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It’s been a while since I’ve sat down and talked with you like this. Since I’ve come without a list of needs or desires, hopes or hurts.
Since I’ve come simply to say thank you.
Thank you for grace. For your provision. For joy.
For her.
I came home today and she and I just talked.
And then one of her favorite songs came on.
And we danced in the living room.
Our living room, in our little house.
Surrounded by our yard that our dog loves to run in.
Our lives, my life.
Thank you.
You didn’t have to send your Son. You didn’t have to care so much. You didn’t have to love me the way you do.
You didn’t have to give me her, but you did.
And secondly only to finding the grace that You so freely give, she is my most precious gift.
Thank you.
Angel – Martin Smith
Some people collect photographs or records. Figurines or stamps. Coins or antiques.
Although I’m personally a fan of antiques, old postcards and good music, some of my most cherished collections are memories.
You can see them in the picture here.
Yes – I know they’re ticket stubs.
Little pieces of paper creased by time spent in my wallet, or faded by time spent in a drawer, a book or my bible.
They’re still memories.
The last time I saw Delirious live. The birthday present concert-slash-road trip to Tyler from my sister. The time my mom and I got to experience PBS’s Antiques Roadshow. Taking my other sister to the movies. Or the New Years Eve Symphony performance where I sat with my wife. Only, I didn’t yet know she’d be my wife.
Memories.
Ticket stubs. They’re not pretty, they’re not beautiful to look upon, or a creators greatest masterpiece. But it’s not the paper itself that holds the value. It’s where the paper takes me, it’s the stories the paper tells, it’s what the paper reminds me of, and its the hope these memories bring.
Memories of great experiences, of laughter and joy. Memories of moments that moved me to tears, or brought me to my knees in worship. Memories woven together with hope. Hope, because I am reminded how beautiful my life is. Hope, because I know I serve a God who loves me.
Hope. Because He left a book of memories, of stories, of hope, for my wife and I. For our families. For our futures.
Hope, because we’re not alone. And hope, because even when we face a mountain, we stand beside the mountain maker.
Jesus Culture Ft. Martin Smith – Walk With Me
God doesn’t hold your past sin over your head.
If you’re like me, you carry regret.
Regret of past sins, decisions you made and shouldn’t have or decisions you didn’t make and wish you had. Things done, words you wish you could shove back in your mouth or left things undone and unsaid.
Regret.
For some of us, it becomes a part of who we are.
And even though we hate the way it feels, even though we hate the loneliness it brings as it wedges itself between us and our dreams and loved ones, we begin to identify with it. It becomes part of how we see ourselves, and we never learn to walk free of it.
We never truly learn the meaning of the word grace.
At church this weekend, the worship leader took a moment and shared what he felt the Lord put on his heart. That being, that God doesn’t hold our sins against us. And that our lives don’t have to be governed by mistakes made years or even decades ago.
It spoke to me, deeply.
I realized that I’m still carrying regrets from decisions I more than 20 years ago.
I cannot change them. I cannot undo and unsay.
But I’ve realized that they are no longer a part of who I am.
They are a part of who I was. My history.
Covered by grace.
It’s time I forgave myself, encouraged my heart and told regret to leave and never come back.
I am not what I’ve done. I am not who I was.
I am not perfect, but I am loved. I am my Heavenly Father’s beloved son.
And because I am loved, I have everything I need.
Bethel Music – You Know Me
I am a big fan of the classic Christmas movies.
It’s a Wonderful Life, Mickey’s Christmas Carol, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Rudolph, Charlie Brown and many others harbor the beginning of wonderful memories for my wife and I.
As with most Christmas movie purists, I immediately look down upon newer attempts to capture spirit of this time of year like one would look down upon Handel’s Messiah being put to polka music.
However, Elf has broken through to the realms of tradition and has taken its place as a classic holiday movie.
It’s not about how funny the story is or how the family becomes a family because of Buddy’s presence. Although those things help the story, for me it’s the whimsy and wonder Buddy shows for all things new.
Blissfully ignorant of or directly because of the cynicism of the big-city dwellers, Buddy met Christmas trees, taxi cabs, the worlds best cup of coffee, revolving doors and tall buildings with the same wonder and innocent excitement that helped Jovie fall for him.
And as we celebrate the closing of one chapter and the beginning of a brand new one, I am challenged by the way Buddy met each day. Challenged to live a life that free of the fear of mans opinions, to stand in wonder of the wonderful things that surround us each day, challenged to fill our waking moments with the magic and whimsy we often allow only in our dreams. Because that is living life and that is my new years resolution.
You can think about a lot during your commute home. Especially if that commute takes you through a $3 billion (yes, billion) construction zone. And if that commute includes 4 disabled vehicles blocking one of two open lanes.
I thought about a lot. I worried about a lot. I wondered when the drive would end and if this was what hell was like.
But mostly, I worried.
I worried about finances, about our future, about making good decisions. I worried about Christmas and family and all the other things I couldn’t fix.
I drove, and I worried. And as I got ready for bed this evening, I realized how wrong I was.
My wife isn’t feeling well. And as we were saying goodnight yesterday evening, she asked me to read to her. So I did. And I read:
Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.
Matthew 10:29
I worried. For nearly 2 hours today I worried. And He’s already taken care of it.
I may make mistakes, I may not be perfect. I may face more long commutes. I may not have all the answers. But I am not alone. I am perfectly loved by a perfect Father.
And in that, I can rest.
Life is full of uncertainty.
I’ll avoid the clichés that tell us that the only thing we can be sure of is change or that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself. Because I know they’re just that, clichés. Poor attempts to capture in too few words truths we would rather ignore.
Uncertainty isn’t fun. Fear is real. Change is certain.
But we forget another truth that is central to life.
We are not alone.
And the more I realize this, the more my wife loves me, the more I lean into my Saviour, the more I learn that I don’t have to walk this life entirely self-sufficient.
It’s not an easy lesson to learn. For a long time, I was my best friend, I was my confidant. I was the only one I could count on.
But that’s changing. The walls are slowly coming down.
And as they do, they bring uncertainty, fear and change.
But they also bring color, joy and laughter. Peace, happiness and light. Love, hope and life.
I’ve got a long way to go before the walls are gone completely, but that is what this blog is supposed to be about. That is what life is supposed to be about.
When I look back on the chapters of my life I’m writing right now, I want them to be the pages I dog ear. The pages I remember fondly as the beginning of the best days of my life. The pages that make me smile. Because these are the pages where life began to lose its gray hue, where color over takes black & white and where life overtakes simply being alive.
Bethel Music – To Our God:
I spent four days in the hospital this week. Attached to IV’s. Healing from something I didn’t even know had attacked me. I didn’t know how to spell it’s name until Monday evening. And Monday afternoon, when that stomach ache kicked in, I had no idea where the week was headed.
And yes – I could sit here and question why it happened. But I’m choosing not to. Because I know the answer. There is an enemy that seeks to destroy us, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, physically. He attacked. We won. Moving on.
I spent the large part of the first two days on morphine. sleeping between doses as my body learned to deal with dinner via IV. The final few days I was more with it as my body was healing, I didn’t need the morphine, and I was better able to deal without food.
The hardest parts were the nights. I was exhausted. And I’d begin to doze off around 11pm but would snap awake at 12:30 and just lay there for hours.
In the middle of the night, when you’re lying in a dark hospital room unable to sleep, you begin to question, fear, and freak yourself out.
I didn’t want more medication to help me sleep. I simply wanted to go home.
But each night, all i had to do was look to my right, and there she was. My Eve, my Wife, my Bride. She stayed with me the entire four days. Burning through all the vacation time she had and some she didn’t. Helping me put my socks on, tie my hospital gown, sit up, sit down, use the bathroom, take a shower and anything else that gets very difficult with an IV stuck in your right hand.
She was there. She never left. And through those nights, her presence, and the presence of my Heavenly Father kept me going.
My Eve,
I love you more today than I did a week ago. I am more thankful for the time we get each day, and more conscious of the precious gift you are. I will never be able to repay you for this week. But I will spend every day trying to show you the same love you showed me.
You were courageous this week and you conquered something we never saw coming. You were gracious, forgiving, kind and gentle. In a word, you were amazing.
And you were by my side.
Thank you. I cannot wait to live the next pages of our story with you.
You are beautiful.
And I love you. Forever.
My wife and I attended a concert last week and while we stood there, surrounded by thousands of other people, waiting for the show to start, the fog machines kicked in. If you’ve ever been to a good show, you know the value of the fog machines. They bring the stage lighting to life. Without them, the lights simply project onto the back wall of the concert hall and have little effect but to make those in the audience squint.
But with the fog, they light up the night.
Hillsong United – Lights
And as the show continued and I stood in awe of the creativity behind such beautiful lights, it struck me. If we are a vapor, if our lives, as James 4:14 reminds us, are just a mist. If life is a brief as eternity tells us it is, then the simple truth that He chooses to love us is amazing.
If we are vapor, dust, then so be it. I will embrace what I am. And I will chose to spend every moment I can in the light. Because it’s when the mist, the dust, the fog chose to enter the light that the world takes notice.
It’s when the light envelops the fog that beauty is created, that we find our purpose, that the confusion of life slips away and we are reminded again that we were created for something more, for something amazing. We are reminded that we are His children, chosen for this moment. And in spite of our failures, our falls, our fears and all we face, He chooses to love us, call us His children, and welcome us home.
He brings the light for He is light.
And in Him, there is no darkness at all.
He is home.
The deepest things in life are deep for a purpose. They are not meant to be easily found or happened upon. They are meant to be desired, longed for, searched for and highly prized.
We don’t value what comes easy. And the deep things in life, the beautiful things in life are things of immense value. Their beauty is only truly appreciated and understood by one who has forged into the dark places and retrieved the jewel that laid there.
The pot of gold at the end of a rainbow?
No.
But the pearl at the bottom of the ocean.
The priceless painting in the remains of a home.
The diamond in the alluvial stream.
The dream in the ashes of your past.
Go there. Find the deep things. Your life wasn’t meant to be lived in the shallows. We were called to go deeper and to call others to what we find.
You have something beautiful, something of breathtaking value hidden deep within your heart. The one who is meant for you, the one you are meant to find is the one for whom you will plumb those depths. And they, yours.
But you will never find them, nor your purpose, nor the stunning breadth of color that life can instill in you unless you face the depths of your own life first. Find the beauty that is in you, that your Heavenly Father placed in you first.
Find that first.
And everything else will follow.
You are amazing, you are beautiful.
You have a purpose.
Find that, hold onto that, fight for that, and nothing on this earth will stop you.
Bethel Music – What Does It Sound Like
I try to keep a level head and not to get so caught up in something that I no longer seem grounded. But this is Christmas, this is different. And all those Hallmark movies and Christmas specials aren’t just trying to sell us something. They are echoes of a deeper truth.
There is magic in Christmas. There is excitement, joy, hope. There is a deeper sense of worth, a call to slow down and see the value in each other, and to share what we see in them with them.
My family isn’t perfect. We have no white picket fence. We have our issues and challenges. We have our scars and stories. But they’re my family. And as my wife reminded me tonight, we are not broken. We are not perfect, but we are not broken.
Why? Why do I hold to such hope when circumstances have been so hard? Because there is joy. Joy because we are not where we were. Hope in where we will be and excitement in what lies ahead.
There is value in each of us.
Christmas was just the beginning. The beginning of the story of all stories. Yes, it’s a hard story with moments of pain and loss. But in the midst of this story, and in the midst of our stories, joy, hope, redemption, value, healing, adoption, peace.
Life. Abundant, everlasting life.
So I have hope. I have Christmas. And I am blessed.
FindingTheCourageToDream.com 