Articles & Posts
One Week from Today!!!
December 15 is a big day for Stasi and me. It's the release date for Love and War, our new book! We're also doing a live webcast that day. We've been looking forward to this for a long time! Our hope and longing and earnest prayer is that God uses this in a HUGE way. To help marriages. And to draw folks into the beauty of this Gospel. We know the book has the power to. Our marriage has been rescued by all that we write about, all that we divulge. It certainly is the most vulnerable book we've ever written. A couple weeks ago I was reading in Augustine, when I ran across the phrase "a new song of deliverance," and the Spirit grabbed me, and said, "This is what Love and War is - a new song of deliverance!" Wow. Now that has hope written all over it. Join us in this move to rescue hearts. Here's what you can do: Pray for us! Log on to the webcast next Tuesday, December 15 at 7pm mtn time. Here's the link: http://livestream.com/WaterBrookMultnomah. Give Love and War to your friends. Hey, it's Christmas time. Perfect. I ran into a young man a week ago who said, "My wife and I were praying, and we felt God wanted us to give Love and War to the married couples we know, for Christmas. It feels like a risk, because we are only newly married, and the budget is tight, but we sensed this is what God wanted us to do." They ordered 15 copies to give away. How cool is that?! How loving. And how powerful for the Kingdom. Those homes are going to be singing a new song of deliverance! That's what it's all about. That's the work of the Kingdom. Join us!!
John Eldredge
WAITING
I like Advent; the waiting for Christ to come. I like the anticipation of Christmas. Maybe it’s partly because a woman figures so prominently in the Story. Mary. I like Mary. Oh, I want to be like Mary! Such abandoned faith. She says yes to God, come what may. “Be it unto me…”. And then she waits. And God, who is so perfectly faithful, comes. The Holy Spirit comes upon her and she receives a deposit of God himself and Jesus grows inside her womb until it is time for her to give birth to him and present him to the world. Such a magnificent offering and she is just a human being. She is a woman just like us! And just like her, we too have been given a deposit of the Holy Spirit. God himself is inside of us! And the world waits for what it is we will give birth to and offer. Jesus himself – growing inside of us. We carry him! And we wait. Wait for him. Wait for more. Wait with wonder and anticipation and agony. And like Mary, we are enlarged in the waiting. Our souls are enlarged. Tomorrow, our son Sam is flying in, flying home, from his semester in Europe. Tears fill my eyes just as I write that sentence. I can’t sleep. I have been lying awake in bed imagining him coming around the corner and seeing John and I underneath the “Welcome Home” signs I have made for him. My heart is bursting with anticipation. Coming home. Going home. A long awaited reunion. Is this what Jesus is feeling like right now? Anticipating his long awaited return? My thoughts turn to him and I can not wait to see HIM. To greet him! To fall into his arms or at his feet and weep with joy and the release of finally being with him, my true Home. My heart is being enlarged. As I wait. As I long. Is his heart being enlarged too? Could that even be possible? Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. I will hold my son and kiss his cheek. And it will be a foretaste of a homecoming that will be sweeter still. Sweet beyond words. I can hardly wait!
Stasi Eldredge
The Best Present I could ask for
Well, we crossed the threshold into Advent on Sunday. As my thoughts have been turning towards the Advent season, and the coming of Christmas, I found myself thinking about gifts I would like to give, and gifts I would like to receive. After a good bit of meandering, I landed on what I most want to ask from God, the greatest gift he could give me. Himself. That's what I want. That's what I most need. I thought of something CS Lewis wrote: "God cannot give us happiness and peace apart from himself, because it is not there. There is no such thing." All else that I long for is either found in God, and only good in him, or, I can do without if I truly have God. This is really the greatest gift we could ever receive. Then my thoughts turned to some dear souls who live with diminished views of Jesus and the gospel he preached. I see how sad their experience is, how limited, even bound, and again I found myself realizing what an enormous gift it is to have God as he really is, have his gospel as it really is. The torment of misunderstanding can be awful, as those who live under the common Christianity-as-guilt know very well. As do those who live without his nearness, or counsel, or deliverance. To know God truly, to have him truly is the only life there is. Which then led me to something I'd read recently in MacDonald (this is how my quiet times go, one thought leading to another): "The God and Father of Jesus Christ could never possibly be satisfied with less than giving himself to his own." That is what I want. This is what I'm asking for. O Jesus, give us yourself, as you truly are.
John Eldredge
ADVENT
This year seems to be on a bobsled race. It is rushing past me at an ever increasing speed such that I can barely see what is passing. It is Christmastime already. Today is the first Sunday of Advent. A young woman behind the coffee counter said to me this week that she is not looking forward to the time in her life when the holidays mean work, not joy. Something in my earlier overwhelmed response to her had cued her in to my state of mind. I want the holidays to mean joy too! But honestly, my spirit was not excited about the season we are entering into but rather dreading it. Selecting, purchasing, wrapping, mailing thoughtful, meaningful presents on a limited budget. Decorating, baking, creating a warm holiday atmosphere…Christmas cards, letters, notes, stocking stuffers…creating space for my family to rest, catch their spiritual breath and look to Jesus… Sadly, it doesn’t sound fun to me. It sounds like work; a job that I don’t currently feel up to. With my heart discouraged, I went and worshiped God and then poured out my heart to Him. Here’s what I wrote in my journal. “Lord, it is a lot of work and I get stressed. Now we are entering Advent and Christmas. And I feel such pressure. To make it lovely, holy, meaningful, traditional, warm, safe, cozy, smell good, relaxed, happy, festive, pretty – and try to stay centered on You. It’s kind of hard for me. Simplify. How? All of it. All of it. (This was followed by a time of simply worshiping Him, fixing the gaze of my heart on His beauty….then…) I love You, God. Thank You for your faithfulness to me and mine. I need You. You’re lovely, holy, meaningful, warm, safe…You are everything good and wonderful and enticing and longed for about Christmas. You are who and what we want and are trying to capture. I want You. You are my Christmas.” Big breath. Thank you Jesus. So last night, we decorated our Christmas tree. It’s a fun thing to do and yes, a lot of work. But somehow last night, it wasn’t work at all. We had the Christmas carols playing on the stereo and laughed and chatted easily as we hung our mostly precious and sometimes silly ornaments on the tree. We were unhurried yet finished in record time and none of us was exhausted from it. Once done, we turned off all the lights and sat together on the sofa enjoying the beauty of the tree. Spontaneously, we began to sing along with the carols. We were accompanied by Amy Grant, Nat King Cole, Josh Groban. We ended with our hands lifted in worship. Oh Praise Him! When the songs went silent, we stayed silent as well and then began to ruminate about Jesus. “Can you imagine what a great singing voice Jesus has?!”. “Wouldn’t it be great if Jesus returned on Christmas?!”. “At the wedding feast, what do you think the table will be made of?”. Holy moments. Not stress filled. Just given to us from our extravagant Father who is the giver of every good gift. “You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.” Psalm 145:10 Simplify. Invite the one who came. Who is coming again. Who is always coming to us. Oh yes, Jesus. Come again today. We love you.
Stasi Eldredge
Leukemia
This last May 9th I was in Dulles International Airport with a 15 minute lay-over prior to boarding my overnight flight to Zurich to consult/coach a group of gifted Swiss leaders who were initiating the first German language Boot Camp. I plugged in my computer hoping to charge the battery a skosh and noticed an email from my doctor. It said, “Craig, please give me a call. Your labs [from routine physical 2 weeks earlier] are back and Houston, we may have a problem..." What? I read it twice. Is this a joke? Moments later I boarded the plane with my “Friendly Skies” companions and informed Lori from my cell of the email and asked her to follow up with my doc on what’s going on. Fifteen minutes later as the announcement to turn off all portable electronic devices for takeoff is being made my phone rings and Lori hurriedly reports, “Your white cell count is elevated. When you get back into town he wants to do some more tests. On your flight he wants you to take an aspirin, get up and walk around every hour, and lose weight.” I ’m a little disoriented/spinning with what’s unfolding. Not sure if I was offering reassurance or asking for it, I ask Lori, “Is everything okay… are you okay?” She responds, “Yeah, I’m okay, I’m fine. It’s just a little something he wants to check out later, I love you”. Wheels up and into a long night my heart’s posture was, “God, what’s up?” I didn’t take the Ambien® (sleep aid) I was anticipating because I had to get up and move around every hour. I had taken an aspirin with my vitamins that morning so I checked that “box”, but wasn’t sure how to lose any significant weight on an 8 hour red-eye to Switzerland other than resisting the Snicker bar in my carry-on (which I did). Every moment of the flight I was praying and pondering life… my life, death… my death, my family, my script of the future, my health and whether or not I had blood clots, heart issues, high blood pressure, H1N1, a parasite or a brain tumor? Was I overreacting, misinterpreting a doctors generic concern over a minor abnormality in my blood work? Am I a hypochondriac? Or it some scheme birthed in hell to spin me into a self-absorbed disengagement from the team and epic importance of this mission (The FIRST German language Boot Camp!!)? In what felt like the same amount of time it took Rome to fall I arrived in Switzerland, and though it was in the middle of the night in the states, I emailed my doctor, “Hey I’m speculating about my health and have died and buried myself five times on the flight… what’s going on?!” He responded: “Your white cell count is elevated, around 20 thousand, normal is 10 thousand or less. The kind of cells are lymphocytes. We need the hospital to run some tests and repeat the counts to confirm the possibility of CLL, chronic lymphocytic leukemia. When you get back let’s get the testing done and I will get you in to see a hematologist.” Leukemia!!! And then there was the silence of my entire being recalibrating as I grasped each of the eight letters of the word and then the word as a whole… L-e-u-k-e-m-i-a . It felt foreign, intrusive, large and daunting and very, very personal word. I had a friend die of that as well as a colleague I supervised in my last church! I’m a dead man walking… what do I have, 3 weeks to live and I’m stuck here doing a men’s retreat in Switzerland for 2 of them? I chose not to call Lori and tell her the news over the phone from so far away nor did I share it with the Swiss Team. I was on mission and sensed strongly that God would give me the grace to accomplish this task while privately processing all the anxieties, fears, free roaming emotions, questions and the reorientation my diagnosis was raising. On the second day in country the Swiss guys suggested I spend some time with one of the team, Gerd. The other four team members and I had spent time together at Boot Camps, Advanced Camps and at our home in Colorado. So Gerd and I went for a walk along a streamside trail in a high elevation meadow with the Eiger and Jungfrau peaks overlooking us. It was stunning beauty. I asked Gerd for a bit of his story. He shared that he was a retired professor at a German Medical School, former president of the German Cancer Society, and a survivor of an aggressive/acute Leukemia. I managed to ask a few more questions about his “survival” of cancer and then stopped walking to find a rock to weigh down. Finding one, I begin to sob, eventually finding the words to tell him that I had just learned of my diagnosis, the day before! He sat alongside me, and took all the time needed for me to express my shock and fear, he listened… asked several questions and reassuringly led me to a deeper understanding of “life” and “health and how neither is determined by the condition of my body. He was fathering me. And God was fathering me through him. I’m 36,000 miles from home, alone for the next eleven days (hiding my diagnosis from my wife), about to participate in a historic “first” that will require all of me, and I’ve just learned I have cancer… and yet I’m not alone, God is present… so very present. And he has silver hair – just as I’ve always imagined, a German accent and responds to the name “Gerd”. I was BLOWN away! I don’t know how long we sat there. It was a good amount of time. Not wanting my time with the team nor the conference to be about me I asked Gerd to keep my issues confidential. Throughout my time their he would put his hand on my shoulder during times of worship… it was Gerd’s hand… yet it was a larger, even stronger hand – the same hand that has touched us all at our times of crisis and need. It was God. And it was Gerd… who would pull me aside to offer words needed to stay the course while fear, anxiety and confusion surged back and forth. It was Gerd who would pray and check in on the fragile condition of my heart. Several times he spoke to my fears and doubts insisting that “We simply must life! Live life!” and that the best offense against cancer is waged from the heart. With his vast medical knowledge and in a sagely voice he told me that a certain and sure indication of living well was to… “Have a little whiskey and chocolate every night”. So much more could be shared. After 12 days I returned home. I hadn’t shared my diagnosis with Lori over the phone, choosing to wait until we could hold one another and talk with our eyes and heart. Reunited I found that she had known of the cancer from the beginning and choose to wait until my mission was over so we could circle the wagons together. There will come a day when I attempt to put a few sentences together that describe what my wife means to me… and brings to me. I went in for extensive blood and genetic tests that confirmed I have Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia (CLL). I’m asymptomatic and in the early stages. My Hemoc used an analogy to describe my specific situation: there is a burning ember in a dry grassy field with a warm breeze blowing. The hope is that the ember is extinguished by God, or never ignites the grass. I’m under the care of great docs and am getting good counsel. Since May I’ve survived the initial waves of fear, hopelessness and the frisky dose of the “blues”. I’ve got a lot more to say about all of this, and will in time. My goal is to live life fully; not let my identity be defined by cancer; fight like hell, and have a little whiskey and chocolate every night! - Craig McConnell Note: Until last week only my family, close friends and a few intercessors were aware of my diagnosis. I wasn’t ready to deal with a wider circle. Now I am. Besides, so much of what God is doing in my life now is linked to cancer… how could I keep silent about all of it? Within a few weeks of the diagnosis of Leukemia I got another call from a different doctor on the pathology reports from several biopsies that had been taken… they proved to be Melanoma; thus the “frisky dose of the blues”. They’ve been removed! I blog on that experience as well. Another blog from this summer pretty well captures one of the primary themes of God’s work in me through this season thus far. Thanks so much for your prayers.
CM
Craig McConnell
Bedtime Rituals
When our sons were young and it was time to get ready for bed, we would announce, “Time for jammies and teeth!” They used to wear John’s old T-shirts as jammies. They were soft and comfortable and fell to their knees or lower. Now, all three sons have outgrown my husband’s tees. For some reason, they liked to brush their teeth in our bathroom, not theirs. So our sink was surrounded not only by our various accoutrements, but their three boyish toothbrushes and toothpaste as well. John’s a TOM’S man…something one son has inherited but at the time their toothpaste sparkled and had various super heroes on the cover. We wondered why they wouldn’t use their own sink…but understood that this was a sweet season that would pass all too quickly. We enjoyed the chaos. Once tucked in bed, we would bless them. Every single night. And they would bless us right back. “The LORD bless you and keep you. The LORD make his face to shine upon you And give you peace.” Samuel initiated making the sign of the cross on the forehead at the beginning of the blessing and more than a decade later, the little ritual has stuck. Often times, after blessing, one or more of our boys would ask to “snuggle”. This was the crucial moment. We would be exhausted. Done. Finished. Ready for bed ourselves. They would be ready to talk…share about their day, experiences, thoughts. Precious moments. Golden moments. “Sure honey, we can snuggle” (pronounced schnuggle). Sometimes, I would sing the blessing to them instead of speak it. Sometimes I would make up lullabies and sing those to them as well. The other night, I was talking with our oldest son over the phone – he’s on a Europe semester traveling all over the continent, experiencing so much but so far away. As we were saying our goodbyes, I said, wait, “The LORD bless you and keep you. The LORD make his face to shine upon you And give you peace.” I could feel his smile. I am so happy at the moment. My mother’s heart so full. Our youngest, Luke, 16 years old, after blessing him tonight, began to sing the blessing to me. I finished it up and then snuggled next to him and continued singing and humming to him– remembering the old lullabies from years past. He remembered. He loved it. I loved it. Oh. It all matters!
Stasi Eldredge
imotives 2: things I would not be caught dead doing
singing onstage before a live audience getting a pedicure wearing a clown suit to the next Wild at Heart retreat having my personal journals read aloud at the National Religious Broadcasters Convention yodeling on Oprah in a tutu There are certain things that simply strike fear into our hearts when we given them even a passing thought. The fear is gut level. It has nothing to do with what is rational. It is primal. You have your list, and I have mine. Just to make sure you are tracking with me, jot a few down. Begin your list. “You could never pay me to…” fill in the blank. Wear your pajamas to church. Roller blade in a Speedo through the mall. Grow a neck beard. C’mon. Fess up. You have your list. We like to think of ourselves as above this stuff. We are free from the opinions of others. We are secure. We are no slaves to fashion. We find our identity in Christ. That is, unless we are asked to do several of the things on our “list.” In the next ten minutes. Can you sense the fear leap up? “There’s no way. I’m not gonna do it.” This fear runs deep in the human race. It is ancient. Genesis 3:10 stuff, the fear of exposure. It is far more powerful than we like to admit. It is the origin of every fig leaf and fashion trend. It’s what gives power to culture, by the way. And peer pressure. We long to be praised. We dread exposure. I’m convinced that until we have a healthy appreciation of how deep this actually runs in us, we won’t have a true grasp on our motives. I long to be esteemed. I have an allergy to being laughed at. Now yes, we might point to pop culture or some group and say, “That has no power over me. I don’t care what they think.” That may be true. You won’t get gages in your ears. Or you won’t wear a tie. But you have a group that you do care what they think. Very much. (The irony, of course, of the “rebels” in every generation, the punkers or grunges or goths is that while they give the finger to society they carefully dress and speak and act to impress the one group they do care about. They desperately want to fit in.) We flatter ourselves. But the truth is, we know exactly what our particular group esteems, what they consider utterly distasteful, and we play to the crowd. Or at least, do our best not to stand out. (University professors typically do not wear cammo to commencements). The same fear drives us. This is no cause for shame. But it does beg a little humility, and honesty. Our fig leaf is not quite as noble as we assume. It cracks me up how much I think about this, while pretending not to think about it. I am about to order a pair of shoes on line. I know what I like. I also know what my peers would think was cool, and, more importantly, what would invite quite a bit of grief. Can you guess which shoes I am not going to buy?
John Eldredge
JESUS IN YOGURTLAND
We just returned home from visiting our middle son Blaine at college. It was such a good visit! Oh, to kiss the cheek of my son! Blaine had told us about a place called Yogurtland that he really liked and thought I’d really like. OK. Really love. He was right! It is a frozen yogurt paradise! We went three times in two days. I have officially had my frozen yogurt fix for quite some time. So the first time we go, we brought three of Blaine’s new friends with us and as is my custom, I head first to the bathroom which is hiding at the way back of the store. The men’s room had a sign on it saying it’s broken and I run into one of my son’s friends waiting to use the facilities looking longingly at the women’s restroom door. I open the women’s bathroom to test the all clear and open it on a man with his back to me, doing what he needed to. Quickly I close the door and tell his friend what happened. He finds this very funny and we both crack up. Then he says, “Here, let me stand in front of you and he’ll think it was me.” He was so quick to say that – so considerate. I thanked him. Then the guy comes out. Turns out he is really, really drunk. He challenges the young man to make sure he was next in line. I assure him he was and wait. The man begins to talk to me incoherently in a really loud voice, unsteady on his feet and I am not quite sure what to do. I know that feeling well. How to love here? What to do? Jesus? Then it’s my turn to use the facilities. When I come out, my young friend has gotten the inebriated guy a frozen yogurt sample. He is loving it. He wants some more. He is getting louder. He becomes more and more animated. He starts going up to nearby tables and offering customers unintelligable pearls of wisdom and shots of vodka. I go look to see if there is a manager to help out here before a scene erupts and the guy ends up in jail. When I walk back to where we were, I see something I hope to not forget. My son’s friend, 18 years old, is holding two large samples of frozen yogurt in each hand luring the man out of the restaurant and out of trouble. In his eyes, I see the kindness of Jesus and the longing to do well by the man in an uncomfortable and tenuous situation. He leads the guy out like the Pied Piper. I didn’t know what to do but he did. He loved him.
Stasi Eldredge
What I Like and What I Don't
My friend Julie introduced me to sprinkling cinammon on top of the coffee grounds before making the coffee. When the coffee maker has worked its magic, I add a little cream and voila. Happiness ina cup! I am now ready for my day! I enjoy beginning my morning with a really good cup of coffee. I also like slippers. Soft, cushy, fluffy, preferably pink slippers. Unfortunately, so does my dog. That I don’t like so much. I love cool mornings and sunny days and light breezes. I love the change of seasons and the memories they evoke of what has been and of what is coming. Now Autumn, I love the quickly changing colors of the aspens and the scrub oak. Green this morning, golden tonight. Tomorrow, blown off their branches by the increasing wind. That, I don’t like so much. But okay, bare branches against the sky possess their own unique beauty. And in the frost of Winter, when they are laced with ice, they will glisten with a shimmering artistry. I like that. I do. It’s slipping on the ice that I don’t like so much. Two sides to a coin. I like more than I don’t. There is a beauty to every season of the year as with every season of my life. Today, the flickering of the leaves in the wind and the rushing waterfall sound they make, remind me that though I can’t hold on to the moment as I would like, God is in it. And he is in the next one too. I like that very much.
Stasi Eldredge
My how God has changed!
I’ve been reading through 35 years of my journaling. My how I’ve changed. My how God has changed! Now, of course God hasn’t changed, but a boat load of my beliefs about Him sure have. Over the course of a Christ-follower’s life long journey any beliefs he has about God that are beneath Him (God) will be dismantled and discarded. Dismantled by God. Discarded by us. After all, the Author and Perfector of our faith desires truth in our inner most being, and we, who are children of light cannot coexist with darkness once it’s been exposed. It actually takes a herculean effort to repress truth/beauty/love, and such is the power of deceit whether chosen or not. But God, on His part, will arrange life to surface the aberrant convictions/beliefs we hold that, unattended, will eventually cause us great grief. The preferred time to find you’ve built your house upon the sand is prior to the tempest! As we walk with God, press into His word and feel the fury of life’s storms our immature/sub-biblical/second-hand beliefs will be outed and readily tossed on the rubbish pile of “religious notions”. A.W. Tozer said it well, "That our idea of God correspond as nearly as possible to the true being of God is of immense importance to us. Compared with our actual thoughts about Him, our creedal statements are of little consequence. Our real idea of God may lie buried under the rubbish of conventional religious notions and may require an intelligent and vigorous search before it is finally unearthed and exposed for what it is." Read the Gospels and you’ll see that God is supremely more interested in the unseen motives and beliefs that govern us than He is in our external behaviors and verbal declarations. Real change, lasting change starts on the inside – in the arena of motives and beliefs, and then works itself out in our actions and deeds; thus, one of His redemptive purposes in orchestrating of all the annoying hassles and struggles of life. God will initiate the vigorous unearthing of that which we truly believe about God, about His view of us, our epic role in His Larger Story, the life we long for and the Adversary set against us so that we might know the truth. In short, if you want to know what a person really believes, their doctrinal declarations may not tell you nearly as much as how they live, pray, relate to others, worship and deal with life’s grave disappointments. Over the years I’ve canned, modified and exchanged a whole lot of my beliefs and convictions about love, marriage, parenting, growing as a Christian, and my role in society, church and ministry, sinners, “saints”, sin, the doctrinal issues I’d actually fight over, addictions, grace… and on and on! When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. – 1 Corinthians 13:11 There is humility in growing. Now of course there are things I believe and embrace as true that haven’t yet taken deep root in my being. It could be the reality and extent of warfare in the life of the believer, or the epic role I play in God’s Large Story, perhaps that the redeemed heart is good, or that God’s heart toward me is that of a loving father, or that healing of life-shaping wounds is available. All true, yet, perhaps not fully governing me. In some blend of desire, faith, trust and courage I step into those beliefs by choosing to live as if they’re true. Absolutely true! And in doing so I find myself crying out to God in my prayers and in my reflections upon scripture for Him to confirm, instruct and weave these truths into my heart, mind and soul. Take my once adolescent belief in the omnipresence of God (the attribute of God that speaks of His forever and always presence in all places). I professed that truth, but for decades I didn’t really truly actually believe way down in the nitty gritty of Craig that it was true. Life pressed in and I begin to realize my unbelief that God was present. I didn’t believe He was present the way that David did, or the way the early church did, or the way others around me did. I begin to look for Him at odd and unusual times… outside of church, in a U2 song, in the middle of an argument, when I had the flu or the transmission failed. In odd and difficult situations, with positive and negative emotions my posture was one of questions and seeking, “Are you (God) here… in this?” “God, where are you?” “Is that you?” And He’s shown up time and time again making Himself known, answering me, speaking, He’s jumped out of the bushes and snuck up behind me enough that His being present is a reflexive lens I now view life from, because it’s true. Truly true! – Craig McConnell
CM
Craig McConnell
i Motive
Most of you have probably seen by now the commercials comparing the Mac to the PC. “Hello. I’m a Mac.” “And I’m a PC.” (If you haven’t, you can watch them on the Apple website.) They are funny; they are clever; and they are absolutely brilliant. The Mac is hip, laid-back, dressed for the times, tolerant, “authentic,” the ultimate postmodern. The PC is awkward, dressed for the office climate of the 50’s, goofy, overweight, fumbling, and clearly not authentic. C’mon now, admit it – you want to be the Mac. Even if you don’t own a Mac or ever care to own a Mac, in that commercial, you want to be the Mac. Who wants to be the idiot? Let me back up. Let’s begin with motives. I was just reading a passage in the Gospel of John, how many of the Jewish leaders actually did believe in Jesus, “But because of the Pharisees they would not confess their faith for fear they would be put out of the synagogue; for they loved praise from men more than praise from God” (12;42-43). It is a very human passage, so true to life. Think high school peer pressure. I mean, c’mon. You know it’s true. Look at everybody jumping on the “Green” bandwagon. Green is in, Green is enlightened, Green is the cause de jour. Every corporation from coffee to cars now sells itself as Green. Huh. They didn’t do this five years ago. How come they’re suddenly touting their Green credentials now? Do you honestly think this is all in the humble interest of a better world? Then why don’t they just do it, and not tell anyone about it? (Isn’t that what Jesus said, in the Sermon on the Mount?!) So, motives are essential, and motives are often shall we say, questionable. According to Jesus, anyone wanting to pursue a true life, anyone wanting to live with integrity and authenticity has got to be honest about their motives. This is core to his teaching. Back to the Mac ads. Surely you are aware what a powerful motive “wanting to be liked” is. It shapes what you wear every day. The way you talk. The way you present yourself to the world. What you say. What you won’t say. How you want to be seen. Your opinions. This defined high school. Did you really simply wear whatever you wanted and say whatever you wanted when you went to school? Heaven’s no; you’d have been eaten alive. Cast out. We made sure we dressed like and spoke like and held the opinions of the group we wanted to be part of. It might have been the jocks, the cool kids, the academic crowd. Regardless of the details, we all lived a very calculated life. We still do. Good grief, the Jewish leaders in John 12 choose fear of man over confessing Christ. “What people think of me” is a VERY powerful motivator. Thus the brilliance of the ads. In the powerful riptide of current opinion, laid-back is in; uptight is out. Tolerant is in; dogmatic is out. Enlightened is in; holding onto old ways is out. This goes way beyond computers. It shapes our theology, our politics, our values. It is shaping you more than you know. Call it i motives.
John Eldredge
A Canoe Trip
The snow is melting but it’s still freezing cold outside and I find myself dreaming of summer; the one to come and then the one that just ended…One of the highlights of this past summer was a camping trip our family took to the Tetons. Oh the beauty! Sharp, dangerous, glorious beauty. I close my eyes and I can see the mountains rising up across the lake. Pure grandeur. One favorite day, the five of us went down the Snake River in our canoes and a rented kayak. A storm came up suddenly and we took refuge along the bank under a huge pine tree that sheltered us from the pelting rain. No other prints were along the bank but ours and a big bears'! Later, back on the river, we passed a young man alone in a canoe. He was struggling. It was a windy day and he was spinning around in circles. He had a long way to go yet but he didn’t want to come with us. Didn’t want to hear some advice on how to do it differently…do it better. Well, not yet anyway. When you approach it, the take out point from the river is a little tricky. A huge rock is in the middle of the river making quite the wave that you need to avoid. (Sam and I went through it one year and well, that’s another story!) Anyway, our family had stopped for a lingering picnic lunch and as we approached the last little bank before the stretch of water approaching the take out point, we saw the young man again. He stood perusing the river. He look daunted, worried. This time, he was ready to accept help. When we got up close to the fellow, we saw how young he was. Oh my. So young. Maybe twenty. His name was Mike. Turns out Mike had begun the trip with his father and his younger brother but the canoe had gotten caught broadside in the current. They had all gone swimming, lost valuable fly fishing gear and been quite shaken up. The younger son was too frightened to continue so the dad took the younger son and walked back to the road hoping to hitch a ride to the take out point and meet up with his older son later. The older son, Mike, had bursitis in both of his feet making him unable to walk long distances. He didn’t feel he had a choice but to continue on down the river on his own. He had never done this before…no one had taught him how. His father had left him alone to manage the river by himself. He had tipped the canoe two more times. He was utterly exhausted. John talked to him about where he needed to be sitting in the canoe to make it easier…how he needed to turn the canoe backwards since he was alone. We would tell him exactly where to go on the river and he could follow us. Or he could get in our canoe and we would tow his. 'He was tired. He wanted in our canoe. Sometimes you need to help people by leaving them alone and conveying your belief that they can do it; they’re going to be alright. Sometimes you need to help them by giving them encouragement and advice; telling them what to avoid, what to aim for. Sometimes, you need to help by giving them rest and offer to carry them for awhile; let them know there’s no shame in that. Our boys went on ahead of us and positioned themselves to be ready to do a water rescue should we capsize while John attached the fellow’s canoe to ours with a rope. Mike got into the middle of our canoe and we began to paddle down the river. The current was swift. Mike’s canoe was passing us making the situation worse. We had to regroup. We pulled over again and made our plan. I would go with Mike in his canoe and John would go by himself behind us. I’d gone down this river maybe ten times before; canoed part of it once by myself on what was a horridly windy day. I knew how tired and discouraged Mike was. Now, I was called to help him navigate, tell him when and where to paddle but wanted to do it in a way that didn’t emasculate him. I wanted to encourage his masculinity and his strength. And pray like the dickens that we didn’t flip over and get hurt. (Been there. Done that. Didn’t want to do it again.) I was a little nervous but I felt something good and strong rise up in me. John believed I could do this, didn’t hesitate in giving me the responsibility. Fear tried to raise up its pointy little snake of a head but there was no room for fear here. My strength was called upon. I would rise to the occasion. And I would trust God for his help. Oh the glorious moment of pushing off and heading into the rapid current. “Paddle right”. “Stop!”. “Right again, not so strong.” “Yes! Good!”. We avoided the rapid and at the right moment turned the canoe towards the bank. I could see my sons at the ready. There was Mike’s father and mother, waiting, watching, concerned. Mike did great. No incidents. Just smooth paddling and a semi rugged landing and a warm greeting at the shore. Then John arrived, strong, steady, capable. We were proud of this young man and told him so. God had given us a fabulous afternoon having invited us up into his Larger Story yet again. It makes you feel so alive to be a part of a rescue!
Stasi Eldredge
It Was Ugly
I’m sitting at Gate B-42 waiting, as usual, for a United flight that’s been delayed four times since its scheduled time of departure over two hours ago. I’m among a crowd that is slowly morphing into a mob. The businessman seated one “Friendly-Skies”-blue vinyl seat over, gets up and for the third time approaches the Customer Service rep at the gate counter. And with three well enunciated words he un-corks vicariously venting for all 150 of us. Less than 10 seconds into his diatribe he crossed the line as our warrior-poet-representative and became a caricature/cartoon of a enraged foul mouthed borderline-abusive man venting all the anger/wounds/disappointment he has experienced over the entire 42 years of his miserable life. It was ugly. Satisfied and no doubt exhausted from the adrenaline rush, he returns to his chair and glazed over, though still muttering obscenities, he slouches back. Two minutes later, having caught his breath, he makes a call on his Blackberry. I easily overhear him talking to his young daughter tenderly over the phone. He’s calm, loving, engaged and thrilled to hear about her day as he expresses his love for her. It was sweet. I’ve seen this behavior before…in others. Then I slouched down into my chair and realize that there’s a voice, a clear, kind voice saying, “Did YOU see that… did you see THAT?” There are times when events unfold before you that, upon reflection, seem orchestrated by our sovereign God specifically for you. For a reason… as an invitation. Ahhh yeah… I’ve seen that in myself (less dramatic and public of course!) It was like there were two different people in one body. Truth is it may have been two different people in one body. Most of us have buttons that, if pushed, set off some response (rage, withdrawal, control etc.) that signals a deeper issue of brokenness, woundedness… a young unfathered heart/place and a foolish/sinful strategy of living. That “signal” isn’t something to repress/deny or shy away from. It’s actually the opportunity to experience the deep and true healing/forgiveness/deliverance/grace our good God offers. I spent my flight wondering about my need of God and his promises to me. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters,He restores my soul. – Psalm 23;1-3 He heals the broken hearted And binds up their wounds. – Psalm 147:3 Heal me, O LORD, and I will be healed; Save me and I will be saved, For you are the one I praise. – Jeremiah17:14
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Craig McConnell
7 Iron Bliss
Okay… who’s been praying for my golf swing? Thank you! When our close friend’s son asked our daughter, Meagan, to marry him we were elated. As the Wedding Week was being planned several rounds of Golf were on the docket. I’d never had any interest in shagging a ball around for 4-6 hours; however, realizing this was an opportunity to spend time with them zipping around in a golf cart while engaged in a competitive sport that involved skill, grace, jawboning and a beer afterward I decided to take it up. So, the humiliating process of learning to “play” began. It’s been a year and a half and I stink at golf… but so does my best buddy who also happens to be my son-in-law’s father and the fourth in our regular foursome and frequent “Best Ball” partner. Misery loves company! * * * * * * While on vacation this summer a couple of pros watching me on the driving range had a choice… shoot me and save their course from further damage or intervene. Mercifully they took me under their wing and, with the patience of Job and a smirk, gave me the guidance/help/salvation/lessons I needed. * * * * * * * For my lunch break today I went to the local driving range. (Note… what a deal! A bucket of balls, a corn dog, bag of chips and medium soda for $7… I’m thinking “Date Night”) I pull out my 7 iron and start whacking balls. Whoa! Bam! Biff! Sock! Kapow! Bar the gates Katie! I was Captain Junuh, Bobby Jones, and Walter Hagen… I’d found my swing! I have never hit the ball as good… consistently, high and far! Something’s up?! I'd gone to the driving range in a panicked attempt to break away from an oppressive spiritual sludge that covered me. It felt like a thick swarm of gunky mosquitoes the size of crows swarming around me that no amount of swatting and screaming could alleviate. I couldn’t out run them distancing myself from them hoping to buy a little time of peace before having to sprint again. Do you know what I’m describing? * * * * * * * It had been a beautiful Colorado Fall morning with an apple crisp air and pumpkin hued mountains in the sun’s rising light. As usual I had given time to prayers of worship, consecration, and applying the full and triumphant work of Christ over my heart/soul/mind/body/spirit for the day. It seemed that all my brokenness, desire, deep wounds, yearnings for God, profound and compulsive sins were properly stowed in the caring hands of my Father God when I walked into the Outpost (our office building) and got bushwhacked by a bucket of iced Gatorade brewed in hell. Suddenly I’m… irritated. Rankled by an email, fuming over a colleague’s presumption, soured by an odd look what’s-her-name gave me… actually I’m enraged by the mere presence of other humans. The Outpost is suddenly dank and dark and with pairs of creepy little green eyes peering around every corner sneering at me. It was obviously spiritual warfare given that murderous thoughts are not common for me. I had faced this before on occasion… this feeling of being eaten alive by some hideous predator… probably the way it would feel to be devoured by a Lion (which according to all the nature shows I’ve watched doesn’t let its prey die prior to its blood devouring) Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. - 1 Peter 5:8 I wondered what people without a warfare category do with such overwhelming experiences/feelings? My morning was spent battling in prayer against this foulness to seemingly no avail. The prayers felt impotent leaving me with a foul mocking echo, “You can’t handle this… your life sucks. You suck! This is your miserable fate!!” I clung to the truth of God and the promises of victory his word gives knowing that there are extended battles we must fight without losing heart. They are harder than we expect. Hand to hand combat where time stands still and only the smoke, noise and fury seems eternal. I recalled the account of Daniel praying for understanding of a vision he had had. At the moment of Daniel’s prayer God immediately answered it by sending a mighty and glorious angel to Daniel (many interpreters view this angel as the pre-incarnate Christ himself!). However, it took twenty-one days of warring with the demonic prince of the Persian kingdom before the angel could even get to Daniel with the answer to his prayer. In fact, the angel needed the help of the archangel Michael to battle this demonic being (Daniel Chapter 10). There are battles over and for us that remain unseen, and if seen, would explain so much of the long suffering and enmity we endure. I believed God would give me victory at some point, until then the sulfuric weighted film and crows seemed the dread champion. Noon-ish the thought that came to mind was, “Run!”, “Get outta here!”, “Get some air, and do something… anything distracting!” My clubs were in the back of the Suburban so I went to the range. After a brief argument with the vendor over who the hottest quarterback in the NFL was, and gripping over the fact that he was out of mustard for my corn dog I went to my bay and dumped out the balls and paused before striking the first. The driving range was quiet and almost vacant; there was an elderly woman and a young jock sharing the range with me. A cold damp blustery breeze was blowing leaves around, distracting me until a huge flock of Canadian Geese glided in for a soft landing on the range (they were directly in front of me at about 150 yards… which is the safest place they could be.). The stillness and beauty of the moment caught my heart’s attention and I mutter the simplest prayer of the day, “Dear God I need you”. I hit the first ball… and the Geese scatter. Straight. High looping and long. Whoa! I hit another… “God?”. And another… God came! I began to sense the beauty, strength and grace of his presence. For an hour I was in his presence with my 7 Iron. In his presence there is: victory, joy, peace, and LIFE. In long pauses between swings he spoke of his love of me and my strength in this battle… I felt his smile. The gunk was gone. I was with the Father… golfing! Amazing! He remains the ever-present and always surprising God! - Craig McConnell
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Craig McConnell
Oy Vey!
I can’t eat anything delicious. My period is coming. And I’m trying to relate to my sixteen year old son. It is not going well. Sometimes I feel that he looks at me like I am a strange (not exotic, just strange) fish swimming inside of a tank. What?!? Huh? I don’t like it. I want to snap at him for looking at me weird, dismissing me, not responding to me with awed respect. I want to go into the pantry and eat some forbidden food by the handful. Bury my face in a pan of brownies. That’ll show him. Instead, as those godless roads are closed to me, I escape to my bedroom and give myself a time out. Big breath. What is true? Who is the grown up here? How do I love from this out of sorts place? Jesus, please come. Help me rise above my hormones and sugar addiction and self centeredness. Fill me Holy Spirit. I breathe you in. I let go of my own agenda and complusions. Thank you. I’m still hungry but choose to reengage. “Ping pong?”, I offer. He says no thanks. I am still a fish. “I turn my eyes up to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, maker of Heaven and Earth.” I love you, Jesus. I know this is about me, not my son. You are the only One who can fill this hungry heart.
Stasi Eldredge
Fashionista NOT
I’m going to make a confession. Big breath. Here goes. I like jumpers. There I said it. I have a friend, a very beautiful, style concious, always looks SO good friend, who told me several years ago that I needed to “lose the jumpers”. I haven’t. I have four of them in my closet – one is 12 years old – it’s a jean overall well worn comfortable thingy and well, yes, it was my daily uniform for a couple of years. But it’s so versatile! Really! I love it. I can’t let it go. It would be like letting go of an era. My sons childhood. Then I have a newer jean jumper that I fit into sometimes. Currently it fits. It’s actually better if it doesn’t. I have two more for dressier occasions. So there. I like them. I think they look stylish. They’re easy and comfortable and hide a multitude of sins. But oh dear, I don’t want to be a woman who holds onto her treasured past and precious memories by not moving on in her personal life and style. A few years ago I found a picture of me from the fourth grade and realized, “I still have the same hairstyle!”. Huh. I read an article in the doctor’s office a while back interviewing Susan Lucci, the famous femme fatale of daytime television. She explained that one of the ways her charachter stays so attractive is that she constantly updates her hairstyle to be current with the trends of today. Huh again. What a balancing act we walk as women. We want to be attractive. We want to take care of ourselves and our appearance because we matter. We matter to God! But we don’t want to get overzealously focused on our appearance to the detriment of what matters most, our life with Jesus. Nor to we want to swallow hook, line and sinker, the downhill flow of worldly fashion. I love this quote by Edith Head, famous fashion designer for the movies for decades. “Your dress should be tight enough to show you’re a woman and loose enough to show you’re a lady.” Sadly, she didn’t say anything about hair. Or jean jumpers. I will ask God. He’ll hold my hand on this tight rope.
Stasi Eldredge