I am:
- A follower of the Lord Jesus Christ
- A student of those who have something to teach me
- A teacher to those who have something to learn from me
- An uncle
- A son
- A brother
- A friend
- A writer
- A musician
- A poet
Showing posts with label god. Show all posts
Showing posts with label god. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Who I Am
There's a song by Switchfoot called "This Is Your Life." The lyrics are, in part, "This is your life, are you who you wanna be?" The song got me thinking. Am I who I want to be? Who am I, for that matter? I guess I'm a lot of things. I had to make a list.
I am:
I am:
Thursday, February 21, 2008
A High Calling
I know that I am called to something higher than merely surviving in this imperfect vessel. What purpose can there possibly be in eking out an existence in a temporary world? To what end do the masses strive and struggle to store up earthly treasures for themselves here in this fragile, perilous, momentary existence?
I echo the question uttered by every humanist philospher who has ever lived: what is the point? The difference is that I have the answer.
The humanist sees no "point" because he seeks it in a narrow, myopic, human view of our existence. But there is something greater. There is Someone greater. He created us in this world for a purpose which will come to its ultimate fruition outside of it. He created us to have a relationship with Him.
Each of us is called to discover this high purpose. There is no other purpose. If one does not seek the Creator, for what then, has one been created?
I echo the question uttered by every humanist philospher who has ever lived: what is the point? The difference is that I have the answer.
The humanist sees no "point" because he seeks it in a narrow, myopic, human view of our existence. But there is something greater. There is Someone greater. He created us in this world for a purpose which will come to its ultimate fruition outside of it. He created us to have a relationship with Him.
Each of us is called to discover this high purpose. There is no other purpose. If one does not seek the Creator, for what then, has one been created?
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Touched by the Spirit
I had an amazing, life-altering experience the other day. I've been meaning to mention it on my blog for a few days now, but I wasn't quite sure how to share this. But now time marches ever onward, and all I know is that I need to share it, regardless of how.
I've read that one who has been called into the ministry will be touched and blessed by the Holy Spirit before being sent forth to do His work. I've often wondered what that would feel like, and how I would know. How little did I understand. "Oh ye of little faith."
I try to meet with Pastor Fred at least once a week over a cup of coffee. We talk about the church, we talk about ourselves, but most importantly to me, he mentors me. I've learned a great deal about the ministry from him in the last few weeks. I don't know if he realizes just how much those meetings mean to me, but that's a story for another day.
One day last week, we had just finished up such a meeting. We had been discussing, among other things, my calling. After we were done talking, Fred went on his way to another meeting he had scheduled, and I remained behind at the restaurant to do some work on a Bible study I've been working on for quite some time. In fact, it's a study that Fred turned me onto. It's a challenging one, in Romans, about the old nature and the new nature. I've been getting a lot out of it. The Spirit has truly been speaking to me through this study. I've gotten a lot out of it, application-wise. And I'm nowhere near done.
But I had a lot of work to do, so I busted out my study Bible and my notebook and got to work. I proceeded to have what might just be the most blessed Bible study time I've ever had. There were a few moments where the Spirit showed me so much that my eyes welled up just a bit. It was almost overwhelming. And then something amazing happened.
When I first shared with Fred that I'd been called, he told me to keep my eyes open for a verse or a passage that the Spirit would show me, one that would directly speak to my calling. He said I'd know it when I saw it. And he was right.
So there I was, studying a verse in Romans chapter six, when I went to a particular cross-reference and I read it. There it was. The Spirit was speaking to me, and to me alone. These two verses were directly answering a question that had been on my mind from the beginning. I got a little emotional, as I read this passage and thought back on the last few months of my life. I could see the beginning of God's plan for my life playing itself out as, piece by piece, everything fell into place according to His will. I could see not only what he had planned for me, but I could see how He was working to bring it all together. I could see his Will in action, and it was an incredible feeling. Up to that moment in my life, I don't think I've ever felt quite so blessed. But that was about to change.
I packed up my books and, after one quick stop, I started on the drive home. I was happy, I was feeling blessed, and I thought that the Lord deserved some praise, so I fired up my iPod and went straight to the praise playlist. I drove home with praise music blaring on my speakers, and with praise on my lips as I sang to my God. A few moments later, my life changed. I felt an indescribable feeling. I wish I could put into words what I felt. I like to think of myself as something of a poet, but there were no words in my vocabulary for what I was feeling. As I've been rather fond of saying lately, trying to describe what I was feeling would be like trying to describe the color blue to a man who's been blind since birth.
I felt the touch of the Spirit. I felt His holy fire upon me. I felt righteous, blessed energy coursing through me and it was so powerful it darn near knocked the wind out of me. I had to pull over or I was going to lose control of the car. I had to pull onto the shoulder. I could barely manage to pull myself together enough to flip on my hazard lights. I was lost in the power of the Spirit. I was shouting praise at the top of my lungs. I was bursting with it and I couldn't give it to God fast enough or loud enough.
I don't know how long I sat on the shoulder before I was able to get it together enough where I could continue driving. Based on how long it took me to get home, I would have to have been sitting there a good twenty minutes. But time meant nothing to me during that life-changing moment.
I spent the rest of the day with an ear to ear smile on my face. How could I not? I had been in the Lord's presence. And I will never be the same.
I've read that one who has been called into the ministry will be touched and blessed by the Holy Spirit before being sent forth to do His work. I've often wondered what that would feel like, and how I would know. How little did I understand. "Oh ye of little faith."
I try to meet with Pastor Fred at least once a week over a cup of coffee. We talk about the church, we talk about ourselves, but most importantly to me, he mentors me. I've learned a great deal about the ministry from him in the last few weeks. I don't know if he realizes just how much those meetings mean to me, but that's a story for another day.
One day last week, we had just finished up such a meeting. We had been discussing, among other things, my calling. After we were done talking, Fred went on his way to another meeting he had scheduled, and I remained behind at the restaurant to do some work on a Bible study I've been working on for quite some time. In fact, it's a study that Fred turned me onto. It's a challenging one, in Romans, about the old nature and the new nature. I've been getting a lot out of it. The Spirit has truly been speaking to me through this study. I've gotten a lot out of it, application-wise. And I'm nowhere near done.
But I had a lot of work to do, so I busted out my study Bible and my notebook and got to work. I proceeded to have what might just be the most blessed Bible study time I've ever had. There were a few moments where the Spirit showed me so much that my eyes welled up just a bit. It was almost overwhelming. And then something amazing happened.
When I first shared with Fred that I'd been called, he told me to keep my eyes open for a verse or a passage that the Spirit would show me, one that would directly speak to my calling. He said I'd know it when I saw it. And he was right.
So there I was, studying a verse in Romans chapter six, when I went to a particular cross-reference and I read it. There it was. The Spirit was speaking to me, and to me alone. These two verses were directly answering a question that had been on my mind from the beginning. I got a little emotional, as I read this passage and thought back on the last few months of my life. I could see the beginning of God's plan for my life playing itself out as, piece by piece, everything fell into place according to His will. I could see not only what he had planned for me, but I could see how He was working to bring it all together. I could see his Will in action, and it was an incredible feeling. Up to that moment in my life, I don't think I've ever felt quite so blessed. But that was about to change.
I packed up my books and, after one quick stop, I started on the drive home. I was happy, I was feeling blessed, and I thought that the Lord deserved some praise, so I fired up my iPod and went straight to the praise playlist. I drove home with praise music blaring on my speakers, and with praise on my lips as I sang to my God. A few moments later, my life changed. I felt an indescribable feeling. I wish I could put into words what I felt. I like to think of myself as something of a poet, but there were no words in my vocabulary for what I was feeling. As I've been rather fond of saying lately, trying to describe what I was feeling would be like trying to describe the color blue to a man who's been blind since birth.
I felt the touch of the Spirit. I felt His holy fire upon me. I felt righteous, blessed energy coursing through me and it was so powerful it darn near knocked the wind out of me. I had to pull over or I was going to lose control of the car. I had to pull onto the shoulder. I could barely manage to pull myself together enough to flip on my hazard lights. I was lost in the power of the Spirit. I was shouting praise at the top of my lungs. I was bursting with it and I couldn't give it to God fast enough or loud enough.
I don't know how long I sat on the shoulder before I was able to get it together enough where I could continue driving. Based on how long it took me to get home, I would have to have been sitting there a good twenty minutes. But time meant nothing to me during that life-changing moment.
I spent the rest of the day with an ear to ear smile on my face. How could I not? I had been in the Lord's presence. And I will never be the same.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
A Link with the Past
A few days ago I drove down to San Diego with my church. The San Diego Natural History Museum was displaying the Dead Sea Scrolls, for what appears to be the last time outside of Israel. I had to take the opportunity to see them before they were gone for good.
On top of that, it was really an outstanding opportunity for fellowship with my brothers and sisters in Christ. I developed much closer relationships with some very faithful Christians, and that can only be a good thing. I also had a couple of good talks with Pastor Fred about my walk with the Lord. Overall, it was an incredibly enlightening couple of days.
To be honest, though I was very interested in seeing the scrolls, I thought I would be approaching this in an almost academic sense. It was a chance to see how the people who wrote them lived, and what they believed. The theologist in me was excited.
But I was unprepared for the emotional impact that the exhibit would have on me.
The way the exhibit was organized, we first walked through a gallery of photos of the Holy Land. Next to each photo was information documenting the subject of each photo. I learned quite a bit about Israel this way. Then the exhibit turned to scale models of Qumran, and replicas of the jars the scrolls were found in. There was a full size replica of the tents that the people who excavated Qumran lived in as they worked in the desert. And then there were videos documenting the preservation efforts of the scrolls.
This is where I started losing it.
Just seeing them on video was overwhelming. I was almost dreading seeing the scrolls in person. I'd probably fall to my knees and start blubbering like a baby.
But I bravely soldiered on and moved to the next portion of the exhibit. This part was beyond cool. The area where the scrolls themselves were on display was down in the basement of the museum. The entrance to the area was a replica of the cave the scrolls were found in. Like I said, beyond cool.
Walking past the entrance, we entered the gallery where the scrolls themselves were on display. Only I didn't see them yet. First, more information on the lives of the people that we believe wrote the scrolls. They were a highly orthodox sect of Jews that segregated themselves from the mainstream Jewish population. I got to see how they lived. I saw some of their personal belongings. Their combs, their phylacteries, their cups and plates, and even their money. The upswell of emotion was growing within me. These were people who literally gave up everything they owned, and everything they were, to fellowship with the Lord. They devoted their lives to Him. I almost felt a certain kinship with them.
And then I saw the first scroll. It was an awesome sight. The parchment was brown, cracked, very damaged, but the writing on it was as clear as if it had been written yesterday. I think that's what really got me. These words were being written down on this paper when my Lord and Saviour was walking the earth in human form, I thought. What an amazing thought. The people that wrote these scrolls wrote them under the same skies that saw our Lord Jesus Christ die on the cross. Wow. What else can you say to that? Just, wow.
The whole experience was faith affirming. I'm reminded that, during the time in my life when I was not living as a Christian, one of my "arguments" against Christianity was that the Bible had been translated so many times that it was unlikely that it still said the same things it used to say. Kind of like when you play "telephone" at a party when you're a kid. The message is always wrong when it gets to the other end of the line.
And here are these documents, written 2000 years ago, long before the Bible was translated into anything other than its original Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic. And they say exactly the same things. The Word of God. Unchanging and eternal. Praise the Lord.
On top of that, it was really an outstanding opportunity for fellowship with my brothers and sisters in Christ. I developed much closer relationships with some very faithful Christians, and that can only be a good thing. I also had a couple of good talks with Pastor Fred about my walk with the Lord. Overall, it was an incredibly enlightening couple of days.
To be honest, though I was very interested in seeing the scrolls, I thought I would be approaching this in an almost academic sense. It was a chance to see how the people who wrote them lived, and what they believed. The theologist in me was excited.
But I was unprepared for the emotional impact that the exhibit would have on me.
The way the exhibit was organized, we first walked through a gallery of photos of the Holy Land. Next to each photo was information documenting the subject of each photo. I learned quite a bit about Israel this way. Then the exhibit turned to scale models of Qumran, and replicas of the jars the scrolls were found in. There was a full size replica of the tents that the people who excavated Qumran lived in as they worked in the desert. And then there were videos documenting the preservation efforts of the scrolls.
This is where I started losing it.
Just seeing them on video was overwhelming. I was almost dreading seeing the scrolls in person. I'd probably fall to my knees and start blubbering like a baby.
But I bravely soldiered on and moved to the next portion of the exhibit. This part was beyond cool. The area where the scrolls themselves were on display was down in the basement of the museum. The entrance to the area was a replica of the cave the scrolls were found in. Like I said, beyond cool.
Walking past the entrance, we entered the gallery where the scrolls themselves were on display. Only I didn't see them yet. First, more information on the lives of the people that we believe wrote the scrolls. They were a highly orthodox sect of Jews that segregated themselves from the mainstream Jewish population. I got to see how they lived. I saw some of their personal belongings. Their combs, their phylacteries, their cups and plates, and even their money. The upswell of emotion was growing within me. These were people who literally gave up everything they owned, and everything they were, to fellowship with the Lord. They devoted their lives to Him. I almost felt a certain kinship with them.
And then I saw the first scroll. It was an awesome sight. The parchment was brown, cracked, very damaged, but the writing on it was as clear as if it had been written yesterday. I think that's what really got me. These words were being written down on this paper when my Lord and Saviour was walking the earth in human form, I thought. What an amazing thought. The people that wrote these scrolls wrote them under the same skies that saw our Lord Jesus Christ die on the cross. Wow. What else can you say to that? Just, wow.
The whole experience was faith affirming. I'm reminded that, during the time in my life when I was not living as a Christian, one of my "arguments" against Christianity was that the Bible had been translated so many times that it was unlikely that it still said the same things it used to say. Kind of like when you play "telephone" at a party when you're a kid. The message is always wrong when it gets to the other end of the line.
And here are these documents, written 2000 years ago, long before the Bible was translated into anything other than its original Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic. And they say exactly the same things. The Word of God. Unchanging and eternal. Praise the Lord.
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