Come Thou Fount

Come Thou Fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace
Streams of mercy, never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise
Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
Praise the mount, I'm fixed upon it
Mount of Thy redeeming love

Here I raise mine Ebenezer
Hither by Thy help I've come
Jesus sought me when a stranger
Wandering from the fold of God
He to rescue me from danger
Interposed His precious blood

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be
Let Thy goodness like a fetter
Bind my wandering heart to Thee
Prone to wander, Lord I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here's my heart, O take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above.

This has been one of my favorite, if not favorite, hymns. I had it sung at my baptism and it has traveled with me ever since.
I think I love it so much because, regardless of where I am, I find something to grab hold of in it.

For a long while, it was always the third stanza...and at the point I finally awakened to the Spirit-filled life, I thought I was fixed upon that mount of redeeming love for good. Little did I know, it's not so easy to stay on the mountaintop. More than ever, I feel myself prone to wander, but more than ever, I feel deep gratitude when I look back at all the Ebenezers, and more than ever, I believe in the power of God's redeeming love.

It's admitting that I can't walk through this life alone, that I can't pay Jesus back for what He's done, that I don't even have adequate words to thank him. It's asking Him to be my Rabbi, to teach me how to love God with my whole heart, because I don't have it in me.

And it's the gospel summed up in a few beautiful words...Jesus sought me, while a stranger, wandering from the fold of God. He to rescue me from danger, interposed His precious blood. And I will gladly be indebted to His abundant grace.

Too easily pleased?

Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.
-C.S. Lewis

Revolutionary

Christianity used to seem like a box to me. Until I found freedom in Christ. Christianity is no longer a religion to me but a revolution. Revolution is a beautifully epic word. Almost as great as redemption. Or maybe they run together. Anyhow. As I read books like "The Irresistible Revolution" by Shane Claiborne, I got these ideas of Christianity as completely counter-cultural, hippie-ish, way out there cool. But I've made the realization that maybe Christianity is less about creating utopia than quietly shaking up the ordinary. Let me explain.

Jesus makes some revolutionary claims. Going around telling people you are the Son of God is no small thing. Healing chronically sick people. Raising them from the dead. Pretty crazy stuff. Teaching things like, "love your enemy" and "whoever would save his life will lose it," and calling the religious leaders of the day whitewashed tombstones and such. Whoa.

So you might be tempted to think following Jesus requires extreme living...which it does and doesn't all at the same time. It is not necessarily selling everything you own and moving to a remote island, though it is being willing to obey if you are so asked to by God. It also means being willing to obey if God asks to take those little pet sins we like to carry around, the insecurities, the places we look for approval, the ways we try to maintain control of life independent of Him. Following Jesus is not just leaving behind all of our old ways of doing but being as well.

What it means to follow Jesus is to live in His light. To be a temple. A place set apart to be filled with God and His overwhelming love. What does this mean? It means Christ-followers gain fullness of life within. It means they are freed from attachment to this world and its promises of success, approval, wealth, etc etc...freed to live for God and for others.

As my friend Steve Rieske says, and my friend Katie Barnett blogged recently, "The good life begins the day it's not about you." That's pretty counter-cultural. Pretty revolutionary.

A Christ-follower can love freely because the unconditional love of God dwells within him. He can give freely because his true treasure is knowing God. He can live fearlessly through trying times because God's perfect love drives out fear. He be joyful in pain because the joy of the Lord is his strength. A Christ-follower is called to revolutionary living that defies the norms, that causes people to question how he keeps remains at peace through life's storms.

If I could, I would move to India and raid brothels...but the reality is I am currently called to be love and light in the cornfields of Northwest Ohio. Still, I believe that through going to class, hanging out, studying, rehearsing, performing, working out, whatever...that my life can be revolutionary. That you and I can live the ordinary life extraordinarily by the life that is in Jesus. Yup.

Plato and Jesus

We're reading Plato's Republic in my Western Political Thought class...it's meaty...but it's gotten me thinking. Like everyone else, I view the world through my life's experiences, for me the defining one being meeting Jesus Christ. So, reading the allegory of the Cave, I resonate with coming out of the cave, not to enlightened thinking, but to God. In a nutshell, the men are bound in the cave and see only shadows of the real world. One is set free and finally sees the world as it is, the sun that gives all things life, and then goes back to get the other men out. For most of my life, I knew about Jesus, and knew him in a way...but when I let him set me free from my selfish nature and bring me into his loving arms, I began to see the world differently. I could see purpose because I knew its creator. I could see beauty because I had met the source of beauty. I could experience joy because I knew the giver of joy. I could love because I knew true love. The material world began to fade. I could wake up knowing why I did.

Back to Plato; I did seek truth in reason for a long time. There is truth in reason. But reason alone does not give the world meaning, and it does not encompass truth. Often it brings more confusion and cynicism. Nonetheless, I find it interesting that this desire for reality, for something beyond us, exists universally. Everyone is trying to get out of the cave somehow. Whether it be intellectually, materially, relationally...we're all searching. I don't claim to have all the answers, but I can say that I am experiencing ultimate truth in Jesus and it is something glorious.

The Power of Half

This article by Nicholas Kristof struck me...especially after hearing a sermon about giving on Sunday.

I don't think the point is that everyone needs to sell their house and give half of the money away, but I think we should all ask ourselves if we could. Things are not wrong in and of themselves, but are we so attached to our comfortable lives that we can't see the needs of people around us?

I've found myself complaining about everything today...it's too cold out, I have to put too many clothes on. I have too much to do. I don't have enough time for myself. I can't concentrate through three hours of school. I have to walk across campus too many times.

Let's look at the facts: I HAVE more than enough winter clothes to keep warm. I have the luxury of an apartment (a roof over my head) with HEAT. I am getting a college EDUCATION. I have LEGS to walk. I get to share life with wonderful people over a good cup of coffee that costs WAY too much. I am pursuing DREAMS. I am going to ENJOY the music of a world-renowned pianist.

I don't own a house, but I'm going to take a look at my life. What can I cut in half? My coffee habit? Eating out? Can I buy groceries more economically? How about my whining?

Sure, I'd like to work on my spending habits to give more away. But mostly, I want a heart that's the giving sort. The thankful sort. One of contentment. Because I am blessed.

Isn't it ironic...

that after I wrote that post, it started raining. Here we are, the last week of January, and it is 50 degrees outside and wonderful for the soul. Signs of life. They're everywhere, just gotta keep your eyes open : )

For these seeds to give birth to life, first they must die

I never wrote a sappy end of the year post...or an overambitious new year post...but that's not to say I didn't reflect on the old year or make resolutions for the year to come. I actually have done a lot of thinking on both recently. Last year was by far the best year of my life. Hands down. Jesus met me in an undeniable way and there's no turning back. The relationships formed, the experiences, the insights, the change, all of it...incredible. There were so many awesome moments I will never forget. Moments that shaped my reality. And I'm grateful for every one.

As I look into 2010, it's easy to think that what I want is a replay of all the best things in 2009. But maybe that's not true. What was good in 2009 was indeed good. It was very good. And yet, that was 2009, and if I never move beyond it, what's the point? I am secure in who I am. In what I was created for. In my life's purpose. In God's love and my love for him. Sometimes I forget, doubt, or resist God, but when the emotions run dry, I have a love that runs much deeper. And as a good friend told me, "Love just is." That depth is what I desire more of, and yet I don't always want the pain that comes with it. The more I experience God, the more I see myself as so far from who I want to be. The truth is, though the mountaintop views of God were spectacular, the trudges through the valley made God appear even greater. And so, perhaps 2010 will be less mountaintop and more valley, more desert, more fog, more wind and rain and ice and show, but I am choosing to believe what is ahead is better than what has been.

It hit me that while we experience winter as a season of death, other places on earth are thriving. But perhaps in a sense, death and thriving aren't so far apart. After all, as we speak, all those trees and flowers are storing up precious nutrients so that in a few months they can blossom in all their glory. Their beauty is masked for a season, but they are not stagnant by any means. Maybe winter is really a new beginning. Maybe that's life sometimes. Even when this world feels like death, I am choosing to believe that an even more beautiful spring is coming.