Okay, every year at this point of the story I'm doing two things: I’m crying out for relief and wondering why? Why? Why did those schmucks choose a king over the King of Kings... the living God!!! And the story continues… ...the people refused to listen to Samuel. "No!" they said. "We want a king over us. Then we will be like all the other nations, with a king to lead us and to go out before us and fight our battles." When Samuel heard all that the people said, he repeated it before the LORD. The LORD answered, "Listen to them and give them a king." Here is where, according to tradition, I throw back a shot of my gnarly hooch and begin to rant, deprecate, fuss, protest, wail and yammer against the growing grip of kings… and all they take and all they waste. I growl at the fraud, corruption, pork, injustice, un-intended-consequences and incompetence of it all. I may or may not have another slug, but what always happens as my evening ends is an agitation at the choice the luke-warm, half-hearted posing schmucks of 1 Samuel 8 made! ... And I'm shamed to silence confessing that I too choose some king, leader, expositor or the principles/tips/techniques/guru de rigueur over the sovereign fathering heart of God in the day to day world that is my life. The internal dynamic/temptation of my rejecting of God goes something like this: Hey... this walking with God is messy, mysterious, involves a Larger Story and often focused on internal realities... Right now I''d prefer a smaller story and a few external things to change right now... actually yesterday. I need relief, i need someone to lead me to the promised land as i envision it (and I have a extensive clear picture of how it ought to be), someone to go out before me and guarantee that If I follow him my entire life will be orgasmic bliss... with all my tormenting lions laying down with sheep... gimme someone who'll fight my battles victoriously for me .. or eliminate the battles all together... yeah, I want a chicken in my pot, a clean bill of health, a car that runs, a fat bank account... yeah baby, that's what I want in these chaotic times and circumstances! I want a king... a real life, flesh on flesh king and a new stereo! Promise this and you'll be my king! And somewhere in all of that I turn from the One who gives life to some counterfeit "king" who takes all I have and all I am, leaving me with nothing. Like my ancient forefathers, I'm crying out for relief. Lord save me from my idolatry, forgive my waywardness, and know my heart, for it surely longs to surrender, abide, follow and give to You all that's due. You are my King, the Lord of Lords. I worship you!
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Craig McConnell
A Letter to a Young Woman
A friend’s daughter is turning 16 and asked a few friends and family members to write her a (short) letter about their memories of being sixteen and perhaps a little advice…here’s mine. I dedicate it to all the young women reading this…whatever their age. Dear Beauty, Sweet Sixteen! What a milestone! Hooray for you! On my sixteenth birthday, I got my driver’s license. Now that was sweet. Sixteen is a year of transition and wonder and enlargening circles and increasing freedom and more deeply stepping into the lovely young woman you are. When I was sixteen, most of the girls I knew had entered into the fray to attract a boyfriend. A date. An invitation. A kiss. A something. (Is it the same for you?) An intangible grid shifted in too many hearts around me (including mine) which gave an enormous amount of weight to the young men while robbing it from the young women. What did “he” think, say, do, ask? Those were the engrossing questions. What had begun in elementary school, increased to obsession in middle school, and became defining in high school. Girlfriends were sacrificed on the altar of “I’ve got a boyfriend, now.” Friendships that may have lasted for years were set aside in the interest of a relationship with a boy that may have lasted barely a few months or even days. You know it happens. Something internal inside of too many of us handed away our self worth to the cutest boy who made our heart skip a beat. Yikes. When I was in high school, I accepted this. It can be a girl thing. This valuing boyfriends above girlfriends thing. But you are not a girl. You are a self possessed, loved, and cherished young woman. Still, you are living in a world of girls. So guard your heart. Who you are is the most valuable treasure you possess. Be vigilant against handing away your self worth to anyone else. Male or female! You matter! Your heart matters! I still have girlfriends from high school. But…not any boyfriends. Friend boys. Yes. Boyfriends, no. (My most important friend boy from high school is now my husband!) There is only One who can tell you to the core of your being who you are. And He has spoken and He continues to speak. Through creation, through His Word, and through the life, death, and triumphant resurrection of His Son. You are priceless. You are immeasurably loved. And nothing and no one can ever change that! Enjoy being 16! Soak it in! There is the temptation to “rush” it…to rush life in the looking forward to the all that is coming. But I encourage you to savor it. Relish it. Stay in it. Be present to your own life and to the stage you are in; the glorious, wonderful age of sixteen! Happy Birthday, dear heart! You’re marvelous. your aunt Stasi
Stasi Eldredge
Getting Back Up
I stopped making New Year’s resolutions a few years ago. Now, I do like to dream but the resolution thing never seemed to work out for me. At the turn of this year, however, I decided to get more organized…with meal plans and grocery shopping in particular. I didn’t call my new, stay with the program, don’t try to figure out dinner at 5:30pm plan – a New Year’s resolution. But it was. I made my lists. I asked input from my family about what dinners they would like. I made a two week menu plan and posted it inside a kitchen cabinet. Ta da! And it has helped! It has. Mostly. Until a week or so ago when I got bored with the menu. But hey, it lasted more than a month! That’s at least two weeks longer than any of my previous “get my life under control” plans. And I am not scrapping it. I’m just taking a little break. Really. The line from the song Only Grace by Matthew West that goes“and if you fall, get back up, get back up” keeps playing in my head. I love that song. All those coachy, pep talking, life affirming messages of how it’s not about how many times you fall…it’s the getting back up that counts. They’re true! Exercise programs, skin care regimes, regular quiet times, nutrition protocols, getting rid of clutter, no more late fees, scripture memorization…don’t we all have such good intentions?!? They are good! And we are human. We fall. We fail. We don’t return the phone call. We misplace the tax receipt. We’re going to be alright! The falling and failing in the tiny ways and in the monumental ways really are teaching us important lessons if we will be open to learn them. Even before the phoenix rises from the ashes and is still covered in soot, there is good happening! Think mercy. Think grace. If we can be kind to ourselves when we don't live up to our own desires, we will be much more able to be kind to others when they don't. Or can't. Think of diamonds. Formed far beneath the earth’s surface (get it – you can’t see it happening) and under the perfect circumstances of pressure and heat…they rise to the surface through volcanic eruptions. Sheesh. I’m thinking there’s an analogy here. I’m not motivated to make dinner tonight. It is just not going to happen. I’m sure I can find some spaghetti in the pantry and boiling water is going to stretch the capacity of all I can muster. But I will try again. In every area where I seem to continually fall and find myself back on the ground…for what may feel either like a moment or a millennia. Diamonds are being formed. Formed in the beauty and context of grace. Getting back up. Really soon. ~Stasi
Stasi Eldredge
Dependent
Addicted to doesn’t mean the same thing as dependent upon. But it’s close, isn’t it? If I’m addicted to alcohol, my body will crave it, my mind will demand it, my cells will cry out for it. I need a drink in order to cope, to feel better or to feel nothing at all. Or, at least, I think I need a drink. I believe I need a drink. I turn to alcohol to help me, to save me. I depend upon it to do what it has done in the past…offer a momentary sense of relief. Or maybe it’s not like that at all. Maybe, if I’m addicted to alcohol, I am in a cell and it is my jailer. I need air, I need food, I need water,… I need to survive but in order to do that I must get my jailer’s permission. Alcohol holds the key that must be unlocked if I am to live. I am its slave, its prisoner. I have no choice. I am captive. Or maybe that doesn’t even come close to describing the bondage. When a person is addicted to something, they truly feel helpless to be free from it. Powerless. Unable. Somewhere, the friendly face became a tormenter. Enjoying something became needing something. Needing something became shackled to something. Pornography. Food. Drugs. Alcohol. Sex. Gambling. Spending. Escaping. You name it. My friend had been sober for seven years before the pain in her sons life overwhelmed her to the point that she returned to an old “lover” for comfort. At a wedding reception with her, I noticed the wine glass by her plate. “Are you drinking?”, I asked. “Yes!”, she answered with defensive strength, “it’s helping.” It’s helping. Alcohol or any other addiction may not be the answer but it is an answer. When the pain becomes too much, it can feel so much saner to run from it. But when we run from our pain, we run from our healing. After another eight months gripped by the familiar hell of alcoholism, my friend has been sober now for two weeks. And two weeks is a miracle. Heck, one day is a miracle. She is receiving the grace to stop running. I need grace as much as I need air. No, probably more. I cry out for grace. I am utterly dependent upon God’s grace. And he promises that his grace is and forever will be sufficient for us. Though we can be utterly dependent upon God, we can’t be addicted to God. God refuses to be put in a box. He will not respond, show up, or come through for us in the way we want every time simply because he is too brilliant for that. He outsmarts us. He is a PERSON who wants to be known, loved and worshiped. Not controlled. Not addicted to. But pursued. Depended upon. And proven stronger than our addictions time and time and time again. One miracle following another, day in, day out. Healing upon healing. Grace upon grace. Glory to glory.
Stasi Eldredge
A Playlist
It’s a cold snowy day here.It’s gloomy. It feels like a ghost town... no one is outside, on the roads or roaming the malls. Everyone has retreated from the storm to their shelter to find warmth, hope and Sabbath. It’s a day that begs for a fire and an overstuffed leather spider web that some would refer to as a chair. I succumb with journal, iPod and tattered Bible sipping in full sagely form cup after cup of a steaming Sumatra rain forest that some would refer to as coffee… and then, later in the day, as the snow accumulates, the sun and temperature drop and an unrepentant wind kicks up, a pint of New Belgium 1554. And then another. Though my iPod is set on “Shuffle” there is absolutely nothing random about the songs playing. The One True and Sovereign God who’s greatest joy is to overwhelm us with His glory and the ecstasy and fullness of His presence is gigging as a DJ stacking the deck with a playlist of songs transporting me back through time celebrating the romance we’ve enjoyed over the years. It’s always stunning when and how God shows up. There are so many different ways, so many odd, unique and familiar venues/elements that become the point of communion with God for us. God meets some on trails, some in books or gardening, in silence, tinkering in a woodshop, bowling, writing poetry or perhaps painting. Music is one of mine. It always has been. God has immediate and easy access to my heart through all kinds of music. One of my pictures of heaven includes an epic sound system with no limits on volume blasting tunes that have us all moving and grooving in some holy passionate wonderful way that celebrates the flat-on-your-face adoration and worship of God. Kind of a sanctified Woodstock without the drugs, rain and meaninglessness… with much, much better music. Kinda. At some point in the “Random” playlist of: “Everything” (by Tim Hughes), “Summer of ‘69” (Bryan Adams) “Flight Over Africa” from the “Out of Africa” soundtrack. Ashley Cleveland’s “Gimme Shelter”. The live version of “I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For” (on the "Rattle & Hum" CD). Our God Reigns” (sung by Tomlin, Charlie Hall, David Crowder & Matt Redman on the “Everything Glorious” CD) I’m hopelessly lost in my desire to live as I’ve never have. God is here! Song after song transports me back to the events/people/themes of my life. For hours, between mugs of Joe and one funky attempt to make nachos the music becomes a link to the long winding road that is my journey. My earliest dreams and aspirations, the wayward years, the raw naked memories of the precipice I stood over screaming out for rescue. The music stirs the innumerable memories of God behind the scenes romancing me, luring me, forever patient and relentless with me in my idolatry, my desperate efforts to change the world, my vanity and tainted "righteousness". I am totally captive to a leather sea anemone that some would refer to as a chair... rocking the neighborhood with unheard decibel levels… in His presence feeling all the appropriate emotions that come from the clear and unarguable recognition of how very, very far I fall short. At the same time I sense His smile over me as we reflect on those times I've lived like a warrior king and then, all too quickly, I relate like a hibernating badger who only engages with the outside world by barking away all disruptors. The music brought to my fireside seat so many of my adventures, births, joys, tears, vows and lingering desires, the laughter and pleasures I've known; my profound brokenness; and the glorious offering my life was intended to be. Paul Simon, Bob Seger, Shawn Mullins and Janis all stirred up stories that are my Story. A life, presently, that’s the best it’s ever been despite the sins, chaos and failures to love and live well is, nonetheless, so very rich with a litany of transcendent moments of intimacies with my Father, my wife, my family… and my friends. I no longer hear the music; all I hear is his invitation to more. I love days like this. "They" say this storm could last another day or two. Amen! - Craig McConnell
CM
Craig McConnell
COMING SOON TO A LIVING ROOM NEAR YOU
I read on Yahoo news recently about a woman (Ms. Warden) in North Carolina who is spreading the word from her Subaru that Jesus will be returning on May 21st of this year. Another ministry devoted to deciphering the scriptures teaches that he’s coming back in 2016. I forget the exact day. December 23, 2012 is also a day being offered up for Christ’s imminent and triumphant return as is May 14thof this year. From the Spokesman-Review: “It’s a very jarring thing to be told you have five months on Earth,” admits Warden, 29. “That may interrupt any earthly plan.” Warden may be making the most attention-getting end-times prediction now going, but it’s hardly the first: In the year 1000, hysteria over Jesus’ return so captivated medieval society that crops went unplanted and criminals were freed from jails. In 1988, Edgar Whisenant published “88 Reasons Why the Rapture Will Be in 1988.” When the year passed with the material world still intact, he followed up with “The Final Shout: Rapture Report 1989.” The world has heard lots of dire predictions in the past. No wonder most are skeptical and find this kind of declaration to border the realm of crazy. However, many if not most biblical scholars well versed in the prophetic believe that the generation who will be alive when Jesus returns is alive now. They may be twenty years old. They may be two. They do not know but they have my attention. Because we do know that Jesus is returning. He actually is coming back. And he urges us in the scriptures to be alert and ready. Which begs the question, how then are we to live? How are we to be ready? What would change in your life if you knew, really knew that Jesus would be coming back to earth in all of his glory in a mere 140 days? How would you live differently? What would your prayer life be like? How would it alter the way that you are seeking first his kingdom? Well then… I don’t know the exact date of Christ’s return. I don’t know if I am going to be alive when he breaks through the Eastern sky or if I will have already crossed over. I don’t know if I am going to see him face to face in thirty years, thirty days or thirty minutes. I do know that I am going to see him. And I want to live my life today and increasingly in a way that not only makes me more ready for that longed for moment but makes other people more ready as well. Don't you?! The fact that Jesus is returning is really good news. REALLY GOOD NEWS!!! Oh, Jesus, help us to be increasingly alert and ready. Help us to know you more deeply as you truly are. As we know you more truly, we love you more deeply, long for you more eagerly, and can't keep ourselves from winsomely telling others about how utterly marvelous you are. Come Lord Jesus. Even so!
Stasi Eldredge
The Invasion
Christmas is an invasion. Not just the kingdom of God invading the earth, but God himself, invading the earth. In Person. Oh, how I love this! I went with a friend to her church this past Sunday, this fourth Sunday of Advent. I went hungry for the holy. Knowing this is a particularly good church, I was excited and expectant…ready to encounter Jesus. The singing began. I can’t call it worship. Darn it. It was singing. Before the last song, the worship pastor had a “word” for the body. It’s was a pretty common word. I’ve heard it before. So have you. It went along these lines. “The LORD is a warrior. All battles are His. You are not meant to fight. Some of you are inviting the battle into your life by fighting. God wants you to surrender and rest in Him.” Raise the white flag. Don’t engage in warfare. God doesn’t want you to do what he said to do in James 4:7 or in 1Peter or in Ephesians. The armor of God thing…don’t need it. Don’t bother. OK, I’m ranting. The “word” was as unbiblical as it was unhelpful. (And lest I make the same mistake he did by speaking in sweeping generalizations, yes, there are times when we are not to fight, the battle is not ours and we are to express our faith completely by resting in God…and yes, there are times when we cannot fight and need the body of Christ to intervene on our behalf…and yes, fighting is not striving…oh – how we need an intimate walk with Jesus!) As I listened to the man, who is a good man, I asked…”Is this for me, God? Am I taking on battles that aren’t mine to fight?”. No, he says. And then I wondered…where are the people who need to hear a word like this? I haven’t met them. I’ve seen and encountered and experienced a lot of fear and passivity. I haven’t encountered a bunch of warriors out there swinging the sword of the Lord around willy nilly looking for fights that aren’t theirs. But these folks must be out there somewhere because a lot of pastors and teachers are telling them to stop it. The pastor came up after the final song and began to give his very Biblical message. It was about how Jesus’ coming in the manger was actually an invasion. About pulling back the curtain and looking at Revelations and reading the account of the dragon waiting to devour the child. It was about the bigger picture, the larger story, the miraculous breaking into this world. HOORAY! My sons are home for Christmas. This makes a mother’s heart very happy. I am cherishing them and this time. Last night, we went together to see the movie Tron. Spoiler alert! It is a movie about a battle to fight, an adventure to live, and a beauty to rescue! Sound familiar? It is a story about a Creator and things going wrong, and the battle between good and evil and the good needing to be rescued. The Gospel was in there! Someone knows we are in a battle between good and evil and that we are required to rise up. At the theater, we were sitting behind a row of teenagers. A gaggle of them. About twelve young men and women reeking of marijuana. And I do mean, reeking. I could see them as well taking swigs out of the bottles they brought in knowing they had smuggled in alcohol and my heart broke for them. They were a bit loud. A bit rambunctious. A bit irritating and a bit smelly. I watched the movie but I also watched them. After the movie, I wanted to talk to the young woman sitting in front of me. I lingered. I went to the bathroom. I prayed. I hoped and expected her to come into the bathroom. See, I was once that girl. But the invasion of the kingdom of God broke into my life and I have been rescued. I wanted to tell her that she could be rescued, too! She didn’t come into the bathroom. When I finally came out, there was the whole group of teenagers standing in a circle. My sons were over by the door waiting for me and I hesitated…looked at the group, looked at my sons…and then completely compelled by the love of Christ, I walked up to their circle. “Did you enjoy the movie?”, I asked. Yes, they most emphatically did! I told them that I had been sitting behind them. That I saw and smelled how totally stoned they were…that I saw them drinking too. And then I told them, a few things that I hope will haunt them beautifully. I told them that part of the movie was true. That there is a Creator and his name is Jesus. That I was like them at their age but I had been rescued. That there is another way to live. A better way. That sometime in the future they may remember the words of the crazy lady after the movie…it may come back to them. And I hope they remember the name Jesus and that they are so very deeply loved. They were amazingly silent and sober as I spoke. One young man said thank you before I left with longing in my eyes. Some of them laughed as soon as I got a few steps away. Of course they did! But oh God, may they remember. I don’t do that often. But I pray to do it more. To follow Jesus and obey. To speak what he tells me to speak. To love. To offer. To risk. To invade. See Jesus has passed the baton to us. The scriptures say “And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and violent men take it by force. (Matt 11:12). It is an invasion. An invasion is active. An invasion is strong. Yes, the kingdom of God is advancing and the gates of Hell will not prevail against it. But the kingdom of God is not advancing from a silent, surrendered couch. Submit to God. Resist the devil. Take your stand. Fight the good fight. Let the invasion continue. Yes and amen and a happy, holy and merry Christmas to you and yours!
Stasi 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