Tag Archives: faith

Mixed In With The Old Stuff

Posted on by under 2026

So I’ve been writing the Bible. It takes quite a bit longer than you might imagine. I’ve been doing it for about 10 months and I’m hoping to finish Leviticus in the next week or so. Anyway, sidebar. So today I was writing in Leviticus 16 and for some reason these middle chapters have taken me much longer than anything has up to this point. I had decided to finish that chapter last night but ended up leaving the last few paragraphs for this morning. So glad I did because I think I would have missed this beautiful word in this beautiful Word if I had done it on a tired brain just looking to check off a to-do item.

So here’s what I saw: Chapter 16 is about the Day of Atonement. It’s told to Moses from the perspective of what Aaron or the high priest was supposed to do on that day. It has a very do this then do that sort of feel to it. We’re told what clothes he should put on and take off when and who should bathe with water after doing what things.

Once the day has been thoroughly mapped out by the Lord we read in verse 29 that on this day you are to “deny yourselves and not do any work.” Now we know that to “not do any work” in levitical terms was to not do much of anything, do only that which could never be deemed ‘work.’ So they were told to do nothing. On that day, you do nothing.

Why was it so important that the people do nothing on this day, you might ask. Well, let’s read on and find out more.

Because on this day atonement will be made for you, to cleanse you. Then, before the Lord, you will be clean from all your sins. Leviticus 16:30

We do nothing. We can do nothing. We are powerless to save ourselves, to “cleanse” ourselves.

BUT, on that day! Without any work on my part, atonement was made for me! I was made clean–while I do nothing and Another did all.

And now, before the Lord, I stand clean from all my sin.

Prior to this astounding picture of grace, sweet grace we are told of the scapegoat. While two goats were brought in for this momentous day only one was killed. The other took the sins of the people and ran as far as the east is to the west and separated those sins from their sinners.

It took two goats to show what my One Savior did: He paid the price for my sin with His blood (Romans 6:23: the ‘wages’ of sin is death) and by doing so He took my sin and sent it as far as the east is from the west.

So you read about the mold and the bodily discharge and the parts of the bulls burned or eaten and you might just miss that this amazing Word isn’t old stuff. These aren’t old rules that told people who aren’t us what they were and weren’t allowed to do. This too is living. This old Word too is active and penetrating and beautiful and life-giving and pertinent to me in this very moment. In the moments when I feel I surely have to ‘work’ just a little. For the moments when that old sin feels so close I can still smell the stink of it on my skin. In that day when it’s simply too hard to believe that I am a dearly loved child invited into the presence of a God who sees me as clean.

Mixed in with all this old stuff is the most eternity altering truth ever told.

And it’s there in pictures and stories, in metaphors and allegory. It’s there waiting to feed your soul and expand your faith.

Lord, don’t let us miss all the greatness of encountering you simply because it’s mixed in with the old stuff.

Raging Waters

Posted on by under 2025

A person can drown in an inch of water.

While we may adhere to some cosmic hierarchy of valid storms of life – cancer, murder, death of a child, these may top the charts of acceptably honorific life struggles – the reality is that whatever storm you face has the potential of being one under which you just might succumb.

One of the reasons I failed to grasp the beauty of the Psalms for most of my life is because it didn’t fit into any category of emotional balance I’d ever been taught. I’d seen only a few reactions to troubles like the psalmists so often seemed to face: you rage and vent and regale the world with details of your tragic affair or you sweep the whole thing under the rug and plaster that ‘happy’ face right on top of your pretty little smocked collar.

What I see in the Psalms is neither of those reactions. The psalmists very often draw attention to the fact that there were storms and troubles, but rarely wax ad nauseam on the details. And while they do indeed express emotions that seem completely unfettered, there are never accounts of their having acted on or in their rage.

I taut control. I have often prided myself (unrighteously) on my command of my emotions – as if to have them at all is weakness. I, therefore, naturally lean toward the “sweep it under the rug” reaction. Psalms doesn’t seem to advocate that. Vent in surrender. Rage in prayer. The psalm writers aren’t the only ones to voice complaints in Scripture. Prophets, priests, saints, and sinners bring their brokenness to the Father in words of anguish and emotions in crisis.

Your storms are real. They are valid. And while your storm may consist of the most fierce of one inch waves, they can still feel like they are bringing you to an inch of your life.

If God cares about the mold in your house or the condition of your earthenware vessels or how many years a tree produces fruit before you pick from it (all of which He discusses in the Word), then He cares about your one inch storm as well as your tsunami and every detail of life besides.

If you’re in the raging waters today, God has a word for you. If you are enjoying the peaceful tides of calmer waters, God has a word for you too. To the former, hold tight to the truths of clearer days. To the latter, grow in the truths of these clear days that when the skies darken you will be prepared to glorify your Maker in the coming storm.

Truth to cling to: if you are looking to God to help you, you have much to be thankful for. You have been granted a window into the eternal and the God of all creation calls your name and desires that you would be His own. This powerful and inconceivably great God desires and delights in favoring you, blessing you, loving on you. And while what you are walking through might not feel at all like an act of love, He has spent all human existence impressing upon the hearts of man and the intricacies of creation a knowledge of the depths of His love for His children. In His sovereign and infinite wisdom He has a long history of being trustworthy to take us to places we want to go – even when the path we must take to arrive there isn’t one we delight in traveling.

Quiet your soul with knowledge of this: though He seems distant, as far as the sun and as unreachable as the same, He has chosen to draw near to you. Train your eyes upon the glimpses of Him found in the Word, in your own story, in the lives of others who know Him, and watch expectant for your King to rescue.

Like a watchman I wait expectant for the mercies of the Lord to dispel the raging waters that threaten (though are unable) to engulf me.

Socks? Off.

Posted on by under 2025

I discovered some years ago that my innermost motivation for doing much of what I invest my life in is not just what the surface level would suggest. Missions? I love evangelism and the Church and culture and travel and that instant bond between brothers and sisters in Christ. But. Teaching? I love diving into the Word and spending my days at the Teacher’s feet and feeling the flaming of that indwelling Spirit surging with passion and willingness to move any marionette willing to hand over the strings. But. Mentoring? I love the deep swim in their lives, motivations, and impediments that have too long hindered them from a full awareness of what and who they were made to be. But.

The thrill that ignites so much of what I come back to again and again? Watching the light in someone’s eyes spark with an awareness that God is bigger than they ever realized before. That mind blown, box shattered, head exploding, imagination expanding, heart enlarging, socks blown half across the globe, world altering moment when the fetters fall and God escapes the genie bottle of our limited and limiting faith. Ahh, nothing better than to watch that explosion happen and the shackles that held true faith captive come crashing into a whole new belief system.

That moment when a woman with little knowledge of the world outside of her limited purview comes face to face with the reality that the God she often doubts lives outside her local church walls (maybe not even as far out as even the parking lot) is the same God showing up in a tent church with a beach ball hung like a chandelier in the center to a poverty stricken people who have no indoor plumbing. And He seems to be showing up to them a bit more powerfully than He ever has to her.

That instant when the guy gets smacked in the face with an awareness that God really is able to deliver the undeliverable. That money comes from nowhere he’s ever known existed. That word was spoken so aptly by someone he will never see again. That message reaches his ears from the lips of a preacher on the other side of the world or a walmart shopper he doesn’t know but who lives in the same town. Or maybe he just hears an imperceptible whisper he knows didn’t come from his own mind. God has been listening? God went to the trouble? God knows? God delivers? God is able?

The silent sound of sobbing from the corner as a woman so far lost and hopeless realizes the God she’s been running from loved her enough to bring a new friend from the other side of the world to make sure she knew she was still loved, wanted, known, and valuable.

Yep. And the socks blow off.

I’ve had the amazing privilege of seeing that look many times. There’s a shock then a sort of brokenness and then a sheer surrender and delight. There are often tears and just when you think your heart will break open the laughter starts to roll inside your very soul. Like Manoah. Samson’s dad thought surely no one could see God and live to tell of the day–that fearsome brokenness when you know that you know He’s been there all along. Followed by the realization that though He’s been watching it all, He’s still there loving on you. That’s the smile, the laugh, the impossibility of it all. And then the excitement. If He is there, if He can do this, if He’s all the way over here, if He …. Then He may be bigger than I realized.

And I may too.

Too few know this look. Too few have had it. We don’t go to the uncomfortable unknown. We don’t talk to the stranger. We don’t commit to the unachievable. We don’t dream. We don’t attempt those things which we couldn’t alone complete if and when He fails on the follow-through. We don’t let Him out of the box. We keep our tidy God in His little church sized box and–for our own selfish, sinful sakes–hem Him in to that which is known, safe, controlled, and familiar. Socks? Firmly on.

He will blow you away with His abilities and delights, blessings and provisions, appearings and sweetness. Day after day the gifts sit under the tree of true union. Day after day He waits for the child in us all to run, fall to our knees, and expectantly reach for gifts–lives!–that will leave us coming back for more, blown away by the wonder of being the King’s kids.

In Every Season

Posted on by under 2025

Many years ago now the Lord rearranged my life. After coming home to work on my own time and schedule, God took that opportunity to switch up not just my job but every aspect of my life. He quite literally nixed my whole calendar. He had me cut nearly every single thing that I had spent my life doing–job, board memberships, service work, friendships, hobbies, everything. Once He had it pared down to about nothing, I became settled with looking … vacant. I eventually stopped trying to hide the fact that my calendar wasn’t full. I stopped wondering if neighbors thought me lazy or assumed I was napping in those moments when I wasn’t but was praying instead. I finally conceded to His perplexing will.

Once I gave up the fight, He started putting pieces back together. Where He had made cuts, He now filled gaps. Where He had cleared my schedule, He now filled it.

And I came to realize that only those things that He wanted on the calendar needed to be there at all.

In the years since that core deep cut, He has taken me through seasons of great fullness and minimal workload. He’s added some things for a while and some for the long haul. And I’ve attempted to let Him be the One to order my days.

So here I find myself again. I wonder what doors will open and how many closed ones I’ll never see the other side of. How many hours I’ll spend wondering how I should spend that hour and how many I’ll wonder how I’ll get it all done in. What will this season hold?

I’ve seen Him do it before – take me out of an old to shape me for a new. But letting go is hard enough. Trusting in the greatness of what’s to come is another story entirely. Empty classrooms and dying loves. Quiet rooms and lidded boxes. Great replacements and unneeded availabilities. Where is my place now?

May we all enjoy the restful Sabbaths the Lord walks us into and through. May we all, likewise, enjoy the frantic Monday’s of kingdom usefulness. May we all attend valiantly to the voice of our Maker telling us which one we’re stepping into next.

Glory Glow

Posted on by under 2025

As housings of the great God of the universe, we get the inconceivable distinction of radiating His renown to all who might encounter us. We get to trade in our tainted name and sullied stories for His almighty name and His eternally grand story. We get to move from objects of shame to objects of His desire. We get to enjoy a transformation from dirt, dust, ashes, and grime to beauty, splendor, riches, and perfection. We get to trade in our filthy rags for the bridal attire of the truly holy. We get to watch the cleansing miracle of stained black sin turning righteous pure white. God comes to dwell and brings all His glorious splendor with Him.

And unlike Moses with his veil of sadness–not attempting to hide the glow of his face but the sad reality that the glow didn’t last (2 Corinthians 3:13)–we get to see God light a flame with His tongue of fire and set this holy housing ablaze forever. And unlike Moses we aren’t meant to hide it anyway. We are His calling card. We are the ambassadors through whom God calls all man unto Himself. We have a Maker, we have a Saviour, we have an Owner, Master, and King and He has written His name on my forehead to claim me as His own. As His child I bear that name as a reflection of the One who wrote it upon my life.

The glow of His great glory–like an inferno sized tea light within the clear glass candle that is this fleshly abode–radiates through my life, love, and demeanor. I hold both the privilege and the responsibility of stoking that fire, of putting it on a stand amid the rooms that make up my days, of lighting the world in which I wander. It is His greatness I bear. It is His name I represent. It is His esteem, reputation, and honor my life is called to uphold and magnify.

His glory glow on my face. His renown on my lips. His praise on my tongue. His grandeur on the pages of my rewritten story.