Daring to be Restless

It’s the night before Christmas, the culmination of the season.   For weeks, we have been surrounded by Santa Clauses and reindeer, with gifts and Christmas Trees, with clichéd Christmas songs and ugly sweaters.   And if we aren’t careful, in this climate of materialism and showmanship, the Christmas story could easily become simply another part of the season, like a fairytale or folk story, like a Disney movie, where everyone lives “happily ever after” and you can almost “feel a song coming on” every few minutes. The baby Jesus could become a figurine like Rudolph to be set on a shelf and admired, part of a story to be told and laughed at in all its absurdities.    But the beauty of the Christmas story isn’t in its “fairytale” simplicity.   It is in the gritty realities of God’s plan of salvation, in the way that God stepped into our brokenness. Think of it, our Savior entered into … -           The confusing and awkward life of a teenager .   By all accounts, Mary w

I’ve just finished watching the movie Inception … again.   I love it – for all of its complication and intrigue, its difficulties, its agonies, and the way it wrestles with realities too difficult for us to grasp.   As complex as the film is, though, it can be simplified to revolve around a single hypothetical question – what would the world be like if we could consciously share our dreams with others, or, with more sinister intentions, invade the dreams of others to plant ideas or steal them?   It sounds a bit heady, and I won’t lie - it is extremely sobering to watch the life-altering possibilities play out on screen,   to watch life-courses forever changed for the better or for the worse – but it reminded me so much of our walk with God.    “Inception,” the word itself means, “an act, process, or instance of beginning,” with synonyms like “genesis” and “creation.”   In the film, “inception” is a complicated process of invading another person’s dreams to plant an idea.   F

I can’t sleep.   I’ve tried.   But I’m in love.   With 1 Peter 5.   It’s ringing in the ears of my heart, keeping me up, stirring me up, causing relief and hope to surge within me … and I can’t afford to sleep.   To lose it.   To minimize it.   I can’t afford not to share it.  The chapter, though I’ve probably read it dozens of times, has come alive to me in ways that I have never seen before.   Tonight, at a different stage in life and with a clarity brought on by a recent mission trip – the verses seem almost woven together for me.   For you.   Because I don’t know about you, but lately, I’ve been feeling drained, like my heart has been under attack, and like I have nothing left to give.   I imagine, if you’ve been a Christian for very long, you probably understand that feeling.   And that’s what I’m in love with about 1 Peter 5.   Here’s the beginning of the chapter, so you understand my excitement about verse 10.   You see, the chapter begins with the assurance that Paul w

“Remember that soldiers on active duty don’t get wrapped up in (Voice) or entangled (ESV) in civilian matters because they want to satisfy those who recruited them (Voice).” -           2 Timothy 2:4, Voice Active duty.   Military duty that is a full time job.   A commitment to lend one’s strength on behalf of one’s country, one’s home, and one’s people.   Every day.   When it’s boring.   When you’re tired.   No matter when or where you’re needed.   No matter how dangerous.   In every battle.   Training when there is no battle to fight. And that is how we are supposed to serve Christ – actively, everyday, with undivided attention.   Sure, not every day feels like a battle, and it isn’t.   There are seasons of rest, to train and prepare ourselves, to arm ourselves with the Word, to strengthen our faith.   But there are also days when our strength is tested, when we are called to lend our strength in the battle for other’s souls, in the battle to protect our hearts f