Know the Man, Know the King.

“The LORD reigns; he is robed in majesty; the LORD is robed; he has put on strength as his belt. Yes, the world is established; it shall never be moved. Your throne is established from of old; you are from everlasting. The floods have lifted up, O LORD, the floods have lifted up their voice; the floods lift up their roaring. Mightier than the thunders of many waters, mightier than the waves of the sea, the LORD on high is mighty! Your decrees are very trustworthy; holiness befits your house, O LORD, forevermore.” (Psalm 93:1–5, ESV)

Heat up the Thanksgiving leftovers, the feasting need not end too quickly!

The Liturgical Calendar marks this Lord’s Day the Feast of Christ the King! This is the consummation of the Church Year. Next Sunday we start a new with the first Sunday of Advent. On this day we commemorate and rejoice that He who came in humility has been exalted in glory. The anointed of God has been enthroned in power, and we no longer wait his exaltation, we await his return with expectation. Christ IS the King!

The question that rises in my heart when I hear about the coronation or inauguration of a new king, president, or leader is, “What kind of king will he be?” Can we really know what we’re dealing with until he begins to govern? I think so. The way we find out is to ask another question, “What kind of man is he?”

It is obvious that power doesn’t transform a man’s character as much as expose it. Whatever the man is when he is given power, that will he be as long as he holds it. Think of Washington, Lincoln, the Roosevelts. All great men, not because they became President of the United States, but because they were great men long before they were given that title. What they were before taking office is what was revealed while they were seated in power. The quality of the person means something. If the person has a long held secrets, he’ll keep more secrets, but what he has tried to hide will eventually be exposed. If he is rash the office will not soften him. John Adams is known to have always struggled with rage and anger, every biography and historical record confirms his struggle. The office did not change his character, it amplified it. The answer we find to the question “What kind of man is he?” will help us answer the question, “What kind of King will he be?”

On this feast of Christ the King ask yourself the the question, “What kind of man was he?”, and you’ll know what kind of King he is.

Is he not the one who blessed the poor, the meek, the suffering, the persecuted, the outcasts? Is he not the one who bids the tired and the heavy laden? Is he not the one who confronts tyranny and anarchy? Is he not the one who bids the zealots to lay down his sword and the disciples to take up his cross? Is he not the one who says he has come to seek and to save by paying the ransom, not with your tax dollars, but with his own life? Is he not the one who has descended into the grave in perceived defeat only to be raised in glory? If this is the man that the apostles bore witness to, having seen and heard the man, what kind of King do we think he is?

I would like to celebrate this feast acknowledging what the Psalmist says about the King, particularly concerning what he does in our distress and fear. The King does not have to avoid or ignore the troubles we face in this world. We need not be aloof to the trials we face. The wrongs, injustices, and terrors that impede our flourishing can be named and appealed to our King, and all the while remembering this: “The LORD reigns…The floods have lifted up, O LORD, the floods have lifted up their voice; the floods lift up their roaring. Mightier than the thunders of many waters, mightier than the waves of the sea, the LORD on high is mighty! Your decrees are very trustworthy; holiness befits your house, O LORD, forevermore.”

The LORD who reigns over our circumstances will act in our distress. We may sense the flood waters rising, we only need to remember the man. When the waters rage, he walks upon them. When the waters hem us in, he speaks and the waters become a highway. When the waters rise, he provides an ark. Behold the man. Behold your King! His decrees are very trustworthy.

For further reflection and meditation read:

Psalm 93; Daniel 7:9-14; Revelation 1:1-8

LONG LIVE THE KING!

Gospel Amnesia

The room was really cold but I was sweating through my shirt. My pastor had just opened the floor to questions that would be directed to me.

I was preparing to relocate my family in a matter of days to plant a church in a new city. This was our last meeting together before I would be sent out from our sending church. The men sat looking at the floor, some at their notes, and others over at each other, waiting for someone to fire off the first question. The silence hung around for what seemed like an hour. One man, the quietest and most reserved man in the room, stared at me the entire time. It was a gentle gaze, nonthreatening. He was listening to what my body was saying. No words were being uttered, but he was listening.

The moments passed and finally someone spoke up, but he didn’t ask a question, he simply encouraged me. Someone else followed up with more encouragement. It was very kind of them to break the silence without conjuring up a question just because. The pastor started to move onto the next order of business when the one who sat staring leaned forward and asked, “Nathan, what are you afraid of?” I was ready to move on with the other agenda items now. The gentleman didn’t waver. He looked directly in my eyes across the table and waited.

I sat, pondered, and asked myself what he meant by the question. Afraid? Am I afraid? Should I be afraid? Is this Yoda looking Luke down and calling out his fear? And then I realized that I was full of fear. Seriously fearful of something that I had yet to name in my life. It wasn’t the future. It wasn’t finances. It wasn’t even the fear of failure. I fear forgetting.

If there is anything I have learned over the past two decades is that forgotten truth leads to forgotten identity, which leads to a loss of purpose and direction. Forgetting causes us to stall, gawk out the rearview window, and sit in the present distress critiquing and analyzing the past, asking why we can’t move forward. When we forget what is true we will settle for things that are false. When we forget our identity we will masquerade and rely on our false self. When we forget we can’t move forward, we can’t even coast, we’re stuck.

My greatest fear is forgetting the gospel. The gospel is the announcement of what God has done for us in and through Jesus Christ to reconcile our past, meet us in the present, and secure our future. When I forget what has been done I begin to coverup my shame with my performance. When I forget that God meets me in the present, I look for lesser things to satisfy my longing for acceptance and approval. When I forget that my future is secure I fail to show up, try, take risk, and assume responsibility.

I named my fear outloud. I admitted that I was fearful of forgetting because I know what the result would be. To be radically honest with you…I have had gospel amnesia for over a year now. Many of the difficulties I currently face, not all but many, are the result of forgetting. It seems that I am starting to come to, but I must admit so much of what I have been dealing with is forgetfulness. I have lived my fear.

What is a man to do?

What counsel would I give to someone who came to me with a case of gospel amnesia?

Well, I would start by taking my cue from a gentleman who sat in a really cool room, intently watching a grown man sweat, and listen, really listen to what is going on. I would wait in the void for a bit and ask, “What do you fear?” However that question gets answered will lead us to the cause of gospel amnesia. Then I’d begin to slowly, patiently apply the remedy. Not in an assertive way, but in an attentive way. What do I mean? I would be attentive to the One present among us who is there with us in our forgetfulness. I’d point out the One who reconciles our past, who meets with us in the present, and promises to secure our future. I would try to skillfully do what the faithful have always done with those who’ve forgotten. I would bear witness to Jesus; the One who heals our deepest wounds, who drives out fear, and who meets us in the questions we won’t ask even ask ourselves.

Questions like, “What are you afraid of?”

Listen…seriously, listen. What do you fear? Have you named it? Let’s take some time to be attentive to Jesus together.

Love Is A Story Told

I love storytelling.

One of my fondest memories as a child was when my mother read an entire book aloud to us on a certain road trip. It wasn’t a common practice, I am not sure why, but I loved hearing her voice read us stories. If she was reading my sisters and I weren’t fighting. Stories were a respite from the tension.

My mother also happens to be one of the best storytellers I know. She has a way of slinging words that strike at the core of my being. We just spoke yesterday about getting her setup to share some of her work. We’ll see what happens.

My father, too, is a master storyteller. What made his craft so special was how he mixed his stories with other skills, like drawing and now photography. There was something about the way that he told a story that made me want to tell others what I saw in the world. While I was growing up he mostly retold the parables of Jesus, or narratives from the Gospels, but man, I loved hearing his take on the world as he saw it.

My mother’s father always told stories. His were based on his childhood. They were full of color, interesting characters, and plenty of hyperbole. Often there was some moral or virtue to adhere to and vices to avoid. I’m not sure he was trying to teach through stories or simply entertain us, but I remember learning a lot form his storytelling.

Since I was little I have always wanted to carry on the craft. But somewhere along the way I got distracted by a hankering to chase something big and important, rather than what I loved and wanted to give in love. The craft has always been present, but subservient to my need to “make it” in the world. In my twenties I wrote songs. In my thirties I wrote sermons. Now that I am entering into my forties I feel like I have finally come to the realization of what I have always wanted but never done…to just write out of love, not from need. I want to look at the world and tell it like I see it, pointing out the true, the beautiful, and the good.

I am not writing to get published. I am not writing to “make a living”. I am writing because I have to write. I am writing because I love, and love comes to us through story. Love is a story told.

Major Tom to Ground Control...Can You Hear Me?

Eight months ago I stepped away from the public ministry of the Word.

Last March I announced to the congregation of Christ Community Church that I had come to terms with the fact that I was burned out, depressed, and dealing with a host of medical issues that needed attention. The only thing I could see in front of me at that time were storm clouds and disaster. If something didn’t drastically change I was going to cause more harm and damage, not only to myself, but to the ones I loved a great deal and served.

Anticipating a lot of disappointment and confusion, I braced myself to the point of physically shuttering and shaking. However, nobody in that room threw anything at me, no one stood shaking their heads and wringing their hands, the exact opposite happened. I was met with loving concern and support. Some grieved that they did not know the extent of my pain. Others gave of their resources to support my family and I, immediately. One man walked up in the middle of my public meltdown to stand next to me and hold me up. He said I had done the same for him and he would be there for me now. I was not met by the angry mob I envisioned in my head, but by the loving embrace of a gospel-saturated community.

It has taken me this long to reflect and see what was taking place in that moment, I am a slow learner, but in the middle of my darkest moment the light of Christ was piercing through all the broken places of my heart through the ministry of his body on earth.

Here’s what I was saying in that moment: I am a broken man. I am unfit for the work. I am tired. I have lost my way.

Here’s how the congregation responded in that moment: We know. We all are. We can see that. There’s a way back.

Every Sunday we heard these words, that I borrowed from Ray Ortlund at Immanuel Church in Nashville, TN, before the Call to Worship from the Scripture,

“To all who are weary and need rest,
To all who mourn and long for comfort,
To all who feel worthless and wonder if God cares,
To all who fail and desire strength,
To all who sin and need a Savior,
This church opens wide her doors with a welcome from Jesus Christ, the Ally of his enemies, the Defender of the guilty, the Justifier of the inexcusable, the Friend of sinners. Welcome!”

The people of Christ Community Church who heard that invitation week in and week out, extended it to the man who had read it for years. Reading it and heeding it are two different things. And to be radically honest with you, I did not embrace the offer that day. Know that it has taken me many days to believe afresh the gospel invitation and rest in it with assurance. For some that may be hard to hear, but its the truth. It is only because I have decided to heed it that I can come up from the ditch I have been lying in to say, “In my distress I called to the Lord, and he answered me” (Psalm 120:1).

Slowly, day by day and moment by moment I am trusting Jesus to lead and guide me by the power of His Holy Spirit and the light of his Word. But I must also say that in these dark days there is only one place on earth that I know where these words can be honestly spoken, that is in the context of honest community. I am not sure if you have that place, or if you even desire to belong to an honest, gospel-saturated community. I get it. Trust me. Currently I don’t have a “local church” that I “belong” too, because I stepped away from more than a pulpit, I dove headlong into a ditch trying to avoid those who were loving me. But what I can tell you is that many came looking for me. They found me, sat with me, listened to me, prayed for me and eventually prayed with me. Some sent text messages and emails. Others gave me lots of space in a loving, patient way. But not one day has passed that I can honestly say that I was alone, not one. An honest community won’t let you believe that lie for long.

So where am I now? Well, the church we set out to plant merged with another congregation three months after it became evident that I would not be returning to ministry. This was a great grace. I am learning to walk again. I am learning to rest. I am learning to work with my mind, heart, and hands. I am learning to heed an invitation.