stranger danger

“Don’t talk to strangers.”

Another saying that belongs on the “sayings that don’t make sense” list.

The person you call friend today, you called stranger yesterday.

What if you had never talked to them? 

We commence the drilling of this saying into children upon the occurrence of their first spoken word.

The heart behind it: protection.

But the devil has twisted it for deception.

Over and over the lie has been compacted so deeply down down down into us that we have been conditioned to see “strangers” with a stigma.

This saying stains strangers, taints together, smears us all into separation.

Don’t talk to strangers=don’t pay mind to the world around you: the broken, the bruised, the needy; the fixed, the healed, the helpful; go on, pass them by, remain in your own little world, your own little bubble of self-protection, which may keep out the bad but also hinders the blessing, and maybe even someone's eternal destination.

It is so deeply rooted in us that it has become our natural way of life, unconsciously giving into the devil’s scheme, to destruct conversations in which Christ Savior would shine like a beam.

This saying complicates the Great Commission. It is apparently worldly, not biblical wisdom.
There is a stranger danger than talking to strangers.

Yes, strangers may think it strange that you talk to them. But, Christian, let me remind you that you should be thought of as strange in this world, so much that the Bible names you stranger, just flip over to 1 Peter 2:11.

God has given us wisdom and eternal protection; we rely on the Holy Spirit to help us discern when to flee [and rescue others] from dangers.

So PLEASE don't talk to strangers.

 

plunders from the flu

Today, I feel the war of the flu ceasing inside of me. The final cannons being shot and the casualties being picked off from the battle field and buried in their coffins so they can no longer invade my body. And as I feel on the brink of being healed of this virus, I realize how God redeems physical healing. In my forced slowing down, sofa ridden days, God's MAKING me to lie down in green pastures, He brought deep spiritual healing to my heart. Just as I did not know the destruction the flu was having on the inside of my body, neither did I know that some pieces of my heart were under seize as well, lying limp. But the Healer redeemed my time of physical illness by bringing spiritual, heart healing, deeper healing. My body will get sick again, but spiritual healing lasts. I'm thankful God is eternal focused, but Immanuel in the present as well, always. I am thankful for these plunders I get to take away from my battle with the flu.

Jon Foreman- "I am continually searching for meaning in my life. Why am I here? Why is there so much pain? This cold, dark stream of sorrow runs through my life. Why does it run alongside of the warm beautiful waters of joy and beauty? Why do the two rivers collide and intertwine? The dark and the light. The death and the life... Most of my songs become outlets for these questions. The music becomes place for the cognitive dissonance to chew away at something other than a broken heart or an ulcer. The music becomes a place to sort through the dark and the light. I love crosswords, sodoku, solitaire- games with a simple victory that allows me the momentary thrill of setting the world right. But song- writing feels like a similar discipline to me. A puzzle of letters and math, theory and rule, expression and passion.

The lyric of this song attempts to start at the womb and follow a human soul through life. And so it begins: the heart beats, the eyes open, breath floods the lungs for the first time- what incredible experiences! What extraordinary sensations! I wanted to write this from a father's perspective, from the eyes of the father of life. One look into the eyes of his son and the father is smitten for life. The possession that the young infant has over the father is complete. Always yours. The second verse speaks of the pain. This pain is always with us. We are born into a world of pain, the pain of losing a child, the pain of rejection, of racism, sexism, fears... these experiences rip us to pieces.

Everyone feels pain. I look to those who have been through more pain than I will ever know for guidance on the subject. The Austrian neurologist and psychiatrist Victor Frankl survived several Nazi concentration camps with his life and his hope intact. He lost more than I'll ever know... his wife, his parents, and his family did not survive. His understanding of pain is in direct opposition to our western world that is often found running from pain at all costs. Frankl’s “Case for a Tragic Optimism” speaks of turning suffering into human achievement and optimism in the face of tragedy. The memories, the pain, the scars, these are yours. Yes, the things that you and I have lost. These are yours and they have meaning. No, these could never be The Ultimate Meaning in our lives, but let these scars drive us towards "turning suffering into human achievement and accomplishment."

The bridge in the song is the acknowledgment of my own shortcomings. As a man born into beauty and pain, there is a moment of surrender where I lay down my life. This is a free volitional action, a gift, just as the father's love was given to me- this became the response. A simple surrender to the Infinite Maker of The Finite acknowledging that I need his love. The meaning in my life is often found in surrender rather than mastery."

baby's breath

Time and time again i've pondered what a baby’s breath smells like the moment it makes the journey out of a mother’s womb. It has yet to be tainted by anything of the world. Nothing yet has touched its lips or its taste buds. No matter if the smell is pleasant or potent, baby’s breath: one of the purest things in this world, for it has yet to be touched by any outside force. I am no biology major so I do not know if my scientific calculations are correct. Maybe there is some kind of process that infects the breath of the baby, but the thought of that first breath piercing the polluted air, it stirs something at the purest of my being. It makes me feel fresh, alive. A sweet aroma fills my nostrils, a fragrance i've never smelt before. Wonder.

I wonder what my first breath in Christ smelt like. My first breath after being resurrected from the dead. He breathed over my dead bones. My chest lifted. ALIVE. My first pleasing aroma to My King. Was it completely pure? That first breath, coming from Him, must have been. But as time has gone on, as I’ve tried to find life in pseudo oxygen, are tidbits now tainted, atoms abused by the world?

Today, I have a virus in my breath carrying around a virus seeking to latch onto others and destruct the body, the flu pandemic pounces producing pain, sometimes even complications that kill. 

It makes me wonder what aroma I am putting off on a daily basis. If 2 Corinthians 2:15 is true (and it is) “for we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing,” are people smelling the sweet, pure, life bringing aroma of Christ when they take a whiff of me? Is my aroma a fragrance that draws them to Jesus? Or does what flows through their nostrils distort the beauty of Christ, does it stink wretchedly rotten, infecting them like the flu, causing them to cringe and push them away from the Life Giver.

Just as we adorn ourselves with the perfume and cologne each morning, we must bathe in Christ’s blood at the dawn of day (or simply just remember that the flow is already waterfalling over us), for this aroma, this fragrance is the richest and purest. Each word you say, each move you make, each action you take will be saturated in His scent. All other odors will fade because the blood of Christ is most potent of all. Although it may not negate every smell, it transcends them all. For your life is but giving Christ back His breath He has breathed in you.

“But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of Him” (2 Corinthians 2:14).

Breathe your baby breath, pure Christ.

unrequited

Unrequited love.

Unreturned love.

Unloved.

Unwanted.

Unable to receive love.

Broken by another who cannot love.

Broken by another who doesn’t want to love.

Broken by another who doesn’t choose love.
I've played the victim.

But You, not You.

Your love is all around.

Your love never fails.

Your love never run outs.

Your love endures.
Your love is life.
Your love is eternal.
Your love never gives up.

Your love never ends.

Your love is steadfast.

Your love is true.

Your love wants me.

You can’t stop loving, because You are Love.

But I, I exhibit unrequited love to You.
I've played the culprit.
Oh how Your heart must break, but You keep bleeding love anyway.

I want to return love to You, even when I don’t love You.

I want to want You above others lovers, even when I don’t want You.

I want to receive Your love, even when I don’t think I’m good enough.

I need You to love You.
Show me how to REALLY love You.

I love You, I do.

And I’m sorry for all the days that go by when I don’t tell You.