Detoxing a God Addiction

“I'm addicted to Jesus.”

            It's a fairly benign- if corny- declaration made by many a Christian.  Heck, I've said it, usually with tongue planted firmly in cheek.  It is meant to imply a serious devotion to God, a “I gotta have Him” attitude.  It's meant to imply that God is more important than anything else in the world- just like an addict would describe their addiction of choice.

            I can see it, really.  We talk of spiritual 'highs,' there are key moments in our faith that we are desperate to recreate/exceed, there is a feeling we long for in worship, there is a feeling of let down when we recognize our distance from God.  There are Christians that come on so strong they can be offensive (when they are in the thrall of their God-addiction) but they burn out quickly and become unrecognizable.  And of course, we all have our drug of choice- or several.  Music, mountains, poetry, certain scriptures or whatever you like best- they all take us to that 'high.'  And really, there's nothing wrong with that, right?

            Or is there?

            I first noticed a problem a couple years ago.  Mountains were always one of my favorite 'God drugs.'  From the first time I skied down one, to the time I stood atop a peak in Rocky Mountain National Park, to the numerous times I'd hiked (recklessly) around steep slopes, I'd worship God so deeply and strongly, and I'd feel so much more alive.  High. 

            But that trip to Colorado didn't leave the same feeling.  It was good, but the 'high' wasn't, really.  I didn't think much of it at the time.  But when music, one of my other “God Drugs” started to slack off in that 'worshipful high' department, I began to wonder.  It was confirmed when I returned to Colorado earlier this summer, and again, failed to feel that 'high.'

            Of course, I immediately thought that there must be something lacking in my spiritual life that is keeping me back.  And I was right, but not how I thought.

            Then, Sunday night at church, I was speaking about James 4- Submitting to God.  James talks about how we fight each other to get what we want.    He says we don't get what we want, because we don't ask God.  Then, he drops a bomb.

            When we do ask God, we ask with wrong motives, to get what we want for ourselves.

            Suddenly, this God-addiction metaphor took on a whole new meaning.  We are addicted to God because of what we get out of Him- we are addicted to the HIGH of worship and how it makes us feel.

            Climbing that mountain, singing that song, writing this blog- it was done for ME.  How it would make me feel.  So, the drug addiction rule that the same old high is never good enough was true in my spirituality.  I wanted more God because I wanted more feel-good.

            Don't get me wrong, I think we should feel good, and enjoy worshipping God.  But that is a result of worshipping God, not the chief goal. 

            But we have made it that.

            Church is unfulfilling if we don't hear 'our' song, or the message isn't what we wanted to hear.  We do this or that because it makes us feel better about ourselves.  We seek purity so we can be a better person- for ourselves, not a higher Power.  We are selfish, and as James says, we are adulterous.  Not in the sleep-with-someone's-wife way, but in the sells-oneself-to-other-gods way.  In this case, the god is us, our wants.

            So, how do we detox from that, that desire to feel that spiritual high that has little to do with giving to God and a lot to do with filling my warm fuzzy meter?

            James, ever at the ready, has the answer:  Submit to God.

            Not to the feeling, not to the high we get from serving Him, not to anything we get from Him.  Just Him.

            It's difficult, I'm already aware of that.  Largely, its because we have tied God to His deeds and the enjoyment we get from that.  And it is natural to enjoy God, its even good to enjoy God. 

            So, I'm starting by asking this question of myself- even if I get nothing out of it, will I still love and worship God?  Then, I look not at what He has done for me, but at who He is, His character.

            Loving, gracious, kind, powerful, creative, wise, holy....you get the idea.  Even if none of these attributes benefited me, they are characteristics worthy of praise.  That's where I'm starting.

            See, the problem is not being 'addicted to God', the problem is we are addicted to what we get out of God.  We need look no further that the drought affecting us in Texas right now.  We are spending all sorts of time praying for God's grace and rain- are we spending equal time worshipping God even as He withholds the rain? 

            I know I'm not- because I'm selfish, and I don't want to thank God for my suffering.

            Years of feeding my 'good feeling' addiction have led to this thought- and it's time to change.  It's time to remember that even if Jesus didn't die for me, He is worthy of praise.  That I need to be thankful in the midst of the empty as well as the plenty.

            I need to ask God to act not for my benefit, but for His glory. 

                           ************************************************

An addendum- Part of the awesomeness that is God is that much of His character is defined by what He does- and what He does for us.  God is Love.  It is demonstrated by His love for us.  So, it is important to realize that devoting ourselves to God implies we will get blessing from it.  We can't stop that from happening, nor should we try.

But we still need to seek to pursue God first and foremost, and not for what we get from Him.

The Lightness of Beauty, The Heaviness of Eternity

      I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.-- Eccelsiastes 3:10-11

I'm sitting in a cabin in Lake City, Colorado.  In every direction, mountain peaks streak toward the sky, some are still covered in snow even in July.  The aroma of pine trees is wafting in the screen door, and if I listen close enough, I can hear the slight roar of a creek swelling its banks and rushing over huge boulders.  On this trip, I've seen hundred foot tall waterfalls, had a picnic with my family overlooking a 12,500 foot mountain lake that was an almost unearthly blue, and gotten up close and personal with marmots, pikas, and deer.  In three days time, I've been hailed on, rained on, and sleeted on.
 It has been the epitome of beauty.
 I've always loved the mountains, from the first time I skied one at fifteen until now as I sit soaking up our last night of vacation.  The mountains have always seemed to speak to me, in a deep way, almost a spiritual, worshipful way.  I can still remember standing atop a peak in Rocky Mountain National Park, and the breathtaking feeling of being able to see for miles upon miles.  I'd never felt closer to God.
 I've loved this trip, the time with my family, and the scenery; but this time, I feel something is missing.  The fulfillment I've felt before from taking in the beauty is far less than what I've known before.  So, in the midst of this feeling of lacking, I came across (yet again) the above passage from Ecclesiastes.  I find it so potent, so deep...so beautiful.  
 It explains something to me that has often escaped me in my life:  This world was not meant to fulfill me.  Entertain me, excite me, encourage me, challenge me, and at times take my breath away, but never should any created thing give me definition, give me true life.
 It took coming to Colorado to bring to the forefront of my mind what has been playing at the back of it.  The fact that I've been seeking fulfillment from everything under the sun, all the beauty that is having its time, and not looking at the One behind it.
 I've been pastoring my church.  I've been writing.  I've been soaking up the adoration of my family.  I've sought out art in the form of music, movies, and television.  In and of themselves, these are good things, beautiful things.  I dare say I'm not terribly unlike most others in this.  It makes sense, doesn't it?  We appreciate most that which we can see and feel.  We are human.  
 And, according to Ecclesiastes, this is the burden God has laid on us.
 Because not only does God give us these beautiful things to appreciate, He also sets something deep, something spiritual in our hearts.  It's something that calls to us, that beckons us from beyond the veil of what we can see.  Something that we are destined to not fully grasp but forever long for.
 Eternity.
 The funny thing is, we all want this, deep down, yet we know so little about eternity.  We know it's a long time.  We know God exists there.  We know He promises us that we will be with Him for eternity if we trust in Christ.  And, we know God “sets eternity in the hearts of men.”  Whatever that means.
 What I believe that means is that God put in our hearts a desire to know more, to seek the deeper things that we don't always understand, to grow bored of lesser things- even if those things are beautiful and good.  In short, I believe God set in our hearts a hunger for Him that will be teased and fed by the beauty of family, mountains, poetry, music and laughter.  The burden we carry is that we will often be mesmerized by these beautiful things, but in them we will never find satisfaction.
 These beautiful things point to God, but we make them the point.  And we miss the point.  For all the praise given to a painting, it is the painter who is deserving of the credit.  The world is the painting, God is the painter.
 As my vacation comes to a close, and I prepare to head home, I'm going to take one long, last look at the majestic peaks that surround me.  I'm going to breathe deep the aroma of pine trees.  I'm going to listen closely to the sound of rushing water.  I'm going to appreciate the laughter and joy of my wife and children.
 But then, I'm going to remember my God.  I'm going to acknowledge the longing in my heart for Him and His love that no amount of His creation can fill.  And I will return to my everyday life forever pursuing the eternity God has set in my heart.

Restless

For some time now, I've been growing restless.

Now, I don't mean in in the sense that I'm ready to make huge changes like moving or a mid-life crisis/new sports car or suddenly becoming a vegan.  But I do mean restless in the sense that when things become too comfortable, I get bored and I want something to reinvigorate me.  I've felt this way numerous times in my life, probably the most significant being the time leading up to God calling me to start what has become the Gate.  I'd been in the youth ministry for about 7 years, and I'd been in pretty traditional churches.  We saw the same Bible studies year after year, dealt with the same issues, saw the same results.  Add to that the stirring in my heart to lead a church, and the fact that at 27, with no seminary degree (this means no one would hire me to run a traditional church), and I felt trapped.

So, God led me to a place of restlessness so that I'd start a church in a bar that went to where the people who needed Jesus were- not asking them to come to us.  

It seems strange that it's been nearly four years since that time in Colorado when God moved me so powerfully during a message from a guy from Campus Crusade talking about college ministry.  His description of a hedonistic lifestyle at a rather 'free living' kind of college broke my heart for a generation I was not so far removed from, yet already sensing a great space between us.  In those moments, I knew what I had to do, i just had no idea the hurdles that lay ahead.

Now, we are a three year old church- approaching this fall our 3rd year of meeting at Hurricane Harry's across from Texas A&M.  We're about to get through all the red tape of being a fully recognized 501(c)3, about to have an on-campus student organization for the first time, about to get to meet some new freshmen at Impact- a freshman retreat for those looking for God at A&M, and about to generally enter a new stage of life for our little group.

And I'm restless.

So much of what we are as a church is exactly what I'd hoped for- welcoming, standing strong for God's Truth but not being jerks about it, and free to be something completely different if we want to be.  

But I'm not satisfied.

I look at who we are and see that there are students who have grown in Christ so much since we met them.  But I also see some that have reached a point where they seem to be content to set up camp and just hang out there, never seeking the deeper things of God.  

I can't blame them, I'm there, too.

I think it's maybe a combination of burnout on the endless red tape thrown at us by the obligations of the government and other institutions, combined with a low spiritual gas tank from lots of giving and not much getting.  I mean that in the sense of not getting the time with God that really fills me, time spent alone with Him in a place of inspiration.  There have been a few me in my life- but maybe none more potent and inexplicable than the mountains.

My family and I are going there seeking rest and relaxation- a recharging, if you will.  But for me, the goal is a particular mountain.  It's called Handie's Peak, and it is 14,048 ft at the summit.  And I want to climb it.

I realize we may not make it to the top, but I need to give it a shot.  Here's why:  I need to be reminded that all the things that have worn me out about starting and leading a church are so worth the view from the mountain.  I need to go to a place where I have always felt nearer to God, because I feel distant from Him.  And yes, I know God is always with me, but you know what I'm talking about.  There are places and memories that when encountered the residue of God's presence is so potent you can feel it.  

I need that to face what's coming.

See, when I get restless- God is doing something.  There is a longing in me for something more- a God placed longing.  For all the good stuff I've seen the last four years- God's vision, provision, and power as well as the hearts of His children blossoming- He's got better up His sleeve.  

I want to be ready for it.

Call it a Vision Quest, call it a road trip, call it family vacation.  I call it worship.  I am seeking to Approach God, to listen for His voice, and to be changed by what I hear.  And I can do it just as well hiking up a mountain with my family as I can sitting on a bar stool (or pew, for the rest of you folks) this Sunday.  In fact, I'd argue, there are times we all need to worship outside the traditional confines of our church.  It gives us a fresh, new perspective on things, a sort of 'wide horizon' view of God.  It's God unBoxed.  It was good for Moses, Elijah, and Jesus.

So, if I'm to lead my church, I need to seek my God.  Wherever He may be.  My prayer is that we all grow a little Restless in our pursuit of God- because it means He is on the move.

Fear of and Friendship with God

There was a time when batting averages meant more to me than Batman.

In my pre-teen years, I was a baseball fan. Specifically the St. Louis Cardinals, largely because my Mom's side of the family lived in St. Louis and I had been to their games. And at the very top of the list of favorite baseball players was Ozzie Smith. In the 80's and early 90's he dominated the Golden Glove competitions. He was an acrobat on the field, making amazing catches and plays on a daily basis. And at every game, he would come onto the field for introductions by doing a flip. I tried to emulate this in my baseball days by doing a handspring off the field if we won.

One day, we were in St. Louis visiting with family and we went to his restaurant- Ozzies's. While we were ordering, I happened to look up, and through the back door walked my idol- Ozzie Smith himself. Clearly, he didn't want a lot of attention, and it looked like he was there on business, but one of my family members managed to get me an audience with him. So, there I stood, about to meet the epitome of baseball in my life- and I was terrified. Excited, overwhelmed, but most definitely terrified. I didn't want to offend him, or put him out, I didn't want to do anything to cause him to be angry at me. I had always heard he was a nice guy, but he was so famous, so important, what right had I to ask for his attention. But I did, and managed an autograph as well, but not before being so in shock that I forgot my name. I still have that autograph, and a picture with my childhood hero, (and a pilfered menu from the restaurant) framed in my home.

I would imagine the feeling I had that day was not unlike the feeling the Hebrews had at Mt. Sinai, only they were justified in fearing the wrath of God being unleashed. They stood at the feet of a mountain that was, for the moment, home to their God. They had seen his exploits, his displays of power, and they had seen the results: lots of dead people. So they feared this powerful God. Hebrews 12:18-21 says it this way:

" You have not come to a mountain that can be touched and that is burning with fire; to darkness, gloom and storm; to a trumpet blast or to such a voice speaking words that those who heard it begged that no further word be spoken to them, because they could not bear what was commanded: “If even an animal touches the mountain, it must be stoned to death.” The sight was so terrifying that Moses said, “I am trembling with fear.”

We call this the Old Testament God. He is full of wrath and fire and judgment and war. He scares us. So we like to think nothing of Him. He is a historical God, and God has changed. He is now much more approachable, much nicer. Hebrews 12: 22-24 even gives that impression on first glance:

But you have come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem. You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God, the Judge of all, to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.

Our God is happy now. He is gentle and sweet, he does not hold us under the threat of death. Does He?

It seems we believe that God changed. That He softened as He grew older. But the Bible says God doesn't change, that He is the "same yesterday, today and forever." (Hebrews 13:8) And then we read the rest of that passage in Hebrews 12:25-29, and we see that in fact, God has not changed:

See to it that you do not refuse him who speaks. If they did not escape when they refused him who warned them on earth, how much less will we, if we turn away from him who warns us from heaven? At that time his voice shook the earth, but now he has promised, “Once more I will shake not only the earth but also the heavens.” The words “once more” indicate the removing of what can be shaken—that is, created things—so that what cannot be shaken may remain.

Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably with reverence and awe, for our “God is a consuming fire.”

Like the awe and reverence I felt that day with Ozzie Smith are we to worship God. Still not flippantly, still not with empty promises, but now, we are friends- respectful friends, because we are definitely the lesser in the friendship. So if God didn't change, and He is still that wrathful, passionate, jealous God, why are we able to approach Him without that same fear of death?

Because God changed the people He has chosen.

I'm not saying He changed the chosen from the Jews to the Christians- He changed those who chose Him. We are different from the Hebrews at Sinai, from Uzza when he touched the Ark of the Covenant improperly, different even from David who made choices that lead to tragedies and plagues. They all still sought God with their own heart, some better than others. But we who choose God do not seek Him with our own heart.

We seek Him with a new heart.

Jeremiah 24:7 has God saying "I will give them a heart to know me, that I am the LORD. They will be my people, and I will be their God, for they will return to me with all their heart. " The Old Testament people had hearts incapable of knowing God intimately, there was a separation that could not be bridged, no matter how many sacrifices and offerings they made. There was a disconnect from God. He was perfect, and they were not, so they could not be near to Him. This prophecy of Jeremiah was fulfilled through Jesus, when we who came to Jesus were given a new heart- that we may know God. While we are not yet perfect, God has made the way we can worship Him perfect. WE still mess it up, but the opportunity to worship God in perfect union with Him is there. We can approach God, because He has made it possible.

So today, the God we worship is still the God of the Old Testament. He is still jealous, still wrathful, still powerful in battle- still a warrior (Exodus 15:3). But He is also compassionate, gracious, slow to anger and abounding in love (Exodus 34:6), just like He always has been. I wish we approached Him in worship, prayer and everyday life with a bit of a mix: part reverence, awe and fear, and part as friends. He is our friend who loves us and forgives us, but He is also our friend who can wipe us from existence and holds our eternity in His grasp.

Ozzie Smith was a nice guy, he was kind and patient with me. But his presence still made me tremble with a bit of fear. Because he mattered so much to me as a pre-teen I wanted- no, I needed- to be right in his presence. I wanted to be worthy of meeting him and getting his autograph, and I wanted it so bad that I was in awe of him.

Does God matter that much to us, that we want so badly to be worthy of His gift that we quake before Him?

Giving is a Choice

I have this little idiosyncrasy where if someone tells me I have to do something, I immediately don't want to do it. Maybe it's my anti-authority stance, maybe it's my desire to first discover things for myself. Maybe, I'm just strange.

By the way, this isn't just things like, "You have to get this project done, " or "You have to pay your bills, " it is also suggestions from friends that go like "You have to read this book/see this movie/eat this food."

I guess, to me, if something becomes an obligation then it is no longer capable of being a joy for me. Case in point: I always loved history. I can watch the History Channel for hours. I was one class short of minoring in History in college. But I never read a single book a professor told me to in college. Even books I had wanted to read would go unread because it had become a requirement.

Maybe I am strange.

Lately, it seems that everyone is telling me that Christians have to care about the poor. I already knew this, and also already knew my deficiencies in doing something about it. Politicians have made a lot of great sound-bites arguing for more aid to the poor, the undocumented workers, the unemployed. They are people, and we should, as believers in a compassionate Savior, be moved to brokenness over the plight of a fellow human being. The political argument has been that it is the moral obligation of the United States Government to provide for the welfare of these people. Essentially, I, as a taxpayer, MUST help my fellow people.

Now, I am not going to speak to my political views on these issues, but I am going to speak to my personal feelings about not having a choice in giving charity.

It is not charity, it is not giving, if it is forced.

I don't only see this coming from our government , I see this coming from Christianity. We are told we must give. Oh, it's not done in the same way, it is much more subtle. You don't pay your taxes, the government takes your stuff. But Christianity has decided that we need to make you feel bad if you don't give. That you are less of a Christian if you don't give to the less fortunate. Let me say right here, we ARE called to give to others, we are called to take care of one another.

We are called to do it cheerfully, and of our own accord. AKA, not because we are guilted, or coerced, or forced into it. The fact is, I think there are a lot of us that would rather look the other way when it comes to poverty. When we do give, it is more out of obligation than out of love and true concern. The truth is, we are not better Christians because we give to the less fortunate, we are better people when we love each other and care for each other's needs of our own choice.

Choice is what it comes down to. If Jesus forced us to choose Him, then we would be with Him out of obligation, not love. If we give, to our church or the poor or the weak, because we have no choice or because we feel guilty, then it is not done in worship. Yeah, the people who get cared for benefit greatly, and there is no taking that good thing away. But as an individual, don't you want to do good AND become a better person in the process?

So we need to choose: to give willingly, and cheerfully? Or, do we allow ourselves to be forced to give? Like any time I'm told I HAVE to do something, I immediately put up a wall. So my answer? Before someone tells me I have to care about the poor, I'm going to start caring about the poor. Before I am forced to give, I will be prepared to give when the need arises.

From the outside looking in, you can't understand it; From the inside looking out, you can't explain it.

We are His portion and He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes,
If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking.
And Heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss,
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest,
I don't have time to maintain these regrets,
When I think about, the way
Oh! how He loves us,
Oh! how He loves.
How He Loves ( David Crowder Version)

I'm starting to take at least one day a week to listen to worship music on the drive to work. Normally, I try to pray, but I often fall into the rut of just talking to God and not listening. There is nothing wrong with sharing our heart with God, asking Him, thanking Him, sharing our problems. But like any relationship, we need it to not be one sided.

Lately, How He Loves by The David Crowder*Band has been the song that speaks to me. Really, since it came out it has profoundly affected me. When John Mark McMillan wrote it, it was written about a man who stated if he could, by dying, shake the youth of the world for Christ, so be it. And that day he was killed in car accident. Its a song about the unseen world of God touching ours. No, make that invading ours.

The excerpt I posted above is no doubt my favorite part. It speaks the answer to the question of "Why do I believe in God?" That answer is simple- I believe because I have been caught up in Him. I have been hypnotized by Christ through His grace and His love. He has blessed me unexpectedly ( the unforeseen/sloppy wet kiss line). He has caused me to be in conflict with myself, my heart does turn violently inside my chest each time I come to a decision point of choosing my way or God's.

The funny thing about these experiences of God that I've had is that they are not verifiable, at least, not scientifically so. I did not come to believe in grace because someone showed me a diagram of how it works- I believe it because I have relief when I confess my sins and because I have seen grace shown from a follower of Christ to another human being. Regardless of the differences between them. I do not believe in God's love because He sent me roses, I believe because I have known a comfort that comes as if from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. I do not believe in God's power because I can look at an inventory of His armory, but because I have seen examples of His power demonstrated in storms and fires and mountains and oceans- and in the power of His people that are able to endure.

Here at A&M there is a saying, "From the outside looking in, you can't understand it; From the inside looking out, you can't explain it." It may sound dismissive, but I think that believing in God can be the same. God doesn't make sense, He doesn't translate well to a person who doesn't know faith in Him. This is not an excuse for us to be elitist or uppity about us having a 'special knowledge.' In fact, there is no special knowledge at all, just a different relationship gained by engaging God. That is really what the Aggie quote is all about. If you want to understand the Aggie Spirit, you have to experience it by engaging it. No amount of explanation or charts or logic will truly make it clear to you. You have to be immersed in it.

If you want to understand God, you have to let the grace in His eyes draw you to redemption. You have to allow your defenses to drop, to let your guard down, to be caught up in Him. Sink in the ocean of grace to understand that He loves you so much that nothing you've done or could ever do is too much for Him to wash away. You will be so lost in the abundance of God, that any regrets you have held onto- for past mistakes or indulgences, or for failures- could not be held onto.

If you want to get to know another person, looking up their vital stats, their facts and figures won't help you. (Unless its for fantasy football, then, maybe.) Sitting down with them, allowing their conversation to wash over you, learning the way they talk, the little quirks of their personality, this is how you know them.

So when I sit in the car, letting the words of the song wash over me, letting the voice of God speak to me as He would like, then I come to know Him, and why I believe in Him.

Broken or Crushed

Jesus said to them, "Have you never read in the Scriptures:
" 'The stone the builders rejected
has become the capstone;
the Lord has done this,
and it is marvelous in our eyes'?

"Therefore I tell you that the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people who will produce its fruit. He who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces, but he on whom it falls will be crushed."
-Matthew 21:42-44

Every time I see this verse used, it is used to illustrate how the supposed 'chosen' miss their opportunity to see the Messiah, so the rejected by the elite become the new Chosen. It is a cautionary tale to all of us who think we have it made that we can miss the key to it all. The Pharisees had all the knowledge, all the lineage, all the history to see the Messiah, but they missed it. They rejected Him and so missed out on the kingdom of God.

But there is something else here. Something subtle, something under the radar that I've rarely seen expounded upon. Maybe it is because it is a difficult thought, or maybe it is because it is not a 'safe' idea.

You don't encounter Jesus and survive.

Jesus says there are those who fall on this rejected capstone, and there are those on whom the capstone falls. One is broken, one is crushed. Both are destroyed.

Falling on the Stone
I take this to apply to those who come to Jesus. These people come to him, and fall on him, they trust in him and willingly worship him. It makes sense to me that the imagery Jesus uses here is one of being broken, like a pot that falls to the floor. We often talk about Jesus 'breaking our hearts' for something: a people, a sin, a tragedy. The idea of worship is about being broken. It is about realizing our failure to measure up- our pride being broken- and accepting the gift of God that makes us worthy. Worship is seeing less of me, and more of Jesus.

The thing about being broken is that we can't be put back together. We're Humpty Dumpty, broken before our king, only our king CAN rebuild us. To be broken is to be at ground zero, the starting point. What is then made from our ruin is the work of of Christ as he comes to dwell in us. TO be broken is to cease fighting against his will.

Crushed by the Stone
Other folks are found by God. They are not looking for Him, or in the case of these Pharisees, they are outright opposing Him. They push Him away, reject Him, but the power of Christ is overwhelming. He crushes us. The truth is that everyone will someday worship Christ. Every. Single. One. The only difference is if you will worship Him in His presence, or worship Him as you are separated from Him. Will you worship Him as your Savior, or as the Holy One you have realized too late?

You Can't Live
The truth is, you can't live with or without Jesus.


To know him is to give your life to him, and for him. This idea that we can't live with Jesus is not so much about us dying as it is about us letting HIM live in us. Letting our own fears and failures, our own flaws and our own prejudices die so that HE can be the guiding, driving force of our lives. Our ambitions must fall. Our plans must fail. Our vision must go dark. All in the life of Christ. If we do anything 'for Jesus' that is really for us, it is as good as dead.

No, we must live- not our lives- we must live His life, the one He marks out for us, the one He gives to us.

Let us be broken of our selves, so that He may repair us in His image.