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Yes. That’s right. I’m in need of a pedicure. Why? Because someone’s going to see my feet today and I want them to look beautiful - beautiful like the feet of Christ. When I look at Christ, I see the One who loves, gives, and gives even more and then loves again. There’s a pattern there and when I really look at the words of Jesus and His life’s narrative this pattern embeds itself into my life. This is the season of Advent and like no other year, I am compelled to reach others with the love of Christ.

Isaiah 52:7 | How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, “Your God reigns!”

My prayer tonight this morning is to have feet beautiful in the ways of the Gospel. Beautiful because of where they take me - to deliver good news. Peace is the presence of love where hate or indifference are prevalent and I am the presence of that love! Good tidings look like a smile and when I bring one it spreads! Salvation is found in no one else but Jesus and my story of salvation may be the prologue to someone else’s today. My feet are will be beautiful this season because I will make it known by the words of my mouth amplified by my life that God reigns.

So… who’s good with feet?

I played soccer in high school.  My jersey number was #9.  I wanted #7.  Typically, #7 is a number for a midfielder with a penchant for joining the attack.  That was me (at least, I liked to think it was).  No big deal though, it’s just a number, right?  Not really.  In soccer (football), shirt numbers are very important - the number worn is a statement of the kind of player wearing it.  Since I was small and quick, my coaches assumed I would make a good center forward - scorer.  I can only imagine that when Coach saw my compact frame and peppy endeavor he pictured me knifing my way through impenetrable defenses with the ball at my feet and putting untold numbers of balls into the lower left corner of the net.  So, I wasn’t too disappointed, at first, to get shirt number #9.  #9 is a great number for a scorer - but, as my coaches would find out in a very short amount of time, I was not a scorer.  Here’s why: I am not a finisher.  Forwards (or strikers) have to be finishers - meaning that when they get the chance to score, as rare as the chance may be, they make the most of it.  Good scorers… score.  For about three or four matches that season I was sequestered up ahead of my teammates in the forward position waiting for opportunities to score goals.  I really did my best.  The chances would come, I would gather the ball, draw it close, beat a guy or two off the dribble [embellishment alert!], and then… I’d take my shot.  This is where the whole thing fell apart - my shots never came close or they seemed to magnetically seek out the hands of the goalkeeper!  There was something about being right there in range to score and the pressure involved that just paralyzed me.  I can still remember the collective sigh I would hear from my teammates every time I blew my chance.  It was disappointing.  Soon, the coach moved me to a new position - center midfield, I chased after the ball for the whole match.  I loved it!  But I was still stuck with #9.

This past Sunday was Easter and what I find significant about Easter is how it is a finish.  We remember Easter as the day when Jesus rose back to life.  More than once, Jesus foretold to his disciples and the world his own death and resurrection - a death and resurrection that had been the subject of prophecy for the entire history of Israel.  You could say it was a long time coming.  When Jesus died on the cross, was buried in a tomb, and raised back to life on Sunday, he finished something great!  He even says, “It is finished” right before he breathes his last breath.  I can imagine the way Jesus said it was very emphatic because it was really something big that he was finishing for us all - sin.  This is what’s so powerful about this finish, it made a way for us all to be finishers.  Following Christ gives us the ability to finish what we start when it comes to living a holy and pure of heart.  We are all called to be holy, to love one another, and to be carriers of the Gospel.  All three of these are absolutely impossible without the finishing skills of Jesus.  You know what I mean.  Ever take a good look at your life?  Would you call it all a holy, loving, and missional masterpiece?  I doubt it.  Likely, you have struggled to reach the calling of God.  But in Christ you don’t have to keep struggling.  By the price of his blood and the power of his resurrection, the person you are can take part in the same death and be made new in the same resurrection.  This means you won’t always miss.  You are destined to finish - to score.  You don’t have to keep taking three steps forward and two steps back.  I don’t have to continue beating myself up over the lack of love in my heart.  If you keep following Jesus, you will finish - you will change.  This is what’s so amazing about Easter.  Jesus didn’t just go to the cross and rise on Sunday to vindicate himself and the prophets before him.  He finished so that you and I could live our lives with the same purpose - redeeming humanity - revealing Christ.

This is another fragment of the Gospel.  We who wander and are lost can be found.  We who never seem to get there, can finally finish the race.  This is our salvation - we are saved from our sin and sealed for new life.

O to grace how great a debtor daily I’m constrained to be!
Let thy goodness, like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above.

Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing [Robert Robinson, 1735-1790]

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

[Matthew 5:3-10]

Still trying to defrag the Gospel tonight, I was looking for scriptures that talk about social justice.  There are plenty of places in the Word that address social issues and causes.  In fact, my friend TJ Reid recently put together a list of all the instances where the poor and needy are addressed in the book of Proverbs alone.  You could say a very important part of God’s work is social work.  God has always been in the business of redeeming humanity and making things right where they are wrong.  Poverty, human trafficking, unfair trade practices, racism, hate-crimes… are, to God, very important issues.  Today, I read through Matthew 5.  The Beatitudes, as they are known, are foundational to the message of social justice.  They describe the character of a righteous human being.  In these lines we see just what Jesus was talking about when He said, “the Kingdom of Heaven is near.”

He was talking about himself.

He was near.  He is near.

I recently heard of an interview with Rick McKinley of Imago Dei Community in Portland, Oregon regarding his involvement in social justice initiatives.  The interviewer commented that social justice is not just a Christian thing, but that anyone can take part in it.  Rick’s response was, “Sure, anyone can take part in it… but it’s our story.”  What does that mean?  While social justice can be championed in a telethon, an eBay auction, a book, a song, a campaign… it starts in the heart… a new heart.  When Jesus unpacked these nine statements he was revealing his own character and the character of those that would truly take up their cross and follow.  It is with Christ and in his presence where our hearts of stone are softened and the selfish appetites of our skin and bones give way to an unnatural kind of love.  This love leads us to seek justice, to fight for the helpless, give to the need, and to be the answer to the problem.  This is our story - that God came to earth and lived a life before us that imaged purity, love, and mercy - then he went to the cross.  At the cross Jesus took onto himself the weight of stone hearts so those who would come and follow him could live as he did - poor in spirit, mourning injustice, broken and humble, hungry for righteousness, full of mercy, pure in heart, making peace in the midst of strife.  Jesus even said those who follow him this way will be blessed with insults and persecution because of him.  This is what he meant: “Live for justice because of me and you can be sure the world will see me.”  The is no greater justice or mercy than to hear the name of Christ and have the chance to follow him.

Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near.  [Matthew 4:17]

What is the Gospel?  I know the word means good news but what is good news.  There is plenty of bad news to go around.  That’s probably why so many people are interested in the Gospel - at least, the Gospel as they see it.  When Jesus said the kingdom of heaven was near what did He mean exactly?  And if the Kingdom was near way back then - is it here now (or at least, closer)?  Lots of questions… and as I’ve found, lots of answers.  There are a myriad of explanations and images of what the Gospel consists of and how the Kingdom is expressed.  Some believe the Gospel to be a message and life toward social justice.  Others see evangelism and personal salvation as the hallmark of the Kingdom.  Then there are those who minister inner healing and physical healing.  Still others hold that the Gospel is all about racial and ethnic reconciliation.  These are just a few pieces of the Gospel - or gates to the Kingdom.  In reality, the Gospel is all of these things and more.  Yet, in large part, our understanding of it and derived ethos is very fragmented and with most attributes of the Gospel isolated from the others.

So… how do we bring it together?  How do we defrag the Gospel?  What is the whole story?

… to be continued.

Over the last few weeks (Ok, more like the last year!) Ruth and I have been seeking God for wisdom and direction for our future. We’ve always wanted to live our lives for Christ and His Kingdom, but just now we are beginning to understand what that even means. We’ve also realized that talking about the Kingdom is entirely different from actually living there. The opportunity has just been extended to us to join a new ministry and to (for lack of better terminology) get up to our neck in the Kingdom serving and loving people. We’ve been praying a lot, fasting, and kicking around pros and cons. It’s been a real gut-check and has helped me see just how far from the Kingdom of God I’ve been living. In fact, you could say the Kingdom has been like… say… Florida to me. It’s a great place to visit, but nowhere I’d ever call home. Well, now we’re moving to Florida (not really moving to Florida… metaphor…) and it’s scary. Truth is, though, is there any other place I’d rather call home than the Kingdom of God. In The Divine Conspiracy, Dallas Willard calls the Kingdom of God “the effective range of God’s will.” This Kingdom (where Jesus is King) is one where selflessness is the standard, the greatest people are servants, and the the poor and needy among us are being sought fervently by Christ. I’m beginning to see the Kingdom of God much less like a city or place and more like a road trip - and we’ve been invited to come along!

So… in the words of my incredible wife, “It’s been all about me for long enough!” Looking forward into this kind of future (more work?, less money?, more meaning?…) is still a bit unnerving. I’ve even wondered if Ruth and I would even survive in the Kingdom of God. I’ve been asking questions like…

“Are we suited for on earth as it is in heaven?”

“Does my heart yearn for Christ to be made known at any cost for the sake of redeeming those that He is seeking?

“Are we ready to love people even when it hurts us?”

The resounding answer… No.

Yeah. We are not willing, we are not ready, and we would rather stay home - but still the Lord calls. The self-centered people that we have been will not survive in the alleys and streets we are being called to take up residence in the Kingdom of God - at least not if we stay the same. It’s time to change. It’s time to stop surviving and to start thriving (right, like it’s that easy and it’s seriously going to rhyme like that). This is what I know - Jesus said…

Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will save it.

[Luke 9:23-24]

Surviving is no longer the objective. We are left with only one choice: Die.

Does anybody really believe reality TV? I watched the tail end of American Idol on Wednesday night. It’s the first episodes of the season - you know, the one’s where flocks of mediocre vocalist wannabes with too much self-confidence give their all for Simon, Paula, and Randy. Reality TV is fun (sometimes), but we all know that it involves very small amounts of true reality. I guess I could say that I’m kind of thankful that life isn’t really like reality TV. In fact, when I think about it, life is a whole lot more like a good tragedy. Ever think about that? When you watch America’s Next Top Model you very rarely leave the episode a changed person - there’s nothing formative about watching people do stuff - in fact, it could even be depressing - like living vicariously through someone else. But then we watch tragedy. The kind of film that isn’t out to tell us something, but rather to show us something about ourselves. The last good tragedy I saw was Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Babel. It’s in no way a clean movie. There are disturbing images, explicit amorality, and you are left, for the better part of the film, feeling very hopeless and vulnerable. Sound familiar? Yeah. That’s pretty much how you could describe much of life - more moments spent rubbing our forehead or sticking our hands in our pockets as a lonely shiver runs down our back than basking in the warmth of more peaceful moments. Tragedies make us feel like we don’t have a home - no shelter strong enough to withstand the dangers and evils of this world. Much of the life of Christ had to feel like tragic moments and we know Jesus knew what it meant to be without a home:

“Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests,
but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.”  [Matthew 8:20]

This is what’s beautiful about a tragedy. As dark a world we live in, as deep a valley we venture into, as heavy a burden we carry, we have paths forged in front of us to follow thanks to Christ. Every moment of tragedy and hopelessness is meant to point us to the God who entered the tragedy with us. Jesus came “so that we may have life, and have it more abundantly.” That means Jesus came so that in tragedy we could find something more than hopelessness - something we can’t find anywhere else. We only find it in Him. Our story may be tragic (the Human Story is tragic), but it’s a worthy story nonetheless - not necessarily because of a happy ending - there are few real happy endings as we know them - but because of Christ the story is worth telling.

I borrowed the book Anonymous by Alicia Britt Chole from Jason Arant after TJ Reid told me about it. I’ve already been challenged to see my life and my own identity in a new way. [Oh, by the way, Happy New Year!] In Anonymous, Chole looks at the hidden years of Jesus’ life to help us look at the hidden years of our own life. For Christ, these hidden years were, for the most part, from birth to the beginning of his public ministry at the age of 30. Jesus spent most of his life in obscurity; in anonymity. Yes, he was always God’s Son and yes, he was always the Messiah - but for three decades, he lived in hidden and probably very contemplative quietness. With the exception of the day his parents lost him at the age of twelve, we don’t know much about these first thirty years. According to Chole, however, it is upon these years that the approximate three years of miraculous and revolutionary ministry we see in the Gospels was formed. The anonymous years of Christ’s life were just as significant as the public years. Jesus became the Messiah and grew in understanding and power during days of anonymity.

Looking at myself and how I so often tend to seek public notice and praise for my life and ministry it is a huge shift to look at anonymity as a valuable experience. No matter what God has called me to and whatever impact my days will have on humanity - my identity can be found in my anonymity - because my identity is truly found in Christ. When I started seminary (a few months ago), one of the sayings I kept hearing from classmates and in some of our readings was “finding your hidden self in Christ.” It sounded great, but I didn’t really know what it meant - I’m beginning to understand. Because of our desire to make something of ourself and become somebody we all sometimes fashion little gods out of our ego in order to find our identity - but the truth is that we can only find it in the identity of Christ. Let me put it this way… your story, no matter how public or private, peaceful or chaotic, perfect or damaged only makes sense in light of Christ’s story. You are meant to be a chapter in a book about redemption - you are a stanza in a beautiful yet sometimes odd piece of poetry summed up in Christ. What does that mean? I’m still finding out. Join me in hearing the Great Story.

Last night (Christmas Night), we (me, Ruth, Sam, and Alex) were hungry. Not wanting to cook we ventured out on a little adventure… to Waffle House. Yes, you heard right. We went to Waffle House for Christmas dinner - and it was GREAT! Over double-waffles, hash browns and eggs we enjoyed each other’s company and hopefully made this Christmas a little brighter for someone. You see, our server was just two hours into her 12-hour shift that would keep her behind the counter until 6:00 this morning. Her eyes were red and heavy (she also worked the same hours on Christmas Eve) and though she did everything she could to remain cheery and cordial, you could tell she wished she was somewhere else - maybe with her two kids who she told us all about. We asked her how her Christmas was going so far and she said it was “fine” and that she’d be opening presents with her kids on the day after Christmas since they are with “their dad” right now. She said she was heading to the stores the day after Christmas to buy presents because of all the after-Christmas sales. Something told me that she wouldn’t be able to give the kids very much this year and you could tell that Billie Jean was just having a hard year. Her coworkers seemed to look down their nose at her and seemed to treat her like a child - this was very strange. Well, you get the picture. We knew why we came to Waffle House that night. Samuel was on his game like any other day charming everyone that walked in the door the server said we could bring him back anytime. We left her a great tip (everything I had in my wallet - yes, there was money in my wallet!) and hopefully, we see her again at the ole Casa de Waffle in the future. Glad we went!

Jesus, we pray for our server and ask that you would be the Light of this season for her. May she and her family be blessed and may this year be a good one for her. May you, Christ, be the Centerpiece to a beautiful feast in her home next Christmas.

Today, I listened to a podcast from Emergent Village featuring Scot McKnight called “The Whole Gospel” (click here to download). Scot is coming to my seminary next month to speak at our Theological Summit and also to do few additional lectures. The main thrust of the podcast is that we must treat the Gospel as more than a series of propositions - more than just a listing of truth but a meaningful revolution of hope through Christ. McKnight points out the hunger of our current and upcoming generations to find out if the Gospel really works - that the world is looking to see if Christ really does transform individuals, families, and communities. They are looking for the image of Christ in the people that bear His name - Christian. McKnight went on in the podcast to liken the Gospel to music: To the average person, the lines, notation, and symbols of a sheet of music have little meaning - they are an abstract and even irrelevant noise. It is not until a skilled musician takes the sheet of music and performs the piece that it has any real connection with anyone - but at this point, it’s value is made known and the hearer can understand how all of those lines and notes really work. Listen to the lyrics of The Rocket Summer’s song “So Much Love”…

You got so much love in you
You got so much love in you
I’m amazed that I’m talkin’ to you
You look like the songs that I’ve heard my whole life coming true

For many people, the Gospel of Jesus Christ is like an old song - like one of those songs we played in a piano recital. We worked so hard to remember all of those notes and nuances so we could perform flawlessly at the recital - years later, we probably couldn’t recall more than a couple measures. This shouldn’t be, according to McKnight. The Gospel is meant to be seen and heard and felt and experienced and documented and remembered everyday. The Gospel is found not in a policy, or ideology, or proposition - but in a man, Jesus. Christ is the the coming true of all of those songs. In Him, we see the Gospel in the flesh - and His followers (you and me) are called to carry on this performance - the song isn’t over.

I also recently saw a music video for Sara Groves‘ newest song, “I Saw What I Saw”. The video includes footage from her trip to Rwanda where she met people who have suffered such hardship and injustice only to respond with such grace and love. The final line of the song goes like this…

Your courage asks me what I’m afraid of…
And what I know of love…
And what I know of God

This is the Gospel - people that are fearless in their love just as Christ is fearless.

Father, I pray that you would release me from all fear - especially the fear that stops me from extending Christ to others. May I learn to love people that have nothing to give back to me - and even those for which loving may cost me everything.

Here’s the video I’m talking about…

I recently read a bio of actor Daniel Day-Lewis on Wikipedia (and for those of you that still refute Wikipedia’s merit - read this and this). Day-Lewis is the star of the upcoming film There Will Be Blood which is a film adaptation of Upton Sinclair’s novel Oil! about a “turn-of-the-century Texas prospector in the early days of the [oil] business”. I’m wanting to see this film - not because I’ve read the novel, or because I’m even particularly interested in the story (I’m not usually a fan of “period pieces” that take place in some old-timey world like this film) - I’m interested in seeing this film because of Daniel Day-Lewis. He’s a captivating actor and his ability to enter into the persona of his film roles is enough to pull me into a story I have no connection to. This is a sign of a great actor - the ability to create an experience or connection for the audience in a situation with which they seem to have no real connection. Day-Lewis’s methods for becoming his character in films has set him apart from many others…

[Daniel Day Lewis] has also been acknowledged for his constant devotion to his roles and copious amounts of research he performs. Often he will remain in character and speak in the accents he has used on screen throughout the entire shooting schedule…Day-Lewis put his personal version of “method acting” into full use in 1989 with his performance as Christy Brown in Jim Sheridan’s My Left Foot which won him numerous awards, including the Academy Award for Best Actor. During filming, his eccentricities came to the fore, due to his refusal to break character. Playing a severely paralyzed character onscreen, offscreen Day-Lewis had to be wheeled around the set in his wheelchair, and crew members would curse at having to lift him over camera and lighting wires, all so that he might gain insight into all aspects of Christy Brown’s life, including the embarrassments. He also broke two ribs during filming from assuming a hunched-over position in his wheelchair for so many weeks…

In 1992, three years after his Oscar win, The Last of the Mohicans was released. Day-Lewis’ character research for this film was well-publicized; he reportedly underwent rigorous weight training and learned to live off the land and forest where his character lived, camping, hunting and fishing. He even carried a Kentucky rifle at all times during filming in order to remain in character and learned how to skin animals…

These are just some examples of how Daniel Day-Lewis devotes himself to his roles. What I’m amazed by is the extent of his commitment. If I were an actor, I’d likely do some research and try to put myself in the person’s shoes but I wouldn’t break any ribs over it! But Day-Lewis seems to be unsatisfied with that level of understanding of his characters. It seems, in fact, that he has such respect for his characters (fictional and real) that he must do them the justice of sharing in their life experience - whatever that entails - suffering, hunger, hatred, greed, love, ambition, loss… This is way more than pretending. It’s as though Day-Lewis comes alongside the character and becomes their friend and begins to share in whatever their life entails. He is fully-devoted to his character and willing go wherever that devotion takes him.

How can we do this in our relationships? How can we come alongside of the people in our lives to the point that we share in whatever their life entails? We’ve been called to enter into the lives of others just as Christ became flesh and made His dwelling among us (John 1:14). Does this mean that we may have to be willing to “break a rib” for the sake of knowing someone and sharing the love and redemption of Christ with them?

Christ, help me to be fully-devoted in the way that I follow you. Even when you seem to be walking right into the ugliness, hopelessness, and bitterness of the lives of my neighbors and friends, may I follow you there and be a friend and neighbor in the fullest sense.