John Eldredge's Blog, page 8

Restoring Hope

“We could sure use some hope right now.”

I was chatting with a friend last week about the things going on in our lives and in the world, when she said this. We weren’t talking about major loss, or suffering—just the way everyone seems to be facing some hard thing or another. There was a pause in the conversation, and my friend—normally a very buoyant woman—said, “We could sure use some hope right now.”

We sure could.

Hope is one of the Three Great Treasures of the human heart: “Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love” (1 Cor 13:13). A life without faith has no meaning; a life without love simply isn’t worth living; but a life without hope is a dark cavern from which you never escape. These things aren’t simply “virtues.” Faith, hope and love are mighty forces. And hope is the cornerstone; the fate of the other two depend upon hope’s resilience:

... we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus

and of the love you have for all God’s people

—the faith and love that spring from hope... (Col 1:3-5)

Isn’t that surprising—both our faith and our love “spring from” or “result from” our hope. But of course. Hopelessness makes it impossible to care. Without hope faith is just a doctrine gathering dust on our shelves. The highest things that make a heart worth having and a life worth living—they rise or fall upon the condition of our hope. Which makes hope the mightiest force of all (love is the noblest; hope is the linchpin.)

It would be good to pause and ask yourself, How is my hope these days? The answer may be

startling to you.

Because it is such a very precious thing, you want to be careful with your hope. So much of the disheartening and devastation that the soul endures comes from misplaced hopes. Hope is one of your heart’s greatest treasures; it is a dangerous thing to let your hope go wandering.

Now, Christianity was supposed to be the triumphant entry of an astonishing hope breaking into the world. A hope above and beyond all former hopes. An untouchable, resilient hope.

But I’ll be honest—far too often what gets presented as the “hope” of Christianity feels more like a bait-and-switch. “We understand that you will eventually lose everything you love; that you have already lost so much. Everything you love and hold dear, every precious memory and place is going to be annihilated, but you get to go to this New Place Up Above!” Like a game show, where you don’t win the car and the European vacation, but you do get the luggage and the kitchen knives. This is the hope that is “the anchor of the soul” (Hebrews 6:19)???

The world doesn’t believe it. And we must understand why. When you consider all the heartbreak contained in one children’s hospital, one refugee camp, one war-torn city in one day—then multiply that by the factor of the entire human race, times history...It would take a pretty wild, astonishing, and breathtaking hope to “overcome” the agony and trauma of this world.

Enter Jesus and his “gospel.” The way he chooses to describe the wonderful news of the kingdom of God is absolutely stunning:

I tell you the truth: at the renewal of all things, when the Son of Man sits on his glorious throne...everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life. (Matthew 19:28)

At the renewal of all things?! The coming kingdom means the renewal of all things? That’s how Jesus understood it; that’s how he described it. “The re-creation of the world,” “when the world is made new” (The Message, NLT). A promise so breathtaking, so shocking and beautiful I’m stunned that few people even know of it. Oh yes – we’ve heard quite a bit about “heaven.” But Jesus is clearly not talking about heaven—he’s talking about the recreation of the earth we love.

We have been looking for the Renewal all our lives. It has been calling to us through every precious memory and every moment of beauty and goodness. It is the promise whispered in every sunrise. Every flower. Every wonderful day of vacation; the birth of a child; the recovery of your health. The secret to your unhappiness, the secret to your being and the answer to the agony of the earth are one and the same: we are longing for the kingdom of God. We are aching for the restoration of all things. That is the only hope strong enough, brilliant enough, glorious enough to overcome the heartache of this world. “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure” (Hebrews 6:19). The renewal of all things is the most beautiful, hopeful, glorious promise ever made in any story, religion, philosophy or fairy tale.

And it is real. And it is yours.

Our job is to “grab the promised hope with both hands and never let go. It’s an unbreakable spiritual lifeline” (Hebrews 6:18 The Message). Grab hard, hold tight friends.

PS- We are now accepting applications for the May 2017 Become Good Soil Intensives in Colorado and Australia. Find out more here.

Soul Care

September 2016

Dear Friends,

Thank you for all your loving care this past month - your kind notes, posts, and emails surrounding Craig’s passing have been such a gift to us. Thank you for your prayers as well; we feel upheld. Lori feels upheld, too.

I thought a few words on soul care would be timely this month - not just because of our story, but because every time I get a chance to have an honest conversation with someone, I'm reminded that there are very few people whose life is a houseboat in paradise right now. It is a time to practice soul care, and so I have been asking Jesus what that looks like for me.

One of the things that accompanies grief is anger – not so much anger at God, but anger at death, anger at suffering, anger at the “wrongness” of the world groaning for the restoration of all things. So a few weeks back I walked into the woods with a box of shells and a Remington 870, and began blasting away with abandon at tree stumps and fallen logs. I felt a keen need to blow things to smithereens, and a twelve-gauge at close quarters certainly does the trick. The explosive concussion of the blasts, flying fragments of wood and clouds of dust made me very happy. I was practicing soul care.

Now, let me put your hearts at ease - I am well. Our team is well. Anger is part of the grief process and you’ve got to do something with it. I realize that I am in a heightened state of sensitivity, in this season of grief, but I am finding it revealing for that very reason. I can tell immediately what helps and what hurts my soul, what draws it towards restoration and what simply wears it down even more. It is very enlightening.

Even though I usually enjoy vegging out over international soccer or some nature show, I can’t do TV. Isn’t that fascinating? It simply does not feel nourishing. At this moment the person sitting next to me on this flight I’m on is watching Gladiator. Normally, I love that movie, and I watch over their shoulder. The scene right now is the big coliseum battle, but every time I look over, while part of me is drawn in to the fight, the deeper part of my soul cringes; it is not helpful right now. It makes me wonder what I normally subject myself to. There is research that indicates simply watching traumatic events does damage to the soul - and if you consume any TV or movies at all, you have seen thousands of traumatic events.

I also needed to give up stimulants for a bit. Caffeine, sugar, nicotine - all those things we use to prop up our daily happiness over time burn out the soul. Because the soul can’t always be “on.” I was in one of those gas station quick marts the other day, and I was shocked at the entire cooler devoted to “energy drinks.” It used to just be Red Bull and a few others; now there are dozens and dozens. They take up more space than water. We are forcing our souls into a perpetual state of anxiety, and that is super damaging.

But I did take up comfort food. BLT’s in particular. Yes - I’m completely aware what I’m doing; I am medicating. But sometimes you need a little comfort food. Notice the Psalmist says, “My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods” (Psalm 63:5). (I don’t have an eating disorder; food is not on my list of possible addictions. If it is on yours, choose something kinder as your comfort.)

But of course, there is a huge difference between relief and restoration; much of what provided me relief in the past is not helping my restoration. The state of grief is giving me fresh perspective on what actually helps my soul grow strong, and what doesn’t. Allow me to share my current personal observations, as a way of stimulating your own reflection…

Helpful: Generous amounts of sunshine. Gardens, the woods - everything living and green. Long walks. Lonesome country roads. Swimming. Beauty. Music. Water. Friendly dogs (I’ve never understood it when someone says to me, “Yeah - we’re not really dog people.” That’s like saying, “Yeah - we’re not really joy people”). Chocolate. Kindness. Compassion. Not expecting myself to produce the same level of work I normally accomplish in a day. Yard work. Building a fence.

Unhelpful: Grocery stores. Malls. Television. Traffic. Draining people wanting to talk to me (friends and family are at this moment wondering which category they fall into. It’s quite simple - draining people are those who live out of touch with their own soul, and thus mine). Airports. The news - especially politics. Social media. Your typical dose of movie violence.

Now - which cluster of the things I've just named make up most of your weekly life?

Do you begin to see how essential soul care is?

“Soul care” is not a category for most people. They don’t plan their week around it. Maybe it feels unnecessary; maybe it feels indulgent. It certainly wasn’t a category for me for too many years. But my friends, the harsh reality is this: life is probably going to get worse on this planet before it gets better; all signs indicate it is getting worse at an alarming rate. “If you have raced with men on foot and they have worn you out, how can you compete with horses? If you stumble in safe country, how will you manage in the thickets by the Jordan?” (Jeremiah 12:5). In other words, if you think this is hard, wait till the dog squat really hits the fan.

We are going to want our souls strong and ready for the days ahead, not weary and weak. We are going to need our souls strong. So we must practice soul care. I, for one, am trying to make room for it as part of my “routine.” It really is helping.

Hope these thoughts are helpful. And thank you again for all your love and prayers! We really do need them!

 

Love,

John and the RH Team

 

PS If you would still like to honor Craig with a donation to the McConnell Memorial Fund, you can do so in the envelope provided, or online at ransomedheart.com/Craig. Those funds will be used to carry forward the boot camps around the world that Craig so loved.

 

We Live Forever

 

August 2016

Dear Friends,

That word – friends – feels so comforting to me right now, as I write you the kind of letter you never want to have to write, but wouldn’t not write for the world. I need to share some words about the passing of our dear friend, colleague, comrade, abbot, Craig McConnell.

Most of you know that Craig was in a seven-year battle with cancer. A battle with some highs and terrible lows; a battle he fought valiantly. Many of you prayed earnestly for Craig and Lori over those years, and we are so grateful. Suddenly, back in June, there was a startling turn of events: a CT scan revealed that Craig's leukemia had transformed into an aggressive lymphoma, and barely eight weeks later he ended his pilgrimage here on earth. Craig was at home; he was not in pain; Lori was right there with him, along with his daughter Lindsey and son-in-law Jon. On the first of August, at 6:30am, Craig took his last breath, and exhaled. It had been a still morning; at that moment a wind blew into the house, lifting the curtains, swirling around the room for more than thirty minutes. Holy. So holy.

But so very hard now for those who have to say goodbye.

It all happened so fast. I hope this isn’t the first you are hearing the news; we have been sharing our journey via social media and on our podcast. I’m truly sorry if you are learning of Craig’s passing for the first time as you read this. Jesus - catch our hearts. There are so many things to say. I want to talk about his life; I want to talk about grief; about the centrality of hope to the Christian faith.

Death is such an assault on the soul. Having someone you love, someone you have shared so much life with, suddenly yanked from your life is a violent and disorienting experience. Death is so hostile, so explosive to God's design for us, the soul experiences it as trauma. This wasn’t meant to be. I think that was part of the tears we see in Jesus’ eyes, as he stands at his friend Lazarus’ tomb - This wasn’t meant to be. Our souls were never meant to go through this, so we reel like a ship in high seas. I’m grateful for Jesus’ tears. Even though he knows he is about to raise his friend from the dead, there are tears. That provides space for our hearts to express our tears, too.

We know we will see Craig again; we will have him forever. All the playfulness, the kindness, the wisdom, his quirky humor - we will enjoy forever. Craig is our friend, forever. What we are grieving is missing him now, in the meantime. It’s the small things that wreck me. I was in his office the other day, and the little red “you have voice mail” light was blinking on his phone. I thought, That will never get an answer.

There is a hole in the world now. A center like no other of memory and hope and knowledge and affection which once inhabited this earth is gone. A perspective on this world unique in this world is gone. The world is emptier. (Lament for a Son)

The world is emptier; there is a really big hole in the world now. Craig was such a vast, colorful, rich soul.

He loved equally the Rolling Stones and killer worship; on any day you’d find one or the other cranked full-blast in his office. He loved to joke; his humor could have you gasping for air. He would also stop on a dime and listen with compassion and kindness to someone’s life story. He loved sitting on the beach in board shorts and flip-flops with a good autobiography (boy did he love vacation). But he also loved being on mission, loved Boot Camps – especially his one-on-one opportunities fighting for men’s hearts. He loved a good Manhattan and Lori’s gourmet cooking; he also loved a taco truck and Cheetos. He loved the mountains of the high Sierras; he loved the cliffs overlooking the Pacific in Palos Verdes; he loved his back porch in Colorado and he especially loved his favorite chair, early in the morning, with a cup of coffee and the scriptures.

He would show up at our Christmas party in a Santa suit; he’d even wear it standing out on Pacific Coast Highway in California, waving to passing motorists. He had a legendary snore; we recorded it echoing off canyon walls on a camping trip (after which he totally denied it could be him). He had a jackalope hanging on his office wall, wearing mardi gras beads. Next to it are volumes and volumes of his vast library on theology, counseling, and leadership. Next to that a bumper sticker that says, “Jesus loves you. Everyone else thinks you’re an ass*@!!.” He loved the true Gospel – loved to teach, loved doing podcasts, writing blogs, speaking at events. Whatever counseling issue you brought to his office, you’d leave with a deeper connection to God. His life was all about Jesus, and the Larger Story.

As Craig was making the hard decision to leave treatment down in Houston, and return home for what he knew would be the end, he said, “I don’t want to die fighting cancer; I want to die loving people.” That is vintage Craig McConnell. And he did; he sure did. He loved people, and he loved God, right through the finish line. As I sat with him for the last time, I was able to say, "Craig - you won. In everything that is important, you won."

And now he is fighting the Great Battle from heaven’s side.

Surely you understand that Craig is not dead; not even close. He’s not in “eternal rest.” Not asleep; not at the everlasting church service in the sky. He is more alive, more himself, and more in partnership with Jesus than ever. Either this is true, or nothing Jesus said was true.

I’m not sure what you’ll do with this, but I saw him, just the other night. I was asking Jesus to show me His Kingdom, and suddenly I saw Craig. He was surrounded by a company of people. It was not a party, not his homecoming; that apparently had already taken place (this was about a week after his passing). It was a sober gathering. I saw Craig standing in the middle, and then bow his head. I saw Jesus before him, placing over his head and onto his shoulders some sort of medallion, or reward, or symbol of office. As I was sharing that picture with Alex on our team, before he even knew what I was about to say, Alex heard from God, It was his promotion. The day before I received an email from an ally who knew nothing of this story; the title of the email was “Craig’s promotion.”

Craig has joined the Great Cloud of Witnesses who “reign with Christ” from heaven’s side. He has become a general in the Kingdom.

Death, of course, tries to present itself as the ultimate reality. It is brutal, and filled with so much mockery. Death wants to make everyone think it is the real end. It feels so final. But it is here that Christianity shines like no other view of reality. For we know that death has been defeated. “Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die’” (John 11:25-26). This is the most stunning news in all worlds: Death is defeated. You live forever.

Craig believed this with all his heart, and he is experiencing it full-blast now. Mardi gras beads and all. With some of his last cogent words he wanted to share the news of his passing himself, so he dictated a few words to his daughter:

“I want to say goodbye, dear friends. I want to thank you for the role you have all played in my life. Til Heaven, Craig"

That “til heaven” is everything. Everything.

Goodbyes are brutal; I hate goodbyes with all my being. And thanks to Jesus, thanks to all he has won for us, we know that we never actually say goodbye to a brother like Craig. Instead we say, “I’ll see you soon.” And what a difference that makes; it is all the difference in the world.

Now I am aware of the ridiculous limitations of a newsletter. I can’t do anything justice here, so let me say that we’ve devoted our four August podcasts to the story, and some beautiful words from Craig’s prior recordings. You might find those meaningful to listen to now. We are also making the video of his memorial service available online. You can find all that at ransomedheart.com.

We have established a memorial fund in Craig’s honor, to carry forward the boot camps he so loved around the world. You can make a contribution online or in the envelope provided (please mark your check “McConnell Fund”).

Finally, friends – there’s that wonderful word again, friends – we do need your prayers. This was a long, long journey for Lori, their children and grandchildren. They need your prayers. Craig leaves a massive hole at Ransomed Heart now, and we need your prayers, too. Thank you so much.

All mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again, for that library where every book shall lie open to one another. (John Donne)

I am so deeply looking forward to sharing all those stories, our stories, when our scattered leaves are gathered up again by the Hand that wrote them all. My ache for the Kingdom is greater than ever. Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

Meanwhile—we advance the Kingdom. We hasten the day.

With much love,

John

From Glory to Glory

At 6:30 Monday morning, Craig was completely healed. He is in the Presence of God and seeing Jesus face to face. He has moved from glory to glory.

 

He was at peace, surrounded by his beloved family.

 

We will share more in the days to come.

Important News on Craig McConnell

Friends and Allies of Ransomed Heart, I have some hard news I need to share with you... 

 

Most of you know that our dear Craig McConnell has been in a seven-year fight with cancer. So many of you have been praying earnestly for Craig and Lori over these years, and we are all so very grateful. Suddenly, over the past 6-8 weeks, there has been a startling turn of events. Craig's leukemia transformed into an aggressive lymphoma, and Craig is now in hospice as he nears the end of his pilgrimage here on earth. He wanted to share the news himself, so he dictated a few words to his daughter:

 

"Wow, things can change so fast. So fast it strikes you as wrong, unfair. I was a hair away from remission. Then a rather routine CT scan rang our bell. Now I am fighting stage 5 Richters Transformation of CLL. I want to say goodbye, dear friends. I want to thank you for the role you have all played in my life.  

 

Til Heaven, Craig"

 

I know, I know - we are reeling too. It all happened so fast. And yes - every route towards healing has been pursued. But there is a time, dear friends, for every saint to take the sacred passage into the full Kingdom. This is not defeat; for the Christian, death is a mighty victory because we know that we do not EVER die. But at some point in life we do leave our frail bodies and step into the fullness of the presence of God. Every person takes this journey. "For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die" (Eccl 3:1-2). Even Jesus took this journey. And now, Craig's time is drawing near. Hospice is always an unpredictable stage, he may have days or weeks left. He has fought a valiant fight. As Stasi and I sat with Craig and Lori yesterday I was able to say, "Craig - you won. In everything that is important, you won." He has loved God and people so stunningly well, through it all. He has championed the faith. He is about to finish his race now.

 

There is so much more to say and I know we will devote some podcasts and more to you on this story. 

 

For now I need to alert you to a couple of things...

 

Please do not reach out to Craig and Lori at this time. They are surrounded by their children and grandchildren, and by a community of intimate friends. Further contact will be a burden and I know you wouldn't want to increase the burden.

 

I also need to let you know that after hours of prayer and deliberation, we hear Jesus counseling us to cancel the August Boot Camp and the October Captivating events. This has been a long and heartbreaking journey for our team, which is like a small family. We need to be honest about the cost to us, and what the next few months will be like as we grieve Craig's passing. We will contact those registered for the events immediately; please wait for our email giving you further instructions on how you can carry your registration forward to the next event.

 

Meanwhile, I know I can call upon your prayers - for Craig, and Lori. For their children and grandchildren; for our team as we navigate these deep waters. We do need your loving prayers.

 

I wrote this article a few days after receiving Craig's news; I think it will help your hearts in this as it is helping ours.

 

I will be back to you with more as this story unfolds. For now, we remember that, "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints" (Ps 116:15).

 

In Love, 

reeling, 

but held by Jesus so closely, 

and rejoicing that death has lost its sting,

 

John and the Ransomed Heart team

Spirit of the Age

July 2016

Dear Friends,

This may be one of the most important letters I’ve written you.

I want to deepen our understanding about something I wrote you last month—how Hatred has become the new “spirit of the age.” I wrote that before the police shootings in July. The mounting racial tensions in this country are symptoms of a much deeper reality. We need to grasp what is taking place in our world, so we know how to live and how to respond.

In the Beatitudes Jesus warns against murderous rage and consuming lust. I don’t think that was by accident; I don’t think he randomly chose two vices from the litany of human sin. The more you understand the essence of human nature and human conflict, you understand what Jesus was pointing to.

Human beings are ravenous. A famished craving for life haunts every person. We crave fullness; it is our design. We were created for unceasing happiness, and joy, and life. But ever since we lost Eden, we have never known a day of total fullness. We are never filled in any lasting way. Human beings are like cut flowers—we appear to be well, but we are cut off from the Vine. And we are ravenous. Until we return to God and actually abide in him, until we experience God as our daily source of life, we are desperate creatures, lustful creatures. We look to a marriage (or the hope of marriage), a child, our work, some food or drink or adventure, the next dinner out, the new car—anything to touch the ache inside us. We are ravenous beings. That is why Jesus warned about consuming lust.

Then, the world does not cooperate. Far from it—the world gets in the way of our ravenous ache. It constantly thwarts us. People don’t treat us as we long to be treated; we can’t find the happiness we crave. Our boss is harsh, so we sabotage him. Our spouse withholds sex, so we indulge online. The ravening won’t be stopped. But boy o boy—when somebody stands in the way of our desperate hunger, they feel the fury of our rage. We are ready to kill. People shoot each other over traffic incidents. Parents abuse a baby who keeps them up at night. We shred one another in social media over political disagreements. That is why Jesus warned about murderous rage.

This is the human condition: ravenous, and ready to kill anything that gets in our way.

Now, enter two more dynamics. The first is the hour in which we are living. These are the last hours of the age, and Scripture describes them with startling clarity:

…in the last days there will be very difficult times. For people will love only themselves and their money. They will be boastful and proud, scoffing at God, disobedient to their parents, and ungrateful. They will consider nothing sacred. They will be unloving and unforgiving; they will slander others and have no self-control. They will be cruel and hate what is good. (2 Tim 3:1-3).

Sin will be rampant everywhere, and the love of many will grow cold. (Matt 24:12)

Human beings lose their capacity to love when their own souls are parched, tormented, and thwarted. When sins rages, when cruelty, selfishness and hatred rule the day—yes love is hard to cultivate. Yes it “grows cold”—even in the best of us. Enter dynamic number two: the spirits of the age. Here comes the Perfect Storm.

Spirits of Hatred, Violation and Violence have been released on the earth here in these last days. Paris, Brussels, Orlando, Dallas—how much more proof do we need? Hatred, Violation and Violence are sweeping the earth—and they find massive opportunity in humanity’s current condition. Someone (remember they are ravenous) feels violated; the spirit of Violation jumps all over it, and inflames it like gasoline on fire. Hatred joins in (like sharks smelling blood in the water); they feel hatred—they want to retaliate with a murderous rage. Thus Violence.

Friends, this will shed so much light on so many things for you. Not just "out there" in the world; it is so close to home, too. I am finding that normal relational tensions are open doors for this darkness; this "violation" followed by "hatred" jumps on every opportunity. It can be triggered by an unkind email or Facebook post or remark. Even just driving. Simple irritation becomes an open door to suddenly feel a whole lot more than just irritation.

Never before has Love been more important to cling to, to pray, to invoke. You are going to need to be vigilant—no little grievances, no offense, no revenge, no open door to any of this. Now I understand why Jesus keeps bringing us back to love, to pray love, to enforce love. Forgiveness, mercy, overlooking offenses, breaking any agreement with violation, hatred or violence. So often these days, as I ask him what to pray, he responds with, "Love."

"Jesus, we love you. We really do love you. We turn our hearts towards you in love. Jesus - we receive your love. We take refuge in your love. We make our deepest and total agreement with your love. We receive your love. We take refuge in your love. We make our deepest and total agreement with your love. And Jesus - we dedicate our lives and our kingdoms to your love. We devote our kingdoms to the love of God. We command that the love of God fills our kingdoms, in every way. May the mighty love of God flow like a river over and through our lives. Love like an ocean around us. We bring the love of God against all violation, violence and hatred. We bring the love of God against all envy, jealousy and judgment. We bring the love of God against all cursing. We choose love. We align ourselves with love. And we command the love of God through our lives, our homes, our kingdoms. In the mighty name of Jesus Christ our Lord.”

Amen! Just stay with that kind of praying. It will really, really help! God is love, and as we call down love we call down the heart of God himself, and we call down the power of his kingdom.

Offered in LOVE,

 

John

 

The Prophesy All Around You

“I’m having a crisis of imagination,” my wife said to me just the other day. “About heaven.”

It’s been a tough year for our family and those near us. A tragic suicide, followed by the loss of our first grandson. Eight months of chronic pain—the kind only narcotics give you any relief from—ends in a total hip replacement for Stasi. Having lunch with some dear allies, they tell us their nine-year-old boy is going blind. And then a friend calls us a few weeks ago to say her body is shutting down and she has months to live. I could go on; we’ve just been around too much loss, and when you do, you grow weary of this hurting world and wonder if the next chapter is really going to make it all worth it. Thus the comment about heaven.

And it made me sad, because there is such thievery behind that confession. We have been robbed. Our imaginations are victims of identity theft, and we are left utterly broke.

Look at the evidence: What are you fantasizing about? For me, it’s a stream in a canyon that takes massive effort to get to so nobody ever fishes it and I haven’t been there for two years and can’t wait to get there this month with a fly rod and no curfew. I’m fantasizing about a road trip through the west. The evening float we do on the Snake River. Heck—I’m fantasizing about the cinnamon twist from the French bakery and the coffee ice cream I know is in the freezer. It’s human nature to daydream.

And you? What are you fantasizing about these summer days?

Very few people are fantasizing about heaven. And I get it. C.S. Lewis said you can only hope for what you desire, and frankly, most of our images of “heaven” just aren’t that desirable, so it doesn’t fill our souls with hope. I’m glad Stasi named it as a crisis of imagination because that is exactly what it is—not a crisis of doctrine, not even of belief, but of imagination. We can’t conceive of it, so we simply don’t think about it. Vague ideas do not awaken fantasies. The schoolboy does not dream of his wedding night, but the young groom, having relished it, is already dreaming about tomorrow night.

After Stasi confessed the crisis, I simply replied, “Think of the Tetons.” Her face lit up like a young girl who wakes and remembers it is her birthday. I was referring to Grand Teton National Park in the northwest corner of Wyoming, a place where the Rocky Mountain West does some of its best showing off. It also happens to be our favorite family place, filled with summertime joy and adventure. Alpine hikes among cathedral peaks in order to rock jump into cold, clear lakes. Huckleberry picking with black bears. Watching moose and grizzly and bison and bull elk in their happy sanctuary. Canoeing the Snake River at dusk, when mist begins to fill the meadows and wildlife comes out to drink, slipping along silently on the river surrounded by virgin forests and you feel you have stepped into The Last of The Mohicans. For us, it is a magical place.

And that’s the key—imagination needs a magical place. “Think of the Tetons,” I said, and suddenly her face looked 10 years younger, and I went on, “There you go—that’s the Kingdom.”

Now—is this just wishful thinking? Am I just offering a kind of vapid comfort, a sweet and syrupy all-dogs-go-to-heaven kind of theology?

Buckle your seatbelts.

One of the most stunning things Jesus ever said, one of the most absolutely-blow-your-mind revelations that nobody seems to have paid much attention to is this:

Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, at the renewal of all things, when the Son of Man sits on his glorious throne…everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life. (Matthew 19:28-29)

Pay very close attention to that first part: “the renewal of all things.” Jesus describes the next chapter of our lives as the restoration of everything we love. A claim so wildly bold and outlandishly hopeful how can we not have this tattooed on every part of our body? A revelation repeated in Acts, and (pardon) Revelation:

For [Jesus] must remain in heaven until the time for the final restoration of all things, as God promised long ago through his holy prophets. (Acts 3:21)

He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” (Rev. 21:5)

The renewal of all things simply means that the earth you love—all your special places and treasured memories—are completely restored and renewed and given back to you. Forever. Eden was our home, and Eden is our destiny.

But nobody seems to have heard this or paid much attention to it, because, for one thing, nobody I know is fantasizing about it. When was the last time you eavesdropped on a conversation at Starbucks about the restoration of all things? And for another thing, everybody I talk to still has these sick, wispy views of “heaven,” as a place up there somewhere, where we go to attend the eternal-worship-service-in-the-sky. I don’t even like the word heaven any more because it has been so saturated with religious poisons, leaching in from underground like the water table poisoned by a toxic waste dump.

Meanwhile we fantasize about that boat we’d love to get, or the trip to Patagonia, the chocolate éclair or the girl in cubicle next door. Of course we do—we are made for utter happiness.

But the restoration of all things—now that would change everything.

Which brings me back to imagination, the Tetons, and the message summer is singing to us.

God speaks through nature. Can we just start there?—God clearly speaks through nature. Creation is no accident—it is a proclamation. A wild, bold declaration. (This will rescue you from so many things; pay very close attention.) Every day sunrise and sunset remember Eden’s glory and prophesy Eden’s return.

So what is summer proclaiming? Allow me a story.

Last week I spent two very long days in the hospital with a friend. Hospitals are melancholy places. Don’t get me wrong—they can also be places of immense relief and hope. I think the people that serve there have taken a heroic stand on the side of hope. But let’s be honest—on the user side, no one there is there because they want to be; they are there because something is wrong, usually very wrong. It is a community of the hurting. People don’t play pick-up games of Frisbee in the halls of hospitals. You don’t hear folks loudly cracking jokes. The corridors are filled with hushed tones and a shared sobriety. Apart from the maternity floor, the staff, patients, concerned visitors all agree, This is serious business. Somebody could be dying in that room you just walked by.

I’d just spent 48 hours in a hospital room with my dear love and I had slipped into that place where you come to think this is all there is in the world—monitors going off all day long, staff coming in and out with urgency, hushed hallway conversations, the stupor of drug-induced rest, the IV and cold rooms and artificial everything. I left at 5:30 to go grab us some dinner, and as I stepped outside I was literally hit with a wave of the glory of a summer evening. It was wonderfully warm. The cumulus clouds were building towers for their evening show. Meadowlarks across the field were singing and singing. I could smell flowers; the aspens were shimmering. All the wonderful fragrances and feelings of summer.

It was like experiencing The Renewal of All Things.

Summer is God’s rescue from all the creepy things we’ve been taught about heaven. Summer is the annual pageant on behalf of The Restoration of All Things, all nature practically shouting at us because we are tone deaf. That’s why you love it so much. We pack up the car and head to the lake or the park; we break out the grill and have friends over, laughing late into the starlit evening; we dive into waters and bake in the sun and in this way we get a good, deep drink of the Great Restoration.

Drink it in friends. Let it speak. You don’t need a bucket list, because all of it is yours, forever. Very soon.

I had lain down under the shadow of a great, ancient beech-tree, that stood on the edge of the field. As I lay, with my eyes closed, I began to listen to the sound of the leaves overhead. At first, they made sweet inarticulate music alone; but, by-and-by, the sound seemed to begin to take shape, and to be gradually molding itself into words; till, at last, I seemed able to distinguish these, half-dissolved in a little ocean of circumfluent tones: "A great good is coming—is coming—is coming to thee…" (George MacDonald, Phantastes)

Disappointment in Prayer

Dear Friends,

“Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up” (Luke 18:1). I find that line immensely encouraging; I’m grateful Scripture precedes the story of the “persistent widow” with that little comment. It’s encouraging because Jesus obviously understands that we all have reasons to give up.

Stasi just called me into the living room. “I have disappointing news,” she said. My stomach had that queasy oh no—what next? feeling. I braced myself. We’ve had several rounds of bad news this spring and I just don’t know how much more I can take right now. “The radiologist called and gave me the report.” I sat down and listened. It wasn’t what we were hoping for. It certainly wasn’t the report of healing we had been praying for over the course of the past seven months. My heart sank.

“But we prayed.”

I know we all have stories like this—stories of disappointment in prayer. We tried, we put our faith in God, but nothing seemed to change. It can be brutal on the heart and on our relationship with God. When prayer doesn’t seem to work, it can really knock the wind out of you.

How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?

How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts

     and day after day have sorrow in my heart?

How long will my enemy triumph over me? (Psalm 13:1-2)

Which brings us back to not giving up. Jesus urged us not to give up.

When Stasi gave me the bad news this morning I wanted to go “global”; in my disappointment I wanted to say, “Prayer doesn’t work. I’m done praying about everything.” When the truth is, we have seen stunning answers to prayer over the years, many answers to prayer. No—not all the time. But many times. Yet when my current prayers don’t seem to be working, I forget all the answers I have seen over the years. I have to catch myself and remember what is true. This is exactly what the Psalmist does, just a few lines later:

But I trust in your unfailing love;

    my heart rejoices in your salvation.

I will sing the Lord’s praise,

    for he has been good to me. (13:5-6)

He reminds himself, “God does love me; he has been good to me.” This moment may be heartbreaking, but this is not my total experience of God, not even close. I have to anchor myself in what is true: God is good. He cares immensely. He is involved. When disappointment strikes and my prayers seem to be bouncing off the ceiling, I simply must anchor my heart in these truths or I will go down like a sinking ship.

The story of the persistent widow is a story about persevering in prayer. Most of the great biblical prayer stories are. How many times did it take Elijah to call down the promised rain? Not once; not twice; eight rounds of all-of-your-heart-soul-mind-and-strength prayer. In Acts 12 James had been seized by Herod and executed. He then arrested Peter and put him in jail and the outcome looked the same. But the story shifts with the phrase, “But the church was praying very earnestly for him” (v. 5). The Greek for “very earnestly” is the same description of the prayers of Jesus in Gethsemane. This is serious prayer. The text also indicates that the church is praying for Peter all night long.

And Peter is rescued.

In humility I don’t think we can begin to discuss the dilemma of “unanswered prayer” until we have learned to pray like the persistent widow, Elijah, or like the church in Acts 12.

“Lord, teach us to pray” (Luke 11:1). The disciples asked Jesus to teach them how to pray; prayer is something to be learned. I assumed it was more like sneezing—you just sort of did it, and God took care of the rest. A very naive view of prayer. You couldn’t get away with that attitude in your marriage, or career, not as a parent, or in anything you enjoy doing. Everything you value in your life you had to learn. And so it is with prayer; especially with prayer.

Prayer is our great secret weapon, friends. It is powerful and effective. James says, “The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective” (5:16). If it is, I humbly accept that it is something I want to be trained in.

I understand disappointment in prayer, I really do. I also understand there is nothing my enemy would love more than for me to give up praying. So I return to the Psalms, and let them express my heart: both “How long, O Lord?” and “But I trust in your unfailing love” for you have been good to me. And back to my knees I go.

If you haven’t yet picked up your copy of Moving Mountains – my new book on prayer – it might be the most important thing you do this year. Because everything else will be changed by your powerful prayers! In fact, Stasi and I are reading it aloud to each other in the evenings; it is really strengthening us!

Love,

John

 

PS  Don’t miss the one-night-only nationwide premier of our first film – A Story Worth Living – May 19th!  Catch the trailer and find your local theater at:  astoryfilm.com

Story

Dear Friends,

You take the time to read these letters (thank you) and I take the time to write them because we share common loves and passions.

The wild and unpredictable stories of our lives intersect because we love Jesus deeply, and we long to know him as he really is. We yearn to see his beauty and redemption come into the world. We look for like-minded (like-hearted) people who long for more of the real Jesus, more of the richness and availability of his kingdom, and the way it heals lives. Because these treasures matter more to all of us than even our own lives, I think we also share a common frustration.

I’m guessing we share a frustration with how Jesus and Christianity are typically portrayed in the postmodern world, and how that sabotages any real opportunity to gain a hearing for the Gospel. How do you approach such a cynical age?

When Paul stepped into his mission nearly two thousand years ago, to bring the Gospel to the world at his time, the culture was in many ways primed for exactly what he had to say. For thousands of years men and women honored and assumed the need for sacrifices of various types. They felt the moral fabric of the universe, knew they failed it, and also knew some sort of sacrifice was called for. They were done in every city and byway, every pagan temple. If you read the works of late antiquity, you’ll be shocked by how often and assumed sacrifices were done—before a trip, after a trip, during planting and before harvest and afterwards. Sacrifice was a given in those cultures. So Paul could just step into the scene and jump straight to, Have I got news for you!

But in our age? Sacrifice would strike the postmodern world as utterly bizarre, barbaric, cruelty to animals, no doubt some form of injustice. I’m not trying to make a case for sacrifice—I’m pointing out that Paul was working in a very different cultural milieu than we are. Which brings us back to, “How do we present the Gospel to such a cynical age as ours? How do we gain a hearing for Jesus?”

That’s why you hear us talk so much about “story.” Story is an acceptable concept in our day. Story is hip; story is in. People want to know the story—about a company, about where their stuff comes from, about their shoes or beer or music. Read any label and the makers will try and “tell you their story.” Whole Foods recently ran an ad campaign on their grocery bags that said, “Every meal has a story.” “Tell me your story” is a perfectly acceptable way to get into a meaningful conversation these days.

What we try and do is take people into their heart’s deepest needs by first paying attention to their story, which will inevitably lead to their brokenness, which then begs the question, Who can heal my brokenness? Is there any meaning?

And that is what allows us an opportunity to talk about how much Jesus cares for their humanity, how he alone has the ability to restore human lives. In a postmodern era, where no one believes in any sort of Larger Story anymore, you pretty quickly find the thirst in the human heart for a story that makes sense of their story. We can’t escape it; this is what we are made for.

So this is the tactic and the heart within our first full-length film, A Story Worth Living.

Yep—we made a movie! We went out last summer and filmed a gorgeous and epic documentary about a motorcycle trip through the wild lands of Colorado. In the midst of that story, we talk about how each human life is a story. We bring people into the deep questions of pain and disappointment, and why is there so much beauty in the world if everything is just random and meaningless. Gently—I think brilliantly—we build a case for the Gospel of Jesus in the midst of an exciting and sometimes harrowing adventure.

In one sense it is the most “evangelistic” thing we’ve ever done, because the film speaks to believer and skeptic alike. Men and women are giving it great reviews, I think because it is done so well, and because it touches on the story of every human life. And the cool thing is…the secular world loves this film! We are seeing all sorts of favor in totally non-Christian venues over this project.

The nationwide premiere is May 19—one night only.

We’d love you to come. Even more, we’d love you to grab everyone you know and bring them to your local theaters showing the film. This is an incredible opportunity to introduce people to the Gospel you love—not the wacky religious but the deeply beautiful Jesus and the epic Story he is telling. As we’ve shown the film to the curators of secular film festivals, motorcycle magazines and off-road expos, we are receiving fabulous feedback. This is a film that invites, not offends. Which is a wonderful thing for the Gospel in this postmodern hour. It will open up great conversations.

I’m writing to invite you to join us on May 19th, but I’m also writing to invite you to become part of the mission. To seize the opportunity to gain a hearing for the real thing; to help build momentum for a film that could really change people’s perspective on God. Can you help us get the word out? We can send you posters (they are very cool), DVDs of the trailer to show groups; we have lots you can use to tell your world about the film.

Come and watch the trailer at astoryfilm.com

To help us and become an “ambassador” visit: astoryfilm.com/ambassador

For our shared love of Jesus and passion for his mission—let’s make this film something everyone is talking about!

Thanks friends. You’re gonna love it!

Over the Wall

Editor's Note: Last month we ran the first of some profiles we want to share with you of folks out there doing amazing work, some of whom seem to have some wild connection to us. This month’s story began with an email we received last year that started with a photo of a permit caught on a fly in Belize.

That got our attention. Do you know how hard it is to catch permit with a fly rod? We have several bad stories.

Then we read on in the email: “Sometimes I may not want to thank you. Your books, along with the Spirit, propelled me from a safe corporate career as an engineer to a wild adventure in Guatemala—rescuing broken girls and seeking justice for them. In just a few minutes I will play the defense attorney and ‘cross examine’ a 10-year-old victim of sexual abuse, a girl who just an hour or so ago sat with me at lunch and was just a little girl. Tomorrow I will be her legal guardian in the real trial. Earlier today I was with prosecutors who are taking the declaration of a 12-year-old…and so it goes. We have 60 girls here, and our team is transforming the system in Guatemala as they heal, redeem, and seek justice for these girls.”

We forgot all about the permit. And began a dialog with an amazing man doing beautiful and tragic work in Guatemala.

And Sons: Let's start with just some data on Oasis—when did you get started? How many girls live there? What kind of help do you have?

Corbey Dukes [his real name]: Construction for Oasis was started in 2000 as a general home for girls. The first girls were there in 2005. I came as director in 2009, and we soon after transitioned to a ministry focused on sexually abused girls. Being a victim of sexual crimes is the price of admission to Oasis now, and that has driven us to become a very deep ministry—residential, intense therapy, legal support, and a focused spiritual message. We have a staff of 29 Guatemalans and 11 missionaries from the U.S. and U.K. There are 56 girls in residence, with five babies, seven in independence transition, and 23 in our reunited families, for 91 total.

AS: Holy cow. We have spent time in Guatemala and we know how brutal it can be down there. How did you get pulled into this work? What's your story? 

CD: I distinctly remember sitting in a dead church when I was 12 years old, with the preacher droning on about Matthew 25—the sheep and goats. It occurred to me that to the best of my knowledge no one in that church was particularly concerned with actually feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, etc. So this must all be crap. I checked out on the whole God/church thing. For 21 years I drank, used, chased women with extraordinary gusto—even into my first nine years of marriage. At 33, I had a daughter, and marriage about to end. We attended a Christian marriage conference (I’m still not sure how) and became Christians—saying the prayer and actually having the emotional experience. A couple of job changes later and I have my hand on the brass ring of corporate life when Jesus starts telling me there is more to Him.  

AS: We can already feel where this is headed. He has a way of radical disruption.

CD: I remember having a feeling that is perfectly illustrated in The Fellowship of the Ring—that scene where Gandalf is about to reach down to the floor and pick up the ring. There is a sudden flash of danger and a recognition that “You don't really want that.” So I let it go and went on staff at my church as administrative manager. Then came, “What have I done?!” To go from multi-million dollar budgets, high-pressure projects, and first-class corporate travel to the minutiae of a medium-sized church was BORING.  

AS: No need to convince us of that. How did Guatemala get into your blood?

CD: My pastors asked me to take on leadership of our missions program and I leapt at it, mostly to have something to do. And Jesus destroyed me. Remember that 12-year-old who walked out on God because no one was interested in “the least of these”? Jesus now ruined me with the least of these. In addition to a lot of local stuff, we started short-term trips to Oasis in Guatemala. I became highly invested. I helped former Oasis directors with leadership issues and emotional support. While there with my daughter’s youth team, the director at the time asked to speak with me. I thought I was in trouble because we had absolutely trashed the Oasis girls with games that involved chocolate, water, whipped cream, etc.  

AS: We zone out for a moment trying to recall a game from our youth ministry days involving chocolate, water and whipped cream…

CD: She told me that she wanted to let me know that she was done and was resigning that day. I immediately heard God say, “You are next.” My wife, Janie, and I prayed very hard not to be sent. Guatemala is not the coast of South Carolina and we had a daughter starting her junior year of high school and another in middle school—not ideal ages to move to Guatemala. We kept hoping it was an Abraham-and-Isaac deal and God would pull a more qualified person (someone who at least spoke Spanish) out of the bush. He did not, and six months later we left South Carolina for Guatemala.

AS: Now we are silent because we are pretty much blown away by his courage…

CD: Once I got here, I found out that in the 16 years the ministry has existed in Guatemala, there have been seven directors; no one lasted more than three years, most far less. It is frankly brutal.  

AS: Umm…so how long have you been there?

CD: Seven years. Just today, I was talking with our social worker about an 11-year-old we just received. It seems every year I think it cannot get worse, and then a girl who has experienced worse comes. I have faith that Jesus will overcome the darkness, but man, it looks like there is absolutely no limit to how far evil will go. Your books are part of the reason Janie and I have been able to not only persevere, but take on ever greater challenges. We have not just hung on but grown.

AS: What's changed in your view of Jesus and his Gospel since you got involved in this? 

CD: Like a lot of people, the Gospel I was presented was based on avoiding hell. Don’t get me wrong—I think not going to hell is a good thing. But I can’t recall a single time I have shared that message with these girls. They have already been there. I share the Gospel Jesus seems to focus on, “The time has come.  The kingdom of heaven is near.  Repent and believe the Good News.”  Change your thinking about yourself, God, and His heart; believe that God cleanses and restores, and live like a citizen of His kingdom. I think the Gospel is about the restoration of the heart now and living as if you believe your heart is being restored, living like a citizen of His kingdom now.

AS: Many of our readers are ready to drop it all and go like you did. What counsel would you give them before the "jump”?

CD: Just be sure you are ready. In seven years I have seen lots of people come and go in other ministries. You, your wife, and family have to be tight and willing to follow Jesus, together, over the wall. Then read Jeremiah chapter 20 and know that your life will be more like Jeremiah’s prayer than pop Christian radio. “You deceived me, Lord, and I was deceived; you overpowered me and prevailed. I am ridiculed all day long; everyone mocks me” (20:7). That pretty much sums it up. Jesus is leading you into HARDER, not easier, and you will cry out, “WTF?” a lot as you deal with emotional pain, budgets, and living in a place that is not the Mall of America. You will feel He has left you dangling and people are laughing at you for taking His stuff so seriously while they live the Facebook life.

AS: Seems like you are speaking out of some pain here.

CD: “Whenever I speak, I cry out proclaiming violence and destruction. So the word of the Lord has brought me insult and reproach all day long” (20:8). The majority of people will have a glazed look in their eyes once you move past talking about what the food is like. They don’t want to know what you know. After a few years you will find yourself with your wife alone in the corner of the dinner held in your honor, because you don’t relate to most of the conversations. You realize that you are suffering from PTSD. “But if I say, ‘I will not mention his word or speak anymore in his name,’ his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot” (20:9).

AS: We see it. We get it. Preach on.

CD: That is my prayer and thought life more often than victory dances. If you feel it is a Jeremiah-sized call, meaning, "I will do it no matter how much I get my butt kicked", then you may be ready. But even then, theory is a lot different from reality. There have been many days—MANY DAYS—when my wife and I have felt that is all there is to the story. Let’s go back to the USA. But then Janie will say, “So how do we pretend we don’t know.” We’ll share a bottle of wine, make love, fall asleep, and head back in the next day.  

AS: What is bringing you hope?

CD: It is not all a bummer. I have a drawer full of notes from the very girls I am here for, encouraging me, “No te rindas.” Don’t give up. I have also been stunned by Jesus, by the courage of little girls and by the bond I have with my wife and daughters. I love my wife more than ever and am in awe of her bravery and trust. I am thrilled every time a girl fist-bumps me before she goes into court, and I love leading this staff, following Jesus over the wall. I understand what it is to have a fire in my bones and I love that. I love trusting that Jesus will rescue me, and if not, then knowing He will say, “Man that was awesome.  Crazy, but awesome.”

AS: If someone wanted to help, what can they do?

CD: Come take me fly-fishing.  Short of that, pray for our courage, perseverance, and physical protection.  We work to send people to jail, and they don’t like that. We work with severely hurt girls, and they can hurt you out of their pain. We work with a judicial system that can make some bizarre decisions. If someone is moved to help materially, then contact Kids Alive (www.kidsalive.org)—we can host teams and we can use any giftedness or gift.