What Kind of "Phobe" Are You?

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.

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.

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.”

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?

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.

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. 

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. 

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.

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.

Quite honestly, it’s a cheap ploy. 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.  

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.

Sometimes, they just disagree.

"Come and Sin Some More"

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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?”

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.

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.

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.

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?”

“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: 

“Now go and sin no more.”

What If You're Just Not Good Enough?

It’s a question no one likes to face. But perhaps we all have at some point in our lives.

What if you’re just not good enough?

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?

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.

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?

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.

Maybe my passion and my talent aren’t equal.

What do you do then?

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?

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.

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?

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. 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.

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?

Church: Remember When...

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?

I wonder where my church is today.

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?

I wonder where my church is today.

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?

I wonder where my church is today.

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?

I wonder where my church is today.

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? 

I wonder where my church is today.

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? 

I wonder where my church is today.

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?

I wonder where my church is today.

What Sochi Can Teach Us About the Rest of the World

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.

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.

But perhaps we need to put things into perspective too.  While these conditions are obviously not up to par, they are, for the most part, certainly not “appalling.”

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.

  

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.

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.

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.

Entitled

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.

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?

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?

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.”

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?”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

After all, I’m entitled.

I Believe in Santa Claus

I believe in Santa Claus.

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.

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.

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.

But I do believe Santa exists. Because I’ve seen him.

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!

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.

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. 

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.

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.

If you believe in Santa like I do, tell the world. Share your stories of where you've seen Santa. 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.

It’s time we all started believing!

The Wandering (And the Wondering) Soul

I’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.

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.

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)

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.

 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?

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.”

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. Because God’s fingerprints don’t wash off easily. 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.

 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?

My prayers go out to the wandering (and the wondering) souls.

The Wretch

There's this word, in a famous hymn 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?"

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:

"Villain."

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.

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.

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?

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.

I am the wretch.

I am the villain.

But the beauty of the Gospel is found in that very same hymn that brings us that awful word. The wretch can be saved. 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.

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.

Yes, John Newton was right. It IS amazing.

The Wildfire

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.

And no, I’m not talking about Waldo Canyon.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Maybe, just maybe, the landscape can be changed…and return to its once fertile state.

Wait...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.

It started with Susan Boyle...the vocal wonder who wow'd and amazed folks on Britain's Got Talent. Now, years later, it's Charlotte and Jonathan.

Can these people sing? Absolutely. Amazingly so. Powerful voices. Beautiful voices.

That's not what bothers me.

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..."

REALLY?

What does that even mean?

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, LIP-SYNCHING to an AUTO-TUNED 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?

Why does that shock us?

In the words of the old song, "video killed the radio star"...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.

Shame on us.

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.

It used to be about the music.

It used to be about the talent.

It used to be about the message that someone put into their song.

Jonathan, I hope you do have a wonderful career ahead of you. Not because of the shock value. But because of your talent.

Unfinished

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.

Years ago, I started a fiction novel called Prompting the Apocalypse, 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.

I moved onto another autobiographical piece called Lessons in Failure, 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. 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 The Roaring Gnat. I couldn’t even finish that. A short story!

Currently, I’m writing another fiction piece called Ghosts of the Potential, 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.

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.

Why is that?

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:

“Be confident of this, that He who began a good work

in you will carry it on to completion until the day of

Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 1:6 (NIV)

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.

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.

(Hey look! I finished this blog post! That’s something, right?)

The World is Bored.

I’m convinced the world is bored. I mean, seriously bored.

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.

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.

Admit it, we’re bored.

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?

So…what are they really protesting? If anything, they should be protesting themselves…their own stupidity. Or at the very least their hypocrisy.

No, I think they’re just bored.

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?

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.

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.

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?

We have forgotten the great, lost art of…being content.

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.

Was 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, As You Think You Are. 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. As You Think You Are is a message about pride.

You consider this and everything you see

as your imagination running wild.

You consider this, in pure hypocrisy,

as something that you caused to come about...

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. But I also struggle with pride. 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.

You're not as strong.

You're not as powerful.

You're not as much as you think you are.

But this song is written to you too. It's a warning...a reminder. Don't start believing your own hype. 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. And it's laced with some of the same questions that God asked Job:

What about the moon?

What about the stars?

Are you the one who put them in their place?

And what of living air?

Were you the first to breathe for every living creature, every race?

So yes, As You Think You Are 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: www.timglennmusic.com/asyouthinkyouare.mp3 If you like it, please go to iTunes and buy it! And share this link with your friends!

Does God Understand This At All?

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, does God understand that at all? 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:

"I tell you the truth, unless you turn from your sins

and become like little children, you will never

enter the Kingdom of Heaven." --Matthew 18:3 (NIV)

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.

Maybe that's another thing we have in common with our Maker. We all want our kids to stay "cuddle size."

Reflection

I 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.

Why You (I) Don't Understand God

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!

For those of you who don't know this plan, here it is in a nutshell: 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."

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? God. That's who.

And the reason we don't understand it. Well, He even gave us an answer for that too:

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. "As the heavens are

higher than the earth, so are my ways

higher than your ways and my thoughts

than your thoughts." --Isaiah 55:8-9 (NIV)

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. Anytime you've asked God, "why?"the answer is, "You wouldn't understand if I told you." 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.

It's the End of the World (As We Know It)

No doubt, by now, you've heard of the prediction that tomorrow is Judgement Day and the end of the world will begin with the rapture happening sometime tomorrow, Saturday, May 21st, 2011. Harold Camping, who somehow got to a point where he owns a network of 150 "religious" radio stations around the country, has been espousing this message for months now. I'm okay when so-called "experts" or self-proclaimed theologians start spouting out theories like this as fact. Mostly because, when Sunday May 22nd comes around...no one will ever listen to this yahoo again. But... What if? I know, I know...but entertain the thought for awhile. If we all really knew that tomorrow was the end of the world, how would we behave? Would there be any need to go to war today? Any reason to harbor ill-will towards another human being? If the end of the world was coming within the next 24 hours, and we all face the same fate...then we're all equal today. How would that change the way you behave? How would that affect the way you live the next 24 hours? Maybe sometimes these nutjobs are good for us. Maybe they make us ask important questions of ourselves. Maybe, we can all be better human beings by at least entertaining such outrageous claims about the end of the world. People who have "near death experiences" often change the way they live. What if we treated this prediction as a "near death experience?" Maybe we laugh off such notions because we truly don't want to change. Maybe we laugh at these predictions (and perhaps rightfully so) because we don't want a near death experience. But maybe we all need our cage rattled every once in awhile, huh? I, for one, don't believe Camping's claims. No matter how elaborate his mathematical equation for figuring out the end of the world. Because God told us very clearly:

"But about that day or hour no one knows,

not even the angels in heaven, nor the

Son, but only the Father."

--Matthew 24:36 (NIV)

Not even Harold Camping.

But wouldn't it be nice if the whole world lived that way...just once?