Brandon Clements's Blog, page 3

My First 1 Star Review

A little background before I tell you a funny story:

Several months before I released Every Bush Is Burning, my writer-friend Courtney Gibson asked me, “Are you afraid to release something so dear to you, knowing that it will be out there for all the world to critique and criticize?”

I shrugged and said, “Nah, not really.” And honestly, I didn’t think much of it at that time.

Then a few months passed. Release day got closer. And one day it hit me out of nowhere:

I wasn’t just afraid. Part of me was terrified. I suddenly wanted to crawl up into the fetal position.

Really what did it was the realization that no matter what I did, some people were going to hate it. No matter my intentions, my reasons for doing certain things, or anything else. Some people would refuse to give it a chance, or even if they did, they still might absolutely despise it for a number of reasons.

And, well, confession: I struggle with approval idolatry. I want people to like me. No, not people–I want everyone to like me (which is a bit like chasing the wind). So what does it mean about me if some people disdain something that so much of me is in? If they think something I poured years of my life into is inconsequential, useless, nothing?

I’ve heard other writers say that no matter how many good things people might say about a book they wrote, their eyes were always drawn to the worst reviews, to the 1 stars. That for some reason they seemed to hold more weight than all the others.

So the other day when I checked my Amazon page, my eye indeed was drawn to one of the new reviews that had a glaring 1 star. I held my breath.

Even worse, I saw that the title of the review was, none other than: “Unbiblical”.

Gasp! As a pastor who cares deeply about the gospel and Scripture, that’s not a title I love to be associated with my name.

But then I read the review, which said:

I read more than half of this book on my Kindle and then deleted it. The Jesus of this book is anything but Biblical. I should have deleted it when so called Jesus gave someone the finger. But I kept reading. The last straw was when the main character confronts Jesus about where he was during all the tragic times in his life. Jesus responds that he wasn’t there and apologizes for it. Non-christians and Christians who are weak in their Biblical knowledge are in the most danger by reading this book. While this book isn’t as dangerous a book as some others, such as “The Shack,” it should be avoided. If anyone is interested in reading similar themed books, but which are far more Biblical, I suggest reading “The Perfect Stranger” books and/or watch the movies and TV episodes.

And…I…laughed…so…hard.

For a number of reasons. (And if you’ve read the book, you know why it’s funny.)

And honestly, I was really thankful. God gave me a really easy first 1 star review and I’m grateful for the easy breaking in for others that may not be as funny. I smiled and said to myself, “Well, there’s no way around that one. Wish he would have read the rest of the book.”

Then I showed it to Kristi and it was SO FUNNY. She goes into defensive wife mode anytime someone criticizes me and it’s just hilarious. Nice-and-sweet Kristi turns into a different person. But then I told her to relax, that sometimes controversy about stuff like that is the best thing that can happen to a book.

But above all, I’m reminded of how good it is that all of my worth and approval is found in Jesus and not in good (or bad) reviews. If I forget that, the only two options are pride and despair. And both of those suck.

 

 

Book Review: Wrecked by Jeff Goins

I met Jeff Goins last September at the STORY Conference in Chicago. I had been following his blog for a while and as we talked, I found liked him more and more. Being two young guys in ministry who also love to write–we had a lot to chat about. Thus a cyber-friendship became a real-life friendship, and as they say, the rest is history. I’ve continued to appreciate and learn a ton from him since.

Jeff just released his first print book this week, titled: Wrecked: When A Broken World Slams Into Your Comfortable Life.

The cover has the image of an upside-down turtle (which I love)–a great picture that captures the disorienting feeling attached to encountering the brokenness of the world firsthand.

Jeff’s job gives him a unique perspective with a lot of insight into this issue–he helps tell stories for missionaries for Adventures In Missions, a large mission organization based in Georgia.

Drawing on his own personal stories of encountering brokenness in the world both abroad and here in the states, as well as stories of friends and missionaries, he relates exceedingly well to the tension so many young Christians feel when they first get their world turned upside down. When they take that first mission trip…see their first glimpse of true poverty.

But it is not your typical, “Get out there and do something meaningful!” Christian book. It certainly has elements of purpose, meaning, and sacrifice–which I appreciate and applaud. But my favorite part of the book is the humility and the depth of insight it shows.

Jeff does not say “You’re wasting your life unless you do _____!” Instead, with a lot of wisdom and grace, he points out some difficult truths:

That in order to find your life, you have to lose it.
That losing your life for the sake of God and others may not look like what you think.
That it may very well be less glamorous than you’d hope for, less cool than some of the stories you hear.
That it will require not only ongoing sacrifice, but ongoing commitment.
That though commitment feels like the plague for much of our generation–it is an extraordinary gift that brings so much meaning to life.
That it won’t always be easy, but it will be good. In fact, the best. Because God only gives good gifts.

One of my favorite quotes from the book was the following:

 

“The thing you try to avoid the most is often the remedy for your own self-centeredness.”

Ouch, Jeff.

This book is well-written, thought-provoking and insightful. I would encourage you to check it out, and if you do so before tomorrow, you can get some free stuff from Jeff.

I raise my glass to you, Jeff. Here’s to many more words and books flowing out of that mind of yours!

 

Giveaway Insanity for Every Bush Is Burning

Man. It’s been a really crazy, fun week for Every Bush Is Burning.

Last Wednesday I started a promotion where the Kindle version would be free for 5 days, to hopefully spread the word and gain some exposure. I was hoping it would reach a couple thousand new readers total, but when I checked the stats mid-day on Wednesday, it was already well over 5,000.

My mouth hit my desk.

Over the next few days, it climbed up into the #3 and #2 spots in the Free Kindle Store (of over a million free books). That gave it a ton of exposure and I continued to be dumbfounded as I watched the downloads continue to grow.

The final giveaway number absolutely blew my mind:

59, 985

Fifty-nine thousand people. (So close to sixty!)

I still can’t really believe it. So floored.

I am so, so grateful that God aligned the stars right to get it on that bestseller list and get a lot of traction. It came at such a good time, as I’ve been praying a lot for God to take the book and really do something with it. I’ve very much so felt like I’ve done all that I could do to get the word out about the book and told God that if it was really going to reach a lot of people, He was going to have to take it and do it.

And He did. Times sixty thousand!

It’s so very cool to see such an incredible and drastic answer to prayer.

I’ve already gotten a good many responses from new readers, with some really, really cool feedback. One person said it made her want to return to God and the church. A few are thinking about Jesus now and wondering if the book was God pursuing them. One person who had prosperity theology crumble to pieces in their life said the story was a gift on their way to discover the true gospel.

Excuse me for a second…

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, I’m back.

It’s really quite ridiculous. The reason I spent countless hours writing this book was to hopefully affect people like this and start these conversations…and God got it to almost sixty thousand new people. Incredible.

And it is still doing well even after the promotion. The Kindle version is only 99 cents (to hopefully keep spreading to as many possible), and today it reached #1 in the bestseller category for Religious Fiction. Needless to say, it’s selling a lot more than it was before the promotion. Very exciting. Amazon reviews are also pouring in, and they are really fun to read.

I’m praying for lots and lots more emails that make me shake my head in amazement. Would you mind praying the same thing with me? That it would continue to reach more people–that God would use it to speak very boldly into the lives of many?

I’d certainly appreciate it if you would. I’ll take every prayer I can get!

Every Bush Is Burning: Free On Kindle This Week!

If you haven’t checked out my book yet, now is the perfect time.

Why? Because you can get it for FREE on Kindle for the next 5 days (July 25 — July 29).

(Don’t have a Kindle? No problem! You can read a Kindle book from almost anywhere…details here.)

Also, if you’ve read the book and know someone who might enjoy it, please pass the link along to them. It doesn’t get cheaper than free after all.

Things That Suck: Racism & Churches Ran By Non-Christians

You are not going to believe this.

Sunday night I was sitting on the steps of the church before our 5:00 gathering talking to someone. An African-American man in his forties walked by with a woman about the same age, smiling and nodding. When I smiled and waved back, he stopped for a minute and looked up at me.

“That’s a real nice church you got there,” he said, very genuinely.

“Thanks,” I said, “it’s not our building, but we’re really thankful to get to meet here on Sunday nights.”

He then shuffled a little awkwardly and braced himself for a question.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking this,” he started. “But do y’all allow colored people in your church?”

WHAT?

I told you you wouldn’t believe it.

I was honestly momentarily speechless.

Thankfully, I bounced back quickly. “Are you kidding me? Of course! We would love to have you guys! Will you come on in right now? Our service starts in about twenty minutes.”

He very kindly declined, saying that they needed to change clothes. I assured him that they did not need to, but he insisted, so I invited them back for the 7:00 service and he said they would definitely be back.

I introduced myself to them, James and Beverly, and James told me, “I just like to make sure, you know. I’ve heard ‘Nigger get out of here’ one too many times, so I just wanted to ask.”

I cringed so hard.

“I am so, so sorry,” I said. “That is incredibly messed up. Jesus died for everyone and you are more than welcome here.”

“Yes He did,” he said, smiling, then assured me that they would be back for the 7:00 gathering.

I walked away completely staggered that James has actually heard “Nigger get out of here” at a freaking church more than once in his lifetime. The place that is supposed to be a witness of the wall-smashing, hostility defeating love of Jesus had on multiple occasions erected completely asinine, unbiblical, anti-gospel walls, all with the intention of keeping my friend James out.

And I was once again reminded that racism, as ugly as it truly is, is at the root a failure to understand the gospel of Jesus that puts us all on the same exact footing and robs us of any sense of superiority.

I’m heartbroken that this is actually a real story. And I have a few thoughts:

1) Racism sucks. What a tragedy of human brokenness and the devastation of sin.

2) It sucks when non-Christians who wouldn’t know the gospel if it hit smacked them in the face are the ones running a church (or at least being a very vocal influence). I wish those churches would either quickly repent or quickly die. Option #1 would be best, but option #2 is a close second.

(And I’m not saying that anyone who struggles with the sin of racism is definitely not a believer. But I am saying it’s a big red flag that they may have completely missed the gospel in favor of works or stature-based righteousness. What is racism except the Pharisee in Luke 18, whom Jesus says is not justified?)

3) It’s probably good that Jesus has more patience than I do with churches. Because if it were up to me, I’d have a sore throat from blowing out so many lampstands (if that is confusing read Revelation 2.5).

4) It’s interesting how different Christians have different levels of grace and patience with different kinds of sins. For example, some Christians just cannot stomach irreligious sins (if they see a Christian drink too much they are blacklisted forever). Some Christians have zero tolerance for religious sins (if they see someone being hypocritical or judgmental they are scarlet-lettered immediately).

I think this is really fascinating, and that it tells us a lot about ourselves and our backgrounds.

I certainly have far less tolerance for religious sins than I do for irreligious ones. Racism may top my list of intolerance, though. I’m ready to stab someone in the eye with an icepick when I see it.

Anyways, enough of my ranting.

The important thing is that James and Beverly did come back that night for the 7:00 Gathering. And they were quickly greeted by members of all colors.

It made me so happy that a) church scars from the past hopefully began to heal and b) that God has blessed our church family with diversity that just screams the gospel.

“For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”  -Galatians 3.28

What about you?

Do you have less tolerance for religious sins or for irreligious ones? What sin tops your list of intolerance?

Happy 4th of July World…Love America

My friend Jon Ludovina made this to celebrate the 4th of July. It’s a list of all the things, in his words, that “America has invented and given to the world free of charge. You’re welcome, world.”

I have no idea where he found all of this (or really, how true they all are), but I thought it was pretty awesome.

Which is your favorite? Mine has to be the coffee percolator. Or the ferris wheel. Or the cheesesteak. It’s a toss up, really.

- 1717 – swim fins

– 1776 – swivel chair

– 1792 – crackers

– 1829 – graham crackers

– 1796 – cupcakes

– 1801 – suspension bridge + fire hydrant

– 1806 – coffee percolator

– 1813 – circular saw

– 1815 – dental floss

– 1831 – doorbell

– 1843 – ice cream maker

– 1845 – baseball

– 1847 – doughnut

– 1849 – jackhammer + safety pin

– 1853 – potato chips + clothespins

– 1857 – toilet paper

– 1858 – pepper shaker + mason jar

– 1859 – escalator

– 1860 – vacuum cleaner

– 1861 – jelly beans + machine gun

– 1863 – roller skates + breakfast cereal

– 1865 – cowboy hat

– 1866 – urinal

– 1867 – motorcycle + paperclip

– 1868 – paper bag

– 1869 – football

– 1872 – the diner

– 1873 – jeans

– 1878 – motion camera

– 1880 – DC electricity

– 1888 – the motor, drinking straw + ballpoint pen

– 1890 – stop sign

– 1891 – ferris wheel

– 1891 – fork and zipper

– 1892 – tractors + AC electricity

– 1893 – laxatives

– 1894 – mouse trap + medical gloves

– 1895 – volleyball

– 1898 – candy corn, remote control

– 1897 – cotton candy, ice cream scoop, charcoal briquette

– 1901 – assembly line

– 1902 – air conditioner

– 1903 – Wright brothers planes

– 1907 – paper towel

– 1912 – traffic lights

– 1914 – fortune cookie + traffic cone

– 1916 – hamburger bun

– 1916 – light switch + marshmallow crème

– 1918 – french dip

– 1919 – toaster

– 1920 – eskimo pie

– 1921 – flowcharts + headrests

– 1922 – convertible + waterskiing

– 1924 – cheeseburgers

– 1927 – kool-aid + corndog

– 1928 – recliner + bubble gum

– 1929 – sunglasses

– 1930 – cheesesteak + chocolate chip cookie

– 1931 – electric guitar + strobe light

– 1936 – phillips head screw

– 1937 – computers

– 1939 – ATMs

– 1941 – deodorant

– 1942 – bazooka

– 1943 – slinky

– 1945 – microwave oven (cruise control)

– 1946 – tupperware

– 1946 – waterproof diaper

– 1948 – cable tv + frisbee

– 1948 – video games

– 1949 – Zamboni

– 1952 – barcode + artificial heart

– 1953 – markers

– 1954 – zipper storage bag

– 1957 – wireless mics, lasers + bubble wrap

– 1959 – spandex

– 1961 – slurpee

– 1964 – buffalo wings

– 1973 – cell phones

– 1963 – computer mouse

– 1960s – the internet

Happy 4th of July everyone! I think in addition to the obvious things, we can all add a reason or two to the list of why we’re proud to be Americans today.

Photo Credit: qthomasbower via Compfight

My Pride and the $100 Cockroach

I’ve known for a long time that I have a pretty stable personality. What I mean by that is, at least around most people I’m mostly always the same person, in the same chill mood. I’m not very excitable, and I don’t get down about things often. I score high on the S part of the DISC personality profile, which in part symbolizes stability.

Part of it is how God made me, no doubt. And part of it, I believe, is a reaction to less than positive experiences with more unsteady personalities.

That has led to a large part of me wanting very badly to always be rock steady. To never be down. To never be ill-tempered, grouchy, or touchy. Not that I’m not ever those things, but I try really hard not to be.

I’ve discovered recently that I even take a sinful amount of pride in this at times. I was talking with a friend the other day, telling him that there was a good chunk of this spring that I wasn’t doing very well. He was surprised, remarking that he didn’t notice. I told him that I knew, because I didn’t tell him. That part of me takes pride in the fact that I can be doing really crappy and, if I choose not to tell anyone, they simply won’t know. Because I’ll look and act just fine as always. I will generally be honest if people ask me, but still–that is a scary thing that will take lots of grace to grow out of.

And then, yesterday, God chose to give me a spoonful of humility in a somewhat comical way.

First of all, I slept late, which makes me have a headache. And if anything can make me moody, it’s a headache.

But I was doing well, managing it well most of the day.

Then last night at the Gathering it stormed really hard. And if there is one thing that annoys me, it’s getting rained on. Ugh…I hate it so much. When I ran to my car around 9pm to go home, I stepped in one of those rivers beneath the curb and drenched my whole foot.

Insta-pissed.

And then I walk in the door, trying not to be visibly frustrated. Kristi gives me a hug, and then looks up and shrieks.

There is a cockroach sitting in the picture rail close to the ceiling in my office. Just chilling.

And if there’s anything that can make me angry, it’s a cockroach. Who do they think they are, anyway? Barging in my house, through the poison I’ve sprayed to kill them–those disgusting, spine-chilling little varmints. It’s like they’re mocking me. Saying I’m not man enough to keep them out.

I stared that thing down, then huffed and puffed on the way to the kitchen to get paper towels to kill it.

When I got back, it was still there. Like it was saying “Nah nah nah nah boo boo.” 

I pulled my office chair over to the corner where it was and stood in it, but it was no use. I needed a few more inches.

Backstory–this Christmas I exercised my manliness by building a really awesome desk using a door, some landscape timbers, and a large sheet of glass that covers the top.

Do you see where this is going?

Unfortunately, glass is really expensive. Like, $100 expensive.

With the wisdom of a thousand sages, I thought, “You know what, I can put my right foot on the desk, lightly of course, to give me the few inches I need to kill this sucker.”

So, like a genius, I did.

And, crack.

Not only crack, but…as I went to swallow the enemy cockroach with the paper towel in my hand, I missed. It came flying down with me and scurried off to oblivion, unscathed. To continue to mock me, of course.

And I was a mess.

Down? Yep. Touchy? Yep. Angry? Yep.

Frustrated beyond any point of reason? Don’t even get me started. I stood there shaking my head, furious at myself and at that stupid cockroach, muttering things like, “I can’t even kill a cockroach…” and in general having a mini breakdown, at least juxtaposed by my usual “stability”.

And Kristi in her graceful, calming mood finally says, “Brandon–what is wrong with you? You’re acting…crazy.”

Uh oh. Crazy. Unstable. Unpredictable. Volatile. Crazy. That’s the word. That’s the word I never, ever want to be. Ever. But I am being crazy. Right now. Uh oh. 

I’ve always heard that God has a sense of humor. That sounds a bit corny, but I assume it’s true. He creates all good things, after all, so laughter is undoubtedly on that list.

Either way, I am grateful that God can point out my silliness and, not to mention, the utter frailty of my so-called “stability”–using nothing but a cockroach and a broken piece of glass.

I’d also like to thank my friend Courtney Gibson for the table runner from India that now gracefully covers up the edge of my broken desk. I’m sure it will serve as a good reminder for me.

Right now it’s mocking me like the cockroach, but hopefully soon it will stop that and be nice.

All Day Long I Feel Created

Thinking about this stunning passage from Annie Dillard’s Holy The Firm today.

“I salt my breakfast eggs. All day long I feel created. I can see the blown dust on the skin of the back of my hand, the tiny trapezoids of chipped clay, moistened and breathed alive. There are some created sheep in the pasture below me, sheep set down here precisely, just touching their blue shadows hoof to hoof on the grass. Created gulls pock the air, rip great curved seams in the settled air: I greet my created meal, amazed.”

The Kind Of Father I Long To Be

 

On Father’s Day I stumbled on this post by John Piper describing the father of a missionary named John G. Paton. Piper introduces some brief sections of John Paton’s autobiography and shares some quotes from the book concerning his father.

Piper: “There was a “closet” where his father would go for prayer as a rule after each meal. The eleven children knew it and they reverenced the spot and learned something profound about God. The impact on John Paton was immense.”

Though everything else in religion were by some unthinkable catastrophe to be swept out of memory, were blotted from my understanding, my soul would wander back to those early scenes, and shut itself up once again in that Sanctuary Closet, and, hearing still the echoes of those cries to God, would hurl back all doubt with the victorious appeal, “He walked with God, why may not I?” (Autobiography, p. 8)

How much my father’s prayers at this time impressed me I can never explain, nor could any stranger understand. When, on his knees and all of us kneeling around him in Family Worship, he poured out his whole soul with tears for the conversion of the Heathen world to the service of Jesus, and for every personal and domestic need, we all felt as if in the presence of the living Savior, and learned to know and love him as our Divine friend.” (Autobiography, p. 21)

Piper: “One scene best captures the depth of love between John and his father, and the power of the impact on John’s life of uncompromising courage and purity. The time came for the young Paton to leave home and go to Glasgow to attend divinity school and become a city missionary in his early twenties. From his hometown of Torthorwald to the train station at Kilmarnock was a 40-mile walk. Forty years later, Paton wrote,”

My dear father walked with me the first six miles of the way. His counsels and tears and heavenly conversation on that parting journey are fresh in my heart as if it had been but yesterday; and tears are on my cheeks as freely now as then, whenever memory steals me away to the scene. For the last half mile or so we walked on together in almost unbroken silence — my father, as was often his custom, carrying hat in hand, while his long flowing yellow hair (then yellow, but in later years white as snow) streamed like a girl’s down his shoulders. His lips kept moving in silent prayers for me; and his tears fell fast when our eyes met each other in looks for which all speech was vain! We halted on reaching the appointed parting place; he grasped my hand firmly for a minute in silence, and then solemnly and affectionately said: “God bless you, my son! Your father’s God prosper you, and keep you from all evil!”

Unable to say more, his lips kept moving in silent prayer; in tears we embraced, and parted. I ran off as fast as I could; and, when about to turn a corner in the road where he would lose sight of me, I looked back and saw him still standing with head uncovered where I had left him — gazing after me. Waving my hat in adieu, I rounded the corner and out of sight in instant. But my heart was too full and sore to carry me further, so I darted into the side of the road and wept for time. Then, rising up cautiously, I climbed the dike to see if he yet stood where I had left him; and just at that moment I caught a glimpse of him climbing the dike and looking out for me! He did not see me, and after he gazed eagerly in my direction for a while he got down, set his face toward home, and began to return — his head still uncovered, and his heart, I felt sure, still rising in prayers for me. I watched through blinding tears, till his form faded from my gaze; and then, hastening on my way, vowed deeply and oft, by the help of God, to live and act so as never to grieve or dishonor such a father and mother as he had given me. (pp. 25–26)

Photo Credit: Patrik Jones via Compfight

I have to admit that while I read these words I battled tears and lost. Something in this just wrecks me.

Earlier that day, my mom sent me a completely out of the blue text that said: “Happy advanced Father’s Day…you will be a good one someday.” Even when I read that text something lava-like swelled up in me–this burning desire to be a father like that. To be a dad who loves his children with an undeterred ferocity, who showers them with affection and models a love for Jesus that will undecidedly mark them, one way or another.

I long not only to be a father, but to be that kind of father.

The kind of father that hugs and kisses and says “I love you”. The kind that is emotionally present. The kind that through his marriage shows how a woman should be loved, adored and cherished. The kind that engages, leads, and speaks life into his family.

By now I’ve worked with enough people through Recovery to know the unthinkable wounds and voids that come from more-than-flawed or absentee fathers. I remember hearing Donald Miller speak once about having grown up without a father and, after his first experience sitting around a dinner table with a godly father leading his family, thought: “I missed out on that?” And then he said he wanted to crawl up in the fetal position and weep for hours.

I’ve seen what the failures of a father can cost someone. The world is hard enough as it is, so I desperately don’t want to add to the mess by sending my children off to college with billboard-like issues that I’ve regrettably bestowed upon them.

I think that desire is a really good thing, to be a father like the man described in those words. I pray that God will shape me to be a father like that.

But I’ve noticed that it goes too far in my heart, because I turn it into this unrealistic thing. I somehow think that I can actually be the perfect father–that I won’t screw up the way a lot of dads seem to. I know I’m a jacked up sinner, but when it comes to being a father, I so badly want to believe I will get that 100% right. No screwing it up. That I will succeed in every way that I’ve seen other fathers fail.

But I won’t. Of course.

Succeed in every way? How can I?

And when I come back to reality and sit under that inescapable truth, it scares the breath out of me. I rail against it, but then it defeats me again.

And then God gracefully reminds me that there is only one perfect Father, and that I am not and never will be Him. That is not a burden I am intended to bear.

I realize that as much as I will love my children, I am a stand-in. He is the truest lover and creator of their souls.

As He’s walked with and been a father to me, He’ll do the same for them.

I remember that He’ll cover their temper tantrums and rebellion with grace and that, like the Father of the prodigal son, He’ll run after them.

If (when) I screw up, He’ll give them grace to forgive me.

If (when) I hurt them, He’ll be there to heal.

He will be the perfect Father that their souls long for, and by God’s grace I hope to not be a distraction, but a faithful stand-in that points them to the highest and truest Father.

I hope I can put my delusions of being a perfect father to rest and instead long to be that kind of father.

You Become Numb To It

This past weekend Kristi and I went to the Upstate to see our families and go to her brother’s high school graduation. When we visit, we always stay with my Mema because she has plenty of extra room (and because she’s awesome). Staying there has become one of our favorite places in the world–from sitting around the table catching up with her to peacefully quiet nights in her house to Saturday morning trips to Yank’s for breakfast.

And let me tell you, it’s beautiful. Decades ago my Grandaddy bought 45 or so acres of rolling green hills and built their brick ranch on top of the hill. Generations have grown up traipsing around the green pastures and barns, learning to climb over the fence that keeps the cows and horses in, taking trips to the creek to hunt for crawdads and picking tomatoes out of the garden.

This is where I grew up, and it was a blessed growing up–that’s for sure.

But the thing is, when we go back to visit now, something is different.

Or rather, nothing is actually different, but my eyes somehow are. They are not as used to seeing the same landscape that they used to see every day. And every time now–every time we pull up or I walk around the house to a different view, or when the sun starts setting over the trees–I am absolutely struck by how gorgeous it is.

These pictures I took last weekend don’t do it justice, but it at least gives a hint:

 

 

And when I say struck, I mean that literally. I stand there, stunned for moments at a time, and can do nothing other than stare. I have this urge to look at my family, who still live there, and say “You guys don’t realize how beautiful this is, do you?”

Because I know from experience: you become numb to it.

And I hate this about us. That with familiarity, the most breathtaking vistas, the most wished-for freedoms in the world, the most staggering truths of the universe–they can become trite and commonplace in our eyes.

Then last Sunday I heard a fantastic sermon about how in the South so many people are inoculated to the gospel of Jesus. They’re familiar with it in some arm’s length sense, and just like a real inoculation–they’ve been given just enough of the flu to build a familiar resistance to it and never actually get the real flu. The earth-shattering realities of God taking on human flesh and dying in our place to free us from our self-righteous rebellion become familiar, tired sayings to which people yawn “heard that before.”

This is of course the tragic reality of familiarity.

To these people–the numb ones–I pray that by the grace of God, the Holy Spirit would come along and do what He does–point people to the immeasurable beauty of Jesus. That He would convict and reveal and by any means possible wipe the proverbial scales from their eyes and say, “See? See the real thing?”

By God’s grace, I am so happy to say that this is happening here in my city, Columbia. It’s happening through many ways, but one I see most often is through the church actually being a gospel-centered family together. Through people standing up and saying, “I am a busted, jacked up sinner, and I’m seeing more and more how the gospel is the cure for everything–my rebellion, my restlessness, my pain and my hardness of heart.” Seeing people come alive to the gospel and it’s all-encompassing implications literally never gets old.

I heard a story just the other day that a new Christian in one of our LifeGroups texted a friend of mine one morning, and it simply said:

Dude…God became man and died for my sin. Wow.

Wow indeed. I forget and take that for granted far, far too often.

Fellow believers, I hope that we will not grow numb to the gospel. I pray that it will become fresh again to us every day as we grow deeper in it and become more amazed by the work of Jesus and how it speaks to every facet of our lives.

We will never reach the bottom of it, so let’s continue to swim and be struck by it’s beauty.