Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing.

– I Thessalonians 5:11 (ESV)

Paul wrote these words in the context of what our attitude should be (hopeful!) regarding the coming return of the Lord. But I believe the larger principle of general encouragement is contained within this verse.

It popped in my head a few minutes ago because I just received some great encouragement from a Christian brother. And I needed it.

I always need it, actually. Do any of you not need encouragement?

Encouragement – when spoken out of truth and not flattery – is golden. And it’s not hard to do. When spoken out of truth and not “for effect”, an encouraging word can change someone’s hour, their day, their life. It’s one of the most powerful forces on earth.

I need to encourage someone today.

A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver.

– Proverbs 25:11 (ESV)

And he opened his mouth

and taught them,

saying:

“Blessed

are the poor in spirit,

for theirs

is the kingdom of heaven.”

Matthew 5:2-3

Charles Finney, on what it means to be “poor in spirit”:

To have a realizing sense of our spiritual state. In this it is implied that we understand our own guilt and helplessness, and realize as a practical fact our own utter emptiness by nature of every thing good, and of any tendency to that which is good. It is one thing to hold this in theory, and another thing to be heartily sensible of the humbling fact. Most professing Christians admit in words that they are in themselves wholly helpless and destitute, but to know and feel as an abiding practical conviction that this is their true spiritual condition how few are able!

– December 4, 1844, BLESSED ARE THE POOR IN SPIRIT, Sermon by Prof. Finney.

My spirit often feels rich, and in that I am deceived.

Blessed are the poor in spirit . . .

Jesus turned this world on its head, did he not? How could a natural man desire poverty? Yet we are called to that desire.

And, in truth, we aren’t called to become poor in spirit, I don’t believe. Because we already are poor in spirit. When we fell in the garden we fell into spiritual bankruptcy, debt, and destitution. We are called to recognize the fact of our crushing, desperate poverty. I live as if I’ve got money in the bank, when my spirit is, outside of Christ, absolutely pennyless.

But to be transparently, humbly, joyfully poor in spirit! My Lord, who I’ve never had reason to doubt, assures me that this leads to blessings, and, indeed, to the Kingdom of Heaven!

For the King has come, in mortal flesh, with his majesty and benefices veiled. He has come to the rescue, and he bids us come, we who are poor, to fellowship with him and to join in his labors and trials, and to cast aside all thought of our own sufficiency. He calls us to the joy of poverty recognized and – love him! – poverty cured forever, entering wide eyed and blinking into the light of a Kingdom we can’t fathom, and could never imagine.

The King has come. May we who are poor in spirit recognize our poverty and flock to him!

This is a strange blog, I know. I’m sure the three readers I have puzzle over it often. Is this a Christian devotional Godblog? A software-centric Nerdblog? A personal diary? All three?

I’m not sure myself. I started to write another paean to how much fun I’m having developing Bloo and Phoo, because I had some major breakthroughs this morning on the bus (coming soon!). But that post morphed into this one.

Godblog? Nerdblog? Separation really isn’t necessary. I am a Christian nerd with a weblog. And I was a nerd before being a nerd was cool. Yes, I carried the status symbol of paleo-nerddom, the stack of computer punchcards, down the halls of my high school back in the heady days of 16 honkin’ kilobytes of RAM, baybeh.

Somehow athletics melded with my nerdness in high school. Was I a good athlete? Well . . . no. But as far as nerds go, I was Jim Thorpe. If there were a nerd Olympics I would have been positively Mark Spitzian in my triumph. The geek athletic bar is pretty low and I held my own with the jocks. I played high school football; I played in every practice and had a great seat for every game. And it was good. I wasn’t that interested, really, in glory. Just in finishing. I faced many battles in high school; battles of a spiritual, physical, and social nature. And they made me tough — I am sometimes proud of the kid I was, because I persevered.

Music also was added to the mix, so the nerdlete also became art-rock connoisseur, budding guitarist and drummer. My band White Wolf (go on, throw up your rawk fist!) won the high school talent show and I threw my sticks and a spare drumhead out in the audience after we finished playing our song “Rock Bottom”. The head smacked Diane Coldeway in the face and I’ve always felt bad for not apologizing to her. What can I say, it was my rock the mic moment. But I digress — I was building what I hoped was a well-rounded personality and was edging ever so slightly into the upper echelons of the second-tier social strata. Things were good, or at least looking up. High school ended and I went off to college to pursue the only degree I ever wanted, a degree in Computer Science. Yes, things were looking up.

I realized in College that I wasn’t looking high enough. A suspicion began to sink into me. It went something like this:

”Vanity of vanities! All is vanity.”

What happened after this is a long story. I have not the time to write it down, and you would not have the time to read it, but I will tell you this: it’s been good. Even on my worst days, there’s no way I would change what happened. God simply reached down and took hold of my heart, and convinced me of my need, and of my inability to save myself. And he showed me his Son, lifted high. The light went on. I’d tried many things in my life, so I didn’t know if Jesus would “work”. But I’d seen him change the lives of others, like my older brother Jim (who played a huge role in my conversion), and so I was willing to take the step, though it seemed risky. What I didn’t know was that God was simply not going to let me go, not going to let go of me. He still holds me. I quit wondering a long time ago if he was going to leave me or forsake me. I know he won’t. He’s promised, and his promises are always true. There is no risk.

Fast forward to today. This morning was a normal morning. I woke up, got up, said hi to Andrew as he was coming in from an early morning jog, talked to Jill for awhile in bed, and spent some time hanging out with Bethany and Blake, who also decided to hop in our bed. There’s nothing like a bed full of kiddos in the drowsy early morning with my wife in her cute, warm, pink heart pajamas. We watched a soccer video on our Mac that my obsessed wife has been putting together for Blake’s team, the Cypress Fury. It rocks!

I had to roust our freshman Molly awake a few times to get her moving, and I drove her to school. I love those drives; we always enjoy good, unhurried conversation. I dropped her off and as she walked in the building I thanked God for my precious daughter, and my other precious ones still back at home. It was a moment of clarity. I’m blessed beyond what I could ask or even think.

I never could have arrived at this state of blessedness on my own, with my own wisdom and work. It’s been a long time since my heart first cried out to God in college, and I marvel at where he’s taken me, how he’s brought me love, and light, and the oasis of my family and the ministry opportunities he’s given me. He’s even redeemed my time before Christ, providing the answer to the mystery of my interests and longings of those days. They were for him, to be used for him when the time was right. I await what’s coming next with great anticipation.

Life isn’t always easy, and I know beyond a shadow that ahead of me are heartache, loss, struggles, and eventually the final goodbyes to those I love should Jesus wait to return. We live in a broken world groaning to be made right. Often times we join it in its groaning.

But into the brokenness that was me God intervened, 22 years ago, and he made things right. And he made them good. He rescued me and I know that I will never have to say goodbye to Him, and I know that in Christ all goodbyes, hurts, and sorrows are truly temporary.

He has made me glad. Yes, he has. And he has made everything good. Because he is so good!

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.

– James 1:17 (ESV)

I’ve been thinking about hope recently – a lot. I’ve posted on this in this space before: everybody hurts, including Christians. Sometimes I wonder if those of us in Christ are susceptible to longings and hurts unknown to the world. We are strangers and aliens here and we have glimpsed the promise: our final healing and glorification, and our face to face reunion with the One who died for us! Our present world fades in comparison – as Caedmon’s Call sings, this is “not the land that was promised us”. And although we’re partakers of joys and adventures unknown to those outside of Christ, we still feel the burden of our homesickness. The Bible exhorts us to keep our hopes up, and keep them focused on the promises of God.

For when God made a promise to Abraham, since he had no one greater by whom to swear, he swore by himself, saying, “Surely I will bless you and multiply you.” And thus Abraham, having patiently waited, obtained the promise. For people swear by something greater than themselves, and in all their disputes an oath is final for confirmation. So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise the unchangeable character of his purpose, he guaranteed it with an oath, so that by two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.

– Hebrews 6:13-20 (ESV)

Abraham was also called by God out of the place that once felt like home, and he was given promises that he sometimes thought were impossible. But by faith he knew, because he knew the one who made the promise. God, who cannot lie, made the promise and then swore by himself.

There is absolutely nothing greater that he could have sworn by! God meant what he said to Abraham. And he brought it to pass. The writer of Hebrews makes the connection here between God’s promise to Abraham and his promise to us.

Hope can be hard to maintain in the midst of trouble. But if you’ve fled to Jesus for refuge you are a citizen of a city with strong, strong fortifications. Be encouraged! There is hope set before us. Hold fast!

The writer of this difficult chapter in Hebrews understood that hope, and, as the writer dwells on that hope, the language in this passage begins to soar. Yes, the promise given to us and the hope that inspires are sure and steadfast. And strong – solid like an anchor to keep us from being blown off course into despair. The winds will blow! But we are anchored with strong chains to a solid rock.

And hope is not content to just stay with us and comfort us. It pushes forward, entering even into the once-forbidden inner place, the Holy of Holies, behind the veil. That’s the place where God is.

And we can go there; we have access and can enter boldly, because Jesus has blazed the trail.

Enter in. And don’t lose hope!

Danny and I spent another late night over pancakes

We talked about soccer and how every man’s just the same . . .

– Caedmon’s Call, Table for Two

Andrew and I had a great talk last night over a meal at Chili’s.

Threaded inside a larger discussion of music, the worship band Andrew plays in, school, books, and other things was a discussion about perseverance. We talked about being dry, watching friends fall away, and endurance. We talked about how everybody hurts.

This talk struck a chord with me. I think I’ve been praying harder these last few months than I ever have before, that those I love will endure. And not just endure, but thrive, standing firm in joy.

Therefore, my brothers, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm thus in the Lord, my beloved.

– Philippians 4:1 (ESV)

”Stand firm thus in the Lord”, Paul writes. The passion with which he shares that sentiment is palpable. He is writing to people whom he loves and longs for; his joy and crown.

I think I can understand where Paul is coming from here. I’ve felt a great urgency in this area lately, both for people in my family and those without. The life of a Christian is the best life, and after being allowed to bumble along my own course in this faith-run for the past two decades I simply can’t imagine being without the Lord. The burden of Christ is, indeed, easy and light compared to the crushing weight of sin and the chains of legalism, but you can’t read very far in Scripture without coming to an exhortation for endurance. God knows that the life we’re called to is not “natural”. When a person is in Christ they are no longer at home in this world.

And we long for home so badly! It’s easy to want to take the short-cut: this world calls to us. It offers a pleasant place for us to set up residence. It seeks to topple our faith through argument, to inflame our flesh through temptation, to make us bitter and cynical on the one hand and obliviously complacent on the other. It seeks to fill our time with every bauble and trinket money (or credit) can buy and every distraction that its five-hundred digital channels can offer.

God says “stand firm”. Struggles are going to come. In fact, struggles and suffering are good. They teach us endurance. It is through suffering that we learn perseverance, and gain character, which in turn produces precious, golden hope.

Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

– Romans 5:1-5 (ESV)

“More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings . . .”

Wow. May I learn this. And may I stand firm.

And, Lord, may those I love and long for, my joy and crown, do the same. Lord, teach us to endure.

The Lord your God is in your midst,

a mighty one who will save;

he will rejoice over you with gladness;

he will quiet you by his love;

he will exult over you with loud singing.

I will gather those of you who mourn for the festival,

so that you will no longer suffer reproach.

Behold, at that time I will deal

with all your oppressors.

And I will save the lame

and gather the outcast,

and I will change their shame into praise

and renown in all the earth.

– Zephaniah 3:17-19 (ESV)

At the end of a book of judgement and hair-raising descriptions of the Day of the Lord is this tender, triumphant passage addressed to Israel.

Away with our images of a passive God, a Lord too distant to save, a King too austere to show tenderness! The Lord God loves the outcast. He loves the unloved; their coming victory, the turning upside-down of the world’s value-system, is described on page after page of Scripture.

Our God is the one who rejoices with gladness over the outcast, who quiets them by his love, who exults! He is the one who sings over those who have never known what it’s like to be the object of someone’s love-song.

He invites to the festival those who have never received an invitation to anything.

He deals with the oppressor, with the unfortunate, doomed but fully deserving one who has dared shame and harm his beloved. And woe unto them . . .

And he saves and gathers to himself the outcasts of this world. Their shame is covered in the praise and renown that he willingly showers on them.

The Lord God loves the outcast! He is the mighty one who will save, the rescuing Lover of the unloved, our amazing God.

“At that time I will bring you in,

at the time when I gather you together;

for I will make you renowned and praised

among all the peoples of the earth,

when I restore your fortunes

before your eyes,” says the Lord.

– Zephaniah 3:20

Something woke me up

In the midst of

Dream and fantasy

Halfway there

But He always fills my cup

And He lifts me up

Oh how He lifts me up!

Goodbye

Goodbye

Walk away

It’s time to say

Goodbye

– Plankeye, Goodbye

And when he had said these things, he knelt down and prayed with them all. And there was much weeping on the part of all; they embraced Paul and kissed him, being sorrowful most of all because of the word he had spoken, that they would not see his face again. And they accompanied him to the ship.

– Acts 20:36-38 (ESV)

Thus did the Apostle Paul bid farewell to the elders at Ephesus.

How many times in our lives has a similar scene played out? There is something unnatural and wrenching about goodbye. We fret about how to say the word, what to do “when it comes down to the end”. Goodbyes are uncomfortable and awkward. They involve a letting go of something we care about. Letting go is also unnatural for us humans.

Why is it this way? I wonder. I was talking about this tonight with my friend Brad, who is moving to Seattle in three days. I believe that the word “goodbye” was invented at Genesis 3:7. In other words, “goodbye” is a product of the fall, a curse of our fallen nature.

We were not meant for goodbye. But when we fell we died, and every goodbye is, in a sense, another memory of that separation from what we were meant to be, another reminder of the marring of the wholeness we were created for.

But among Christian brothers and sisters every goodbye is temporal, and our separation a mere nanosecond when logged against the annals and eons of eternity. We will see someday that we were never truly separated.

And one day we will laugh with joy together in the presence of our King

. . . and we will never say goodbye again.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

– Revelation 21:1-4 (ESV)

You keep him in perfect peace

whose mind is stayed on you,

because he trusts in you.

Isaiah 26:3 (ESV)

Yes. Peace.

That’s something I need right now.

Every day has its trouble. Nothing truly bad is happening. But there are stresses and pressures and risks and frustrations that assault every day. Some days more than others.

And here’s this promise, written to people who would be unable to comprehend the comparative luxury and security I live in. God promises peace; perfect peace to the one whose mind is stayed on Him. Peace, which is often so elusive, is to be found through setting our minds on the One who is the Prince of peace. It seems too easy.

I don’t understand it.

But then again, I’m not supposed to.

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.

– Colossians 3:16 (ESV)

Have you ever noticed that a lot of the “3:16” verses in the New Testament are amazing?

What I picture when I read this verse is the foundation of a healthy, balanced church. Notice the ingredients:

1. The words of Jesus, who is the Word of God, dwelling in us richly. What a great choice of words: to “dwell” means to “live and make one’s home in”. This is not a call for us to merely learn the Bible. It goes far beyond that. It is aking those sacred words in, letting them dwell in us, a living influence and governor over our thoughts, actions and words. And the words of Christ are not to just live a poor, shabby existence in our lives. No, they are to dwell in us richly; putting down deep roots, taking up the best rooms in our spiritual “house”.

2. Members of the body teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom. Each member of the Body of Christ is commanded and empowered to build up those around them. To “admonish” means to “reprove gently but earnestly”. “Reprove” means “to find fault with”. There is a corrective principle in the church that is to be put in action, gently but earnestly, and with wisdom. If done right, this is a beautiful thing. If done right, it is God’s grace lived out among brothers and sisters who are not content to let eachother fail.

3. Rejoicing and worshipping in song together. We are to sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, thanking God for all He’s done. When the voice of the church is lifted up in spirit and in truth, there is nothing like it. As an aside, churches are splitting these days in their wars over worship. I’m no theologian, but it appears to me that God grants us freedom here to sing psalms (and what a treasure-trove the psalms are), hymns (for those who love the great songs of the faith) and spiritual songs (which can include almost anything God-honoring, including praise choruses and modern worship). I don’t see any way to lose here, provided attributes 1 and 2, above, are put in practice.

Picture a Body living all three of these! And let us begin being that Body in our world.

For the bodies of those animals whose blood is brought into the holy places by the high priest as a sacrifice for sin are burned outside the camp. So Jesus also suffered outside the gate in order to sanctify the people through his own blood. Therefore let us go to him outside the camp and bear the reproach he endured. For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come.

– Hebrews 13:11-14

This is a “hard passage” that I heard in church recently.

It wasn’t quoted as a hard passage, but I took it as one. I can write posts all day long, but, I wonder, can I live what this passage is asking me to live?

Here the writer of Hebrews connects the Old Testament practice of animal sacrifice — something that to our sanitized and safety-netted minds would appear monstrous if we could see it occurring — with Jesus’ death on Calvary. Jesus suffered “outside the gate” in order to save us.

Jesus deserves my utmost devotion and worship and love. How can I not love a God who was willing to suffer outside the gate for me? Most of us, at one time or another, have felt outcast. Some of us have been outcasts all our lives. And we are all surrounded by outcasts. In fact, some of us are in the business of doing the out-casting.

Outcasts: they wait outside the gate, while the rest of the world laughs and experiences love and wealth and fun and joy. They press their faces against the windows as we eat and drink and are merry. They suffer outside the gate in their loneliness and pain. The beautiful people and well-integrated never notice them or even think about them.

And into their midst steps Jesus, the One who always had time for them, who touched them with healing in spite of their infections and loved them in their ugliness and ministered to them and forgave them in their sin. He was the only one who honored them in spite of their lowly status in the culture.

And he, finally, went “outside the gate” for them and died for them, died for all of us. For whether you’ve ever been an outcast or not, we are all outcasts from the Kingdom of God without Christ. The scripture isn’t kidding when it says that without Christ we are dead men in our sin.

But thanks be to God that he was willing to become flesh and dwell among us, and to suffer and die for dead men, outside the gate where the outcasts live.

“Therefore let us go to him outside the camp and bear the reproach he endured.”