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All too often we look at the story our lives have told thus far and we believe it to be mediocre, colorless and ordinary. We believe the lie that because we don’t have our happily ever after or our white picket fence that our story is somehow less important.
We believe that just because our stories are incomplete, unfinished and imperfect that they are unimportant, unattractive or unworthy of being shared.
We forget the central truth in the story Christ told with His life on this earth. We forget the simple beauty, the ordinary elegance found in the way he lived his life. He was free to see the worth in the stories of those whose paths He crossed because He knew their stories were unfinished.
He understood the value of the unwritten chapters and he saw value, preciousness and rarity where we would see stained pages, torn covers and empty chapters. He understood the power of hope in a page not yet turned. And the strength of dreams existing only in unspoken whispers of the heart.
He lived His life on this earth telling and showing us that the most important gift we could ever give another person was their freedom.
Freedom to be themselves, to fail and succeed, to try and try again. To jump headlong into the blank chapters, to impress ink to paper and bring life where there was once only emptiness.
He saw us not as we were, but as we could be, as our best. And He loved us in light of that perspective, that truth.
He loved, loves us not because we are perfect and have everything all together, not because our 5 year plan is right on track or we’re painting our picket fence next weekend. No, He loves us simply because He chose to, because it’s who He is.
And it’s because of that love that we get second chances, that blank pages become invitations to live incredible stories, that we never face the end, but that at the closing of each chapter, and at the closing of each book, we see to be continued.
And it’s in that love, because of that love, I found my to be continued.
And she is beautiful.
There are pages unwritten, stories to live, and love to grow. My point? It’s out there, for you. Find your to be continued. It is beautiful.
Trust me, I know.
Last night I spoke with a friend whose husband battles the same demons I’ve faced, the same demons I still face. And through that conversation, something was said that resonated deeply within me.
When a father and mother divorce, when that relationship meant to last for all eternity breaks, something inside their children breaks, too.
Divorce casts a long shadow. And although I am continually reminded that I am not my father, that my path is not his path, and that my destiny is not determined by the choices he made, there are moments when failure seems so real. When the ache is all I know.
When it hurts.
I’ve always struggled with the idea of God as a Father because my own father didn’t provide an example. But He is a Father. You see it countless times in scripture:
The Lord was with Samuel. And the Lord was with Joseph. And the Lord was with Joshua as He was with Moses. And the Lord was with Judah. And Saul was afraid of David because the Lord was with Him.
He chose to be with those men; men who committed murder, men who doubted, men who cheated on their wives. For all eternity He chose to have it be known that He walked with these men. He saw value where there was once only brokenness, He saw worth, where others saw nothing. He was with them. And if He could love them through all they had to face, then I know He is with me.
And if He is with me, then I know my story isn’t done. I know that I can look forward with hope to many amazing years of marriage to my beautiful wife. I know that my heart will continue to grow and that I will be able to love her the way I was meant to, the way Christ loves the Church. I know that my future isn’t written in stone, but is carried upon scarred hands.
We may spend the rest of our lives walking out from the shadow our earthly fathers cast upon our lives. But even if we do, we know the shadow is cast only because there is a much greater light that has always been burning, calling to us, telling us that we are not failures. We are not lost. We are not broken, incapable humans.
But that we are sons and daughters. Gifts to this earth. And we have something beautiful, unique and breathtaking to bring to those around us.
We were born for such a time as this.
We were meant to live and we were meant to live abundantly.
For I know the plans I have for you” — this is the Lord’s declaration — “plans for your welfare, not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope”
Jeremiah 29:11
Future of Forestry – Sanctitatis
The ground we trod is unstable.
And although we know this to be true in theory, we still find ourselves shaken, caught off guard, wondering why the earth trembled as we pick ourselves up off the ground.
Maybe this is because we were not created to walk an unsure path, maybe it is because part of us knows that humanity has fallen from its original purpose of living in paradise, of walking in perfection, of nurturing, loving and creating.
Maybe this is because some deep part of us remembers what life was supposed to be like. Beautiful, pure, full of light and color. And when the ground shakes, when we lose our footing and slip, we are reminded of this truth.
We were not created to live in a world like this. We were created for something more, for something deeper. We were created to bring and end to the shaking, peace where there is no peace, and stability where none existed.
But so often we look outside of ourselves for those answers. We look to others, our professions, our positions, our pay and our prestige or popularity for our purpose. We look to others to shore up our footing and to support our crumbling foundations. And we wonder why our walls crack when the earth shakes.
I was shaken this week. News of things I did not expect. Words came that shook the ground I walked upon, and like I’ve done so many times before, I wondered why I wasn’t more prepared.
I had taken my eyes from the One who holds the very ground I tread upon in His hands. My focus was on my surroundings, on my circumstances, on me. Because I wasn’t looking to Him I was caught unaware, and my walls cracked.
Life wasn’t meant to be lived in a perfectly painted house with walls that are plum and level. Yes, we should give our all when we build our lives, but if a bit of paint gets splattered, if there is a crack in the wall from those months when life ached, if there are patches on the roof and patches over patches, if there are spots where the paint doesn’t exactly match, or the shutters are two different colors, it’s OK.
We were never asked to build a life of perfection, we were asked to build a life of Love. And those patches, those cracks, they tell our stories. And when we do that, when we love because we were first Loved, we find our foundation. We find our peace. We find our stability and we find our purpose. When we live out of a place of love, we bring life to those around us, and, we bring hope to a world that needs it.
There is something to be said about the trials we go through in our lives.
They paint with colors and shades all their own. There is a beauty in those who chose to embrace the trial, the false accusations, the pain, and instead of shying away from the cup they are handed, chose to trust the hands that bled for them, and walk forward.
There is a love for the dawn enjoyed only by the few that have seen the darkest of the night. There is a love, an appreciation, a hunger and thirst for those first rays of sunrise that only those who’ve fought through the night know.
Trials make us, they change us, they alter our lives and force our lives to become altars.
We were never promised a road free from trials. Actually, the exact opposite was promised. We would have trouble in this world. We would see pain, we would see heartache. We would know tears. But we would also know in the very core of who we are, that our tears are not the end.
Yes, pain is real. And yes, horrible things happen to people who do not deserve it. And no, I do not understand it. But I know it’s not the end. I know that it’s not the final chapter of our stories. And if you’re reading this, it’s not the end of your story.
Because we know the One who is has given us then pen, and who holds the blank pages of our lives in His hands. And we know that He has seen the last chapters, He knows the end. And because of that, through the trials, through the pain, through the ache of losing a loved one or the heartbreak of a relationship shattered, we know it’s not the end.
And if it is not the end, then something better is.
“There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.”
-C.S. Lewis
You are at war.
How we got here, why it happened, none of it matters. And trying to understand each circumstance, trying to make sense of the insanity that at times swirls at our feet will only frustrate and disappoint.
You may never know the answers to why or how.
I know, I’ve tried. And the only truth I have found is that we are at war.
And to live this life, to truly live this life like it is meant to be lived, like you were created to live it, you must fight.
Lives of passivity are colorless, bland, full of grays. Never seeing black and white much less the rainbow of life lying just outside of our picket fences.
You are a promise. You are a song. You have something in you that only you can bring to the world. You have a shade of blue, a note of music, a particular stroke of the painters brush that no one else has.
You bring life to others, if you fight to bring that life first to your heart.
Above all, guard your heart, for from it, life springs forth.
(Prov. 4:23)
You will never understand what love does, you will never see the depth of color in a rainbow or the rays of golden honey pouring from a sunset in their purest forms until the life of the One who paints the heavens is alight in your heart.
Protect your heart, love passionately.Chase hard after your dreams because the world needs you.
This past weekend ended with my wife and I attending the wedding of a friend. It was a beautiful wedding, simple, elegant, pure. There were tears of joy, of laughter, and the very beginning of a brand new story. The wedding was what all weddings should be, wonderful.
During the reception we were blessed to sit with a husband and wife in their 50’s. A couple, old enough to be our parents. And they have an absolute lifetime full of stories to tell. The evening was quickly filled with stories of redemption, of second marriages and second chances for them both, and freedom from more than a decade of drug use.
But what stood out the most was that they were still in love. Madly in love. Sharing whispers and quiet looks, holding hands and laughing. You could just tell. They were just as in love now, as they were when they tied the not. And as they approach their retirement years, it was very obvious that there is more life and energy in them now than at any other time they’ve been alive.
The love they have for each other was beautiful.
I was humbled, and almost brought to tears.
Because I want that. For me, for my beautiful bride. For us.
I want to be the type of man who will be more in love with his bride in 20 years than he is now. I want to be the type of man who steals a glance and looks longingly at her from across the room when I’m 52. I want to be the type of man whose wife never doubts his love for her.
And part of me is afraid that I cannot be that type of man. Afraid because I never had that man as a father.
But I cannot hide there, in my circumstances. Yes, the fact is, my father was never the man he should have been. But I will not be defined by the path my father forged. I am fully capable of forging my own.
Beyond the fact that my earthly father may not have been there for me lies a truth I cannot ignore, my Heavenly Father was.
I know, it sounds like some pat answer, like I’m hiding behind my religion. I’m not. Because when I say those words, I don’t say them lightly. Those words carry weight because I can testify to the love I’ve seen from my Heavenly Father.
And it is that love, it is because of that love that I will forge my own path.
And I will be the man I want to be, the man my wife deserves.
I don’t understand. Not everything. Even when I pretend to be OK with the way things are, with circumstances and the way something turned out, with an unexpected ending, or a twist to our life’s story that I didn’t see coming, I don’t understand.
As much as we want for life to take us along the high places and as hard as we yearn for a life of mountaintop experiences, that was never promised to us. And if you stop for a moment and look back at your own stories, I know you’ll find pages written in your own hand, stained with your tears. Pages you wish didn’t exist. Pages filled with pain.
We all hide those pages.
We tell ourselves we’re hiding them from others, but in reality, we’re hiding them from ourselves.
Why?
Because they don’t make sense. Because in our limited world view, we cannot reconcile a loving God with horrific memories. We cannot understand how the God of peace allows such things to happen. The pages written in our own hand don’t line up with the pages penned by the God of the universe.
And when something that big doesn’t make sense, everything we believe begins to tremble.
So we begin to believe something is wrong with us. If God is perfect, and our world consists of God and us, then we must be the one at fault. Even though we cannot understand it, even though it doesn’t make sense, even though it feels like we’re denying something deep within us that is in it’s own way truth, we hide those pages. We pretend the scars don’t exist, we pretend that we don’t see ourselves, daily, as broken individuals.
We pretend. And we pretend that we pretend for others. But in reality, we pretend so it’s easier to lie to ourselves.
We’ve forgotten something. Something important. Something we knew as children, something that our favorite movies and books tell us. We’ve forgotten that we are not the only ones in our story. There is God, there is each of us, and there is an enemy.
John Eldredge said that
“Of all the eternal truths we don’t believe, this is the one we doubt most of all…. You are not what you think you are. There is a glory to your life that your Enemy fears, and he is hell-bent on destroying that glory before you act on it.
This part of the answer will sound unbelievable at first; perhaps it will sound too good to be true: certainly, you will wonder if it’s true for you. But once you begin to see with those eyes, once you have begun to know it is true from the bottom of your heart, it will change everything.
The story of your life is the long and brutal assault on your heart by the one who knows what you could be and fears it”
Do not be mistaken. There is an enemy. He is real. And he is desperate to destroy you.
Your days are not accidental. Those tear-stained pages are not shameful pages. They shouldn’t be hidden. They are your glory. They are proof that you are valuable. That you are worth something precious. Those pages hold the stories that carry freedom in them. You were created by a loving God. A God who cares intimately about you, about where you are, right now. About what you’re worrying about. You were created, specifically, for this time. And you have a purpose that only you can fulfill.
In those pages lie the words, the stories, that others need to hear.
For it is in those stories that this loving God cared for you. And if you ask Him, He will show you.
You never walked alone.
And those pages? Those aren’t just your tears. He cried to.
Matt Redman – Never Once
Tonight was an amazing night of friends and laughter. But tonight was more than that, it was more than just veggie trays, games and the sounds of fun. Yes, tonight reminded me of how rich life is, but it also reminded me of how much I chose to miss out on.
I sat surrounded by people whom I love, but I realized, these are also people whom I do not know well enough.
We weren’t just called to be friends, we were called, created for fellowship. We were called for something more than laughter, we were called to be there through the tears as well.
I realized this evening that although I sat surrounded by friends, I couldn’t tell you what each one dreamed about. I couldn’t tell you there stories, not the stories that made them who they are.
I realized tonight that as rich as this life is, we shortchange ourselves when we are not who we were created to be. When we put on a false front, pretend all is well, and are not true to ourselves and our dreams, we are forced to settle for a life of muted color, stripped of its power and devoid of depth.
I realized tonight, again, that it’s in the lifelong relationships forged from the sharing of ones heart that we find true beauty. It’s in those relationship that life is found in its richest of color, in its most brilliant of light and in its deepest depths.
I want that. I want to see those I love in the brilliance of who they are, painted in their true colors.
I will start with the friend, companion, person closest to me, my wife. I want to know everything there is to know about her. Her dreams, passions, desires, her hurts, fears and longings. I want her heart to know it is safe with me. Safe to paint, to dream, to create. For she is amazing, beautiful and mysterious.
Tonight reminded me of the things in this life that matter the most. As I sat, surrounded by friends and family, and as we gathered to celebrate a brief homecoming of a solider and friend, it clicked. I realized that I have an amazing life. And that the people in that room, eating from veggie trays and laughing at inside jokes, these are the people that make life beautiful. My wife and our friends are the richest of gifts I’ve ever been given. Tonight, I am humbled and thankful because tonight, I know I am wealthy in ways money will never buy.
I may not change overnight, but I will start now.
I don’t own a wallet. Long ago I traded it in for the smaller size of a money clip. But there are certain things about a wallet that I miss. It’s hard to carry receipts, or much of anything really, in a money clip. You cannot fit that picture of the old gang at the county fair, the stub from the big game, or the fortune from that Chinese food restaurant with the hilarious waiter.
Why do we carry such items? Do I really need to know when I saw Castaway? Or when I had second row seats to Future of Forestry? Do those little pieces of paper, stubs, receipts, pictures, mean anything?
In and of themselves, no, they do not. But they represent memories. And memories, more than anything, are what make up life.
Memories are stories to tell.
Stories of the time you stayed up until 4am at Waffle House, simply because the person you were with made it hard to say goodnight. Or that time you and your family laughed so hysterically at absolutely nothing while driving through Chicken Express that the wait staff seemed almost certain you were on illegal substances.
Our wallets, our pursues hold not only paper and plastic, but stories to tell, stories that bring depth to life and color to our worlds.
I don’t carry a wallet, but if I did, there are certain stories it would tell you about the last 6 months. Stories of love, of hard work, of doubt and uncertainty. And stories of doubt and uncertainty swallowed up in love and grace. Stories with impossible odds and stories of the God of the impossible coming through when we saw no way.
My wallet would have pictures of 4am at waffle house, of beautiful thunderstorms and views of the city from high atop its quiet parking garages. And it would have pictures of this amazing woman who has chosen to love me, and whom I love.
I may not carry a wallet, but in its place, my heart carries memories. Memories and reminders of a God who is faithful, even when I am not. Of the love of a woman I do not deserve, but am so thankful for and memories of a life I am only beginning to live.
The thing I love the most, isn’t just the memory, but what that memory ultimately stands for.
Hope.
I have hope, faith, in a God who has come through when we needed Him. I have hope, knowing He loves us. I have hope knowing that He wants the best for us and that He is good. I have hope knowing that His heart for us is good.
I have hope, a knowing, that the God I serve is good beyond all other good. I have this hope, because He has shown it to me.
The God I serve loves me unconditionally, beyond all I could imagine.
I have hope, because He has given me hope.
Matt Redman – Holy
If, at the beginning of this year, you would have told me all that would happen before it would draw to a close I would have thought you were crazy. There is no way I would have believed you.
Had you told me that on December 24, I’d be vanquished to the guest bedroom of my future in-laws house as my fiancé tried on her wedding dress just on the other side of the door, I would have questioned our friendship. And I probably would have quietly wondered if you should be committed.
The moral of this story, of this year? To be honest, I’m not sure. But I think the lesson I am supposed to learn is that we never know. We never know what our stories will bring. We never know what lies over the next hill, or around that next corner.
I sat in church this evening, and something finally clicked. I think I finally began to understand why. Why we define our very timeline, our history, our years by the birth of One. Why it had to happen.
You see, over the past few months, my life, my heart, my soul have all changed. I’ve discovered a love I didn’t know existed. And it’s because of this love, this amazing gift I’ve been given, that I believe I’m finally beginning to get Christmas.
I am only tasting the type of love that God has for us. But through this gift, through the love that has planted itself in my heart for my fiancé, I’m beginning to taste it. And I’m beginning to understand why a perfect God would love an imperfect people as much as He does.
Why Christmas? What was it all about?
You.
You are the reason for Christmas. You are the reason that a perfect God sent His only Son to live a perfect life. You are the reason that His son died a gruesome death. You are the reason He came.
He loves you. More that you could possibly understand. And this season, more than anything, He wants you to know that you are worth it. You are worth what His son went through. His love for you was so strong that He sent His Son 2000 years ago to die in your place. This Son paid the price for your imperfect life, so you could spend eternity with a perfect Father.
You. You are worth it. And He? He can be trusted.
Whatever happened this year, I urge you to let it go. Because you do not know, and I do not know what lies beyond that next hill, or around that next corner. I do not know what 2012 will write onto our hearts. All I know is that this year, my heart grew to include an amazing woman. A woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. And all I know is that He brought us through this year. And He can be trusted.
I do not know what 2012 will bring.
But I know the Author. I know He loves us. And that, is Christmas. And that is everything
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