Michael Kelley's Blog, page 235

What If Your Greatest Chance to Change the World is Also Your Greatest Source of Pain?

Who doesn’t want to change the world? There’s something inside of all of us, I think, that desires to leave things different than when we found them. That manifests itself in all different kinds of ways:

- We build libraries.

- We donate money to charity.

- We raise our children.

- We tell people about Jesus.

Here’s the rub: When you think about changing the world, usually you think of something big. Massive. And joyful. Something that gets your name in the papers or on the best-seller list. But here’s an uncomfortable question:

What if your greatest chance to change the world is also your greatest source of pain?

I wrote about this dynamic in Wednesdays Were Pretty Normal:

See, it’s one thing for someone to say, “I just got bumped up to a six-figure income, bought a house in the burbs, and have a beautiful wife and 2.5 healthy children. Glory to God!” God should receive glory for all good things in our lives.

But it’s an entirely different matter when people are weeping ove rthe state of their circumstances, their health, and their world – yet they say along with Job in the Old Testament, “I know that my Redeemer lives” (Job 19:25 NASB). That’s powerful. That is evidence of someone woh doesn’t just stick with Jesus during the good times. That is the life that screams out to the world around it “Jesus is enough. And He’s better than all of these circumstantial and fleeting blessings.” And that kind of person propels and magnifies the glory of God… even through their pain. They prove to a doubting world that Jesus is good enough to hang onto. Jesus understands better than we do that many times the most effective way for the glory of God to be advanced is through the suffering of His people.

Should you desire, you can get the book here. The quote is from chapter 4.

Fridays Are For One Question

Tomorrow morning, I’m going to join about 50,000 other folks to run in the Country Music Half Marathon and Marathon through the streets of Nashville. Just to be clear, I’ll be in the “half” section.

There seems to be some question in scholarly circles right now about the appropriate way to eat before such a race. In years past, it was thought that the night before you go out and pound some lasagna or spaghetti, but now I’m hearing more and more that you should eat light the night before; your heavy meal should actually be the night before the night before.

Whatever.

But I’m curious. Let’s think hard about today’s question, because it’s not so much about what you should eat, but what you shouldn’t:

“What would be the worst possible meal for you to eat the night before running a marathon?”

The Fragrance of Heaven Rising From the Stench of Death

What a discrepancy. All around is death. Putrid, stinking decay. And yet, seemingly from out of nowhere, the fragrance of heaven erupts. It’s like the man, possessed by the demons, who lived among the tombs. Day after day he cried out among the dead, cutting himself with stones.

All around him was death, and he, too, lived a shell of a life, surrounded by the rotting corpses. And yet from the stench of death erupted the fragrance of life:

When he saw Jesus from a distance, he ran and knelt down before Him. And he cried out with a loud voice, “What do You have to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg You before God, don’t torment me!” For He had told him, “Come out of the man, you unclean spirit!” (Mark 5:6-8).

Jesus, with a sentence, uncorks heaven’s fragrance of life into a place of death.

But to those who had grown accustomed to the death around them, the smell was foreign. Frightening, even:

[The people] came to see Jesus and saw the man who had been demon-possessed by the legion, sitting there, dressed and in his right mind; and they were afraid (Mark 5:15).

The smell of death is everywhere. On billboards. On television. In our jokes and anecdotes. So accustomed to death are we that we might even be frightened by the sweet smell of the freedom of the gospel. But for one who has inhaled deeply what Jesus brings, the effect is intoxicating:

As He was getting into the boat, the man who had been demon-possessed kept begging Him to be with Him. But He would not let him; instead, He told him, “Go back home to your own people, and report to them how much the Lord has done for you and how He has had mercy on you.” So he went out and began to proclaim in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him, and they were all amazed (Mark 5:18-20).

The scent never left his nostrils. He proclaimed, to the amazement of others, taking the fragrance of life with him. Such is the case with all who look back at the tombs among which they used to live until Jesus uncorked the smell of heaven:

But thanks be to God, who always puts us on display in Christ and through us spreads the aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place (2 Corinthians 2:14).

Dad, You’re a Dead Man Walking

At the Together for the Gospel Conference, I heard CJ Mahaney make a remarkable statement:

“Behind every fruitful church is a dying pastor.”

He made this statement while preaching on 2 Corinthians 4, a chapter in which Paul exhorted his readers to not lose heart. The idea behind the statement is one that is pervasive in lots of other texts as well:

“I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds” (John 12:24).

Something has to die in order for something else to live.

Of course, we know that this is most importantly seen in the death of Jesus: Jesus died so that all who believe in Him might live. But it occurs to me, especially in light of CJ’s comment, that this principle is applicable in all areas of leadership.

In particular, it applies to dads.

That’s part of the responsibility of leading a family, and it works itself out in all kinds of ways:

- Dads, you wake up earlier than anyone else in the house so that you can have the family devotion ready at the breakfast table. You die to your desire for sleep so that the kids might have life through the Word of God.

- Dads, you choose to learn all you can about basketball even though you don’t enjoy playing so that you can help coach your son or daughter’s team. You die to your desire for your children to be interested in the same things you are so they might have life in their own God-given talents.

- Dads, you choose to get up day after day and go to work even though you think you might want to quit your job. You die to your desire to see your own dreams fulfilled in order that your family might live and thrive in security.

In short, fathers, you are dead men walking.

This is yet another way that we, as the leaders of our home, are also the ones who are the most willing to step to the front of line to take the hit.

Dying is more than just being willing to give up our lives for the sake of those we love. It’s fleshed out in a thousand little choices day after day whereby we take the sacrifice joyfully into ourselves for the sake of another.

Death, in this sense, isn’t just one big choice. It’s something continually done. And because it is, the only real way we are able to take the tiny pin pricks of death over and over again is by remembering that Jesus has done so for us.

He died. We live. And now He has entrusted the work of dying to us.

Chuck Colson Remembered

When the news was released several days ago that Chuck Colson was near death, I walked to my book shelf and took down my copy of How Now Shall We Live? and perused through it again.

Admittedly, I haven’t picked up the book in several years, but I immediately remembered sitting in the student commons as a college student between classes when I read it the first time. It was through this book, more so than most others during that time, that God helped me to that Christianity was not the religion of the stupid.

Indeed, what Christianity needs isn’t less intellect; it’s more.

Trevin Wax eloquently writes about the same idea in his post appropriately titled, “Chuck Colson taught me how to think.”

Me, too.

Here are some of Trevin’s words in regard to the life of Colson:

I thank God for Chuck Colson. He was a man who sought to use his platform to be a faithful witness to the grace and love of Jesus Christ.

Others will speak of his prison ministry, his political involvement, and his keen understanding of the times in which we live. But I’m thankful personally for the way he helped me think. He was a man who pointed pilgrims and wanderers to the Way, the Truth, and the Life. In Colson’s words:

Either we are pilgrims looking for answers in order to make sense of our world, or we are wanderers who have turned off onto byways of distraction or despair, alienating ourselves from wonder. If you are reading this book, you probably are a seeker. That’s good. To be alive is to seek.

Fridays Are For One Question

Tonight is a big night for the Kelley family.

Tonight we uphold the long-held tradition when a child comes of age and then bravely throws his / her pacifier in the trash in exchange for a bribe from their parents.

This time, the child in question is Christian. The prize in question is a Buzz Lightyear that can live in his bed.

He thinks it’s a good idea… so far.

It’s tough to get rid of something like a pacifier when you’re a kid. But maybe it wasn’t a pacifier you held onto for security. So what was it?

Blanket?

Duckie?

Poor, mistreated pet dog?

That’s today’s question: What was your security item as a child?

We are Stewards of Experience

Here is a clip the guys put together from an interview I did on The Exchange yesterday talking about what it means to steward our stories:

You can watch the entire webcast here.

Bossing God Around

Prayer, by its very nature, is predicated on both a sense of humility and a sense of power, for prayer is asking for something.

Humility is built into the fabric of prayer, for when we pray we are recognizing our complete inability to change circumstances, be they big or small. We can’t change our attitudes, so we ask for help. We can’t heal sickness, so we ask for help. We pray because we know this about ourselves.

At the same time, we pray because at some level we believe that what we cannot do, God can. Otherwise, why would we ask Him? At a base level, then, prayer simultaneously embraces the powerlessness of me and the great power of God. It’s a moment when humility and power meet.

That’s why it’s very curious when we come to the most famous prayer ever recorded – the prayer by which we are to model all our prayers, that we find Jesus not so much asking as commanding:

“Therefore, you should pray like this:

Our Father in heaven, Your name be honored as holy. Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us today our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And do not bring us into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one. For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen” (Matt. 6:9-13).

Notice the lack of “please” in Jesus’ words. It’s one thing for the Son of God to speak in such a declarative way, but us? Who do we think we are, to boss God around like this?

And yet Jesus advised us to pray like this. To pray with confidence like this. To pray with boldness like this. To approach the throne of grace like this.

Now it’s possible to look at such statements, such declarations, and immediately corrupt them to our own ends. Like a 5th grader, we might look at these words and then pray, “God give me a bicycle.” I doubt that’s what Jesus had in mind when He spoke these words.

And yet there is a sort of sanctified bossiness that’s visible here. But it’s the kind of bossiness that is built on what we know to be true of the character of God. Take a look at what exactly Jesus advised that we tell God to do:

Make your name holy.

Bring Your kingdom.

Provide for us, Your children.

Forgive us.

There aren’t any bicycles in these statements. Rather, each and everyone of them is built on what God has already said. Or to put it another way – we are telling God what He’s already told us. This is safe ground for bossiness in prayer. We aren’t asking for bicycles or money or comfort or ease. We instead are praying from a heart that has been transformed by the gospel – one in which the deepest desires line up with the deepest desires of the heart of God.

So it’s okay to boss God around. As long as we are bossing Him around with what He’s already told us He wants to do.

A Compilation of Treadmill Accidents

There is no real value whatsoever to this post. Except that you will be laughing and cringing over the next 4 minutes. Enjoy.

(HT:22 Words)

A Challenge for Dads on the Way Home Today

20 minutes. Maybe less, maybe more, but that seems like a reasonable estimation of the amount of time an average dad has between the time when he leaves work and arrives at home. There’s a myriad of different ways you might spend that time, some more profitable than others. You can break the law and text. You can listen to the radio or a podcast. You could continue to work and make phone calls until the very moment your feet cross the threshold of your home.

But let me, if I could, challenge you to try something else with your 20 minutes:

Consider what you’re bringing into your house this afternoon. Because you are bringing something.

To put it another way, it’s realizing that the temperament of your wife and your kids is going to be altered in some way upon your arrival. It might be that you’ve had a hard day, and you want nothing more than to sit down and watch the news because, after all, you’ve earned it. It might be that you’ve been missing your family all day and you’ll bring laughter and joy with you. Whatever the case, you’re going to bring something. Here, then, is where we get to the challenge.

On your ride home, think about one word. Just one word. It’s one word that you’re bringing with you into the house. And ask the Lord to help you with it.

Now I’m not talking about some mystic sense where the word writes itself on your dashboard; I’m talking about using your God-given wisdom and intuition under the guide of the Holy Spirit to consider what one, key attribute you are going to bring to the table tonight. And chances are it’s going to be different every day:

Discipline.

Understanding.

Celebration.

Patience.

Love.

It’s not that hard to come up with a list, and frankly, it’s not that hard to know what you need to choose to be. You’ve talked and texted with your wife during the day. You know how the kids have been and what their activities have been like. You know. This is just actively verbalizing and committing to what you already know to be true.

Has your wife had a hard day? You bring understanding. Have the kids gotten good report cards? You bring celebration. Has someone been picking on them at school? You bring protection. Is your family worried about finances? Your bring provision.

One word, Dads. What’s it going to be today?