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“And do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father,’ for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children for Abraham.” Matthew 3:9

Let us agree that God has a plan for your life that will result in blessings for many people and glory to God.

Now, the question is, could God accomplish his purposes without you? Could he instead do everything with, say, a rock?

Imagine for a moment that, instead of creating you, God created a rock. Could God still do everything he wanted to do in this world with that rock? Is your absence the fatal flaw in his plan?

The anser is obvious and Jesus’ words above leave no doubt about it. God can do anything he wants.

He doesn’t need you or me or anything else. He could do it all with just a rock.

This is very humbling! We like to think our actions are imortant because they are necessary, and without our valiant efforts, everything would fall into ruin, as if God could somehow be less glorious if we weren’t there to help him.

Yes. It is good to be humble. However, it isn’t enough to stop once your ego and pride has been crushed. There is another truth to consider.

In spite of the fact that God does not need us, he still inludes us. Even though he could exist quite happily in a universe of stone, partaking of his glorious Triune fellowship forever, he instead chose to create you and me and give us the honor of contributing.

It is a strange thing, this dance of pride and humility. By grasping for the lofty position and hanging on to pride, we miss the grace of God that seeks to life us precisely to the very mountain peak we could never have reached on our own.

1 John 2:17 “This world is passing away…”

God’s garbage is the perfect spring day. Blue sky, green tree, birds gliding far away.
It’s the smell of bacon and coffee with a good book before me on a Saturday morning.
I laugh along with friends at night around a table of hot, homemade food.
God’s garbage.
It’s going away like trash, refuse, dung, a pile of moldy rags. He’s throwing it all out one day.
Even God’s waste bins are glided.
When you live in the dump, you gotta enjoy what you can get.
I smile at an evening with a good show, or a long walk, or time with my kids. There is beauty and meaning in the scraps, twisted as they are by sin and the curse.
Some have been in the dump so long, they’ve forgotten that there is more than the trash. They climb to the tops of the garbage piles, collecting all the gold they can find.
But no matter how high they go, they never win. It’s not their garbage.

If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him!” Luke 11:13

In this verse, our Lord Jesus gives us a rock-solid foundation for our hope, so that we will trust God to give us the Holy Spirit. That foundation is the goodness of God. And to help us understand the goodness of God, he compares God to us, evil and fallen human beings.

Jesus called his disciples evil. There’s no getting around that fact. And we are no better than they were. Do you see the evil that exists in your heart? Or do you go around thinking of yourself as a good person, someone who deserves something, deserves to be happy and healthy, and successful?

But don’t fall into the trap of thinking that admitting your own wickedness is itself a virtue to be commended, making you somehow less evil for the admission. No, even our confessions of sin are wicked, self-serving, and half-hearted.

There is none righteous, no, not one; there is none who understands; there is none who seeks after God. they have all turned aside; they have together become unprofitable; there is none who does good, no, not one. Romans 3:10-12

If you still see yourself as a good person, you will never trust in God, because you will never see just how beautiful God is in his goodness. The diamond shines most gloriously when it is placed on a black cloth. The goodness of God is most glorious in contrast with our sin.

And yet, though we are wicked, fallen creatures, we can still do things that seem good. We can work productively and give to others. We can serve those in need and give good things to our children. Though our natures have been twisted and marred by sin and rebellion against our creator, there lingers in us a remnant of the good image of God, which he gave to us.

When my child comes up to me and asks me for food, I give it gladly. I want him to eat and be healthy because I love my him. Just because we are sinful, it doesn’t mean we can’t create good outcomes in this world. It only means all the good things we do fall short and ultimately fail to measure up to God’s standard of goodness.

Because of this, we fail in our attempts to love others. We love yes, but imperfectly. We serve others, but not always in the most useful ways, and often for our own glory. We give good things to our children, but we also give bad things to them in turn.

The ironic and tragic thing is that when we look at ourselves, we often refuse to see the failures and instead dwell on the good. We think we know best. We think we have high moral standards that make us capable of discerning what is good and what is not. We pronounce judgements on others for doing what is wrong in our eyes, and we complain against God when he allows evil to befall us. “How could a good God give us these evil days?” We spit bitterly at the sky.

We don’t even know what good means.

And this seems to be the point. If we, in our sinful condition, still manage to produce some level of goodness toward others (Jesus uses children as an example here), how much more will God?

God who is all good, and righteous, and holy. God who is life and love and truth. There is no evil in him. Everything he does is good. He alone is able to define what good is, in fact. And he is so good, that when he gives a gift, it isn’t just any old gift. When God gives a gift, it is the best one there is. God never settles on mediocre when it comes to giving. He is fully generous and abundant in grace.

He gives us himself.

In this verse, specifically, Jesus says that he gives his Holy Spirit.

What? You mean he doesn’t give me more money? He doesn’t give me a new job, or relief from pain, or a relationship to ease my loneliness. I’m not saying he doesn’t give those things. He does give them often (though not always)!

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. James 1:17

But all of those earthly gifts pale in comparison to the gift of his Holy Spirit. God himself, living in us, producing faith in us, teaching us how to love God, how to follow Jesus, filling us with real joy and real peace. Without him, all the other gifts mean nothing. And they are actually turned into problems in our lives. For God is so good, that when we foolishly get distracted by his lesser gifts, thinking that they are better than God himself, he allows those little things we love to rot away right in front of us.

He doesn’t remove the things we love out of hate or vindictiveness. No, he is simply helping us turn back to him again and see that he really is the worthiest object of our love and desire.

Do you want to know how you can receive this gift from God? Jesus said it. Simply ask. Ask like a child asks for a sandwich. Believe in God. See yourself in all your evil, helpless, sinful ways, so that you can see just how good God is. When you see God’s goodness, you will trust Him to give you what you really need, what he promises to give. Ask and you will receive his Holy Spirit.

But you will never ask God to give you himself, unless you see God as wonderful, good, generous, and beautiful. And you will never see him that way as long as you are distracted by your own false greatness.

His name was Abdullah. He walked briskly, head forward and back slightly bent, down the dumpster ridden alley behind a row of apartments. He wore the same old, tan jacket he always wore. There was a satchel hanging from his right side, the strap draped over his left shoulder which did not come higher that the lips of the dumpster bins he passed by. As he walked, his left hand swung in a determined manner. He knew where he was going, and how long it would take to get there.

His right hand didn’t swing at all, for it lay protectively over the satchel.

The crumbling asphalt of the alley crunched under his feet.

I had just heaved the overflowing trash bag from the kitchen into one of the dumpsters near my apartment. When I turned to go back inside, I saw Abdullah coming down the alley from the east. I wasn’t surprised to see him. He always came down my alley around the same time every evening. I never knew why, or where he was going. I assumed he was homeless. I’d seen him elsewhere around the city. He was always walking, always wearing the same thing. He always carried the satchel with him.

Normally, I would wave and then go about my business. This time, however, something (or someone) stopped me.

I waited there by the dumpster and pretended to admire the sunset. I didn’t need to pretend for long. It was a jewel. Big, ripe clouds hung heavily in a pale blue sky. Streaks of orange and pink decorated the background.

The crunches of his feet grew louder, and I turned and smiled.

I hadn’t seen his face up close for a while. It had gotten older, more wrinkled. The white hair that still grew from the sides of his head had gotten thinner.

He gave me a gapped but friendly grin in return.

I said ‘hi’ and something about the beautiful sunset. He never stopped walking, but nodded and chuckled. Then he spoke. He had a voice like a rusty motor, all grinding gears and metal, but it still got the job done.

“Finally starting to cool down.” He said, continuing on his way.

I laughed and started to walk back. “What is your name?” I asked, in passing.

The crunches stopped. He turned to look me in the eye, a surprised smile brightening his face. “Abdullah! And yourself?”

“I’m Michael.”

“Ah! A common name! A pleasure to meet you.”

We exchanged farewells. He turned and walked back down the alley.

I walked up the steps to my apartment somewhat stunned. There in the dirty alley, amid the crowded cars and trash bins, I’d seen an artistic masterpiece. Abdullah was made. He was crafted by God to be totally unique, original, different from anyone else on earth. He had his own story, his own treasures, and his own pain.

And he was real. He wasn’t wearing a mask, or trying to impress anyone, or asking for handouts. He was walking, with head down and feet steady, and hand guarding his satchel. And he’d looked me in the eye and shared a piece of himself with me.

His name was Abdullah.

If you, O LORD, should mark iniquities, O LORD, could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, that you may be feared. Psalm 130:3-4

Why does the forgiveness of God enable us to fear Him?

We often fear what can hurt us. We go to the doctor and listen to his words and peer at x-rays because want to make sure we are ok. We don’t want to be afraid of an unknown disease that could take away our lives.

Doesn’t this verse turn that on its head? God’s forgiveness frees us, pardons us, restores us to Himself. So, how can it be that there is a connection between God’s forgiveness of our “iniquities” and our fear of Him?

It makes you wonder. What is fear really for? Perhaps we were never meant to fear disease, or wild animals, or the unknown, or the dark, or anything else that could take away our life. I think we were designed to only ever really be afraid of the one who gives life. The one who forgives.

But how does that work? I’m not exactly sure. But here’s one thought. Let’s say you lived your whole life as a miserable thief. You robbed and stole and spent it all on drugs and sex, living a wasted life. Then, as you are dying in the hospital from overdosing, you call out to God for mercy, believing in Jesus and accepting his sacrifice for you, and He gives it. You are saved. None of your sins will be held against you.

What kind of Being has the power to do that? The power to forgive, and forgive without being unjust, is what true power really is. There is nothing more awesome, or breathtaking than’ that.

The forgiveness of God can pardon a murderer, a thief, a pedophile. It never quits, though you sin and fail in the same ways. Though you will never be able to measure up, God’s grace in Jesus Christ never runs dry.

The power of forgiveness is the power of God to save our sinful souls. And it is the power, if withheld, to damn them forever.

So, let us humble ourselves and admit that we are completely powerless to escape His anger toward our sin. Let us go to Him, ask for and accept His forgiveness. But let us tremble as we do. The gift we receive is not some insignificant toy. It isn’t a free pass, or an “it’s all good man.” It is a mighty weapon, a force of inexaustible power, forged in the fires of God’s wrath that were poured out on His own son as he hung beaten and bloodied on a rugged cross.Yes, there is forgiveness with God, that we may fear the One who holds our eternal destinies in His hand, and recieve life from Him.

Right now, I’m listening to a song called “Christmas Lullaby.” You can find a link to it below.

There are no words, but the music speaks. I find myself transported to the manger of Jesus, watching him cry and sleep. I see him as a newborn child with his mother and father, and the animals in the stable.

The light is dim. It is still. There is a humble sweetness in the air as Joseph and Marry lay exhausted on the ground, holding their little, fragile, son.

So why does this quite night change so much? How can so humble a child be so important? How can God become a baby? How can the mighty become weak and helpless?

But He did. He did!

In one night, the Lord of Lords stooped so low, became so small, so humble, for me. For us all.

Sometimes music makes us feel what thoughts and words cannot. And when I listen to this song, for some reason, I feel the simple and beautiful majesty of Christmas. The breathtaking silence. The impossible act of pure love and humility.

It makes me feel thankful for my King Jesus, and all He did for me.

Merry Christmas.

I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Philippians 4:12-13

Contentment is about not being content.

We feel discontent because we try to achieve contentment. We try to fill the empty space in our lives.

The space, however, never fills. It only moves, displaced with each new addition we make to life, like water in a pool when rocks are thrown in.

To say it another way, we content ourselves with things that do not satisfy. We will ourselves to be happy with things that ought to make us so.

Then, we are frustrated when those things are not enough to make our happiness last forever.

Perhaps the problem is not with the things. Perhaps the problem is that we thought those things were what we needed in the first place.

We are not content for long, because we allow ourselves to be content too easily.

Contentment is not about accepting life as it is without complaint.

Contentment is about rejecting all but the best, most beautiful, most satisfying joy you can have.

For when you have the best already, you are immune to anything life can throw at (or take away from) you.

That is what the Apostle meant, I think.

Grace isn’t something you can give yourself. Grace is outside you – a gift.

Grace is the high wire.

Grace is the airplane.

Grace is what you need, and it is what you have. So lean into it. Use it.

Lean into grace when you fail again.

Lean into it when you forget that thing you said you would do.

When your loved ones make you crazy, lean into the grace of God that allows you to be His family, and allows you to love yours.

Lean into the rock of grace like the rock climber leans on the rock he is climbing.

Don’t tell me to give myself grace.

Don’t try to give yourself grace.

We already have it.

Let’s lean into it, and get to work.

A highway of information.

Defining knowable space.

Gentle, and yet it burns.

Impossibly fast, and yet silent.

We think of light in terms of what it lets us see.

It’s shiny, bright stuff that bounces around.

What is it?

Light is that which enables good.

Light is necessary for sight, for knowledge, for focus, for work, for play.

Even God doesn’t work in the darkness.

He first turned on the light.

He called what he made in that brightness good.

It reveals what is.

Not all light is bright.

To be honest is to be bright.

To tell the truth is to unleash nearly unlimited possibilities.

To believe the truth is to see.

To reject the truth is to be blind.

What dark corners in your life need light?

What shadows in your head?

Open your eyes, tell the truth.

Turn the light on.

Believe.

See.