The Unthinkable

Remember that one time… when you did that?

No matter how firmly you’ve refused to look back, how far you’ve travelled, how long ago it was…

It still remains.

The stain.

The shame.

That god-awful pit in your stomach.

Maybe you freaked out… or blacked out… or gave in.

Maybe you stumbled into something once upon a time. And now it’s a habit you can’t seem to kick.

Maybe you used someone and then discarded them like week-old leftovers.

Maybe you severed a friendship or family tie. Maybe you terminated a marriage or a pregnancy… and it haunts you.

Maybe your fears (and that fierce protective instinct) took a wrong turn. What you meant to be caring became critical, condescending, controlling.

Maybe your rage inflicted untold damage on another soul. (Or several.)

Maybe you neglected someone who really needed you.

Or abandoned God.

(Because he’s the only one who knows the truth about your backstory.)

Perhaps it wasn’t one horrendous mistake. But rather a whole mess of missteps and lousy decisions… that led you to this.

This brokenness. This barrenness.

You can’t stop eating/drinking/popping pills/watching porn. (You know you can’t quit it ’cause you’ve tried. Countless times.)

Maybe you lost your way… and your life isn’t even recognizable anymore.

Maybe your lies or debts or damaged relationships are stacked so high you can’t see around them.

Or you’re stoking a flame of revenge… and now it’s threatening to incinerate you.

Okay… okay… maybe I’ve got it all wrong.

Your problem isn’t something you did; it’s something someone did to you.

The unthinkable.

It left you gutted, grief-stricken, half-dead. Your heart battered beyond recognition.

Hear this now…

It wasn’t your fault.

(Full stop.)

You didn’t deserve it.

(No one does.)

But maybe – in the awful aftermath of that unthinkable evil – you did whatever you thought might ease (annihilate) your pain and the unbidden shame.

Booze, blades, blasphemy, bitterness.

Binging… whatever. Bedding… whomever.

But it turns out you weren’t erasing the trauma at all. You were just erasing yourself.

And making things worse.

Here’s the truth about the unthinkable. It can’t be evaded. Or escaped.

It can’t be undone.

But justice will be done.

Someday.

See, the story isn’t over yet.

God is full of love and mercy, yes. But he is holy too. (Contrary to popular belief, these aren’t mutually exclusive.)

Justice matters to God, and he judges rightly, perfectly, powerfully, exactingly.

One day – soon I imagine – he will.

All rise!

We will all stand before the Judge. And when we do, we’ll find…

We’re all guilty.

Our offenders.

And us, too.

Everyone has sinned. No one measures up to God’s glory. ~ Romans 3:23 (NIRV)

(Don’t we know it.)

Let’s say someone saw everything we’ve ever done… from every angle. Knew every detail, read every thought, examined our every intention and reaction.

(Your heart racing yet? Yeah, mine too.)

But then he did something altogether unexpected… almost unbelievable.

He stepped in.

To both mete out justice… and bear the brunt of it.

It was the only way goodness and grace, mercy and justice, holiness and wholeness could be accomplished.

It was the only way love would win.

The truth is, we all need saving.

And apparently God thought you and I were worth it.

So Jesus surrendered himself.

Sacrificed his life.

Said…

It is finished.

And buried the unthinkable.

When the sun rose on the third day, the Son rose too.

Believe it, friend.

Pour out your heart – the whole story, every bit of it – and unburden yourself. And Jesus will render all your regret and shame and sorrow powerless against you.

On God my salvation and my glory rest; He is my rock of [unyielding] strength, my refuge is in God.

Trust [confidently] in Him at all times, O people;
Pour out your heart before Him.
God is a refuge for us. ~ Psalm 62:7-8 (AMP)

The offer still stands.

Refuge.

Relief.

Freedom.

From the unthinkable, unbearable, ugliest and worst.

Turns out, our only hope is… a sure one.

All who call out to the Lord will be saved. ~ Romans 10:13 (CEV)

All.

(No exceptions, exclusions or prerequisites.)

Jesus loves you more than you could ever imagine. And he’s ready to rescue.

What are you waiting for?

Wendy

P.S. Come as you are.

There’s hope for the hopeless
And all those who’ve strayed.
Come sit at the table,
Come taste the grace.
There’s rest for the weary,
Rest that endures.
Earth has no sorrow
That heaven can’t cure.

So lay down your burdens,
Lay down your shame.
All who are broken
Lift up your face.
Oh wanderer, come home;
You're not too far.
Lay down your hurt, lay down your heart.
Come as you are. (Crowder)

Almost Friday…

You’ve seen those memes, right?

With images of clinging koalas/dancing ferrets/fist-pumping babies… or (my personal favorite):

Lionel Richie wearing a smile and a “Friday” nametag… and sporting a caption that reads:

Hello… is it me you’re looking for?

Almost Friday means… you’re about to get a breather, a break, a blessed respite from the drudgery of the daily grind. Almost Friday signals stress relief… freedom!… sweet celebration.

We get 52 Fridays included with every trip around the sun.

(Pretty great.)

So if you’ve had a rough week, chin up. Soon the dismal/ dreadful/ disappointing/ disastrous events of the last few days will be in the rearview mirror… and everything above the dashboard will be looking oh-so-bright and beautiful.

If you’ve had a rough year (or life), take heart.

Because tomorrow isn’t just any Friday.

It’s guaranteed…

Good.

Tomorrow marks the most beguiling/ bewildering/ bewitching day in all of human history. That single, life-changing, earth-shaking Friday was both celestial and cataclysmic.

Heavenly and horrifying.

Divine and deadly.

(It was unthinkably brutal… bloody… barbaric, really.)

And yet we call it Good.

Why?

Because it harkens back, looks forward, and wraps up in the present all the best things in life:

Debts cancelled.

Evil overcome.

Mercy sprinkled.

Injustice overturned.

Sins forgiven. (Even the ugliest and worst.)

Grace gifted.

Death defeated, once and for all… for all who dare to believe. (That Jesus is who he said he is. And did what he said he would. And will do all he’s promised.)

The hero prevails.

The villain slinks back into the shadows.

And every one of us who’s desperate to be cherished… knows… now… and forever… we are.

The One who embodies love… offered up his body.

The One who loves us to death… died.

The One who breathes life itself… breathed his last. For you and me.

Because love compelled him to.

Jesus.

Loves.

You.

It’s not a fearful, flimsy love. It’s fierce, firm. It’s not fleeting.

It’s forever.

It’s the stuff of dreams-come-true and happily-ever-after… but it is not a fairy tale.

Real love isn’t the story arc of a two-hour rom-com. It sticks around a whole lot longer. (And it’s far more practical, capable, durable, valuable than anything Hollywood could dream up.)

Real love looks closely, tenderly. And it overlooks.

It listens carefully and hears – between, beneath, beyond – what’s spoken out loud.

Real love has grit, strength, steely resolve.

And it (eventually, always) requires sacrifice.

Selflessness.

It gets its hands dirty… pulls up out of the muck… or sits weeping together in it.

It’s the kind of love that’s willing to lay it all down.

Even when the beloved is unlovely.

Unworthy.

Ungrateful.

(Like me.)

Now, would anyone dare to die for the sake of a wicked person?  We can all understand if someone was willing to die for a truly noble person. But Christ proved God’s passionate love for us by dying in our place while we were still lost and ungodly!

And there is still much more to say of his unfailing love for us!  ~ Romans 5:7-9 (TPT)

Real love will bear the worst, believe the best, wait expectantly when everything in sight tells it to abandon hope… and endure beyond the bitter end…

Anticipating a fresh new beginning.

That kind of lay-down-your-life love is a force. It has resurrection power. It breathes life into dead things.

Dreams.

Relationships.

Futures.

Forever afters.

So, what do you think? With God on our side like this, how can we lose? If God didn’t hesitate to put everything on the line for us, embracing our condition and exposing himself to the worst by sending his own Son, is there anything else he wouldn’t gladly and freely do for us? And who would dare tangle with God by messing with one of God’s chosen? Who would dare even to point a finger? The One who died for us—who was raised to life for us!—is in the presence of God at this very moment sticking up for us. Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ’s love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture…

None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I’m absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us. ~ Romans 8:31-39 (The Message)

The human mind can scarcely comprehend that kind of love.

It’s inexplicable.

Unsurpassable.

Flawless.

And… finished.

Yes, friend.

It.

Is.

Finished.

Ready, waiting, yours for the asking.

I know… because I’m the blessed recipient of that kind of crazy love. And I pray that you are – or will be (today?) – too.

We want all sorts of things in life. But what we need isn’t something. It’s someone. And when we look for him and find him, we gain everything.

Looking for truth? A way through? The meaning of life? Jesus really is…

All that.

He’s the one you’re looking for. (It’s been him all along.)

Jesus told him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one can come to the Father except through me. ~ John 14:6 (NLT)

A Father’s love, a Son’s obedience, a sinner’s pardon.

Relief… freedom!… and sweet celebration.

That’s what Good Friday looks like.

T.G.I.F.

Wendy

P.S. Sunday’s coming. Tomb’s empty. Love wins.

Influencers and Followers

Influencers.

That’s what we call people who use their social media as a pipeline for public adoration… and cash.

In the world of Insta/Twitter/Tok…

Influence = affluence.

(Ask Halsey.)

Seems like everyone’s building a platform these days. It’s all about branding, creating a media presence, carefully crafting an image.

And then merchandising the heck out of it all.

Sometimes it happens by accident. Somebody posts something amusing/ intriguing/appalling… and watches awestruck as it takes social media by storm. A couple hundred likes/comments/shares turns into 470K overnight. It’s a middle school math lesson on exponents.

Also known as… going viral.

(Rather ironic since we’ve spent the past year trying to battle a deadly one.)

Anyway, I’m not denouncing social media. Like so many things, it’s simply a tool. Like a hammer, it can be used constructively or destructively. (Wielder’s choice.)

I just want to point out that it’s better to build a life… than a platform.

Platforms can be deceiving, especially when someone says something (on-camera/post/podcast) and does another (off).

Platforms can be dangerous too. They can undermine honesty/integrity/ transparency… and wreak havoc on inner peace. Especially when they become a higher priority than people. 

Things that are raised up can come crashing down.

What soars sometimes gets shot out of the sky.

Take Jesus, for example. Crowds gathered. People fawned. He was hailed as “the One” (think Neo in the “The Matrix” only without the black leather and dark glasses) – astounding onlookers and garnering adoration. Throngs cheered and lauded and clamored, desperate to crown him King.

Then he was “lifted up.” And it killed Him.

But (shockingly, thankfully) He didn’t stay dead. 

I truly believe that. ^

I don’t think it’s fake news… or a fairytale circulated by first-century religious hucksters.

There’s a record of it… eyewitnesses… evidence…

Scrolls. (The parchment kind, not the finger-on-phone kind.)

The problem is, I can’t prove it. That’s why it’s called:

Faith.

Unless Christ was raised to life, your faith is useless, and you are still living in your sins. And those people who died after putting their faith in him are completely lost.  If our hope in Christ is good only for this life, we are worse off than anyone else.

But Christ has been raised to life! And he makes us certain that others will also be raised to life.  Just as we will die because of Adam, we will be raised to life because of Christ. Adam brought death to all of us, and Christ will bring life to all of us. (1 Corinthians 15:17-22, CEV)

Here’s the thing about Jesus. Either he is who he said he is… and did what he said he did. Or not. (There’s no third option. No “well, I think he was a nice guy/great teacher/brilliant philosopher/selfless humanitarian.” He’s either bold-faced liar… or he embodies Truth. Either a certifiable loon, long dead… or the eternal, almighty God.)

And those of us who follow him?

We’re either destined for untold glory… or the most pitiful fools of all.

All I know is this: I’ve had an incurable case of wanderlust for as long as I can remember. An ache for someplace else, somewhere heavenly. I’ve been running headlong toward ever-after my whole life.

I’m chasing glory. 

“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probably explanation is that we were made for another world.” (C.S. Lewis)

The reason so many of us scramble to make a name/build a brand/handcraft success for ourselves… and then come up short (or – perhaps worse – achieve all we hoped and wonder why it isn’t enough)? The reason we struggle to find contentment… or peace on earth?

Because we weren’t made for this short, hard, hurt-filled life. We were made for an everlasting, pain-free, perfect one.

The trouble is… we see all the world’s shiny things… and we want them.

Now.

What is the cause of your conflicts and quarrels with each other? Doesn’t the battle begin inside of you as you fight to have your own way and fulfill your own desires?  You jealously want what others have so you begin to see yourself as better than others. You scheme with envy and harm others to selfishly obtain what you crave—that’s why you quarrel and fight. And all the time you don’t obtain what you want because you won’t ask God for it!  And if you ask, you won’t receive it for you’re asking with corrupt motives, seeking only to fulfill your own selfish desires.  You have become spiritual adulterers who are having an affair, an unholy relationship with the world. Don’t you know that flirting with the world’s values places you at odds with God? Whoever chooses to be the world’s friend makes himself God’s enemy! ~ James 4:1-4 (TPT)

Whew…

Gut check.

Do I really want what God wants? (Am I willing to relinquish my own wish list?) Can I subdue my stubborn pride?

Less attention-seeking… more soul-searching.

Less “look at me.” More pointing to Him.

Less making content. More making disciples.

The apostle Paul made it crystal clear:

He must increase, but I must decrease.

But how?

My dear pastor Clem put it this way:

It’s not thinking less of yourself… it’s just thinking of yourself less.

But I’m all me me me!!! sometimes. (Ok, most of the time.)

And when I’m not – when I actually put Jesus in his rightful place, first – well…

If you’re following the real Jesus (not the one you created or curated for yourself), you’ll quickly find that you’re… well… pretty unpopular with some people.

Or a lot.

You’ll lose friends/followers/favor.

Jesus told us so:

But it’s trouble ahead if you think you have it made.
What you have is all you’ll ever get.

And it’s trouble ahead if you’re satisfied with yourself.
Your self will not satisfy you for long.

And it’s trouble ahead if you think life’s all fun and games.
There’s suffering to be met, and you’re going to meet it.

There’s trouble ahead when you live only for the approval of others, saying what flatters them, doing what indulges them. Popularity contests are not truth contests—look how many scoundrel preachers were approved by your ancestors! Your task is to be true, not popular. ~ Luke 6:24-26 (MSG)

If we’re truly willing to follow Jesus, we must be willing to walk alone. Alone, but never lonely.

Because God is…

With us.

Jesus isn’t a skeleton or a sentiment.

He is risen!

(And he loves you to death.)

Follow him.

Wendy

P.S. If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing. If that is so, I must take care, on the one hand, never to despise, or to be unthankful for, these earthly blessings, and on the other, never to mistake them for the something else of which they are only a kind of copy, or echo, or mirage. I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to press on to that country and to help others to do the same. (C.S. Lewis)

When There’s No Easy Way Out

In the midst of this pandemic, I have a question for you. Bold and uncensored.

A somber, blunt, bare-your-soul kind of question.

What’s your worst fear?

Is it this virus?

This plague that violently attacks some… and leaves them gasping for breath… fighting for dear life?

Is that the vexing thing that looms low and dark, ominous and unsettling? The thing that instantly evokes foreboding… or sheer terror? The invisible enemy that creeps close, no matter which way you turn. The threat that slinks and slithers into every quiet moment and leaves you rattled, reeling.

Maybe COVID-19 isn’t the thing. Sure, it’s taken center stage… but behind the curtain lurks another assailant, taunting you with terrifying “what ifs” or “what nows” or grim predictions or false accusations. Threats of inescapable heartbreak or inevitable failure: infertility, arrest, abuse, bankruptcy, betrayal.

Perhaps it’s something even worse. Maybe you’re terrified of watching someone you love… leave.

Or suffer.

Or self-destruct.

Or die.

(Does it matter the culprit? COVID, cancer, cardiac failure… they’re are all merciless killers.)

Whatever it is, I’m guessing it’s heavy. And hard. And hurts like hell.

Fear and dread drag us to the shadowlands and abandon us there. They make us scratch/claw/cower/sob. They predict defeat and suggest surrender. Or lay blame and offer ammo.

They whisper doom.

So we seek scapegoats and stockpile munitions (masks/gloves/groceries/guns) and sometimes we make human shields of the people we hold dearest. (Because they’re near.)

Fear convinces us that we are utterly alone. That we have to walk the proverbial plank (or lie in the ICU bed) unaccompanied and unprotected, bound and bare.

Dread persuades us that no one has the faintest clue what we’re going through… or what peril awaits.

No one.

Not a single soul.

But it isn’t true.  

Because…

Jesus.

He walked away, perhaps a stone’s throw, and knelt down and prayed this prayer: “Father, if you are willing, please take away this cup of horror from me. But I want your will, not mine.”Then an angel from heaven appeared and strengthened him, for he was in such agony of spirit that he broke into a sweat of blood, with great drops falling to the ground as he prayed more and more earnestly. (Luke 22:41-44, TLB)

Jesus was no stranger to dread.

He felt its stranglehold. Knew its instinct to devour.

He begged release. But it was denied him.

There simply was no easy way out.

So He bore the anguish through tears… and beads of sweat… and drops of blood.

He faced the worst horror of all, knowing full well what heinous injustice, vicious brutality and unbridled evil would be unleashed against him.

He was not spared the brunt of the (real) Avenger’s wrath. He wasn’t delivered from one millisecond of hissing mockery or bloody torture or wrongful conviction. Nor the spitting or scourging or spikes or…

Suffocating.

Jesus drank the cup of suffering… and poured out his lifeblood.

Alone.

His followers distanced themselves.

His friends freaked… and fled. In fact, one of his closest companions outright denied even knowing him. (Not once or twice. Three times.) Another turned traitor.

Even his own Father deserted him in his darkest hour.

At noon, darkness fell across the whole land until three o’clock.  Then at three o’clock Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” …Then Jesus uttered another loud cry and breathed his last.  And the curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. When the Roman officer who stood facing him saw how he had died, he exclaimed, “This man truly was the Son of God!” (Mark 15:33-34, 37-39, NLT)

Jesus – the Son of Almighty God – despaired… and died. Unaccompanied and unprotected, bound and bare.

Utterly, indecently, disgracefully – and yes, dreadfully – alone.

Why? So we never have to be. Not in a pandemic. Not on our deathbed. Never.

Jesus died alone so we don’t have to.

His name is Immanuel…

God with us.

He is Love. And love never leaves.

Oh how he loves us.   

Crazy as it may sound, his love was deeper and wider and higher than his sweating-blood dread. Braver than the savagery inflicted on him. More ferocious than all the foes and forces amassed against him. His love fueled him through forsakenness.

Jesus’ steadfast, staggering love compelled him – held him – to the cross.

He suffered alone, so we could come near.

Near to the holy.

Near to the heavenly.

Near to hope.

He drank the cup of crucifixion, so we could could come close – commune – with him.

Our Helper, our Healer, our High Priest.

We have a great high priest. He has gone up into heaven. He is Jesus the Son of God. So let us hold firmly to what we say we believe.  We have a high priest who can feel it when we are weak and hurting. We have a high priest who has been tempted in every way, just as we are. But he did not sin. So let us boldly approach God’s throne of grace. Then we will receive mercy. We will find grace to help us when we need it. (Hebrews 4:14-16, NIRV)

There’s no easy way out of this pandemic. And ultimately, there’s no escaping death. It comes to all… eventually.

If there’s ever a time to face your worst fear, it’s now.

Whatever it is that you dread… draw near to the throne of grace.

Receive mercy.

Find grace.

While they were eating, Jesus took bread and blessed it. He broke the bread, gave it to his disciples, and said, “Take this, and eat it. This is my body.” Then he took a cup and spoke a prayer of thanksgiving. He gave it to them and said, “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood, the blood of the promise. It is poured out for many people so that sins are forgiven.” (Matthew 26:26-28, GW)

The One ~ God’s own Son, the perfect Passover Lamb ~ who faced the dread, drank the cup, spilled his blood and bore the cross…

He won.

He rose.

He forgives. (Yes, even that.)

He lives!    

He defeated sin and darkness and death. Once and for all.

For all.  

Believe and receive.

Now glory be to God, who by his mighty power at work within us is able to do far more than we would ever dare to ask or even dream of—infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, or hopes. (Ephesians 3:20, TLB)

Praying for (another) Easter miracle.

Wendy

P.S. When it looks like there’s no easy way out, remember what Jesus said: I am the Way.

 

The Only Question That Matters

In 100 years, you and I will both be dead.

And the only thing that’ll matter is our answer to this question:

Who do you say that I am?

(Jesus asking.)

He really wants to know what you think of him. (Well, technically, he already knows. But maybe you aren’t really sure?) Now before you quit reading because I’m getting all Jesus-freaky again… let’s switch places.

What are your big questions? Do you ever wonder…

Who am I?

What is the meaning of life? 

How did I get here? (And the followup: How do I get outta this mess?)

Where can I find a little peace?

Good questions. Hard questions. (Trick questions?)

Any idea where to get an answer key? Amazon sells some, but I’m not sure they’re what you’re looking for. If however, you like to do algebra in your free time, you’re all set.

Many years ago, I had the enormous joy (and occasional splitting headache) of teaching Sunday School to a giggly gaggle of first- and second-graders. Early on, I noticed they were eager to answer questions. I’d ask for responses, and a bunch of waving, wiggly hands would fly into the air. At my invitation, they’d gleefully pronounce their answers.

Love!

Jesus!

The Bible!

God/The Guy Upstairs/Art! (Slight misinterpretation of Our Father – who’s Art – in heaven.)

Me, me, me!

No matter my question, most of the time I got one of the above answers. I heard other guesses too:

The Bible!

A prince(ss)!

Pastor Clem!

Pray, pray, pray!

Every once in a while, a “creative problem-solver” would offer an alternative answer:

Holy buckets!

Grape juice and crackers! 

This little light of mine!

The zombie apocalypse!

And you know what? Most of those kiddos’ answers were. Spot. On. (Minus the zombies.)

Who am I?

A prince(ss)!

What are human beings that you think about them; what are human beings that you pay attention to them? You’ve made them only slightly less than divine, crowning them with glory and grandeur. ~ Psalm 8:4-5 (CEB)

What is the meaning of life?

Love.

…And [that you may come] to know [practically, through personal experience] the love of Christ which far surpasses [mere] knowledge [without experience], that you may be filled up [throughout your being] to all the fullness of God [so that you may have the richest experience of God’s presence in your lives, completely filled and flooded with God Himself]. ~ Ephesians 3:19 (AMP)

How did I get here?

Me, me, me!

We’re all like sheep who’ve wandered off and gotten lost. We’ve all done our own thing, gone our own way. ~ Isaiah 53:6a (MSG)

How do I get outta this mess?

Jesus.

The payment for sin is death. But God gives us the free gift of life forever in Christ Jesus our Lord. ~ Romans 6:23 (NCV)

Where can I find a little peace?

Pray, pray, pray.

Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything; tell God your needs, and don’t forget to thank him for his answers. If you do this, you will experience God’s peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand. His peace will keep your thoughts and your hearts quiet and at rest as you trust in Christ Jesus. ~ Philippians 4:6-7 (TLB)

Turns out the Bible is the answer key for…. well… pretty much everything.

Don’t believe me? Open it up and read it for yourself. (#justdoit)

Now, back to the original question…

Who do you say that he is?

(One of these days, you’re gonna have to answer that one.)

If it’s multiple-choice, you’ve got plenty of answers to choose from:

A. Brilliant teacher.

B. Religious zealot.

C. Obscure Jewish carpenter who happened to gain a lasting and faithful following. (Pretty impressive sans social media and cable news.)

D. None of the above.

E. All of the above.

Some people simply say he was a preacher or prophet. Some say a pretender… or pariah.

I’ve noticed that most people (including myself) tend to define him based on what they’ve heard about him rather than what he’s revealed – in scripture, in nature, in love.

Jesus is who he says he is:

The Way.

The Truth.

The Life.

(And no one comes to the Father except through him.)

He told people straight up that he’s the Son of God and the Son of man. The Good Shepherd and the Lamb of God. The bread of life and the light of the world. The Savior, Healer and Messiah.

He’s all that. (For real.)

And if you don’t believe him, you must think he’s a brazen liar or a total loon.

As I’ve gotten to know him better, finding him in the pages of scripture and talking to him in prayer and inviting him into my everyday, I’ve discovered he’s also…

My rescuer.

My confidante.

My favorite artist.

My freedom fighter.

My solace.

My trail guide.

My fallout shelter.

My lighthouse.

My life coach.

My joy bomb.

My hidden treasure.

Jesus is the brilliant writer who’s woven together hiStory and mine.

He’s the One who sees my every failure, flaw and frailty… and adores me still.

He’s the One who gave me life… and laid his down. (Not only for me, but you too.) He endured betrayal, wrongful conviction, taunting, torture. He suffered the worst imaginable death penalty surrounded by mockers and murderers. He bore the weight of every last sin, unbound hatred, darkest despair…

Bloody hell.

But perhaps the worst anguish was caused by the One he trusted most. Forsaken by his own Father, Jesus died utterly, excruciatingly alone.

Because love will sacrifice everything for its beloved.

And that’s who you are.

You know why there’s an epidemic of identity crises in our culture? Because we haven’t discovered our own backstory.

Who am I?

Here’s a clue: “I Am” shows me who I am.

And he explains everything else too.

I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen, not only because I see it but because by it, I see everything else. ~ C.S. Lewis

Without God, things are pretty tough to explain.

Why is the earth’s orbit precisely timed and mapped to sustain life? Who thought up the Leafy Seadragon and Magnificent Frigatebird? How does the human eye work? What prevents all the clouds in the atmosphere from breaking open at once and flooding the entire planet? If there was a big bang, who triggered it?

How could mere mortals account for all the inexplicable coincidences and rapturous wonders of life? How could human beings possibly pull off all the death-defying rescues, stunning mercies, miraculous recoveries? How is it we get glimpses of amazing grace and transcendent glory and true love? Do we really think we can take credit for all that?

If we’re going to take credit for anything, we should probably start with our mistakes. And we’d do well to remember that there are villains in this story too. (Which is why God really shouldn’t get blamed for all that’s hateful/horrifying/heinous/hellish.)

Not interested in a theological debate here… I know I’m not smart enough to outwit the shrewd intellect of someone determined to disbelieve. In fact, I’m often surprised when people expect me to be able to articulate the marvelous mysteries of the Christian faith or the unfathomable wisdom of my God. If I – with my feeble mind and limited vocabulary – were able to oblige, my God would not be worthy of my awe, wonder and worship, would He?

I can’t explain him. I can’t even wrap my mind around a fragment of who he is. I just know… he is.

Savior. Son of God. Creator. King.

The one who loves me most and best.

It’s the one-question final exam of life. And your answer will resound for all eternity.

Who do you say that he is?

As for me, I have no doubt.

He is…

RISEN.

Wendy

P.S. Please don’t judge Jesus based on the people who claim to follow him… including me.  We fall (woefully) short. If you want to get to know the real Jesus, you can read a firsthand account of his life written by one of his closest friends here.

Dirty Soles

My dear reader,

When I was in college, my friend Melissa washed my feet. It was one of the most unexpected and strangely lovely things that’s ever happened to me.

I was studying journalism (with minors in psychology, film, and frozen yogurt) and while I had plenty of reading assignments to keep me busy, I always circled back to my favorite book. Which also happens to be the best-seller of all time. (According to HuffPost. So it must be true.)

A gaggle of girls – all wildly different but drawn together by divine happenstance – gathered each week to talk, laugh, cry, pray, read and study that bestseller. Since Melissa only had a couple chairs in her sorority room, we typically sat on the floor, shoes off, guards down, Bibles and hearts wide open.

Why?

Because we didn’t just want to know about God.

We wanted to know Him.

We asked questions – hard questions – of God. We wondered and wrestled and pondered and prayed. We pressed for answers. And He spoke to us in the pages of that bestseller, time and again.

So we kept coming back to that room and that rug. It wasn’t long before it dawned on us that Melissa’s floor was… holy ground. We sat in a little circle, roaming back and forth in the scriptures, our discussions ranging far and wide, our souls laid bare in that place.

We were young and eager, bursting with passion and potential. Yet, painfully aware of our insecurities too. Deep down we knew the fancy degrees we were earning weren’t going to dispel our fears or reverse our failures. Not in the least.

We were what we were:

Unsure of ourselves. Anxious about our futures. Ashamed of our shortcomings.

Mine were plentiful. (And maddeningly persistent.)

My insecurities stalked me. My worries tossed me in the spin cycle and wrung me out. My secret sins kept rising to the surface and erupting like untimely blemishes. No amount of salicylic acid or makeup could cure or cover them up.

Dirt and dead stuff have a way of doing that. Things that were once clean and clear get clogged/infected/inflamed.

And it’s ugly.

But I digress…

One lovely spring afternoon in 1986, we were sitting around on Melissa’s floor reading from the Book of John:

It was almost time for the Jewish Passover festival. Jesus knew that the time had come for him to leave this world and go back to the Father. Jesus had always loved the people in the world who were his. Now was the time he showed them his love the most.

Jesus and his followers were at the evening meal. The devil had already persuaded Judas Iscariot to hand Jesus over to his enemies. (Judas was the son of Simon.) The Father had given Jesus power over everything. Jesus knew this. He also knew that he had come from God. And he knew that he was going back to God.  So while they were eating, Jesus stood up and took off his robe. He got a towel and wrapped it around his waist. Then he poured water into a bowl and began to wash the followers’ feet. He dried their feet with the towel that was wrapped around his waist. 

He came to Simon Peter. But Peter said to him, “Lord, you should not wash my feet.”

Jesus answered, “You don’t know what I am doing now. But later you will understand.”

Peter said, “No! You will never wash my feet.”

Jesus answered, “If I don’t wash your feet, you are not one of my people.”

Simon Peter said, “Lord, after you wash my feet, wash my hands and my head too!”

Jesus said, “After a person has a bath, his whole body is clean. He needs only to wash his feet. And you are clean, but not all of you.” Jesus knew who would hand him over to his enemies. That is why he said, “Not all of you are clean.”

When Jesus finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and went back to the table. He asked, “Do you understand what I did for you? You call me ‘Teacher.’ And you call me ‘Lord.’ And this is right, because that is what I am.  I am your Lord and Teacher. But I washed your feet. So you also should wash each other’s feet.  I did this as an example for you. So you should serve each other just as I served you. Believe me, servants are not greater than their master. Those who are sent to do something are not greater than the one who sent them.  If you know these things, great blessings will be yours if you do them. (John 13:1-17, ERV)

Melissa closed her Bible, pulled up a chair, and told me to have a seat. Then she carried in a basin filled with warm, sudsy water and a big bath towel and knelt right in front of me. And she washed my feet. From the flip-flop-tan-lined tops to the unpolished toes… right down to my dirty, stinky soles.

She washed, dried, and blew me away that day. She knelt and served and blessed me. More than words can say. It was humbling and heart-searing. An object lesson – and precious memory – I’ll never forget.

Melissa washed my dirty soles.

Like Jesus washed my dirty soul.

The Master laid down His privilege… and picked up a servant’s towel… and washed away all my dirt and dead stuff.

The King of Kings wore a crown of thorns… and bore a cross.

For me and for you. (Two of billions – all – with blood on our hands.)

Staggering humility. Scandalous love. Outlandish grace.

That’s why Jesus came.

That’s who Jesus is.

His compassion is our invitation. His mercy, our gift.

His kindness beckons us away from the mud and muck, the dirt and the dead stuff.

Don’t you see how wonderfully kind, tolerant, and patient God is with you? Does this mean nothing to you? Can’t you see that his kindness is intended to turn you from your sin? (Romans 2:4, NLT)

I turned. And He knelt and washed and blessed.

But invariably, sadly, I keep turning back.

Soiled again.

But God is faithful and fair. If we confess our sins, he will forgive our sins. He will forgive every wrong thing we have done. He will make us pure. (1 John 1:9, NIRV)

The same night that Jesus washed the feet of His friends, He was betrayed by one of them. And then abandoned by the rest.

But His love didn’t flinch. (It never does.)

That’s the Good News.

The best news.

PLEASE SHARE.

Wendy

P.S. This Holy Week, let’s learn what the Teacher taught us to do: Forgive. Love. Serve. (Repeat.)