Happy Sword Swallower's Day

Are you ready for the big celebration this weekend? And no I'm not referring to the 20th anniversary of Pokemon. I'm talking about World Sword Swallowers Day. Did you already buy the party hats or is this internationally recognized holiday news to you? I'll admit I was was unaware of the wide world of sword swallowers and their annual celebration honoring their craft. Nor did I know that there is a Sword Swallowers Hall of Fame.
The ancient art of Sword Swallowing began in India. Today it is professionally practiced by less than one hundred gutsy individuals worldwide dedicated to preserving the age-old tradition of opening wide and gulping down a sharp metal sword. When asked, "why do you swallow swords" the swallowers will tell you that they are showmen willing to risk their life for the thrill and awe of overcoming a life-defying feat. Others will admit that they crave attention and swallowing a sword feeds their need to be noticed. One thing every sword swallower tends to agree upon is that the rest of the world thinks their crazy. But by the time they are a card-carrying member of the Sword Swallowers Association International (SSAI) they are used to the stunned looks and critical remarks. They take the heat for taking down the sword.
To most of the world, less about one-hundred sword-swallowing masters, this "art form" is completely nutty, long past daredevil and into the realm of lunacy. But who am I to judge? After all, according to the world, I'm crazy, too.
And no, not for swallowing swords or any other inanimate, dangerous object. In the eyes of the world I'm crazy for completely submitting to Christ. I'm crazy for surrendering my will and my plans at the foot of the cross. I'm crazy for being completely captivated by the Almighty God.
Not that I mind being called crazy. I expect it. I was warned that the sideways looks and furrowed brows would accompany the questioning. Paul even wrote to the Corinthians to expect on-lookers to question if Christ-followers were out of their minds.
I may be, but I'm still not going to swallow a sword.
The craziness I am prepared to embrace is the kind of crazy that doesn't come with a danger label attached. I'm all in for God's kind of crazy - the crazy of walking by faith and not by sight. Being this kind of crazy doesn't come with a threat of death. It comes with a guarantee of life - eternal, satisfying, everlasting life.
From the world's perspective you'll look crazy for surrendering your life to Christ, too. Maybe not as crazy as a sword swallower, but crazy none-the-less. But just like the sword swallowers, you can embrace your kind of crazy. Celebrate your submission to Christ with praise and worship. Share the joy you've found in surrender and the peace you've experienced through faith in your Savior.
And have a happy sword swallower's day because every kind of crazy can use a little celebration.

Beach Glass Beauty

In the center console of my car, right behind the drink holders, rests a little alcove. It's the perfect place to stash some coins for quick access should an unexpected toll road present itself. Or, if you're like me, it's the perfect cranny to safely store beach glass.
Some people like to keep a first aid kit on hand in their vehicle. This is wise, no doubt. As is the wool blanket, umbrella, water bottle and reflective triangle LifeHacker suggests as some of the "Essentials" that everyone should have in their car at all times. Oddly enough they left beach glass off the list.
In my car you won't find most of the basic car owner necessities. Thanks to my Dad I have jumper cables but for the rest I'm counting on AAA. Thankfully my lack of "essentials" has left me with plenty of room to fit in the not-so-typical essentials such as the trusty beach glass.
Should I ever end up with a flat tire on the side of interstate seventy-nine the beach glass won't be of particular use. And if I tried to stick it in a parking meter I wouldn't get much time. The beach glass serves a much different purpose. A much greater purpose, if you ask me.
The glass resting in the center console of my car is a daily reminder that God specializes in transforming the broken into something beautiful.
Along the banks of the sea and great lakes the crashing waves carry precious little gems of weathered glass to the beach's sandy shores. Each piece has a history, a story that all started with being broken. A bottle shattered. A ship wrecked, the content spilling into the sea, fragmenting into a million little pieces. The jagged pieces of glass sink to the ocean's floor where they are battered by waters, smashed by waves and scraped with sand for thirty, forty, fifty...even a hundred years.
And then, one day, that broken bottle gets pushed ashore, completely unrecognizable from the piece of debris it used to be. The piece of glass that is revealed is smooth, frosted and rounded. Years spent enduring the squalls of the sea have not ruined the glass, those storms have perfected it.
You and I are much like those pieces of glass. To become beautiful we must first be broken and battered. While the waves crash down upon us our rough edges and jagged imperfections are transformed. God uses the storm to soften that which is too hard. He uses the sand to sanctify, cleanse and renew our spirits.
Each time I look down at my center console and behold the beauty in the beach glass I am reminded of the process of transformation taking place in my life. I am still in the raging waters. I have been broken and now I am being battered for the sake of eternal beauty. The process can be trying but I hold onto God's promises. I am being renewed each day. I am being sculpted and shaped for the sake of the Kingdom. I'm still being made into finished, prized, treasured beach glass. So bring on the waves.

Camping with God

I'm not much for camping. A combination of hard ground, bugs and unsettling noises has never been my idea of a vacation. My style is more Marriott than KOA. I appreciate the luxuriousness of the huge hotel beds and the vast array of pillow density choices to rest my head. And a bathroom only a few steps away beats walking through the woods, towel and washcloth in hand, to find a decent shower.
Given my aversion to the camping scene you can imagine my alarm when I opened my Bible to Psalm 61. It starts out with a rallying message. "Refuge"..."strong tower"...."tent."
Hold it right there.
Tents go with camping. And by now you know how I feel about that activity. How could David write that he longed to dwell in a tent? I guess the Old Testament didn't have a Ritz Carlton. David certainly would have longed to dwell there instead, don't you think?
Of course the Ritz and early check-in were long after David's time but David wasn't a stranger to luxury. He was, after all, a king. Still he longed for a tent. But not just any tent. God's tent.
David understood that life in a tent with God was better than residing in a palace without Him.
So, following the example of David, I've decided to pack up my knapsack and take refuge at God's campsite. Like I anticipated there is dirt and dust. The ground is damp and it hasn't suddenly become as soft as a down-filled pillow.
But once inside God's tent I don't even notice those campsite quirks. Inside God's tent there is peace, a peace that even the Ritz can't offer. There is security - better security than the double lock on any hotel door. There is perfect rest that is more restorative than any slumber I could hope for on a king size mattress with percale sheets.
God's tent is unlike any tent you can buy at REI. It is heavenly. It is glorious. It is holy.
I'm still not ready for KOA but I'm ready for GOA - God's Otherworldly Accommodations. Residing with God no matter what the accommodation is always the most perfect place to rest. It is the only safe place to put one's head. With God, even a tent can be a tower.

New Job

I have exciting news.

I've been offered a new, high-level position. 

I know, you're excited, aren't you? I'm sure you're jumping out of your skin, thrilled at my good fortune. What could this new position be, you may be wondering? I'm an ambassador. 

And no, I am not filling the Cuban embassy vacancy. Nor am I being sent to Dublin, Ireland or Paris, France. Or better yet, the Cayman Islands. The ambassador position I will be filling doesn't require a move. In fact, I don't even have to travel for training.

I've been appointed an ambassador for Christ. 

Don't sight as if I led you on. This is a serious position. Actually, it is of more importance than any foreign assignment I could ever hope to receive. I'm working for an embassy that can't be taken down with bombs or enemy schemes. This embassy won't close due to a change in foreign relations or political climate. Can you say, "job security?" As long as I keep showing up, I'm in business. Or, should I say, God is in business and I am at work: constant, satisfying, fulfilling, meaningful work. 

To be honest, this position isn't new. At least the offer isn't new. The position of being an ambassador for Christ has been on the table for..well..ever. God has been offering me the opportunity of a lifetime to be His representative but I haven't been willing to take the plunge - at least not entirely. I've wanted the job on a part-time basis but that wasn't part of the offer. This is a full-time position. Take it or leave it. Be for God all of the time or go find work elsewhere. 

So I tried the work elsewhere option. I've tried more little start-up businesses then I can count. The vast array of VistaPrint business cards taking up valuable drawer space in my desk is proof. But they've all failed. Every single one. The cards will, I assume, make for good kindling to burn the dreams of fizzled entrepreneurship ventures. 

After this last round of no-go business start-ups I decided to turn back to that original offer. Full-time ambassador for Christ. I looked over the pay: none. I looked at the benefits: none. I considered the hours: full-time, plus over-time, plus always on-call. But then I looked at the reward: heaven, fulfillment, joy, peace, grace and, last but certainly not least, the world's best boss. 

I am ashamed to say that it took an embarrassingly low bank account and overwhelming failure to finally convince me to accept God's offer. I held on for too long to the idea that I had to be a financial success to be of value to this world. All the while God's been telling me otherwise. He isn't concerned with how the world classifies success and worth. Working for an earthly kingdom will pay in dollars and cents for the here and now but it won't amount to a hill of beans in the end. 

On the other hand, the job God has for me is of eternal value. When this life ends the work I put forth will reveal itself with the precious souls who are in heaven. God will use my ambassadorship to deliver His message and from there Christ will transform lives. As I commit my work to the Lord each day He will direct my steps, plot my points and give me tasks that bring Him glory and make His name great. 

A table set for one

The clock struck 11:55 AM as the class collectively stood up and rushed for the door in an eager attempt to be first in the lunch lineup. Down in the gymnasium students assembled with heavy, orange cafeteria trays in hand, waiting for the day's offering of cardboard Stromboli or a breaded chicken patty on a soggy bun. A collective sigh filled the air as hungry students dreamt of Lunchables and Capri Suns.
I joined my fourth grade class, dawning my shag carpet-colored tray and internal anxieties. The food was enough to give anyone stomach upset but that wasn't the cause of my angst. It was what came after the Stromboli, syrupy fruit cup and case of milk cartons. I was scared of the lunch table.
This particular elementary school year I didn't have a single friend in my class. This was problematic enough during the eight periods of school subjects but it became catastrophic during lunch. Although every fourth grade class ate lunch during the same period, students were not permitted to co-mingle with other fourth grade classes. Even though my best friend was in the same cafeteria, eating at the same time, she was in a different class. Translation: she was off-limits. Our elementary school cafeteria was as segregated as Epcot except the principle missed the memo about Disney characters and, oh yea, the fun. The lunch supervisors were more like commanders than cartoons, specializing in the dictating of rules and none of the lighthearted cheer of rides.
As was my usual practice, I took a seat at the end of Mrs. Fuller's table. I don't recall who I sat next to or if anyone ever extended the olive branch of conversation and good will. All I remember is cold cheese and the sound of reverberating echoes bouncing off the walls as hyper kids expelled their excess energy before 12:25 rolled around.

Fourth grade has long passed but the memory of a solitary lunch is fresh in my mind. Isn't it funny how, as a child, being alone is a horror? Especially when the rest of the room seems to have a friend, someone to laugh with and someone who might share a bite of their Lunchable. Fast forward twenty years and a solitary lunch doesn't look so scary. In fact, it looks downright peaceful and relaxing.
The table set for one from the elementary school perspective sounds like a dreaded way to finish a meal but in reality, a table set for one can be the perfect place-setting. You see, God doesn't always want us surrounded by a crowd of people nor does He always intend for us to have a boisterous circle of friends surrounding our every waking hour. Sometimes God just wants us alone and quiet. It is in those moments of solitude that we can hear the still, small voice of God speak to us over our Stromboli. Well, maybe not Stromboli. But you get the picture. Sof tonight you find yourself at a table set for one take a moment to bask in the unseen company of God's presence, say a little prayer and enjoy your meal.

The Winning Ticket

For days I walked past customer service lines that were longer than grocery lines. I watched the Trending feed display the rapidly growing jackpot as it exceeded the anticipated one billion dollar mark. I listened to the news release staggering, record-breaking statistics for ticket sales. I read stories of Powerball hopefuls passionately attach their dreams and wishes to six numbers and a paper ticket.
It seemed as if the whole country must have been watching the news at 10:59 PM on January 16, 2016. On that night six numbers were picked and read. Millions of ticket holders watched with high hopes that they would be that one in a 292.2 million. But by 11:00 PM nearly every ticket holder was no longer hopeful. Dreams of exotic vacations, mansions and Maseratis vanished in an instant as millions had to lay down their ticket with not a cent to show for it. Someone else - three someone's to be exact - had won the fortune. Someone else would be living "the dream."
Millions of people banked on winning a jackpot that they hoped would change their lives. Some people promised to help their family, their church and their town if only they were the winner. Others said they could finally be happy if only they had money and what they believed would be endless security.
I'd love to tell those Powerball losers that they were already winners before they ever bought a ticket. The truth is we're all winners. We all have in our possession the winning ticket, just waiting to be redeemed. Every single one of us can cash in the ultimate, eternal prize which is salvation in Jesus Christ.
On the cross of Calvary Jesus picked the perfect numbers on our behalf. He bought us eternal security and endless joy. Then He rose again, delivering us from the sorrow of our depravity and spiritual poverty. He ascended into heaven leaving us with that ticket, urging each one of us to cash it in and live abundantly in the light of the prize.
The Powerball certainly changes people's lives but usually not for the better. Forty-four percent of lottery winners end up broke within five years. The likelihood of family estrangement, divorce and relationship fall-out is higher for the winners than the losers. The financial jackpot doesn't necessarily translate to a life of happiness and ease.
There is only one route to true happiness and it isn't found in a paper ticket. It is found in cashing in on the salvation bought and paid for by Jesus, the Savior of the world. New life in Christ is the only way to have lasting joy and eternal peace.
A Powerball worth millions will certainly change your life but salvation in Jesus Christ will save it.

Double minded/double mastered

Do you remember the scripture about serving two masters? Chances are yes if you spent any time at all in a church pew or children's sunday school. The Matthew six passage is a classic. It is one of those verses that you don't have to try very hard to memorize. It sticks without much effort.
As Jesus tells us in verse twenty four of chapter six, you can't serve two masters because you will hate the one and love the other. Then He goes on to say that you can't love God and money. Note that He doesn't say you can't have God and money simultaneously. He says love. A big, and noteworthy, distinction.

But money isn't my point here. This scripture speaks to another, less preached about, truth: the double life. 

Jesus makes it clear throughout scripture, not just in Matthew chapter six, that to follow Him requires a deliberate decision to leave every other way of life. We choose to either be a slave to Christ or a slave to unrighteousness (i.e. sin and satan). Just like an earthly slave can't have two masters neither can we have two spiritual rulers. We are either ruled by God or we are ruled by evil. 

Despite Jesus making this simple fact blatantly obvious and crystal clear there are plenty of people, even Christians, who want to "have their cake and eat it, too." It is popular to claim Christ as Lord and yet refuse to leave the servanthood of the flesh. "Of course Jesus is my Lord and Savior but that doesn't mean I have to change my lifestyle. He'll love me anyways!" Sure, He'll love you. But He demands more of us than our acknowledgment. He demands that we lay down our lives. If we are going to claim Him then He wants us committed to Him. If we are to be His we can't be serving ourselves and following our own desire-designed rulebook. 

This is where Matthew six comes back into play - we can't serve two masters. We will always love the one and hate the other. We can't follow two masters. When one goes one way and the other goes in the opposite direction we will be forced to choose one over the other. If we aren't following Christ we might as well be walking straight off the edge of a cliff.
Following anyone other than Christ never ends well. 

We can't serve two masters with our lives, our hearts or our devotion. We can't serve two masters with our principles. We can't be obedient to two masters (especially two diametrically opposed masters). We will always disappoint the one and indulge the other. 

So I must ask myself, "who will I serve?" Will I try to lead a double life, claiming Christ while refusing to serve Him?
God never forces servitude. It is always voluntary. It may not sound like a desirable life choose - being a slave - but don't jump to conclusions too quickly. Consider this: we are always slaves to something. Either to the evil one or to the Almighty one.