Beastly Burden

I was watching the Behind the Music: Mary J. Blige edition last night. What a story. Raised by an abusive Dad. Battled cocaine and alcohol addictions. And overcame some tough streets. Her story was pretty intense and inspiring. What struck me as most impactive was her statement that "Through forgiveness comes reconciliation." As well as her commitment to prayer.

My folks have been heavily involved in Mission in Rwanda. I've read quite a novel about the genocide there. And most amazingly the forgiveness and reconciliation that continues to take place. People are living alongside others who have slaughtered their entire families—sometimes in front of their own eyes.

Boyd Bailey tweeted a quote the other day: "To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you." -Louis B. Smedes. Not sure who Smedes is, but he definitely makes a great point on forgiveness as well.


How often do we keep hold of someone or something who has slighted us. Most likely with nothing to forgive along the lines of molestation or slaughter. But yet we do. Stupidly. I suppose it's mostly pride.

They said this. Or they did this. I want to teach them a lesson. They should know better. They shouldn't treat people like that. I told them so. They are always doing that. They may really even just be a major a-hole. And still we carry the weight of unforgiveness.

If we don't execute the power of forgiveness the burden is ours to carry. The anchor is set. The immobility is eminent. The bars are locked. And we lose out on the freedom and opportunities which come through reconciliation. We may be really missing out on some pretty out of this world things—on joy.

Ephesians 4:32 shares, "Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you." Of all our nerve to not forgive.

The Audacity of Me

I was feeling a bit uninspired from a faith-walk standpoint. Things were just sort of plodding along. I'm sure many of us do feel this way, or have at points in our lives. Perhaps all to often.

A friend loaned me Francis Chan's Crazy Love. The first chapter or two into the book was enough to recalibrate me a good bit. Chan outlines, pretty effectively, the enormity and omnipresence and holiness of God. And it caused me to feel that I had a lot of nerve to feel uninspired. He also points the reader to a video on his website which tries to give a look at God's majesty. And really makes me feel like such a dumb ass for sitting around feeling uninspired.

In some respect the hippies may have had it right. They walked around telling us to love one another. And that all you need is love. And through most likely hallucinogen-influenced eyes looked at a flower for hours on end, and appreciated the beauty and intricacies of it. There's a Youtube video of a guy in Yosemite who is awed by a double rainbow (which of course its been auto tuned, but no less inspired). While there may be some mind influence in play, this guy seems to get it.

The audacity of us Christians who take for granted God. And his creation. I can sit and make a quick assessment or judgement on anyone around me. Forgetting that God numbers even the very hairs of their head. Or sit and ask God to inspire me. To show himself to me. So I can feel good.

Common-undrum

Andy Stanley tweeted (or retweeted) the other day "What if God doesn't owe us an explanation? What if He ....is God?"

What if we surrendered our rights. Our right to know why God does things. Our right to think we deserve this or that. Our right to determine our roles.

Romans 9:12 states, "Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for noble purposes and some for common use?" Am I okay with that? What if I am of "common use". Clearly I'd like to be one of the noble ones. And additionally, would I like to have "purpose", or just "use".

As an adjective, and according to Dictionary.com, "common" is defined as follows: 1) belonging equally to, or shared alike by, two or more or all in question 2) pertaining or belonging equally to an entire community, nation or culture 3) joint; united. 4) lacking rank, station, distinction, etc.; unexceptional; ordinary

Servants are common folk, right? Yet, we know when we've experience uncommon service.