Archive by Author

The House of God

O Lord, God of Israel, there is no God like you in heaven above or on earth beneath, keeping covenant and steadfast love for your servants who walk before you with all their heart… Likewise when a foreigner, who is not of your people Israel, comes from a distant land because of your name—for they shall hear of your great name, your mighty hand, and your outstretched arm—when a foreigner comes and prays toward this house, then hear in heaven your dwelling place, and do according to all that the foreigner calls to you, so that all the peoples of the earth may know your name and fear you.
-1 Kings 8:23, 41-43a (NRSV)

The passage above comes from what is possibly one of the most beautiful prayers we have recorded in Scripture. Solomon prays these words as he is dedicating the Temple to the work of God.

In these few verses, Solomon speaks in confidence about something: foreigners will “hear of your great name, your mighty hand, and your outstretched arm,” and what they hear will be so utterly compelling that they will come from miles away just to experience the God they’ve heard about.

When was the last time you heard of someone walking through the doors of your church because they heard of the work He was doing? Not the work you were doing, but the work He was doing? When did the House of God stop being a place people—even the enemies of the people of God—flocked to because they heard of His great power at work there?

Make the Church that place again. Make the Church a place where the power of God is so outpoured that people can’t resist coming to see what’s happening. And most importantly, make the Church a place where even the people who are radically different (your enemies, even!) are welcomed, loved and told that God hears them.

That’s the House of God. Make the Church that House.

Reunion and Triumph are Near

This past Sunday at The Rising, we discussed the seven final sayings of Jesus on the cross. They’re assembled from the four gospels taken together, and are often the focus of Holy Week meditation within the church. In case you don’t know them (as I didn’t), here are the seven sayings:

  1. Forgiveness: “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”
  2. Salvation: “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
  3. Relationship: “Woman, here is your son. … Here is your mother.”
  4. Abandonment: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
  5. Distress: “I am thirsty.”
  6. Reunion: “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”
  7. Triumph: “It is finished.”

As I reflected on these sayings, I was especially struck by the sayings of abandonment and distress. It was likely about this time of day (noon-ish) that Christ was saying these things. Christ felt abandoned by his Father, and crushed by the weight of what he was enduring.

But I was struck by something more profound yet: reunion and triumph were not far off. In his moment of greatest distress, reunion and triumph were nearby.

As you reflect on the death of Christ this Good Friday, remember that reunion and triumph are not far off. The finishing of the work is near. The resurrection is near. In your moments of greatest distress, remember that reunion and triumph are not far off. God is near. Anticipate His triumph.

Mountaintop Expectations

Every Christian asks at some point how they can get that “mountaintop” feeling back that they get after camp, a conference, retreat, etc. That feeling of being so immensely close to God, and feeling so wonderfully intimate with him.

So why does it happen? What is the great answer? What’s the mystery to keeping the feeling? It’s surprisingly simple actually.

You have to expect God to work.

The reason we have such incredible experiences with God at camps and such is that we go expecting God to work. We expect a movement of the Holy Spirit. We expect life transformation.

We don’t hold those same expectations about every Sunday. As much as we may say that we hold those expectations, the truth is that we simply don’t. In the hustle and bustle of life, we don’t slow down enough to truly expect God to work when we show up at church. We expect to get in, get out so we can go on to the next thing.

Want to rediscover that intimacy with God every single week? Expect him to work. When we show up differently, God shows up differently too. Have the expectations of God’s movement every day. And you’ll see it every day.

Holistic Holiness

Throughout the mid-to-late-20th century, the church became obsessed with what we now call legalism. You know, the “don’t drink, smoke or chew or go with girls who do” ideology.

In response to this, a new generation of Generation X theologians emerged who proclaimed, “Jesus isn’t about what you don’t do—that was the Pharisees! He’s about what you do!” Which was legitimately a good thing—the church had too much focus on not doing, so it was about time for someone to bring in the opposing voice.

But there came a problem: we went from one extreme to another, and in so doing invented a different kind of legalism. It’s just as legalistic to be all about what you do as it is to be all about what you don’t do. 

“I volunteer 10 hours a week at the homeless shelter—God must love me a lot.”

“Oh, you don’t wake up at 4:30 to do your devotions?”

Maybe you’ve heard statements kind of like these. Or thought them. Or said them. We moved from a legalism of what we don’t do to a legalism of what we do do. We moved from judging people who did things like smoking, drinking, and getting a tattoo to judging people who don’t do things like giving, volunteering, or waking up early to have devotions. We didn’t fix the problem; we merely shifted our judgement.

We need to move to a viewpoint of holistic holiness. Instead of the Christian life just being about what we don’t do or just being about what we do do, we need to see it as a life where both matter immensely. Holiness is about allowing the Spirit to change every part of us—both the things we do and the things we don’t do. Holiness has to be holistic.

The Vitality of Community

Today I was listening to the TED Radio Hour in my car. (Yes, I’m an NPR nerd.) At the end of this week’s show they featured a TED talk by a man named Eric Whitacre. In 2010 and 2011, he conducted the “Virtual Choir,” a group of over 2,000 people from around the world who recorded themselves singing a song which was later reassembled as a cohesive whole. You can see their second song, “Sleep,” here.

When Mr. Whitacre was talking on the radio show, he shared something profound that had me frantically trying to get Siri to take a note about it. First he shared this quote from one of the Virtual Choir participants:

Aside from the beautiful music, it’s great just to know I’m part of a worldwide community of people I never met before, but who are connected anyway.

Later, he shared this thought:

…human beings will go to any lengths necessary to find and connect with each other.

This got me to thinking: this is what the church is all about. This is our mission. Our lifeblood. The reason we exist.

Now, more than ever, people want to be connected. They will go to any length, to anywhere, to connect. The Internet has created this idea of the nebulous “we,” a global community of people interconnected despite never having met person-to-person.

The church is uniquely equipped, by its very nature, to fulfill this mission. We are a global community of people interconnected despite never having met person-to-person. People desperately want to connect. They want a place where they feel like they belong, a place where they feel like they can accomplish things together with others. The church is that place. The church is that community. We (believers) just have to actually live like it.

Community is vital. Will we provide it?

Page 1 of 3412345»102030...Last »