Beautiful Ugly

I love all things beautiful.
And it's a beautiful life I live. Every part of it.

Oh, I may cry. I may wonder.
I may wish things were different.
I may at times wish to see beyond the misty shroud upon my pathway.

Yet my God is also a lover of the beautiful. 
And making my life beautiful is exactly what He is attempting to do. Even through the ugly.
Because sometimes it is the ugly that makes something beautiful. 

Sometimes it's the only thing…

The beautiful-ugly.
If anything falls under the category of miracle, that does.

A miracle of Love poured out upon an ugly planet bathed in ugly scars.
A miracle that transforms ugly hearts.

A miracle that looks past ugly surfaces to discern uncut diamonds, hearts of beauty covered by years of filth.

He calls the ugly beautiful…
        He calls each beating heart beautiful…
                He calls me beautiful…

And He promises to love me forever and always. Not because I'm beautiful, but because I'm ugly. 
It's the ugly that makes the greatest contrast when transformation occurs anyway.

He calls my ugly beautiful.
My love overflows.

Weak Hands, Feeble Knees

It's dark outside. Soft light streams over my shoulders. I love new mornings. My eyes scan the page as I absorb verse after verse.

The guidelines for the race. The provisions for the runner. These things call my attention.

I haven't run a race in a long time. At least an official one.
But I know the exertion, the endurance, the positive morale needed to finish any endeavor.

And I stop to think of races I have participated in or observed. Something disturbs me.
Each runner is only running for himself. 

He has the end goal continually before him. But he has no concern for the other runners.
His only concern is to win.

But we run a race in which all can be winners.
And we have no right to run past those who are weak just because we are stronger.

No right at all.

Instead we are obligated to lift up weary hands and feeble knees. Because we are not in this race for ourselves.
We have a duty to help those that are struggling to run beside us.

It would be a terrible thing to run through those gates of pearl alone.
Lord, give me eyes to see, lips to speak, hands to heal. And them to me today…

Obedient Suffering

"…He learned obedience by the things which He suffered."*

My eyes turn an unfocused gaze to the opposite wall.
Little shafts of light dance bokeh-style.
My mind is far away.

Is this what makes men invincible?

To suffer and yet trust. To sorrow and yet sing.
To not understand and yet obey.

Is this? Is this the secret?

I think so. Because it says He was "made perfect." Entirely.

But oh, how hard it is to always accept the gift with outstretched hands, especially when it hurts.
Yet this obedience in the midst of suffering creates a beauty, a strength, a trust unlike any other.
And when we come forth, we are called sons and daughters, children of eternity.

"…He learned obedience [was perfected] by the things which He suffered."

May I never resist the fire.

* Hebrews 5:8

Measure of Love

I walk in early morning darkness, dawn barely touching the skyline. Gloved hands covering my ears in an attempt to keep warm. I pray and ponder.

What is it to truly follow the footsteps of One who went before?

I've seen plenty of good weather Christians, those who follow when the path is smooth and easy. But when it turns steep and sharp rocks cover the ground, when the trail turns into a muddy mire, when thorns pierce tender feet, it's easy to turn aside. Because following in His footsteps hurts sometimes. I know. I've been there.

Yet there is no middle ground. 

Either you follow or you don't. 

I think of Joseph. Unconditional following. From a favorite son to a common slave to a trusted servant to a condemned criminal to a prime minister. 

I'm sure he wondered why God was leading him on such a rough pathway, but he chose to trust, chose to love despite the hard lessons taught in this school of adversity. 

"If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me." {Luke 9:23}

You only "come after" one you love or respect. How much you follow depends on how much you love.

The question is,
How much do you love Him?

What Are You Doing Here?

Sometimes you just have those moments. Moments that slap you in the face and demand a reason why.

And you don't have one. 

Or if you do, it's an excuse that doesn't hold water. 

I've been there. Far too recently. Far too often.

The still small Voice whispers when you're finally quiet enough to listen.

"What are you doing here?"

My silence deepens. I have no answer. Because really, I'm the one who got myself into this mess. 

It wasn't His fault. And any defense I attempt to make will just look foolish.

I know why I'm here. Really, I do.

It's just difficult to admit that to Omnipotence. 

Because if I had just claimed Power, things would be different. 

Yet He offers me angel food and angel water. Heaven's fare. 

And I'm nourished. I can listen again. And hear the Voice. Still and small. 

He says, "Go."

And I return to the place where I last saw light, where I last had victory. And go forth to conquer. 

This love, this pursuing, amazes me.

I go.  

To Know His Heart [The Making of Heroes Part IV]

Sometimes we see only the love.
Ardent affection springs from our own hearts as we offer Him praise.
We warm His heart.

Other times we see only the pain.
We instinctively draw back because we don't want to risk being hurt.
We break His heart.

Rarely do we see both and want His heart.
Because our natural tendency is to shy away from pain.

In fact, our reflex reaction is to stay as far away as possible.
And so when we are wounded, we hide hurt, fester hurt, and too often avenge hurt.

We want the love, but we don't want the pain.
And we think we're doing ourselves a kindness… 

A falsity if I ever heard one.

How can we expect to know the heart of God and not know His pain?
We pray to be intimately acquainted with Him, and yet we don't want the package deal.

Is it that we don't trust Him?
Have we forgotten that it's God's heart that throbs with joy and anguish blended, always?

If we are going to make any impact on our generation, we have to know and have God's heart.
And we learn only by embracing both love and pain as He sends them our way saying, Thank You…

He's the Giver. He gives the gifts. And He only gives good gifts.

War Strategies [The Making of Heroes Part III]

I have never understood how one could delight in destroying another. Never.

How butchery of such character could ever evoke enjoyment will ever be to me a hellish mystery.

Yet since the whole world is thinking about war, why shouldn't we?

Why shouldn't we?

Our war is the most important anyway.

This is a war in which I am invested. It elicits such emotion in my heart as nothing else can.

And I find myself becoming drawn to its weaponry.

Not for gruesome results, but for glorious results.

It's war-prayer.

And let me tell you, this kind of prayer is unlike any you've probably prayed before.

Passionate, agonizing, tear-inducing, heart-wrenching prayer. For another.

Prayer is going to move the world by moving the Hand that moves the world.

But it never will until we learn how to pray. Really pray…

James says, "the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much."

And I pause to ponder Who is righteous. 

Apart from Him, no one.

"There is none righteous, no, not one."* 

A door-slamming statement if I ever heard one. If it weren't for this one thing. 

My God delights to clothe me in His righteousness.**

Wonder of wonders. Grace of all grace.

He calls me His treasure. And instructs me to ask. 

God's heroes are born in the closet of prayer.

Why is the most powerful tool the one we least utilize?

*Romans 3:10, emphasis mine

**Isaiah 61:10