Dying Men

The other day I was walking in an old mall that people regularly stroll for exercise. On about my third trip around it, an older gentleman in front of me stopped, gave a jerk and keeled over! He was paler than pale, gasping for breath and blood was trickling from his nose.
So I asked him: "When I'm done here, would you mind giving me a ride home?"
No. That didn't really happen.
Ridiculous.
But I was thinking, wouldn't that be about the same as when the thief who was crucified next to Jesus asked Jesus to take him to heaven with him?
From a natural view, doesn't it seem about the same? And doesn't asking a dying man for help, any kind of help, seem pretty ridiculous?
I was thinking what remarkable faith the guy had to ask a dying man for help. I was thinking about what he might have seen to give him such hope that this dying man might help him.
I suppose you have to be willing to look beyond the apparent--look beyond events of the day, the headlines, personalities, trendy causes, the circumstances. Even--like the thief--your own terrible circumstances and valid guilt.
And of course you have to ask the right dying man.

On Zephaniah 3.17

I, the Lord God, am with you.
I'm in your midst.
I'm the mighty savior.
I'm the mighty warrior who saves.
I gladly take delight in you.
With love, I calm your fears and give you rest. Shalom.
I don't rebuke you--I rejoice over you with the most joyful song!
I truly do.
(A conglomerate of translations and paraphrases of Zephaniah 3.17)

Granted, the main application of this verse is to Israel saved in the millennium to come. But it's not wrong for believers in Jesus Christ to know that it's God's heart for them now and will be expressed fully throughout eternity.
Amazing: it show's our heavenly father's heart! Who'd have thought the stern, mean-spirited, judgmental man upstairs we too often imagined (and sometimes still do) is really most happy singing over us in love and fiercely fighting on our behalf?
This verse expresses his heart toward us. Toward me. I'm gong to go over it and apply it to myself simply because of what Jesus has done for me. Please! Take it for yourself as well if you are his. He wants you to be his.
Taken in reverse, he is:
-Gladly, happily, delightedly singing the most joyful song imaginable over me. He's bursting out in happiness. He's joyful about me! He's in love and -- well, he's just plaid old happy about me!
-He's not rebuking me, he's rejoicing!
-Out of great, great, powerful love, he's calming my fears. He's shushing my cries. He's telling me it's alright. He loves me and as long as he's there no one can ultimately harm me. Nothing disturb us.
-Again, he gladly takes delight in me! He's not just forced to because of covenant. It's gladly! He takes no delight in my hurt, in fooling me, in belittling me, in throwing my failure or sin in my face. No! He delights in me and is full-on, hard-core, crazy in love with me. He'll show me my sin so we can deal with it and move on, but the point is moving on.
-To express his love, and to see it have its full effect, he'll do whatever it takes. He's a commando. A big, bad, enemy-stomping warrior ready to crush whatever stands in the way of this joy. Hell, the devil, sins that beset me. These sins aren't me. They're not making me his enemy. He sees them as OUR enemy. As we walk together WE hate them. And we will crush them! (OK, he will. He's does the heavy lifting.) He pulverizes to smithereens so we can get on singing with joy.
-He is: The. Mighty. Savior.
-And he is The Lord God. And it is his choice.Get that? His choice to be with me.
Wow! I think a little worship is in order. A little thanksgiving. The lamb of God has done it. The lamb is worthy.

Night and Day (A poem)

Night. And you stand guard.
Set between me and an enemy I can't imagine.
A ravager taking as much pleasure rending me
as consuming me.
Night. I sleep. You watch and fight. And overcome.

Day. You call me by name and lead me.
You feed and comfort me.
And well-fed, I wander away.
Or I nuzzle you as we rest in choice fields.
Day. Either way, your care finds me. Always.

The Best Thing About Christmas

Christmas holds wonder.

It brings wonderful anticipation to children and can’t-wait feelings that make for the one day a year they’re eager to get up before daybreak without grumbling.

For adults, the joy is more about striking things off gift and grocery lists resulting in kid’s surprises and family’s stuffed tummies.

Of course for believers, it’s celebrating the birth of our savior.

Great as these are, I think the best thing about Christmas is that it’s not really about Dec. 25. It’s not only about that day because ...

It’s also about May 6 when you get in such a fight with your mate you want to kill them. Again. And you realize you need a savior.

Or June 12 when you realize what it feels like to steal, cheat or take advantage of others for your own gain. You realize you need a savior.

Or January 8 when you understand being drunk or wasted for weeks isn’t that much fun but has become unavoidable. You realize you need a savior.

Or February 6 when you see the culmination of all the unthoughtful things you’ve said and done for years is bearing bad, bitter fruit. You realize you need a savior.

Or July 22 when you get it that if you hadn’t been such an ass and wasted all those days in school or done better in other ways you’d be in way better shape today. You realize you need a savior.

Or Oct. 12 when you find you did the unthinkable and committed adultery and betrayed your spouse. You realize you need a savior.

Or Sept. 2 when your realize no matter how non-addictive and not-bad-for-you weed is, if you hadn’t smoked it 20 minutes ago you wouldn’t have hit that kid on his bike with your car five minutes ago. You realize you need a savior.

And on August 21 when, despite all the safeguards, you’ve slipped back into porn and it’s not fun, it’s not a party, you hate it. You realize you need a savior.

It’s the day you realize even though you’re pretty good, you’re not good enough.

It’s the day you’re just so tired of being your rotten, stinking self and can’t bear it. Or the day the light just goes on and it hits you how wonderful Jesus is. You realize you need him, you want him, he’s your savior.

It’s for all those days. I could list 365 things and subdivide by minutes but you know what I’m saying.

The best thing about Christmas is Jesus coming into the mess of a stable one day and the mess of our lives another day. The good shepherd saying, “Come, follow me, I was born for this and you were born to follow.”

If need be, he’ll even carry us on his shoulders. We just have to go.

A Pleasant Mistake

I made a pleasant mistake.

My mistakes are usually not pleasant and are too frequent, but this one turned out well.

It was a typo.

I was typing the phrase, "I trust in you," to God in a journal I keep. I usually hand-write journal entries but since I spend so much time on my laptop I type some there.

I write ‘I trust in you’ in it a lot. But this time, instead of ‘I trust in you’ I accidentally typed ‘I tryst in you.’

I rushed to delete it and go on. But then I paused. I liked it.

I looked up “tryst” to make sure it meant what I thought it meant. I didn’t want to pull an evil, “You keep using that word—I do not think it means what you think it means.”

But no—it means what I think it means: a private, planned romantic rendezvous between lovers. An appointment to meet at a certain time and place, made especially by lovers.

It’s time together, delightfully so.

And tryst is related to the word engagement—like when you plan a time to meet or, as we all know, you set a time to marry.

That was my happy mistake. Divine serendipity made it more clear to me that to trust in God, my father, and to have faith in Jesus, my savior, we have to have our frequent trysts.

So Lord, I tryst in you. Help me tryst faithfully and with true delight.

And maybe, some-how-or-another, that says something about Christmas. I make mistakes, but God planned the way we can have our tryst.