tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75606135145465871032024-03-05T09:21:34.100-08:00Tim Glenn MusicTim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.comBlogger199125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-85129498633730260632015-06-29T08:58:00.000-07:002015-06-29T08:58:30.505-07:00Did "LOVE" Really #Win?<div style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
Last week, when the Supreme Court made its ruling, allowing for gay marriage throughout our country, I posted a comment voicing my disapproval. Almost immediately, I was met with a reply—from a friend I met through church—simply saying, “I’m sorry you’re so afraid of love.”</div>
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<b>Love.</b></div>
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In the moments that followed, the social media spheres lit up with that word. The hashtag #lovewins was attached to photos of same-sex couples kissing, rainbow flags, etc. </div>
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But did “love” really win? Is that what happened in Friday’s ruling? I don’t think so. I think this is yet another example of the gay agenda perverting something that was meant to be beautiful. Scripture tells us what love really is. And it is beautiful. So lets hold up the gay agenda’s message and see if it meets the biblical definition of love.</div>
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1 Corinthians tells us: </div>
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<i>Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.</i><b><i> </i></b><i>It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. -1 Corinthinans 13:4-7 (NIV)</i></div>
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<b>Patient.</b> The gay agenda might tell you they have been patient…waiting years for their “equal rights” in the eyes ofthe law. I would argue that the gay agenda has been anything but patient…forcing itself at an ever-growing pace into our businesses, our churches, our politics. In one generation, the gay agenda has managed to bring this nation to cross a line that not even Sodom crossed. Not even the Roman Empire at the height of its depravity did not cross the same-sex marriage line. Yet in one generation, our nation has done so. Patient? I think not.</div>
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<b>Kind.</b> How does forcing a business-owner out of business for not bending to your will even come close to “kind?” The amount of hatred against those who believe homosexuality to be sin is anything but kind. The words "homophobe" and "bigot" are thrown around like candy at a main street parade. Kind? </div>
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<b>Does not envy.</b> I’m very interested in this word in the definition of love. Love does not envy. There's a reason God included this. You see Satan loves to mimic God in many ways. He envies what God has. He wants it. The gay agenda has tried to steal one of God’s most beautiful symbols as their own. Scripture tells us that the rainbow is God’s way of reminding us of His promise to never again flood the earth. God owned the rainbow long before the gay agenda. God also owned “love” long before the gay agenda. Even the phrase “love wins” was used by the Church for decades before Friday’s Supreme Court ruling. Yet here comes the gay agenda, envious of what we have, taking it for their own, bastardizing it. Twisting it to mean something else. Out of envy.</div>
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<b>Does not boast. Is not proud.</b> Do I even need to explain how this is antithetical to the gay agenda? They’ve even attached the word “pride” to their movement. Pride parades. Gay pride. Loud and Proud. </div>
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<b>Does not dishonor. </b>Who does the gay agenda honor outside of the gay agenda? The very nature of their sexual sin is dishonoring to God. Never mind the way the gay agenda has dishonored the Church. </div>
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<b>Is not self-seeking. Is not easily angered. </b>I think you see where I’m going with this, right? </div>
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<b>Keeps no record of wrongs. </b>If I had a nickel for every social media post where the gay agenda tells us how they’ve been wronged, I’d be rich enough to buy enough members of the Supreme Court to change this decision.</div>
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<b>Does not delight in evil but rejoices in the truth. </b>Despite what your "feel-good" church has told you, despite what the media has told you, what your friends, family, loved-ones have said, homosexuality is sin. And ALL SIN is evil. The gay agenda is not about truth. It’s about sin. There is no reference in Scripture…nowhere…where homosexuality is NOT called sin. The only times homosexuality is referenced in the Bible, it is called sin. Do not believe otherwise. The gay agenda has not rejoiced in this truth. They have rejoiced in their sin.</div>
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<b>Always protects, hopes, trusts, perseveres.</b>Time will tell us what the homosexual movement will do to our nation. What protections will crumble under the weight of the Supreme Court’s ruling? Religious freedom? Will the hope of the church persevere? What has already happened to trust in our nation in the midst of this sexual sin? And lastly, the gay agenda will not persevere. God has told us who wins in the end. And it is not sin. </div>
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You see, when I look at the definition of love, I do not find the gay agenda. I do not find gay marriage. Don’t let them steal this powerful word, “love” and twist it into something it is not. This is not love. It is sin. But as most sinners often do (myself included) we try to dress up our sin to look like something it’s not. We put a bow on it. We "pretty it up" with all kinds of packaging and even use the right words to make it sound good. Why? Because who wants to be against love? Who wants to take a stand against love? No one. But don’t believe the lie. This isn’t love. </div>
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And if it’s not love, it’s a clanging cymbal. Tell me, which do you believe the gay agenda to exemplify? Love? Or a clanging cymbal?</div>
Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-10916684286039082992015-04-01T10:15:00.001-07:002015-04-01T10:37:31.792-07:00What Kind of "Phobe" Are You?<div class="MsoNormal">
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Merriam Webster defines a phobia as “an exaggerated, usually inexplicable and illogical fear of a particular object, class of objects, or situation.” Hence, someone who has a pathological fear of spiders is said to be suffering from arachnophobia. Those who suffer from an overwhelming anxiety of being in public places are considered agoraphobic.</div>
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Let’s take apart that definition for a moment, because the word “phobia” is being attached to anything and everything these days. And there’s a devious reason behind it.</div>
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By definition, for something to be a phobia, the fear must be exaggerated, inexplicable, even illogical. Now, those terms are pretty subjective. But in general we can agree that people aren’t living in hysteria over some of the issues to which we attach the suffix “phobe.”</div>
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This past week, actor/comedian Jamie Foxx made a joke about a celebrity (as comedians often do) and he paid a dear price for it. In his joke about Bruce Jenner’s choice to undergo a gender identity change, Foxx was called a “transphobe.” Yes, that’s a word now, apparently. Did Foxx, in making a joke, demonstrate an irrational fear? Are we to believe that he has an illogical and inexplicable fear of transgenders?</div>
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No doubt, you’ve heard of a few other “phobes” over the past few months…islamophobes, homophobes, etc. When the truth is, most of the people given these labels have no bizarre fear of the subject at hand, but rather simply disagree with it. Believing homosexuality is wrong or a sin, for example, does not make one a homophobe. Being ridiculously terrified of homosexuals or homosexuality, on the other hand, might.</div>
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So, if that’s the case, why are so many groups using this suffix to describe those who disagree with them? Simple. Because calling you a phobe paints you as weak, irrational, impotent. If someone can make you look smaller, emasculate you over your beliefs, then they’ve won half the battle. When choosing a side on an issue, people almost always want to go with the side that seems strong, powerful, confident. </div>
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While watching a basketball game on TV recently, I asked my 8-year old which team he was cheering for. He replied, “Well, which team is winning? That’s them team I'm cheering for.” And that’s symbolic of our culture today. We want to cheer on the winner. We want to support the strong. So if one team can make the other appear weak and feeble, if they can give the impression that siding with "them" makes you a loser, then they have already started winning the important battle of public opinion. </div>
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Knowing this, proponents of certain causes will attach the phobe suffix to anyone who disagrees with them, and therefore try to indoctrinate the phobe word into your vocabulary. If they can get you to use their vernacular, then you have become an advocate for their cause. And it's not by mistake that these agenda-pushing folks are aiming for our impressionable youth--teens and tweens whose identities are often centered on being with the "in-crowd"...and who are prolific users of social media.</div>
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So, if you are using (or rather misusing) these “phobe” words, you have already bought into this false notion that anyone who disagrees with you is weak—and you are being used. You are marketing a belief, created by a group with an agenda, to further perpetuate their beliefs, lifestyle or choices. You are, by allowing these words to be abused and misused out of context, emasculating anyone who may simply disagree with you.</div>
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<b>Quite honestly, it’s a cheap ploy. </b>It seems people these days don't know how to accept someone disagreeing with them. And this inability to accept another opinion is the very epitome of intolerance. </div>
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Words are powerful. They have built nations and they have destroyed them. They can move the heart and they can crush it. Words can leave indelible marks. If a group with an agenda can get a word to “stick”, they know they have created something powerful. So be careful how you use these words. Be careful where you toss these suffixes around. Not everything is a phobia. Not everyone who disagrees with you has an irrational, inexplicable, or illogical fear of your belief.</div>
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Sometimes, they just disagree.</div>
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Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-27929033800077872072015-03-23T10:40:00.000-07:002015-03-23T10:41:28.887-07:00"Come and Sin Some More"<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
They dragged her, kicking and screaming, into the courtyard of the temple and tossed her into the dirt. Surely this would be the perfect test for a man who claimed to be the Messiah. If he were truly the God of Moses, Jesus would direct them to hurl their rocks at the vile temptress--just as Moses had once commanded. Eagerly they waited, some already carrying their grapefruit-sized stones, each hoping to be the first to draw blood. Who would be the one lucky enough to cast the fatal blow?</div>
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There was no question as to her guilt. She was caught in the act. The verdict had already been passed by the mob. All that was left was to carry out the sentence. But Jesus calmly kneels down and begins to draw a picture with his finger in the earth. I have always wondered what he drew. Was it meaningful? Was it just a mindless doodle while he formulated his response? Here we see the Son of God, He who created us from the earth, running his fingers through the very same dirt as though he’s contemplating the very origin of every person in the crowd.</div>
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Jesus doesn’t say, “No.” He doesn’t say, “Yes.” He makes an offer. Paraphrasing here, he challenges the would-be attackers, “If any of you has no sin in your life, you may cast your stone.” And with that one sentence, the crowd dispersed. I wonder how long it took them to consider it. Did they immediately drop their stones and turn or did they ponder for a moment? Was there one person who thought, “I’m a pretty good guy, I think I have earned the right to throw a stone or two?” Nonetheless, they all find fault in their own lives and leave the woman behind.</div>
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This is a powerful moment in Jesus’ ministry. He changed the way the crowd considers sin. Think about it, no one said, “Yeah, I have sin, but nothing as bad as adultery.” This was a moment where Jesus made it clear. Sin is sin. They are all abominations in the eyes of God.</div>
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The scene changes dramatically now. It’s much more intimate. Just Jesus and the woman. The Savior and the sinner. Her accusers now gone, Jesus looks the woman in the eye and says, “Come…and sin some more.”</div>
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Wait…what? No, that’s not what he said at all. But for some reason, that’s the takeaway so many of us have from this story. We’ve convinced ourselves that Jesus somehow approved of her sinful lifestyle since he did not condemn the woman to death. And we use his grace as an excuse to continue the sin in our own lives. After all, Jesus just wants us to “love one another”, right? That’s all that really matters. Not this silly “sin” thing. But if Jesus doesn’t command the woman to stop sinning, the entire story changes. His ministry purpose changes. Jesus' existence on earth wasn’t to protect sin. It was to put an end to it. To erase it. He certainly didn’t die so that we can celebrate our sin.</div>
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This past month, I encountered a person who represents an LGBTQ church. Yes, a church that actually celebrates homosexuality and other forms of sexual sin. A church that says to its people, “Come and sin some more.” This Church teaches from the very same Scripture that you and I read. No doubt, there has been or will be a sermon on the very story I just shared. But I wonder if they leave out the last words of Jesus in the story? How does a church that celebrates sin justify the command to “Go and sin no more?”</div>
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<b>When we distort the Gospel to meet our own lifestyle choices, we have committed one of the gravest sins of all, I believe. We have taken the very words of God and stolen their meaning.</b></div>
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And you know what? I think we are all to blame. We hide our own sins out of shame. We refuse to even acknowledge them as sins. How many pastors won’t even use that three-letter word anymore? How many even preach about “hell” and the consequences of sin? Instead, pastors stand in front of their congregations or ink their mega book deals to tell us that if we simply love one another, we are doing just fine in God’s eyes.</div>
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Tell me, in this story from John chapter 8, who acts more like the church? Those with the stones in their hands? Or the one who forgave, challenged, encouraged and commanded the woman to leave her sinful ways behind? In this story, Jesus paints a powerful picture of what the Church should be. Should homosexuals go to church? Yes. Just as the liars, the thieves, the coveters and the murderers should. Should we be waiting at the door with stones of accusation and contempt in our hearts? No. We should invite them in, protect them, encourage them, teach them God’s heart for their lives and by all means, we should challenge them to leave their sinful ways behind. That’s hard to do when we all have sin in our own lives. Trust me, I know.</div>
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The men in the scene drop their stones and leave. Wouldn’t it have been awesome if just one of them stayed? Not to cast a rock but to ask questions? “Jesus, I have sin in my life. What am I to do about it?” “Are you saying there is grace for every sinner? Even the adulterers?”</div>
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“Yes,” he would have answered. “There is grace enough for everyone.” But he would have finished his answer the same way he ended the conversation with the woman in this powerful story from Scripture: </div>
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“Now go and sin no more.”</div>
Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-17112421004997066272015-02-22T10:28:00.000-08:002015-03-23T10:56:09.307-07:00The Liars of Acirema<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
Not too long ago, there was a powerful country that most of the world respected. It was the country where those from all over the globe aspired to one day live. This country was called Acirema. Acirema was founded on the basic principles of honesty, respect and compassion for its fellow man. It was a land of opportunity and dreams.</div>
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Now that’s not to say Acirema was a perfect country. Far from it. People still made mistakes, some did bad things from time to time. But overall, it was a good place because those founding principles were strong and the vast majority of the population held firm to them.</div>
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But one day, a man decided that he didn’t like one of the founding principles of Acirema. Being honest, he slowly began to realize, wasn’t nearly as alluring as telling a lie. He started slowly, quietly, telling small lies that most wouldn’t notice. But eventually, the thrill of lying became so strong that he found himself unable to ever tell the truth. Thus, he concluded, that he was born to be a liar. It was unnatural for him to tell the truth. Lying wasn’t his fault, he determined. In fact, it was actually his way of being true to himself. To tell the truth would be telling a lie about who he truly was.</div>
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This man began to preach his lying lifestyle as the new, modern way of living. At first, he was shunned. The general population called his lying aberrant and they would not stand for it. But eventually, his lies started to gain momentum. Others began to experience lying as energizing. They began to preach the message that Truth Tellers were "old-fashioned", out of touch with the real world. They began to portray lying in a positive light whenever they could. Movies and television shows were created to glamorize lying. Books were written, conventions and parades were held to celebrate lying.</div>
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Before long, different brands of lying were being applauded. There were the “gossipers”, the “exaggerators” and the “truth stretchers”—those who enjoyed both telling partial truths while wrapping them in a bigger lie. They formed groups and associations, known as the LGETS (Liars, Gossipers, Exaggerators and Truth Stretchers.) The movement gained momentum and its members became so caught up in their lies that they began to lie to themselves.“This is how God made me!” they would proclaim. “I have no choice but to lie!”</div>
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But opposition still existed. Truth-Tellers fought hard against the movement. They preached sermons in churches that called lying in all its facets a sin. This outraged the LGETS. They wanted revenge. But knowing they would never change the mind of the older Truth-Tellers, they decided instead to take aim at their children. They infiltrated children’s programs, movies and TV shows. They wrote children’s books that glorified lying. They called Truth-Tellers "liarphobes"; because they knew that if they painted Truth-Tellers as fearful of them, it gave them power…and made Truth-Tellers seem weak and impotent. They told children that their Truth-Teller parents and grandparents were living in “yesterday’s world.” The way of the future, they preached, was lying. Soon, impressionable young people all over Acirema were convinced that they too were born liars.</div>
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But the churches fought back. Realizing that fighting a religious battle would be too difficult, the LGETS decided to focus on Acirema’s government. If they could lobby for laws to protect their lifestyle, they could force churches to bow to their lying whims. But government was filled with Truth-Tellers. And the Truth-Tellers did not want to grant special privileges for those who chose to lie. So the LGETS stopped using the word “privileges” and started using the word, “rights.” After all, everyone should have the right to choose to be a liar, if they so wish. Who was government to say people don’t have the right to lie? The government was fearful of being branded a regime that withheld rights of its citizens so it slowly began to consider these “rights” for liars.</div>
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Still, government wasn’t moving fast enough for the LGETS. So, to help move matters along, its members began to infiltrate the government of Acirema. They made their way into powerful positions—some by lying about whether they were liars or not. Telling voters they were “Truth-Tellers” to get their votes was okay, because it was staying true to their lying lifestyle, after all. They pushed for policies that called lying “normal” and “acceptable.” They even began to believe their own lies so much that they convinced themselves that lying was never a choice to begin with. It was simply “how they were made.” And if that’s how they were made, it was unfair for anyone to oppose them.</div>
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Once enough LGETS supporters were in power, they began to write new laws for Acirema that granted special privileges to liars. Liars, gossipers, exaggerators and truth-stretchers had the right to demand businesses, employers and schools bow to their lying desires. Anyone who dared to oppose or speak up against any form of lying would be fined, punished or even forced out of business.</div>
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After they got the government control they wanted, the LGETS turned its attention back on the Church. They began to file lawsuits against churches that preached any message against lying. Still, the Church stood strong. Then the LGETS remembered: “to change government, we had to infiltrate government. So we’ll do the same with the Church!” So that’s exactly what they did. They would tell lies to get hired as pastors, Sunday School teachers and evangelists. And once they were in positions of power, they began to preach that lying wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, they taught, that their thousands-years old religious tenets were actually misinterpreted or outdated. Did anyone really understand what the Scriptures were trying to say? By causing confusion in the church with their lies, slowly some of the churches began to accept lying. Eventually entire churches were built on lying. They incorporated some of the original Scriptural doctrines into their lying messages and formed an entire new facet of religion.</div>
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All the while, the other founding principles of Acirema began to erode too. LGETS members called on everyone within earshot to disrespect Truth Tellers. Compassion fell apart too, as liars reveled in the unraveling of truth. Little did they realize that their efforts to promote their lifestyle were slowly crumbling Acirema. But as long as their lifestyle became the new norm, little did they care. Eventually the LGETS got exactly what it wanted: the destruction of religion and the overhaul of government to meet their desires. What few Truth Tellers remained were forced underground. And Acirema was now the exact opposite of how it started. And it remained that way for decades.</div>
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But generations later, a young liar befriended a Truth Teller. Over the course of their friendship, she began to respect the Truth Teller. So much so, that she began to question the way of life taught to her by her lying father and gossiping mother. Even the exaggerations of her aunt and the truth stretching of her cousins seemed odd to her. Her Truth Teller friend invited her to his underground truth-based church. It was an amazing experience for her. She heard messages she had never heard before. Perhaps, she thought, lying isn’t the best way to live life. Perhaps telling the truth wasn’t so bad after all. Her friend and the church had a profound impact on her. She started telling small truths at first. So small that most wouldn’t notice. But inside, she realized that telling the truth felt better. It felt natural, right. And consequently, lying made her feel dirty, wrong. It now seemed unnatural.</div>
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So she began to teach her friends about Truth-telling. And her peers began to see Truth-telling in a whole new light. It didn’t seem nearly as bad as their parents had taught them. They questioned the laws they had been taught. They pushed back against their parents' lies and demanded to know more about truth. Perhaps lying really was a choice after all. Perhaps, it wasn’t the right choice to begin with.</div>
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And so, a movement began…</div>
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Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-48970184810485847402014-09-10T15:20:00.001-07:002014-09-10T15:21:26.214-07:00What If You're Just Not Good Enough?<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
It’s a question no one likes to face. But perhaps we all have at some point in our lives.</div>
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<i>What if you’re just not good enough?</i></blockquote>
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What I mean by that is, what if you simply don’t have the skills, the knowledge, the talent, or the acumen to do what it is that you are really passionate about?</div>
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To clarify, I’m not talking about those things that you feel God has “called” you to do. As far as I’m concerned, if God calls you to do something, you do it. Whether you’re terrible at it or not. That’s an obedience issue.</div>
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No, I’m talking about something different. I’m talking about that one thing that you’re passionate about. That one thing you want to do more than anything else in the world. (Yes, sometimes “calling” and “desire” intersect, and it's a beautiful thing when they do. But that's not what I'm referring to here.) What if you are simply not good enough to do what you love to do?</div>
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I wrestle with this question a lot. As most of you know, I’ve been passionate about making music for over 20 years now. I’ve recorded four albums in my life and a handful of singles. One could say I’m “successful” at music solely by the amount I’ve been able to create. But let’s be honest. I’m not topping any charts. No, let’s be even more honest. I’m not even ON any charts. Sometimes it seems I can't even give my music away. Does that mean I stink at it? I honestly don’t know. Maybe my music doesn’t sell because my friends don’t see me as a musician. Maybe they see it as my hobby and who wants to pour money into someone else’s hobby? Maybe I’m not on the radio airwaves because I don’t have the right “connections”, don’t grease the right palms or have a famous uncle to promote me. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because I’m not as good at it as I’d like to think I am.</div>
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<b>Maybe my passion and my talent aren’t equal.</b></div>
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What do you do then?</div>
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And how do you comfort someone who has a desire to do something with their life when they just don’t have it? You’ve known that person. You know the girl in church who thinks she can sing but she honestly can’t carry a tune in a bucket. Or the boss who loves being the boss but is a terrible people manager. The wannabe dancer with clumsy feet and no coordination. The young man who dreams of being a professional athlete but just doesn’t have the physicality. You know him. You know her. How do you encourage those people?</div>
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True, success is about more than being on charts, getting a hit single or a record deal. I know that. I'm not simply talking about worldly success, I'm talking about affirmation. I'm talking about the ability to do what you really love and make a life out of it. Not having to tuck it away to an occasional weekend because your "real job" has to pay the bills. I have a lot of musician friends in this same position, by the way. Those who would love to make a living at it but just haven't been able to.</div>
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Is it supposed to be enough to say you've "stayed true" to your passion regardless of your ability to make a living at it?</div>
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Let me be clear: I’m not writing this looking for people to respond and say, “Tim, you’re a great songwriter.” That’s not what I’m looking for here. I’ve already come to terms with the possibility that I may not be very good at this. And I’m okay with that. To some extent. <b>But what I wrestle with is why the passion doesn’t subside when it becomes evident that the ability to fulfill it isn’t there.</b></div>
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Have you ever wrestled with this? Is there something you have always wanted to do or be but you just don’t have it? How do you deal with it?</div>
Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-46129816133060003732014-04-24T08:47:00.000-07:002014-04-24T08:48:29.459-07:00Church: Remember When...<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
Remember when pastors weren't celebrities with book deals and viral videos but rather, humble teachers with worn, dog-eared, marked-up bibles and tired, red eyes from late night prayer emergencies? Remember when they knew every member of the congregation; knew their struggles and their joys and walked through both with them?</div>
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I wonder where my church is today.</div>
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Remember when worship leaders held a hymnal in one hand, led the congregation with the other, while bellowing out powerful, soulful hymns with imperfect voices? They wore polyester suits instead of trendy clothes. They weren't rock stars with light shows, singing pop choruses ad nauseum, but took seriously the words of the hymns and the responsibility of ushering the congregation into the presence of worship?</div>
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I wonder where my church is today.</div>
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Remember when the Church didn't cowtow to "societal norms" but knew where the lines were drawn on cultural issues, sometimes even drew the lines themselves, saying "this one belongs to us?" Remember when church leaders wept and prayed for the morality of our country in honest fear that we would become a nation that celebrates depravity instead of running away from it?</div>
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I wonder where my church is today.</div>
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Remember when you sat in the pew and listened to teaching that dug so deep in the fertile soil of the Scripture that you found the roots? Remember when you would leave the service wrestling with where your heart is and where it should be? Remember when sermons weren't glossy, "feel-good" platitudes but rather soul-searching challenges?</div>
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I wonder where my church is today.</div>
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Remember when people stayed after church service to talk, potluck, share their life-happenings? Remember when it wasn't a mad dash to beat the lunch crowd at the restaurant but rather a casual stroll so we all could gather and break bread together? </div>
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I wonder where my church is today.</div>
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Remember when we believed the Bible to be the inerrant Word of God, to be the true, historical account of God's plan, not merely suggestions and fables to teach a moral lesson? </div>
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I wonder where my church is today.</div>
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Remember when church leaders would gather around a sinner, lay hands on him or her, lift that soul up in prayer and commit to walking through the restoration together? Remember when we weren't afraid to call sin sin, and didn't believe that culture has changed on issues so God should change too?</div>
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I wonder where my church is today.</div>
Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-42369972738330826382014-02-14T07:31:00.000-08:002014-02-14T07:31:13.412-08:00What Sochi Can Teach Us About the Rest of the World<div class="MsoNormal">
This week, thousands of westerners—athletes and media—have
converged on Sochi, Russia for the Winter Games. And while they lug their
expensive camera gear or don their sponsor-laden apparel and compete for gold,
silver and bronze medallions, they are not happy. Perhaps you have seen their
tweets, status updates and Instagram pics of the horrible conditions they’re
forced to endure while spending their time in the Russian city.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now don’t get me wrong, some of the conditions are, at best,
embarrassing. And our athletes deserve better. While they represent our country
on the grandest global sports stage, they shouldn’t have to worry about cold
showers, group bathrooms without privacy, and insect-laden, half-finished hotel
rooms. Russia was obviously not prepared to host the biggest modern day winter
sporting event.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But perhaps we need to put things into perspective too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While these conditions are obviously not up
to par, they are, for the most part, certainly not “appalling.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhh3aZhvmxe07O14yxqnok15cykXhq4QclhiMhIBPr0koBpak961IAKYwC6_PCd74egspVyP_RSPB_I7x2HndRgMndyOHWkEO32p20Mb3uDK4iewze6NKFzTwXC0p3mevoCHaswLhIRUGv/s1600/homes1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhh3aZhvmxe07O14yxqnok15cykXhq4QclhiMhIBPr0koBpak961IAKYwC6_PCd74egspVyP_RSPB_I7x2HndRgMndyOHWkEO32p20Mb3uDK4iewze6NKFzTwXC0p3mevoCHaswLhIRUGv/s1600/homes1.jpg" height="191" width="400" /></a>In my travels for Compassion International, I have seen families
who live in 6x6 shacks made of scrap wood or tin. They sleep on filthy
mattresses or on dirt floors, bathe in rivers and gather their drinking water
from those same waterways. Their bathrooms are holes in the ground and many
often have open sewage running just outside their doorways. That, my friends,
is appalling. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Almost 2.5 billion people in this world live on less than $2
per day. That’s billion with a “b.” Just try feeding your family on that meager
income. Over 780-million people live without access to clean water. That’s two
and a half times the population of the United States that doesn’t have access
to healthy water at all. None of them will get to leave these conditions in two
weeks and return to homes with faucets that pump out hot, clean water on
demand. They do not get to leave these truly appalling conditions for warm,
safe, comfortable homes with private bathrooms at the end of the month.
Tomorrow looks as bleak as today. And today is as bleak as yesterday.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZbBiz7wuWFytNLApkkF8gE-ezD6pZ2bVRpPGjnWh8bPcJsRQ1eY48V82IV1_7cFBwmGZLA4rh1q70CIh6bPD9Kc2R5Z_E44jse1c4aMsn2UYHxFKXT749Db-pUrjayC9NHfo3ibECARKZ/s1600/bathrooms1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZbBiz7wuWFytNLApkkF8gE-ezD6pZ2bVRpPGjnWh8bPcJsRQ1eY48V82IV1_7cFBwmGZLA4rh1q70CIh6bPD9Kc2R5Z_E44jse1c4aMsn2UYHxFKXT749Db-pUrjayC9NHfo3ibECARKZ/s1600/bathrooms1.jpg" height="216" width="400" /></a>I’m not comparing Sochi to villages in Uganda or the slums
of Guatemala, Indonesia or Haiti. There is no comparison. Unfinished hotel
rooms do not compare to the slum villages of the poorest of the poor.
Unfinished bathrooms in the athlete’s dorms are still tiled, with porcelain
toilets. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nor am I saying that these athletes and media don’t have
legitimate complaints. But let’s try to keep things in perspective, shall we? And
use this opportunity to learn something. Perhaps Sochi is an opportunity to
teach us all the difference between first-world problems and third-world
realities. There’s a difference between those things we believe we are entitled
to and those things that should be available for every human being.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-41494380285865526242013-10-11T09:53:00.002-07:002013-10-11T09:53:28.521-07:00You Are Allowed to Believe
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I know this may sound strange, but in light of our cultural
shifts of the past few decades I think many of our brothers and sisters in
Christ need to be reminded that you are still allowed to believe. Despite what
politics, “political correctness”, culture and media may tell you, you are
still allowed to believe in Jesus today. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You are allowed to believe that Jesus Christ was the Son of
God. Go on, believe it. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. You are
allowed to believe that Jesus is part of the triune God who created the earth,
then joined us in human flesh to save us from ourselves. You are allowed to
believe that we killed him. And you are even allowed to believe that it was all
part of his perfect plan. That he rose from the dead to show his sovereignty.
That his blood covers our sins. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You are allowed to believe!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No need to hide it. No need to whisper it. No need to be
afraid to bring it up in conversation. Yes, there will be those who are
offended, but the Gospel has always offended. Some will push back. It’s ok.
That doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to believe. Some will argue, some will
shun. Some will ridicule. But at the end of the day, rest in this: you are
allowed to believe!<br />
<br />
You are allowed to believe that sin is sin. And yes, you are even allowed to
call sin a sin. Because God gave you that authority. Too many of us are
terrified of calling out sin for fear of having that very well-worn scripture
that reminds us to “judge not, lest ye be judged.” So let me lay it out for
you. When you stand on scripture to call sin a sin, you are not judging. You’re
simply relaying the judge’s message. You’re the court clerk. You’re simply
reading the judge’s decision. Judgment has already been made on what is sin and
what is not. The Supreme Judge made that decision. And yes, you’re allowed to
believe that too.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Society today is trying desperately to tell the Church that
you are not allowed to believe homosexuality is a sin. This is a lie. You are
allowed to believe. Not because “in your heart you know it’s wrong” but because
God said so. And you are allowed to believe in what God proclaims. It is a sin,
just as pride, stealing, killing, lying, cheating, coveting, envying, praying
to false gods, dishonoring your mother and father, and a whole list of other
sins. And it should be treated as such. With prayer, love, understanding that
we are all flawed, weak and in need of that very same blood of Jesus I
mentioned earlier. For too long the Church has been silent on this issue. Afraid
of calling sin a sin. Is it the most horrendous sin man can commit? No. But it
is sin. And you are allowed to believe it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This world will tell you that marriage is nothing more than
a contractual agreement that can be defined by government. But you are allowed
to believe otherwise. You are allowed to believe scripture that tells us God’s
design is for marriage to be between a man and a woman. You are allowed to
believe that God created marriage as a holy union, not a mere piece of paper to
be used for political posturing, financial gain or social climbing. You are
allowed to believe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This world will ask you to bow down at the feet of
celebrity. To celebrate those who would use money, sex and power to hold your
attention. They are the flash and bang of sideshow magicians of centuries past,
only their tricks are more impressive. But you are allowed to believe that
honesty and purity are better attributes than half-naked women gyrating on
stage for self-gain. This may surprise you, but you are allowed to believe that
it’s wrong for commercial products to appeal to sexuality to market their
goods. You are allowed to believe that good music doesn’t have to be about sex,
drugs, committing crimes or degrading women. You’re allowed to believe it.
You’re allowed to believe that television programs don’t have to force
offensive characters into their dialogue to make them interesting. You’re
allowed to believe that movies don’t have to glorify sex, murder and other worldly
ills. You’re allowed to believe it!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is a great country. A powerful country. But we are
quickly becoming a country that says you’re only allowed to believe in
everything but scripture. Don’t believe that. You are allowed to believe. And
scripture tells us that God will bless any nation…<i>any </i>nation that trusts in God. If we want God to truly bless this
nation, we must remember that we are allowed to believe. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But for too long, we’ve been afraid to say what we believe.
We fear we have no right. And that is so wrong. We are allowed to believe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And finally, this: you are allowed to believe that Jesus
loves you. You are allowed to believe that he desperately wants you to know
him. Seek him out. You’re allowed to believe that he has a plan for your life.
Yes, you. And his plan is good. Better than good. It’s beyond your
comprehension. You’re allowed to believe that if you just place this life in
his hands, the next one is going to be amazing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So believe. It’s
okay, you’re allowed to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-84712631019035482192013-09-29T11:25:00.002-07:002013-09-29T11:25:39.838-07:00So What's the Story Behind My New Song, I'm No Superhero?<br />
<div class="_4-u3 _5cla" style="border-top-left-radius: 3px; border-top-right-radius: 3px; border-top-style: none; padding: 16px;">
<div class="_5k3v _5k3w clearfix" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; margin-top: 16px; word-wrap: break-word; zoom: 1;">
My oldest son Morgan and I have this ritual at bedtime.<br />
<br />
"Daddy, make up a song!" he requests. So I'll sing a silly song or a lullaby. Eventually, that morphed into a challenge to be more specific: "Daddy, make up a song about elephants" or "Daddy make up a song about what we did today." <i></i>It's a good songwriting exercise for me. Though I'll admit my rhyme schemes are typically pretty predictable when I'm making stuff up on the fly. One night, he hit me with this question:<br />
<br />
<b>"Daddy, are you a superhero?"</b><br />
<br />
"No, son. I'm not. I can't fly. I can't break through walls. I'm just an ordinary man. But I'm trying to be the best daddy I can."<br />
<br />
"Make up a song about it Daddy!" So this song began as a lullaby—at least the chorus anyway. I spent the next few months perfecting the lyrics, putting together verses and giving the song a deeper meaning. How often do we put people on a pedestal? In our marriages, our relationships, at work...perhaps even at church? At the end of the day, we're all just ordinary people trying to be better. Better dads, moms, co-workers, bosses, employees, believers, whatever.<br />
<br />
So I initially wrote this song at bedtime with my 6-year old. But it has become much more than that.<br />
<br />
<b>It's a declaration of humanity.</b> <br />
<br />
It’s an honest, self-assessment. And it's a reminder to the listener, to not expect too much from me:<br />
<br />
<i>"I am just an ordinary man, trying to do</i><br />
<i>my best and I still get hurt when I fall."</i><br />
<br />
But then there's the bridge:<br />
<br />
<i>"But I'll wear this cape if you want me to.</i><br />
<i>Be your escape in this shade of blue.</i><br />
<i>Bullets can't stop me from being with you."</i><br />
<br />
Sometimes we have to play the role of superhero, even when we don't believe it about ourselves. Sometimes, that's what it takes to profess our love, our devotion, our commitment. To my son, I say, "You need me to be a superhero today? Then I'll put on a cape and do my best to fly for you. Because that's how much I love you."<br />
<br />
So that's the story behind my new single, <i>I'm No Superhero</i>. I hope you enjoy the song as much as I've enjoyed writing it…especially now knowing the story behind it.<br />
<br />
If you haven't heard <i>I’m No Superhero</i> yet, you can <a href="https://www.facebook.com/notes/tim-glenn/so-whats-the-story-behind-the-song-im-no-superhero/10152210288255828#" role="button" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; text-decoration: none;">buy it now</a> for just 99 cents on iTunes. </div>
</div>
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Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-70681559135560054182013-02-22T10:59:00.002-08:002013-02-22T10:59:43.234-08:00Entitled
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I’m pulling into Target the other day and this car is
sitting in the “no parking” zone. Of course, it’s blocking traffic for people
heading in that direction, so we’re all having to wait for openings in order to
get around the illegally parked vehicle. I’m sure the driver thought, “I know
it says no parking, but it’s just for a second.” Once I get into the store, I
grab my items and head to the register. I’m waiting, waiting, waiting. Then a
new register opens up two aisles down. “I can take the next person in line!”
the cashier shouts. Three people behind me, who had just shown up, rush over to
take the spot. They weren’t the “next in line.” But no worries.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then I go to 7-11 and a car zips into the handicapped
parking spot. The driver jumps out. No, handicap sticker, no special plate. But
she’s just running in real quick to get some cigarettes. Seriously, it’s only
30 seconds, what’s the big deal?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I make my way to the grocery store, where a woman is buying
a boatload of sodas and chips. Limit 3 per customer, the sign says. So she has
her kids pushing separate carts as well. Technically, they are separate
customers so…what the heck? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Driving to work this morning I was doing 55mph in a 45mph
zone. Hey, it’s just 10mph over the speed limit. No big deal, right? And
besides, that road has six lanes. There’s no reason for it to be only a 45mph
zone. It’s a stupid law. And I’m a responsible driver. I can handle this
stretch of road at 55. Let those who can’t handle it drive the speed limit. I’m
“different.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When did we, as Americans, no as human beings, decide that
some rules just don’t apply to us? Because we’re “special?” Because the rules
are silly in the first place? Or perhaps because “I’m not really hurting
anyone?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have a friend who gets paid in cash for his work. The
government doesn’t need to know about that income, right? Hey, the IRS screws
over so many people, it’s time some of us screwed them back. It’s only fair.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We’ve all heard the stories about people on welfare and food
stamps who own iPhones and live rent-free on the government. And for some
reason, those stories infuriate us. But at the end of the day, they are no
different than the rest of us. This sense of entitlement in our country isn’t
just for the poor. It’s all of us. We all want to believe we deserve to be
treated differently. That some rules just don’t apply…or at least they
shouldn’t. And, if you’re completely honest with yourself, you’re probably
guilty of it somewhere along the way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To you, parking in a handicapped slot for only a few seconds
may not be a big deal. But to someone else it is. Speeding is a prerogative. Or
jabbing Uncle Sam is okay. He’s not gonna miss my few bucks. But to others,
those are serious offenses. You can’t choose how your sense of entitlement, no
matter how big or small you view it, is going to impact someone else.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And that’s my beef with people who are against stronger
background checks for gun sales. I know the majority of gun owners are
responsible. They keep their guns locked up and out of the reach of their kids.
They don’t clean loaded weapons. They never point a weapon at another person,
not even jokingly, unless they seriously intend to use it. Good for you. But it’s
not you I’m worried about. It’s those who say, “Hey, it’s a silly law. I should
be able to sell my gun to whomever I want. It’s not my responsibility what
they’re going to do with it after they’ve bought it.” And the gun ends up in
the hands of a gang-banger or someone who doesn’t have the mental capacity to
be a responsible gun owner. Even a farmer passing down a rifle to a grandson
could have major repercussions down the road. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, you responsible gun owners are thinking, “that’s
stupid. I shouldn’t be legislated because of a handful of irresponsible
people.” Maybe YOU shouldn’t. But some should. Not everyone is as responsible
as you. And while you see this as trivial as parking in the no parking zone for
3 minutes, it may have tremendous impact on someone else.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would think that gun owners would be all for this
legislation. If you’re truly a responsible gun owner who doesn’t want weapons
to get into the wrong hands, if you’re tired of the image of gun owners being
tarnished by the nutjobs who misuse a weapon or get one illegally, then why not
be for stricter background check laws? Imagine what it would do for the image
of the gun industry and for gun owners to whole-heartedly endorse this idea. It
says, “We want ALL gun owners to be responsible ones.” It’s a win-win. Sometimes,
the rules DO need to apply to everyone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But maybe I’m crazy. I’ll just shut up now, skip out of the
office early because my boss is out of town, stop by the front desk on the way
out and grab three lollipops from the jar on the counter that says, “Take
One!”, head to the movie theater where I’ll take up two parking spots because
my car is nicer than anyone else’s and I don’t want it dinged, cut in line because
I want to make sure I get the best seats and put a coat in the seat next to me
so I have some more elbow room. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After all, I’m entitled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-28335922866190146722012-12-12T10:01:00.003-08:002012-12-12T14:32:44.768-08:00I Believe in Santa Claus<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkhMy-qCdGt34qzlqxqCyJd2Wq7RXT42KXf0rrlu8US8M_1HmU6QebOPBzJv6DjfWRVMRXTXEnx-nJSu_qrpKx8WP9SW27Vo7Xu-hQ98QbA8Ec-TFM_tfJVh1mf3456a1HLb2dahV-1kQ/s1600/Ibelievebutton2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkhMy-qCdGt34qzlqxqCyJd2Wq7RXT42KXf0rrlu8US8M_1HmU6QebOPBzJv6DjfWRVMRXTXEnx-nJSu_qrpKx8WP9SW27Vo7Xu-hQ98QbA8Ec-TFM_tfJVh1mf3456a1HLb2dahV-1kQ/s200/Ibelievebutton2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I believe in Santa Claus.</div>
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I’m not talking about the 4th century Greek bishop named St. Nicholas who gave up his riches to help the poor. Of course he existed. No, I’m talking about St. Nick, the chubby, jolly old elf with the white beard, red suit, and belly that shakes like a bowl full of jelly when he laughs. That Santa. I believe in him.</div>
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Do I believe he sneaks into my house on Christmas Eve to plant presents under my tree? No, I do not. I’ve stayed up far too late wrapping presents to know better. Do I believe he lives in a magical, invisible workshop at the North Pole where hundreds of little elves make toys for good boys and girls? No, of course not. I’ve been to Target. I know where the toys come from.</div>
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I don’t believe in flying reindeer or a sleigh that can bend the space-time continuum as to allow him to visit every house on the planet in one night.</div>
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But I do believe Santa exists. Because I’ve seen him.</div>
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He exists in the hearts of those who are true givers. People like my wife. She’s good at giving. It is just part of her nature. She’s miserable if she’s not doing something for someone else. That’s right, I married Santa!</div>
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I’ve seen Santa in a lot of my co-workers at Compassion International—people who have given their entire careers to helping poor children escape poverty. And I see him in the hundreds of thousands of sponsors who give to a child on the other side of the planet, simply because it’s the right thing to do. That’s Santa.</div>
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I see Santa in the volunteers at the soup kitchens, homeless shelters and church food pantries. I see him in those who organize fundraisers to clothe, feed and educate those less fortunate. I’ve seen Santa in the pastor of the small church who just wants to “feed the sheep” even though it requires getting a second job to make his own ends meet. I see Santa in the single moms and dads who have to pull double duty and sacrifice personal desires to make sure their children have everything they need. I saw him in my grandmother and my aunt and uncle who inherited five rowdy little orphans and did their best to make sure we all grew up healthy. </div>
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Santa teaches Sunday School for kindergartners at my church. And he does the 5K every year to help raise money for those with cancer, Alzheimer’s, Down Syndrome and other disorders. Santa prays for people he's never even met. He’s a busy guy, this Santa.</div>
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So yeah, I believe in Santa Claus. And he doesn’t work just one night a year. He’ll be around in February, June, October…all year long. All you have to do is look for him. I bet you even know him. Heck, I bet you’re even Santa sometimes too.</div>
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If you believe in Santa like I do, tell the world. <b>Share your stories of where you've seen Santa.</b> This year, let’s tell the world we believe in Santa. Share this message. Share the “I Believe” button on your Facebook wall, or make it your profile pic. Tweet it.</div>
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It’s time we all started believing!</div>
Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-89195326217510267812012-08-31T12:56:00.002-07:002012-08-31T13:04:13.920-07:00The Wandering (And the Wondering) SoulI’ve had a handful of friends in my life who, at one time, were passionate about their walk with Christ—only to walk away from Him at a later date. I don’t know if there’s anything more sorrowful.<br />
<br />
Recently, one of my friends commented on how he now believes the entire story of Christ is a fairy tale, a “work of fiction” he called it. And my heart literally aches. How one goes from passionately pursuing a God who loves him so much to passionately running away from that same God is beyond me.<br />
<br />
And then I’m reminded of Jesus’ words in Matthew 12, when he tells us that a “house divided against itself will fall.” (Matthew 12:25 paraphrased)<br />
<br />
When we submit ourselves to our own desires, knowing that those desires are the antithesis of what God wants for us, we have to run. We must run. Because the two cannot occupy the same space.
My friends who used to preach, pray and pursue Christ each found themselves divided. They came to a point where the struggle between wanting to follow Jesus and wanting to follow their own desires wouldn’t allow them to stand any longer. For one, it was homosexuality. For another it was porn and sexual addiction. And yet another found himself addicted to drugs. When those things try to dwell in the same temple as God, something has to give. The house will crumble.<br />
<br />
I understand why they had to run in this direction. It’s the only place they can feel safe in their sin. You see, if you can disprove God, if you can prove that the whole thing is a made up story then you can justify your actions. What does it matter, after all, to live in sin, if you can prove that the concept of sin is flawed?<br />
<br />
Sadly, all of these friends of mine know me too well. So, in the height of hypocrisy, they point to my sins as a way of justifying their own…all while trying to tell me that the concept of sin is irrelevant anyway. “My sins aren’t sins because I don’t believe in the concept of sin. But you…I know your sins. So don’t preach to me about mine.”<br />
<br />
So, they try hard to discredit the Gospel. And here, many would simply write them off. But not me. I think it’s a good thing. To me, the fact that they spend so much energy trying to disprove Christ is an indicator of the inner-turmoil that’s going on inside of them. As much as they want to let go of God, they can’t. <b>Because God’s fingerprints don’t wash off easily.</b> And, try as they may, they can’t seem to get the name of Jesus off their lips. Sure, it’s in a negative connotation right now, but that’s a very powerful name. And as long as they utter it—in a negative or positive sense—there’s a chance for that power to once again take hold.<br />
<br />
So, if you know someone who has walked away from God, don’t give up. If he/she is working hard to discredit faith it’s not a sign of a lost soul. It’s the sign of a soul that God is still wrestling for. And if you have walked away from your faith but find yourself trying to disprove Christ, ask yourself why. Why must you disprove him? What is it in your life that you need so bad, that it requires God’s story to be false?<br />
<br />
My prayers go out to the wandering (and the wondering) souls.Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-78412174188861756812012-08-13T08:32:00.000-07:002012-08-13T08:38:00.356-07:00The WretchThere's this word, in a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amazing_Grace">famous hymn</a> by John Newton, that I haven't really thought much about, though I've sung it dozens if not hundreds of times. What did he mean when he said, "...a wretch like me?"
<br /><p>
I looked up the word and it pretty much means what you'd expect it to: "a despicable or vile person." I can surely associate with that. But there was a synonym listed in the definition that struck me:
<br /><p>
<b>"Villain."</b>
<br /><p>
I thought about that word for awhile. Am I the villain in God's story? The answer is far too often, I'm afraid, yes.
<br /><p>
When Jonah boarded a boat to get as far away as possible from God's will, he became the villain in the story. His sin brought a horrific storm on a ship full of sailors who were not party to his sin. Consequences of one's sin are rarely, if ever, heaped only on the sinner. I too, have boarded the boat to Tarsus. I have tried to flee from God's guidance. I have seen the consequences of my own sins leave their stains on other hearts.
<br /><p>
When David decided that he wanted another man's wife, he became the villain in the story. Consumed by his lust, fleshly desires and greed, he went as far as to commit murder to try to cover up his sin. I too have peered over the balcony and coveted that which is not mine. And I have dug deeper holes to cover the sins I thought could be hidden. Though I have not committed physical murder, how many have I "killed" with my word and deed?
<br /><p>
When we first learn of Paul in the Gospel, he is already the villain. His life was dedicated to persecuting believers. He stood by as others stoned Stephen. His life mission was to destroy those who worshipped God. I have been complacent in the destruction of fellow believers. I have watched them stumble, only to throw stones or turn my back as others hurled theirs.
<br /><p>
I am the wretch.<br /><p>
I am the villain.
<br /><p>
But the beauty of the Gospel is found in that very same hymn that brings us that awful word. <b>The wretch can be saved.</b> The villain's heart can be turned. God's grace put Jonah back on course. It allowed David to go down in history not as a wretch, but as "a man after God's own heart." Grace is what turned Saul into Paul.
<br /><p>
That same grace is available to me and to you. But, as in each of these stories, it takes repentence. Whether you pray that prayer in the belly of fish, on your knees in your castle or on a dusty road in the middle of nowhere, grace is there. For every wretch. For every villain.
<br /><p>
Yes, John Newton was right. It <i>IS</i> amazing. <br />
<br /><p>
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Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-65559948944305317892012-07-06T11:39:00.001-07:002012-07-06T11:40:38.406-07:00The Wildfire<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisng_ZvBW6xrbXFNv3pui1YJAOf011B7Jbu5sKvgz1TNTWs6w2wBaoOU4Ykv3VJbV0uwzIAbYSdUIArffcPNIu0a1PGxLk2IQ8NOEYUqMo9bWlEPbOTKIoGs98Yu9EOHdkcabbaYe71IaV/s1600/wildfire1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="130" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisng_ZvBW6xrbXFNv3pui1YJAOf011B7Jbu5sKvgz1TNTWs6w2wBaoOU4Ykv3VJbV0uwzIAbYSdUIArffcPNIu0a1PGxLk2IQ8NOEYUqMo9bWlEPbOTKIoGs98Yu9EOHdkcabbaYe71IaV/s200/wildfire1.jpg" /></a></div> It started as a small puff of smoke on the other side of the ridge. Visible from a few miles away, that small puff was actually deceptively large. The flames that birthed it intense. As the smoke plume grew, I knew how easily it could spread. And spread it did. From treetop to treetop, pushed by winds across the dry, parched earth. The absence of rain made for perfect kindling, as even the tiniest of sparks grew the inferno. 100 foot flames shot into the sky, blocking out the sun with their thick, black smoke. Homes destroyed. Lives uprooted. And when it was all said and done, the landscape forever charred…blackened by the relentless, disastrous fire.
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<b>And no, I’m not talking about Waldo Canyon.</b>
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Some years ago, I allowed a sin into my life that was shameful. And while I managed for many years to keep the smoke plume at a distance, the flames were tremendous. And they consumed everything in their path. My heart, my mind, my body. And I wasn’t the only victim. This fire scorched others in my path. Like innocent trees on the landscape—friends, family, strangers and acquaintances were damaged. This sin took advantage of the lack of fertile ground and spread like wildfire through a bone-dry field of starving grass. And before I knew it, my landscape had been forever changed. In my wake, I left ashen remains of who I once was. Those who knew me still stood but blackened, wounded by the flames of my selfishness.
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Sin is a lot like a wildfire. All it takes is a tiny spark. One hot ember landing on the right blade of grass can quickly become an unstoppable inferno. The lack of rain—that nurturing that can only come from God’s word, will turn a once-fertile valley into a arid field ripe for burning.
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The good news is, scorched earth can regrow. In fact, it can come back stronger, greener and livelier. But not without that rain. Not without nourishment.
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I am so sorry for those I have burned in my past. Maybe you too, have some fires to apologize for. Maybe you still have flames that need water. Maybe you need to ask for forgiveness from those you left in the ashes of your folly. I wish I could say I will never allow flames back into my landscape. But that would be a lie. But what I can do is keep the ground fertile. Keep watering the grass with the Word that replenishes. And, when sparks land, ask for help to snuff them out before they ever have the chance to spread.
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<b>Maybe, just maybe, the landscape can be changed…and return to its once fertile state.</b>Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-14207602462660679452012-03-29T10:15:00.009-07:002014-05-22T14:21:11.768-07:00Wait...YOU'RE NOT BEAUTIFUL...and YOU CAN STILL SING!??Okay, I have to chime in here. Because it's been bothering me for far too long.<br />
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It started with <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxPZh4AnWyk">Susan Boyle</a>...the vocal wonder who wow'd and amazed folks on Britain's Got Talent. Now, years later, it's <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=41IS2OKqq1w">Charlotte and Jonathan</a>.</div>
<img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil6q_PKVlIwNJB-xA-P4-WVB4lubepSviHXMCOJhgCDHhrJYao9_iC4jI2-VlepSYg2StPW8lIMVMlX-ZMRf0X1djY5xaYBaboOUhz8tls68qoNKWodqyYgyGffOW2iQlN2z7hf-kK9nCz/s200/bgt1.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5725373886097394514" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 130px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 200px;" /><br />
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Can these people sing? Absolutely. Amazingly so. Powerful voices. Beautiful voices. </div>
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That's not what bothers me.</div>
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What bothers me is that the world is shocked that they can sing...because they're not what media has told us is "beautiful." I actually heard a network morning news anchor introduce the video clip of Charlotte and Jonathan by saying "he doesn't look like he can sing..." </div>
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REALLY?</div>
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What does that even mean?</div>
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What happened to our love of music? When did we become a world of people who will shell out ridiculous amounts in ticket prices to see so-called "beautiful people" dance on stage, <a href="http://this-sucky-world.blogspot.com/2009/03/lip-syncing.html">LIP-SYNCHING</a> to an <a href="http://this-sucky-world.blogspot.com/2009/11/46-autotune.html">AUTO-TUNED</a> track that they could never pull off live...and drop our jaws in shock when an "unattractive" person can actually stay on pitch, hit the notes and deliver an arousing performance?</div>
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Why does that shock us? </div>
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In the words of the old song, <i>"video killed the radio star"</i>...we allowed it to happen. When video came on the scene, all of the sudden, we wanted our music stars to be beautiful as well as sing. Now, we've gotten to the point where the latter doesn't matter, just as long as they're appealing to look at. </div>
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Shame on us. </div>
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Shame on us for making music about waist size, or performers who are willing to wear outrageous outfits (or no outfits at all) to get our attention. Shame on us for expecting airbrushed beauty in place of talent. Seriously, some of our "pop stars" today are an insult to true musicians.</div>
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It used to be about the music. </div>
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It used to be about the talent.</div>
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It used to be about the message that someone put into their song.</div>
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Jonathan, I hope you do have a wonderful career ahead of you. Not because of the shock value. But because of your talent. </div>
Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-59371692078191384922012-03-27T07:31:00.003-07:002012-03-27T07:49:18.447-07:00Unfinished<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjquRPMI7aPOThPXSsYlCiMEuCTZK7B-3iwbRhgPgtlgphBq8SmLlM2XsPdZslkoejkTCCjFe3Gp26qjOmC11OSc_KHHvZ_U9Kr6c6Te1ANcdB0G1JAL06TLoPsla1W2nPFpBswN9mqXWGC/s1600/IMG_0098.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjquRPMI7aPOThPXSsYlCiMEuCTZK7B-3iwbRhgPgtlgphBq8SmLlM2XsPdZslkoejkTCCjFe3Gp26qjOmC11OSc_KHHvZ_U9Kr6c6Te1ANcdB0G1JAL06TLoPsla1W2nPFpBswN9mqXWGC/s200/IMG_0098.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724588951726512354" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">Like many people in this world, I have dreamed of writing a novel. Well, actually I’ve done more than dream about it. I’ve started a few. But I have yet to finish a single one of them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Years ago, I started a fiction novel called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Prompting the Apocalypse,</i> about a cult that thinks they can prompt God’s hand to start the end of the world—if they just do something horrible enough. I sat it aside and starting working on my life story, growing up an orphan in a small, south Texas town. That turned out to be overwhelming, trying to remember details and honestly wondering if anyone would be interested in that at all. So I put that one on the shelf. </p><p class="MsoNormal">I moved onto another autobiographical piece called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Lessons in Failure, </i>which focused on my many missteps in life—and what I learned from them. But that was terribly depressing, so it’s sitting in a folder somewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I worked on a devotion piece that focused on Matthew 11. I love the story of John the Baptist sending two messengers to ask Jesus a very important question. More importantly, I love His reply. But, at about 75-percent of the way through, I lost interest. I worked on a short story called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">The Roaring Gnat.</i> I couldn’t even finish that. A short story! <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Currently, I’m writing another fiction piece called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Ghosts of the Potential</i>, about a retired travel photojournalist who finds himself living in a slum in Kenya when he encounters something he never imagined possible. I still have no idea how it’s going to end.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">And I can’t begin to tell you how many half-songs or choruses I’ve written that have never seen the light of day. For some reason, I just can’t seem to finish these projects.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b>Why is that?</b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Part of me wants to say that unfinished products are useless. They are worth nothing until they are completed. What good is a car that sits in your driveway without an engine? What value does a home with no roof bring? But then I am reminded of this verse:</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p> </o:p><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“Be confident of this, that He who began a good work</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">in you will carry it on to completion until the day of</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Christ Jesus.”</i> – Philippians 1:6 (NIV)</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-indent:.5in"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>And I am thankful. Thankful that God doesn’t see unfinished work as worthless. Thankful that He knows how to finish a story. My story. (Even if I can’t.) Unfinished doesn’t mean without value. And—as the verse says—until Jesus returns, there is always time to work on the project more. </p><p class="MsoNormal"> I don’t know if I’ll ever finish any of these writing projects. But I am learning to see the value of them even in their current state. They are a part of me. They allow me to hone my creative skills. They challenge me. And, finished or not, they are part of my story.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">(Hey look! I finished this blog post! That’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">something,</i> right?)<o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-10556389686030479342012-02-08T12:41:00.000-08:002012-02-08T13:31:17.858-08:00Honesty.<div><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote>Honesty.</div><o:p></o:p><p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s the first word in my bio on my website.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s what I have tried to emulate in my songwriting. Funny though, how it’s easier to do in a song than in real life.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Truth is, I’m not a very honest person. I strive to be, but there are some things that I’d much rather keep hidden in the dark corners of who I am. Ugly things. Shocking things. Things I don’t want you to see.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"></i></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">“Don’t look at me. I’m as ugly as ugly can be.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Don’t look at me. I’m afraid you won’t like what you see.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">There’s a stain on my heart that is darker than dark<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">I’m a liar, a cheat and a thief.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Don’t look at me. Don’t look at me.”<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">-The Liar, from an upcoming project</p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">For years, I have wrestled with this one sin that has sunk its claws deep into my flesh. I hate who I am when this sin shows itself. I have told myself that, if I can just beat this one thing, I’d be doing alright. My guess is that many of you have that one thing you wrestle with too. But as I dig deeper into why this sin has such a grip on me, I realize it’s not just one thing. You see lust, pride, envy, anger, greed, discontentment, selfishness; they are all woven together like a tightly knit bundle of nerves. It’s hard to separate one from the other. Suddenly, that one thing…is many things. And I realize I’ve been fighting the wrong battle all along because I focused all my efforts on only one soldier in the war. Leaving myself open to ambush over and over again.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">There are days when I feel like I’ve won. There are moments when I no longer feel consumed. But they are fleeting. With every step forward it seems, there’s a step backwards.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"></i></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">“I sit in the middle of poison.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">I sit in the middle of sin.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">I say my prayer of forgiveness<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">then turn around and do it again.”<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">-Secret Sins, from the XP album, Ten Songs <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">(Written by Clint Locks, Arr. And performed by Tim Glenn)</p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I imagine that’s what it’s like for a drug addict or an alcoholic. There are days when they don’t desire that high. Those are good days. Strong days. Bright days. Then, out of nowhere, something triggers a craving and before they know it, they’re intoxicated again…and the days turn dark. The self-loathing returns. I too have found myself in this cycle. More times than I care to admit. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"></i></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">“It’s a cold dark hell in this hole of sin<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">I’m ashamed to tell but I fit right in<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">I keep spinning in these concentric circles.”<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">-Hole of Sin, from my album, New Pair of Shoes</p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The Bible says to confess your sins to one another. That’s hard to do in this society because we love gossip. We love deflection. Focusing on the sin of others allows us to ignore our own. Sin is messy and no one wants to deal with it publicly. We don’t trust anyone to know who we really are inside. So we lock it away. And I wonder if we are a secret society of self-loathers. We fear how much others would hate us, if they only knew. So we choose to hate ourselves instead. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"></i></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">“I hate that I’m so human, fighting with this flesh<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">This wicked war of wiles.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">If I could hide myself in you and take on all your qualities<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Now that would be worthwhile.”<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">-So Human, from my album, So Human</p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I wonder how many of you would still associate yourselves with me if you knew what evil sneaks around in the darkest parts of my being. I have done horrible things. Things that would give you every right to hate me, disown me. I fear the loneliness that would follow such abandonment. So I choose to shoulder the weight in silence.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">“My cross is the shame I must bear, with me everywhere<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">I admit that it’s bigger than me.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Though I try to walk it alone, my cross is a stone<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">that’s bringing me to my knees.”</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">-My Cross, from my album, So Human</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I wonder how forgiving we can really be of each other.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And I wonder… is it possible to completely overcome these things in this lifetime? Even if I did win this battle, would another one be waiting? Perhaps that’s why heaven is so special—the absence of the dark corners.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-14655352744160034892012-01-12T15:32:00.000-08:002012-01-12T15:44:35.370-08:00Back in Time<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><div>What if we could go back and fix the mistakes we've made?</div><div>Would you want to?</div><div>There are a handful of things from my past that I've longed to go back and correct. They will likely haunt me for the rest of my life.</div><div>Still, as I consider this train of thought, much has to be taken into account.</div><div>
</div><div>My first impression is, "I should write a song about this!" But then I think, "No, this is just a blog post."</div><div>This time, it's both. </div><div>Here are some thoughts mixed with some lyric ideas:</div><div>
</div><div>Probably the most famous sin on earth took place in the Garden of Eden. Oh, that garden! All the food they needed. Innocence and honesty in their purist form.</div><div>Then, one bad decision:</div><div>
</div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>"Seems to me she was deceived</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>And took the apple from the tree</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Shared it with her helper, friend</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>And things are not the same since then…</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>No things are not the same since then."</i></div></div><div>
</div><div>I wonder if Adam and Eve ever looked back. In those following years of dirty, sweaty toil, did they ever have the conversation?</div><div>
</div><div><b>Eve: </b>"Oh, if I had only told that stupid snake to shut up!"</div><div><b>Adam: </b>"If only I hadn't taken that bite!"</div><div>
</div><div>Did they ever fight about it? Was blame ever cast?</div><div><b>Adam:</b> "Why did you have to bring me that confounded fruit!?"</div><div><b>Eve:</b> "You didn't have to eat it, ya know! No one forced it down your throat."</div><div>
</div><div>Here's an interesting idea: What would've happened if Eve ate of the fruit but Adam stood his ground and denied it. How would that have changed the world? I'm sure, at some point, mankind would have still screwed up. But what if we hadn't? </div><div>
</div><div>Or, what if Eve DID shoo the serpent away…and neither of them partook of the fruit? </div><div>Think of the ramifications on life as we know it. Perhaps there would be no sin, no war, no death. But also…no need for Jesus. No blood. No crucifixion. No resurrection. No Christmas. No Easter. What if our story was simply…"God made us and gave us a perfect home?"</div><div>
</div><div>Wait…as a musician, I wonder how that would change our hymns? All those beautiful songs celebrating Jesus' victory over death. All those praises to God for His sweet redemption story. </div><div>Gone.</div><div>
</div><div style="text-align: center; "><i>"Can we go back in time to right our wrongs?</i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i>Would it erase our rhymes?</i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i>Would it change our song?</i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i>No more sweet refrains of Amazing Grace</i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i>Not one single verse with Jesus' name?"</i></div><div>
</div><div>I honestly don't believe man will ever figure out how to travel back in time to change the past. And my gut tells me that's a good thing. But even if we could, I'm sure we'd slip up somewhere else along the way. Maybe we'd create drama some other way. Because, us humans, we thrive on drama!</div><div>
</div><div>And now to apply that to my own life. As much as I'd like to go back and change the past, I wonder what I'd miss out on if I did. I wonder what blessings, joys and wonders would never begin, without my sin. </div><div>
</div><div style="text-align: center; "><i>"To erase the bad, you must erase it all</i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i>Every joy and blessing fall.</i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i>Crimson gone but at what cost?</i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i>Precious memories…all are lost."</i></div></span>Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-45208225794386555832011-12-07T09:06:00.000-08:002011-12-07T09:30:46.959-08:00MomentsOur lives are made up of <b>moments.</b><div><b>
</b><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5yi52ob1cAlEVh92AL4ApVKmmyuyVO27Kp8biXHb1hpUrFbwZwcU_ckgNdorHJ0cTAx_uLHK9j9YSv44tnwOn0QVxjzcjJvzh9NwiUXJTqgZdbxSd85gPcwpBJEQX78IUzjjhOORzYoAG/s200/DSC_0179.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683439774096266642" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 116px; " /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">And most of them wil</span><span class="Apple-style-span">l never be captured by a camera or microphone. And try as we may, we cannot hold on to every one of them. As I get older, I'm very much aware that my memory isn't as sharp as it used to be. And that is painful. I want to be able to recapture the sparkle in my wife's eyes when her quivering lips said, "I do." To remember what it felt like to hear </span>my sons draw a breath and cry for the first time. Every time one of my boys calls me "daddy" my heart smiles. I want to <span class="Apple-style-span">hold onto these things vividly. Not as hazy memories.</span></div><div>
</div><div>It's cruel, I think, that we don't have some sort of digital recording device in our brains that allows us to capture, replay, re-experience.</div><div>
</div><div>Or maybe it's grace. </div><div>
</div><div>Because there are also moments that I want to erase for all eternity. The way my wife's face changes and tears flow from her beautiful blue eyes when I've said or done something to hurt her. The moment I lost composure upon losing a job that I put way too much value in. The look of fear in my son's eyes when I yelled, perhaps too loudly, at him. The ugly sin moments. Those can be sent to the recycle bin of the mind as far as I'm concerned. But, just as we cannot record and playback those moments we hold dear, we cannot erase the ones we'd like to pretend never happened. </div><div>
</div><div>And that, I suppose, is God's way of telling us to make the most of every moment. Every heartbeat is precious...important. Every word we speak, action we take is more than just a moment...it's a piece of our story. And our story is incomplete without the bad as well as the good. </div><div>
</div><div>What moments do you wish you could cling to and replay in your heart and mind? Which ones do you wish could be erased from the hard drive of your life?</div></div>Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-16114448687128602372011-10-12T08:23:00.000-07:002011-10-12T08:34:16.802-07:00The World is Bored.<p class="MsoNormal">I’m convinced the world is bored. I mean, seriously bored.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJOsli4zw2PcBjXInZbHeIIrPtNXd5YYr4kiAu0paBFDBlaOHSgUl6lLQMZz7HMe9vutWcidJbCO46JEMnhcruPf35N-vWdPKZq_OIleKgQEUIB1_jvWVJB8p-4iZucLGQM9R2J6r8r006/s200/flash+mob.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662627592852032722" /><p class="MsoNormal">Evidence of this started a few years ago. A group of people who were bored got together and decided to do a choreographed song and dance performance in public. The idea was that it would appear as random, yet organized. It soon garnered the name, “flash mob.” And bored people have been trying to come up with original flash mobs ever since.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV4A09aHlVOUljw9ugIikeVThmrfh2v6QNFliHnvilAZVz9-U1SVn5Ysf0LsjFqAZq94Mx3P-sVrB-HG81FCmISPGQ8ymtpWw3ZTgMcVQMMi4-9yVbgXFmuD2gbnKu1N0I0lXr8bR82asZ/s200/planking2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662627778166459330" style="float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /><p class="MsoNormal">Then came “planking?” I mean, seriously…people are taking pictures of themselves lying down. Really? This is a social activity now? Lying down? I know that people are coming up with creative places to plank. I get that. But in the end, we’re taking pictures of ourselves lying still.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">Admit it, we’re bored.</b></p><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4JLdZ1wTXjMcAUIp7sX7WOxUTD2luDh_qm7WFYRraTu_dL9t19MQdrqMn0E4X-1CEK9r96-A2yk0XX5CURLTeE9aEgEK3WupJ7ke-AMmYNEK-41K1o-PQ1fUc3fgS2sRd8hGGKSwUPrZk/s200/occupy1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662628363052591634" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /><p class="MsoNormal">How else does one explain this “occupying” movement? It’s the flavor of the month right now. Occupy Wall Street. Occupy this. Occupy that. What is occupying, really? It’s a group of people gathered together, protesting the power and money that major corporations have. Funny. They’re walking around in clothes created by corporations, taking pictures and video of their events with cameras made by corporations (I’ve seen several people using their smart phones at these events. Really?) Some even make a run to the closest fast food joint to grab a burger and fries from a corporation, so they don’t get too hungry while they’re sitting in their tents made by corporations. And how are they getting the word out about their events? Through social media. Yep, you guessed it, corporations. They’re even going out of their way to get traditional media coverage. You know, those corporately owned television, radio stations and newspapers?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">So…what are they really protesting? If anything, they should be protesting themselves…their own stupidity. Or at the very least their hypocrisy.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">No, I think they’re just bored.</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal">For the most part, these aren’t bad things. At least people are getting creative. At least they’re doing something with their time. But what is the cause of all this boredom?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Personally, I think it’s the result of a very dramatic decade. In September of 2001, one of the most dramatic events happened in our country’s history. We collectively gasped. We got angry. We united. Then we spent the next few years seeking revenge. But we also spent that time rebuilding. We got busy. We wanted to prove to the world that we would not fall. So we spent money. Lots of money. Money we didn’t have. We ran up our debt. Just like a family trying to keep up with the Joneses, we weren’t going to be outdone by any other country. We had to prove to the world that we are still the strongest, greatest country on the planet. And we got accustomed to that spending. We got used to the drama of it all.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Now we’re on the backside of it. We’re back home from vacation and the bills have just shown up. We spent a lot of money at Disney World. It didn’t feel like real money because we used a credit card. And that mouse with the big ears is just a memory now. We still long for the euphoria.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We are bored. And we need to be careful because when people get bored, they start doing things to create euphoria. Problem is, it doesn’t last long. So we’re on to the next thing…and the next. Before you know it, we’re carrying signs, protesting something we ourselves don’t even understand and rioting about powerhouses that we ourselves created. And how far will we go?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">We have forgotten the great, lost art of…being content.</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal">At the risk of sounding like a buzz kill (which I realize is a real risk here), may I make a few suggestions: go to work, come home, play with the kids, watch a movie as a family, work in the yard, clean the garage, go on a picnic, go for a hike. No, it’s not nearly as dramatic. But it’s a lot healthier. Learn how to be content before we go too far. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment--></div>Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-52336114734582282822011-09-29T08:14:00.000-07:002011-09-29T08:22:36.079-07:00Was It For the Devil?I have written songs to God, about God and even some from the perspective of God. But one song in particular was a change of pace for me.
I've recieved quite a few emails from fans asking me who I'm addressing in the song, <b><i>As You Think You Are.</i></b> The most common question is, "Was it for the devil?" Sometimes, people assume I had a specific person in mind and want to know who it was. And, every once in awhile, someone asks, "Did you write this for yourself?"
Truth is...
It's all of those.
<b><i>As You Think You Are</i> is a message about pride. </b>
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>You consider this and everything you see</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>as your imagination running wild.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>You consider this, in pure hypocrisy, </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>as something that you caused to come about...</i></div>
You'll recall Lucifer was the highest of angels til pride took him down. He started to believe that he, himself was God. In that sense, yes, this song is about, or rather to, Satan.
<b>But I also struggle with pride.</b> I sometimes get to the place in my life where I say, "Look what I've accomplished!" Dangerous place to be. Because the truth is, I've accomplished nothing on my own. God's grace has given me the beautiful family I have, our wonderful home, my career, my music ministry. Without Him, I'm just another sinner. Correction...without Him, I'm probably the chief of all sinners.
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>You're not as strong.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>You're not as powerful.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>You're not as much as you think you are.</i></div>
But this song is written to you too. It's a warning...a reminder. <b>Don't start believing your own hype.</b> Sometimes we want to present ourselves as "having it all together." I believe God created in us the desire to aspire to more. But not for our own glory. This song is aimed at all of us who tread that dangerously thin line between acknowledging God and seeking praise for ourselves. <b>And it's laced with some of the same questions that God asked Job:</b>
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>What about the moon?</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>What about the stars?</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Are you the one who put them in their place?</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>And what of living air?</i></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Were you the first to breathe for every living creature, every race? </i> </div>
<div>So yes, <b><i>As You Think You Are</i></b> was written for the devil. And for me. And for you. I hope there's something we can all learn from it.
You can hear the song here: <a href="http://www.timglennmusic.com/asyouthinkyouare.mp3">www.timglennmusic.com/asyouthinkyouare.mp3</a>
If you like it, please go to <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/new-pair-of-shoes/id30476413">iTunes</a> and buy it! And share this link with your friends!</div></div>Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-24739975902968067712011-09-08T06:22:00.000-07:002011-09-08T06:59:43.295-07:00Does God Understand This At All?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKyTDeKiVZ2RVO20ffW1JuuQIe633Ms1dDkE8SupD3mWh_Q3pm2f3yfsRSiy4tCrpbx1iVDCHopNc3lGCY2QdHU_qrCmih80KHmeqQs-UOiqO3aTOQqb8dI6dhwhTiU3kB7G7lbY1egPJq/s1600/DSC_0309.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 223px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 154px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649986731410256210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKyTDeKiVZ2RVO20ffW1JuuQIe633Ms1dDkE8SupD3mWh_Q3pm2f3yfsRSiy4tCrpbx1iVDCHopNc3lGCY2QdHU_qrCmih80KHmeqQs-UOiqO3aTOQqb8dI6dhwhTiU3kB7G7lbY1egPJq/s320/DSC_0309.JPG" /></a>Today Morgan, my four year old, starts pre-school. And I'm feeling a bit...well, melancholy.
For sure, I'm extremely proud of him. He's so smart. He knows the importance of "please" and "thank you." He and his little brother, Grayson, are my absolute pride and joy. I can't imagine life without them...nor do I want to.
But like millions of parents before me and, for sure millions after, it's hard to see my baby boy grow up. A big part of me wants to keep him "cuddle-size"...where he fits just right in my lap and arms. I love that he still gives me kisses, hugs and runs into my arms when I get home from work each day. I fear those days are quickly fading. And pre-school, somehow, marks the beginning of the fade.
And that got me thinking this morning, <strong>does God understand that at all?</strong> I wonder if an ageless, timeless, eternal God knows what it's like to wish his child would stay a child. Yes, He watched Jesus grow up but I don't know of any place in Scripture where it says God had a hard time when Jesus first strapped on a backpack and took a number two pencil to class. I don't recall God getting misty-eyed over our Lord's first day of high school.
But I do remember this:
<div align="center"><em>"I tell you the truth, unless you turn from your sins </em></div><div align="center"><em>and <strong>become like little children</strong>, you will never </em></div><div align="center"><em>enter the Kingdom of Heaven."</em> --Matthew 18:3 (NIV)</div>
God knows what happens as we get older and the world takes away some of the wonder. He knows how, with age, we start to lose that abandon that sends us running into His arms. So, while God may have never expressed His saddened heart over watching a child grow up, He definitely expressed his sorrow over his children losing their child-like faith.
<div>Maybe that's another thing we have in common with our Maker.
We all want our kids to stay "cuddle size."</div>Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-39981354490274997872011-07-12T14:03:00.000-07:002011-07-12T14:04:25.133-07:0058: The FilmCheck out the trailer for this church-changing film that's coming out in October.
Share it.
Join the movement.
We can change the world.
<iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/26292088?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0" width="400" height="225" frameborder="0"></iframe><p><a href="http://vimeo.com/26292088">58: THE FILM Trailer July, 11 2011</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/live58">LIVE58NOW</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.</p>Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-44563994356139859242011-06-02T10:23:00.001-07:002011-06-02T10:53:27.163-07:00ReflectionI remember.
I remember when those light green eyes shined so brightly.
When those bony, broad shoulders stood square and strong.
Just yesterday life danced in that goofy grin.
And the chestnut locks curled along that scrawny neck.
O' where did the wide-eyed wonder go?
The dare, no determination, to change the world?
Did wonder give way to worry?
And dare to disappointment?
Those eyes have lost their shine. They show retreat.
Those shoulders, now slumped in defeat.
If I ever had a hope, it seems I lost it.
If I ever had a smile, then fate has tossed it.
The curls of youth replaced by graying...straying.
Is this the real me?
Is this who I was all along?
And only now the veneer has worn so thin that truth is exposed?
Or have I wandered so far that the real me cannot be found?
Lost somewhere in time's relentless ticking...ticking...ticking.
Oh mirror, surely you lie.
Surely the best has not gone by.Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560613514546587103.post-13129239203876534242011-05-27T09:04:00.000-07:002011-05-27T09:56:33.362-07:00Why You (I) Don't Understand God<div align="left">Sometimes, God just plain humbles you.
Sometimes you need a reminder that He is God and you are not. (And by "you", I mean "me.")
I've been thinking a lot lately about God's whole plan...and how it just doesn't make sense. I mean, here's what boggles me: God knows the future. So He knew, long before He even created the heavens and the earth, that His prized creation would betray him. He knew that man would turn against Him. He knew we'd create other gods to take his place. He knew we would deny our Maker's very existence.
And yet He continued. That blows my mind. If it were me, upon seeing this future, I would've said, "Nah...never mind."
But not only did He continue, God devised a plan to give us all a chance to come back to Him. And what a plan it is! We denied Him and HE came chasing after us. Such is the love of God for us! </div><div align="left"></div>
<div align="left"><strong>For those of you who don't know this plan, here it is in a nutshell:</strong> God said, (paraphrasing here) "You denied me. You didn't listen to me. You broke my rules. You shunned me, spat at me, kicked dirt in my face. I created you and you proclaimed that you created me. So you don't deserve to be with me. You don't deserve all that I have to offer. After all, you think you can do better on your own. You deserve to spend eternity away from my presence. But I love you. I love you so much that I will give my only son--the son I love--to you. I will allow you to beat him, mock him, torture him, kill him. All so you can be forgiven for what YOU'VE done. Not for what HE has done. He will be blameless. But still he'll die so YOU can become blameless too."</div><div align="left"></div>
<div align="left">Now wait a minute. I'm sorry, but that plan just plain doesn't make sense to me. Who comes up with that? Who could possibly think that makes sense?
<b>God. That's who.</b></div><div align="left"></div>
<div align="left">And the reason we don't understand it. Well, He even gave us an answer for that too:</div><div align="left"></div>
<div align="center"><em>“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the LORD. "As the heavens are </em></div><div align="center"><em>higher than the earth, so are my ways </em></div><div align="center"><em>higher than your ways and my thoughts </em></div><div align="center"><em>than your thoughts."</em> --Isaiah 55:8-9 (NIV)</div>
<div align="center"></div>
<div align="left">Think about that statement for a moment and realize just how humbling that is. As smart as you are, God is infinitely smarter. As much as you think you understand, you're not even close. Your sense of justice is lightyears away from what His justice really is. Your ability to reason...miniscule in His presence. <strong>Anytime you've asked God, "why?"the answer is, "You wouldn't understand if I told you."</strong> Anytime you say, "I can't believe in a God who would do something like..." it's because you don't get it. And again, by "you", I mean "me."
Humbling.
And yet, somehow...empowering.
</div>Tim Glennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09046372128851982485noreply@blogger.com1