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Better Part of Town [Distance between Virtue and Vice]

March 23, 2013 / Seán / 4 Comments

I hate to tell you this.
Or maybe I don’t…

Have you ever noticed that the most despairing realities all have this flip side that makes them cradles for hope when Grace steps in? When you shift enough to give them a look from the other side?

I walk down main street and my American sensibilities are shattered by the irony of this Southeast Asian reality.
Mansion, shack, mansion, shack, shack, mansion. What?

I meander down almost ancient streets in Latin America, find myself striding with purpose (and maybe a twinge of fear?) past one doorway, strolling past the next with perfect calm.

I guess that’s how they do it here. The distance between the good part of town and the bad is the thickness of a brick wall.
Seems so barbaric. Here, you know, we insulate ourselves. Our neighborhoods are zoned. And so we can rest easy on our sprawling front lawns knowing that all our neighbors are at least average citizens, and crime of any kind is at least 62 blocks away.

Whatever.

Do you know what has been pressed home to me this week?
Pressed home by the wanderings and returnings of my own heart, and photos of lands I love?

There is only one difference between the greatest bastion of virtue, and the “strongest bulwark of vice.”
You know what it is?

“One sin fostered.”

They’re built on the same street. In fact, they share the same address.

I don’t know about you, but that scares me more than a little.
And makes me run to Grace.

Jesus, forgive us.

The distance between the good part of town and the bad is far less than the thickness of a brick wall.

“The strongest bulwark of vice in our world is not the iniquitous life of the abandoned sinner or the degraded outcast; it is that life which otherwise appears virtuous, honorable, and noble, but in which one sin is fostered, one vice indulged.

To the soul that is struggling in secret against some giant temptation. . . such an example is one of the most powerful enticements to sin.”

It doesn’t take long to turn from light to darkness.

But then, it doesn’t take Grace long to turn one from darkness into light…
Glory be.

Bound to the Altar

March 15, 2013 / Seán / 3 Comments

See how his hand trembles, this giant of a man.

See how it fumbles with soft leather strap, almost inept.
Hear broken sobs, from the given heart.
Watch him blink away tears so he can see what he’s doing–
See to bind his son. His promised son.

By some reflex my head turns in real life, eyes squinted shut. As if to say “I don’t want to watch this happen.”

Amazing love.
But you know what I find almost more amazing?
See how his hand takes those straps, steady and strong.
See how he binds himself, soothes the broken, himself blinking away tears.
This strong son. The promised one.

Amazing love.

– – – – –

I pull out a second card. Because sometimes on sister’s birthday one card won’t say it all.

Four words– This morning I pondered with tears what it must take to stand like a rock, on a breaker out in the tide while the waves crash over. Like lighthouses do…

Because you, I, we… We’re out there, and the sandy shore from whence we’ve come is washing out, getting ever more distant. Carried away by churning foam while the water around gets deeper.

I mean, there’s the clinging, the scratching, the white-kunckled hold. But anemones and starfish have many more hands than we do. And none of them are permanent fixtures.

So it must be, that to stand rock-like, we need nothing less than to be bound to that rock by a power outside of our own. Greater than our own. Bound so firmly that neither fear nor fatigue can ever make us ask for release of reprieve.

Because it’s in the midst of the worst storms that the world most needs lighthouses…
Prisoner on the rock. …to the Rock.

Bind yourself there.

Love you forever.

Live By It [Motto #142]

March 13, 2013 / Seán / 2 Comments

I already have a motto.

But I write new ones constantly anyway.
Because I live best by truth thus synthesized. And because they come back when I need them when I do.

Seek nothing until you have sought God;
Seek nothing you cannot seek for God.

Because if what you are after can’t be pursued for the sake of Jesus Christ,
it isn’t worth pursuing.

The Soldier and the Cross [New Battlefields]

March 4, 2013 / Seán / 6 Comments

Fatigue propels me towards sleep. Sleep, only so peaceful under these circumstances.
I have only a week left, and as happens every time I am about to return to the “Land of the Free,” I have this burning…

I have been writing here. More, not less, than at home in fact. But those words are destined for published page, not the blog. Thus long silence.

In the mean time though, the moments before sleep claims my attention are filled with other things.
Like, this desperation that every friend I have in the great West would come to understand the extent of other battlefields, the importance of other battlefields…

And then I found this. It’s not a blogpost. It’s raw off of a journal page two years old. But it’s 570 words worth of what God will do with the life of every man or woman that claims victory over the battlefield between their own ears, and becomes available to God to go off a bit further…

Oh, make that every one of us, Your Grace…

A splattering of photos. More on Google+ and Instagram.

20 miles on jungle trails in the foothills of the Andes with these shoes. Happiness.

if only a photo could actually capture it…

hilltops full of Inca ruins…

I have learned that starlight is enough. Leave the flashlight at home.

multiple exposures. learning a new game.

home away from home.

that sky…

____________________________

February 2011:

When a child of the Highest finds himself at the foot of the cross, the first thing God does it to commission him as a soldier.

What do soldiers do? Fight.
And who do soldiers fight? Enemies.

David has a great deal to say about enemies. It seems he had a lot of them. Until recently I thought I didn’t have enemies… But now I realize I do.

My enemies are inside me. They seek my hurt. They watch for my life. They wait in the darkness, in the silence, to find a moment of weakness and send me plummenting to my death.

I have enemies alright.

And these I am commissioned to fight.

The first commission given to a soldier after he has knelt at the foot of the cross is the fight against his own selfish heart. The selfish heart is the farthest thing possible from the cross of Jesus Christ. It, (along with its cherished sentiments, pride, vanity, impurity, and a host of others) represents the first battle to be won.

But here is where many fail.
They fail to look beyond the first battle to the endless expanse beyond.

And after fighting the terrors inside teir own breasts, they come crushed to the foot of the cross– (the earnest ones do)

“I’m done. I’m broken. There is nothing left. I’m tired of being beaten to pulp. I can’t stand up, I can’t even sit up! All I can do is lie on my face, moan over my bruises, and try to survive. It isn’t worth it.”

And indeed, such an existence wouldn’t be.

But that is not the end of all things.
It is only the beginning.

For you see, a soldier lives entirely between the foot of the cross, and the battlefield.

But as he gets stronger, his battlefields change.
His enemies change.

It is God’s intention that the territory farthest from the cross, that inhabited by selfishness, pride, impurity…, should become His. He does not intend that the soldier should always be stuck down in the valley a day’s hike from Calvary.

One battle is to prepare the soldier for the next…
The distance between the battlefield and the foot of the cross grows less and less.
Until the soldier is no longer fighting for his life… But fighting for the Cross..

This is what it means to be a soldier.

And as the battlefield changes, so do the enemies. No longer are they demons out solo, trying to crush out one little life.

These are the legions, the best of the best (worst of the worst) and they are trying to uproot the cross itself.

But this soldier is the best of God’s best too. He’s a “Navy SEAL” of the kingdom of God. And with burning muscles, one arm around the cross and the other armed with his sword; his own blood spattering on the stones around him, he grips, he defends that cross. Nothing but death can separate them.

But that’s not all.
There is One sacrifice.
But there are thousands of crosses.

And so God comes to His special forces; those who cannot be separated from the cross and yet live. And looking lovingly upon them He asks for volunteers…

“See this cross?”
“Yes Sir.”
“I need this cross planted over there. in the heart of darkness.”
“I go, Sir.”
“You will spill your blood, and may lose your life.”
“But will the cross stand where I fall?”
“The cross always stands. I promise.“

Up And Away

February 6, 2013 / Seán / 11 Comments

Sunrise already finds me far from home, in an unfamiliar hub, bound for an unfamiliar continent.
But this feeling is familiar… This “it-never-gets-old” sense we always get when we’re perched on the edge of some new territory. Together.

Off we go. And not for a week or two, but for a month. Not sure if this trip goes by the label of ministry or mission… Probably some of both.

Pray for us in Bolivia, speaking first, then spending time in orphanages in the mountains. Pray we’ll have an over-abundance of love to give away in a land where the concept of family has been almost entirely destroyed.
And while you’re at it, pray we’ll find enough internet to post a photo or two between now and the middle of March. 🙂

This is No Mystery [Born to Fly Free]

February 4, 2013 / Seán / 18 Comments

What if I told you that every time I’ve ever found myself spinning my mental wheels in spiritual mud;
every time I’ve found myself wondering where my happiness disappeared to;
every time I’ve flown in my dreams only to wake up in the morning and find myself once again mercilessly tied to reality;
every time I’ve found myself confused;
every time I’ve been afraid to try, because I knew I’d fail;
every time I’ve gone ahead and tried, and, sure enough, failed;
and every time my confidence has been replaced with questions…

Every. time.–
It’s always been for the same, simple reason.

What if I told you that?
Would you believe me?

And what if I followed that sweeping statement up with this one:

One, single, highly uncomplicated little word has always brought me back to joy.

Would you, could you believe?

Well, [giggles]
guess what?…

– – – – –

I’m more than a bit ashamed to tell you this. But it’s the truth, and I’m going to tell you because every time dreams come true and I fly again (even while I’m awake) I find myself gripped with this desire to pass the gift of free flight to you. And this is the only way I know how…

So, I walk. Duck under and around, pick through muddy patches on the forest floor just undressed from it’s cloak of fluffy whiteness. I stop by one secret sacred spot, then turn to visit another. I’d rather walk than sit today, restless as I am.

I tussle with this emptiness. This emptiness I hate, especially since I know what it is to be full. And the gnawing drives me soon beyond words, and rather than ask, I simply listen. And quieter than a whisper on the wind, this God Whose voice I’m learning to recognize better and better, He marshals silent words and they press into my mind one at a time–

“There is. no. substitute. for obedience.”

Uh. What to do when God “quotes” you?

I sigh. He speaks only truth.

I don’t argue. But I am silent for a long, long time.

“But…
but it cross-grains my personality,

and my values,

and my family culture,

and my preferences,

and my conventions.”

“And your convictions?”

Silence again.

“Can’t I just…just…”

“Few things in the world are more dangerous than a soldier with a mind of his own.
And I know it crosses you. But I still ask it of you.”

How petty are the things we cling to, when compared with the joy of flying free.

I stop my pacing, straighten up to my full 5 feet 6, look steady at the open sky and with a twinge of fierceness born of resolution re-born, and answer:

“Yes. Yes.”

And I feel myself take flight again…

– – – – –

This is not rocket science. There is no mystery.

I spent the latter half of my prayer walk plotting against my enemies.
Namely, the three that are one, that make my dreams impossible. That limit my reach to that which is earthly. That confuse, confound, and cause to fear and to fail…

They are simply, Conditional Yes, Deferred Yes, & Incomplete Yes.

And all three of them are just fancy names for no.

I have learned that to negotiate, (that is, to plead for a compromise or conditions) to hesitate, (that is, to wait even three seconds before actuating obedience) or just plain letting the discussion trail off, robs me of life and joy.
It robs me of communion, and confidence.
It robs me of my wings.

And failing to answer yes to the seemingly insignificant blinds me to the realities of the significant…
And vice versa.

One word. Would you believe? It always takes me back to joy; makes God’s dreams come true.
One word.

“Yes.”

Here We Go!

February 1, 2013 / Seán / 6 Comments

Promise for the day:
Psalms 81:10 “Open thy mouth wide and I will fill it…”
Don’t take my word for it. Prove Him.

Charge for the day:
You think we know 10,000 people between us? I do.
And every one of them should have the chance to dare with us.
So, tell them. Text them. Facebook them.

Encouragement for the day:
It does get easier. It does.
But you’ve got to be willing for it to be hard first. 🙂

I declare this week coming to be “Pray-for-each-other-on-ScriptureTyper-week.”
Let’s see what God can accomplish.

Click your ST tab above and let’s go.

— [excited beyond belief. :)]

My Word of Honor

January 27, 2013 / Seán / 6 Comments

Sometimes my most lucid moments emerge from the calm of profound exhaustion. Not sure why.

Happy tired. Listening from the back seat to the cheerful chatter of people I just love, my head against the window…

“Ketchup please.”

“Lime or strawberry?”

“Did you get your fifth?”

Rubber purrs on pavement and we whistle along. Ski slopes behind, home before. Backdrop of sunset and rolling hills covered with a fir coat of pine.

“What page were we on?”

The book opens and the story goes on. An old fashioned tale of a century ago, alive with meaning and simple joy. I listen, but only with half of my head. Because forthwith I’m snagged by this old-fashioned story, and an old-fashioned concept that shouldn’t be remarkable, but is.

His word of honor.

Used to be, a fellow was slow to make a promise, because a promise meant something.

Mhm, mhm, yes. Doesn’t it still?

I don’t know. You tell me.

When I say a thing, can the world set their clocks by it, and keep good time?

When I say I’ll ____, do I actually deliver, or do I just try?

I’ll pray for you.

I’ll be there at 6.

I’ll remember.

Sure mum, can do.

I will.

I won’t.

I promise.

Really?
Really?

Darkness gathers over the high country. I pulse this resolve.
To treat every “Sure, I’ll…” like an old-fashioned promise.
My word of honor.

Revolution to Revelation

January 17, 2013 / Seán / 39 Comments

Because every revolution,
every revolution,
goes somewhere.

Ends somewhere…

– – – – –

We’re going to do this again.

I sat there like some of you did, arms folded, but soft.
And when he said we should, this symphony in me agreed…

I’d only been home a day or two when the same girls who dreamed up the last audacious charge tapped me on the shoulder. That made three.
And that three has already become a little army.

Maybe I’m a big dreamer.

Or maybe, just maybe I dare to believe that this generation is actually willing to be different than the last.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what it’s going to take to get us Home.

Revelation: Before Men and Angels.

Because every revolution worthy of the name goes somewhere.
And in our case, and in the case of the last 12 men to turn the world upside-down, that revolution existed for this one purpose: that Christ might be revealed to a world in darkness.

Revelation is the goal.
And memorization is the challenge.

Again, count me in.

– – – – –

But I’m dreaming bigger than just getting all of my friends to join.

(That is my dream. Already been up and down my street canvassing the neighbors. Ask them.)

I want all my friends to get all their friends to join.

Because that’s how a revolution spreads.

And just to be sure nobody can legitimately say “I haven’t got the time,” we’ve got two projects in the pipeline. Starting February 1st:

Revelation: Before Men and Angels

404 verses, or 1-2 a day.

OR (and? ;))

James: Before Men and Angels

108 verses, you do the math.

I think you can. And what’s more,

I believe you will.

And I believe your friends will too.

Because the only thing better than winning is winning together.

Determined Nation

January 8, 2013 / Seán / 2 Comments

di-ˌtər-mə-ˈnā-shən: firm or fixed intention to achieve a desired end…

Around the tree he goes. All business.
I stop to watch with mild amusement; my mind on other things.

Whether or not I can sense it, (I can’t) something was there. And his sense is strong enough that he won’t be easily put off. So he leaps and claws, and sniffs with this furious intensity, so excited he’s almost blind to his own opportunity…

I smell nothing, but I can see what he cannot.

“Listen, son.”

I have his attention.
“You might be able to actually get up there. But you’d have to start from here. See?”

I point to a new spot on the ground, then tap anchor points up the tree to well above my eye level.

“Then here, here, and here.”

I frankly don’t expect him to try. But I underestimate his determination.
He runs to where my finger started; whirls around. He doesn’t even pause to assess the viability of my suggestion.

He makes this scrambling charge, and he climbs.

He climbs to the point of no return, and just when I am thinking I should have thought this through better before making the suggestion, he flies out of the tree, squirrel-like.
And then he does it again. The whole thing. Nose working overtime.

He does it four times. Until his own nose and I finally convince him that what was there isn’t any more.
Crazy dog.
Or is he?

We turn to go. He, on to the next conquest.
I, to my thoughts in the quiet woods.

“Determination: firm or fixed intention to achieve a desired end…”

Intention fueled by the recognition of a reality the rest of the world totally missed.

What if we were like that?
I mean, the holy nation. The peculiar people…
Fueled by a recognition of a reality the rest of the world totally missed…

Who says the impossible is… impossible?
Dogs can climb trees. Especially if someone points out the way.
I can prove it.