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Yesterday, I headed out to the nearest Starbucks, grabbed a tall drip with plenty of room, and sat down in a comfy corner to study the book of Joel and write a little bit. It was a much needed time to focus on God. As I was studying though, something in my periphery caught my eye - a caricature. An artist called Illy sat there to my left with a stack of blank paper and a fine-tip marker and slipped me a finished portrait he quickly created while I was unaware. It’s a great drawing. I especially like the Detroit skyline in the background.

Once I received my drawing, I noticed almost everyone else in the shop had their own portrait thanks to Illy. He continued working through the stack of paper as though each sheet was meant for someone in particular and he didn’t want them to miss out. Most people were amused with the drawings. Some, a little embarrassed, but gracious to let Illy practice his talent. Other patrons were not very impressed or pleased he would depict them on paper without warning. One departing customer shucked Illy’s extension to take their unfinished portrait saying, “That’s not me!”

There’s something provocative about seeing your own image…
through objective eyes.

When you don’t know you’re being drawn, you don’t have the chance to strike a pose and the artist has nothing to go on except what is clearly seen. To be honest, I didn’t like Illy’s portrait of myself when I first looked at it. I was caught off guard and thought, “Is that really what I look like?” With nothing more than smooth paper, a black marker, and many inconspicuous glances my way, this artist showed me how I still have my father’s eyes, my mother’s nose, and more often then not, a look on my face that reminds me of them both. This is me.

As I continue to look, I have to ask myself: Do I see Christ? Are my eyes looking with compassion? Is that exhaustion I see or is my strength being renewed? Would I approach this person in the picture if I had never met them before? Are there words of hope waiting on those lips? I must remember, many will never see Christ unless they see Him in me. This portrait is a gift revealing the truth and the reality of who I am.

And I’ll tell you what I do see… I see love.

1 Cor 13:12 | Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

Hebrews 2:1-4 | We must pay the most careful attention, therefore, to what we have heard, so that we do not drift away. For since the message spoken through angels was binding, and every violation and disobedience received its just punishment, how shall we escape if we ignore so great a salvation? This salvation, which was first announced by the Lord, was confirmed to us by those who heard him. God also testified to it by signs, wonders and various miracles, and by gifts of the Holy Spirit distributed according to his will.

Ever find out you’ve been missing something. Regardless of what it is, you never want to miss something important. But when I do miss out, I usually try to downplay my disappointment: “I don’t care, anyway. I’m good. I don’t need to know [see, hear, taste, etc].” Uh huh, sure. Of course I want to know what I missed!

What about salvation? The scriptures convey the idea of salvation as something not to be missed. Yet, everyday, the reality of God saving humanity is overlooked and glazed over into the pre-rendered layer of life. This has been the story since the beginning: God saving us and no one even noticing. I’m a follower of Jesus and I still miss what it means to be saved everyday! Imagine living with no knowledge of the truth at all.

How can we make Christ known today?
(For ourselves, and for those who are completely missing the plot.)

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.

In college, I had the unmatched pleasure of an economics course (two courses actually). While most economic concepts remain entirely abstract and beyond my grasp, I did take one idea away from the experience: opportunity cost. Defined as (via Wikipedia) the cost of pursuing one choice instead of another. Imagine this situation: you’re the member of an alternative pop garage band. You’ve been together since the 7th grade and you and your band-mates have played out in every dingy, half-empty dive in town. Upon graduating high school (just barely) you meet someone. Yeah, you see where this is going. Sparks fly, she (or he) is everything you’ve ever wanted, and before you know it you’re sharing a kebab and beginning to talk about the future. This future being the very problem with the situation. The plan up to this point was to work a job, practice with the band every night, and keep plugging away until you hit your big break and score a record deal. But now that pretty little thing with the blue eyes on the other side of the table (charred chicken, peppers, and tomatoes-in-hand) is asking you to consider something new - going to college - together. Of course, your Sweetie wants to double-major in French and Journalism (Fashion Journalism to be exact) and must attend a school on the east coast. Here in this new realm of possibilities is where microeconomics comes into play. Going to school with blue eyes is a great idea - for sure - but is it worth passing up on the dream. You’ve worked hard in the band for a long time and was looking forward to putting more serious effort toward that dream. Quitting the band to attend the same college as your BF (or GF) is not what you planned, but it’s kind of on the road toward another dream - getting married. Choices, choices. Two dreams, one future. The cost to pursue one is to forfeit another. Economics.

The life of a Christian is one full of opportunity costs. From the outset of this journey following Jesus, I had no idea what it would cost me - time, energy, money (mostly for prayer cloths - just kidding!), ambitions, dreams, comforts, etc. Although, in reality, everything that I’ve given up has been in lieu of a greater opportunity - meaning, experience, wisdom, fulfillment, peace, and the chance live a life of eternal purposes rather than temporary pleasures. Sure, I had plenty of dreams before, but now my dreams are bigger than I could have ever… dreamed! That’s the beauty of following Christ - He gave up everything for what He valued most - therefore, you and I can do the same.

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.

Yesterday, Ruth, Alex, and I were talking about Al Gore’s film An Inconvenient Truth (which I haven’t seen yet). It got me thinking about global warming and environmental crises altogether. As a Christ-follower, I think one of the most important realities that I and all of humanity have to come to terms with is that fact that we have broken everything. Because of our selfishness, greed, hatred, unquenched anger, and (worst of all) our wicked indifference, we have created a “monster” of sorts. Murder gives birth to more murder, hate breeds more hate, waste is compounded with more waste. I used to deny that there was an environmental crisis. For some reason, I equated the admission of global warming with denying the existence of God. Looking back now, I realize that I was missing the point. You see, this world needs a savior and we don’t need to look much further than the sky above us to see proof of our dire situation. We, in all of our shortcomings, have taken the glorious Earth and are incrementally destroying it - yet, still, the sun rises every morning, the wind blows, and there is beauty in the broken world. This is true relationally and personally as well. Some people may think they’ve got it altogether, but for the rest of us we know life isn’t always easy. Many are lonely, many live with the consequences of past mistakes, many continue to take advantage of others and yet loathe themselves. I believe the earth has a message for us: We are broken. Just as the earth seems to be in a downward spiral of entropy, so are our communities, our families, and our own hearts. This is why we need a savior. This is why I follow Jesus. He doesn’t deny our brokenness. In fact, He took all of the pollution of this world to the cross and died to end the cycle of destruction and came back to life to set things into a new motion. Our world doesn’t have to continue in this fallen state, our communities don’t have to become cesspools of suffering, our lives don’t have to remain unreachable. Where we are broken, Christ has come to to build something out of brokenness - a mosaic. God has looked at His creation and seen what we’ve all done to it - and He’s restoring it.

See the world in green and blue
See China right in front of you
See the canyons broken by cloud
See the tuna fleets clearing the sea out
See the bedouin fires at night
See the oil fields at first light
See the bird with a leaf in her mouth
After the flood all the colours came out
It was a beautiful day
A beautiful day
Don’t let it get away