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So many years have come and gone since the promise. So much heartache. So much disappointment.

The once proud light to the nations mired in dust and ruin. The once captivating is now captive.

A glimmer of hope appears – a promised child is coming. The one who would redeem all of creation is on his way.

A frightened but resolute mother dons the mantle of hope.

Another child is coming, the herald of the promised one.

He would call people to remembrance of the promise and repentance of their hopelessness.

A father’s doubt turns to hope and the future becomes the present on his lips.

“Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel, because he has come and has redeemed his people.” (Luke 1:68)

These words are those of Zechariah as his son, John, known as The Baptist, was born. It is part of a song that burst from a mouth closed because of doubt, now opened because of faith and expectancy. The future becomes present to him. Redemption, still afar, is “now” in his mind.

God has been fiddling with my heart over my sense of expectancy. Michael Perkins’ excellent guest post about Ethan’s eager expectancy over his impending birthday was quite timely for me. I’ve been drawn to Steven Furticks’ upcoming book “Sun Stand Still” without even knowing anything about it. The Holy Spirit has really been pushing it on me, but I never really took a look at it until last week. I saw a video introduction for it, and it has opened up so many emotions and considerations within my soul and mind that I’ve determined to buy it.

I feel as if God is working inside deep places in my soul, re-awakening things that I had let become dormant. Like the Hebrews, whose hope for Messiah had been subdued by centuries of turmoil and oppression, visions of a magnificent work of God have been trampled down into the recesses of my own heart, dimmed and faded.

But now, they desire to burst forth, as a crowning babe, pushing towards the light of day. As if coming to term, they stretch towards life.

The future is now. God’s work, His Kingdom, His peace, His salvation are all not yet fully bloomed, but are like bristling rosebuds, beautiful in their youth because of what they promise.

The future is present in my soul.

Your Kingdom come, and your will be done.

Let me live in the present future.

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Ethan (my son) will turn six on September 17. He is so excited. For the last two months he has been telling me the things that he would like to get. It ranges from a baseball to the moon. Everyday, he asks me, “Dad, how many more days until my birthday?” Ethan’s excitement is contagious. Ethan’s anticipates and expects big things. If I was a jerk I would tell him to drop it. I would tell him not to expect anything. But I’m not a jerk. I love him. I want him to be excited. I want him to expect. I want him to anticipate big things.

Habakkuk 1:5 says, “Look at the nations and watch— and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.”

With the busyness of life it’s easy to get down. It’s easy to become complacent and not expect miraculous things to happen. It’s easy to become distracted. It’s easy to lose hope. I believe that God wants us to expect and anticipate like Ethan has for his birthday. He wants to do the unbelievable. He wants to do the amazing.

Believe.  Hope.  Trust.

What are you expecting or hoping for?

Wearied by the gloom of winter, the weight of my studies, and financial responsibilities, I found myself in a dark place – spiritually. My intellectual-self affirmed my relationship with my God, but I couldn’t sense His presence – at all. It was as if I were in a pitch dark room, so large that no matter how far I walked, I’d never find a wall.

I was at the edge of cursing Him. “I came here for YOU! I struggle for YOU! My family suffers for YOU! WHERE ARE YOU!”

During small group one evening, I shared my months-long struggle. A dear friend, in honest care said, “Herb, I understand that you’re feeling abandoned, but as you share, all I hear is ‘me, me, me’ – have you forgotten about your responsibility to others?”

Silence.

I hid it, but I was angry at him. “You’re my friend,” I thought. “How could you attack me like that when I NEED help?!?!”

¹⁰ But the LORD said, “You have been concerned about this vine, though you did not tend it or make it grow. It sprang up overnight and died overnight. ¹¹ But Nineveh has more than a hundred and twenty thousand people who cannot tell their right hand from their left, and many cattle as well. Should I not be concerned about that great city?” (Jonah 4:10-11)

My friend’s honest words were the beginning of my recovery. Within all the “work” I had lost my passion for people. The reason God called me to ministry was not for me – it was for “them” – those who did not have a personal relationship with the Loving Creator. God used this dark time to show me what my life would be like without Him – what others are missing. “What about them? You are so concerned with how ‘miserable’ you are – but they live without Me. I love them too, Herb.”

Sometimes I forget that He sent Jesus for them too.

She’s been with us for several months now, but she is still adjusting. Don’t get me wrong, she is well aware of the very spoiled life that she now enjoys, and she takes full advantage of it. But, she still fears. We often wonder what happened in her life that made her so afraid. Even her nights are restless – she rarely makes it from dusk to dawn in peaceful slumber. It breaks our heart when the effects of fear have their way with her. How long before she no longer fears?

⁶ Many are asking, “Who can show us any good?”
Let the light of your face shine upon us, O LORD.

⁷ You have filled my heart with greater joy
than when their grain and new wine abound.

⁸ I will lie down and sleep in peace,
for you alone, O LORD,
make me dwell in safety.
(Psalm 4:6-8)

It isn’t easy going through this with her. There are many restless nights and mornings that come too early – but, we’ll be patient with her. Someday, Molly-Grace will no longer fear. Someday she will be able to lie down in peace, falling asleep with peaceful assurance through to the dawn – when she finally trusts in us.

I know this because I was once like Molly-Grace. I was rescued from a life of pain and fear. It took time, but eventually I learned to trust God and the new family I joined. I am thankful that He stuck with me – He gave comfort when I needed it, encouragement when I needed it – always His presence.

He’ll do that for you too.

photo credit : Michael Beck of StudioEnFuego

I’m sitting in silence, reading the updates of my friends on Facebook. Some of these friends are relatively new connections, many with whom I have shared awesome God-driven moments. I look at their avatar and am reminded of small group gatherings, pot-luck dinners, baptisms, and walking across the stage to grab that late-in-life bible college diploma. Awesome memories.

But there are others in my social stream whose smiling faces, cropped square, elicit other memories. Some of these memories are mere flashes blurred by drunken stupor. Some are violent memories. Some are embarrassing – even shameful. But they are mine.

I wonder what they think when they see my status updates praising Jesus and revealing scripture. I wonder what they think when I share a church potluck event or a report of Sunday’s service. Do they see my avatar and remember that “me” whom I barely recognize or do they see My Father’s face? Do they patronizingly grin or do they marvel at how God changed me?

¹²I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has given me strength, that he considered me faithful, appointing me to his service. ¹³Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief. ¹⁴The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.  ¹⁵Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. ¹⁶But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life.
(1 Timothy 1:12-16)

I am Paul and he is me. He knew what is was like to combat perceptions skewed by the person one used to be. He knew what it was like to be a new creature, with an unrelenting past. It is a past forgotten and forgiven by a God of matchless grace, but one that is at the edge of shame for the one who lived it. But from within that shame, each time it arises, a joyful song erupts – crescendos of gratitude and diminuendos of peace.

I am Imago Dei because He lives in me.

I had this incredible professor in high school. He was the professor of Physics and Higher Mathematics. Dr. Hosterman was his name. Before becoming a teacher, he was an army physicist and aircraft pilot who flew observation flights during the nuclear experiments at the atolls in the pacific. He developed cancer as a result of that work. He daily struggled with intense pain, downing and chewing-up a half bottle of aspirin at a time. He was somewhat kooky and had some fascinating stories to tell. But, at the same time he was so genuine and pure of heart. Most fascinating to me was… [ continue reading ]

As I was growing up, I endured a lot of dishonor with my family name by no fault of my own. I won’t go into details, because they don’t matter, except that it drove me to feel like I had to rescue my name. I determined that I was going to live an honorable life. It was an obsession to lift my name in stature and respect. I made deliberate choices in the company I kept, the profession I pursued, even the flavor of Christianity that I eventually chose.

My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge.  (Psalm 62:7)

This really is a beautiful psalm. David, it seems, is feeling pressure from all sides. My opinion is that the weight of leadership was crashing in on him. As he composes this psalm (who knows how long it took), in typical fashion, we see a movement in David’s spirit. First, an assertion of his faith in God. Then he offers lament over circumstances. At verse 7, he is already deep in an affirming proclamation of the refuge found in God.

As I read verse 7, I cannot help but be deeply contemplative over one phrase: my honor.

Have you ever had your honor attacked? Your integrity impugned?

I have. My initial reaction is defensiveness. “How dare they judge my integrity! Who are they to cast stones at me? I do the best I can!”

My. Me. I.

“I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” (Galatians 2:20)

I think there is virtue in trying to live an honorable life – but only as a byproduct of a holy life. It is in God that my honor is birthed. It is in God that my integrity is rooted. It is in pursuit of God’s agenda that either matter. Ouch.

Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ. (Galatians 1:10)

May my life be a pursuit of God.

They had been pursuing a privateer ships that was wreaking havoc on English merchant ships. The action and battle have been pretty intense up to this point. All of a sudden we are greeted with this strangely calm sea. In the middle of the ocean, the water is absolutely still -strangely still. The ship is not moving at all. Now wind, no current – still. The stillness is taxing on them. It irritates them. They are agitated. They struggle to remain sane. They begin to look for something to blame for the eerie stillness.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. ( Romans 15:13 )

Sometimes, things in my life seem eerily still. I wonder if these times are actually a gift from God. Time for the soul to rejuvenate. If I concentrate on seeking God’s face in these times, rather than filling the silence with my cries, maybe I’ll know the value of the gift. Maybe I will find hope there. Maybe it won’t seem so eerie when I ask God to sit with me there. Maybe it won’t seem so eerie when I pray for such stillness.

On one occasion, somewhere along some Alabama river, I got bored with watching the bobber and decided that  I was going to go dragonfly hunting. My dad made a really cool rubber-band gun that was perfect for such a job. I happily chased them down, never hitting a single dragonfly. Suddenly I found myself out of rubber-bands.

As I tromped around the brush, hands on hips, pouty lips fully extended, I noticed one of my rubber bands, hanging from a leaf on one of the branches overhanging the river bank. The bank was a steep drop-off about four feet above the heavy, lumbering current.

I determined to get it. I grabbed a small twig with one hand and stretched out over the water with the other hand stretching towards that rubber-band. Without warning the twig broke and I found myself hurling towards the water. I was so scared I could not scream. Just as it seemed I was about to hit the water, I was suddenly yanked back onto my feet, on safe terra firma. My dad, clutching me close to his chest, firmly insisted I never do that again.

¹⁷ Unless the LORD had given me help,
I would soon have dwelt in the silence of death.

¹⁸ When I said, “My foot is slipping,”
your love, O LORD, supported me.

¹⁹ When anxiety was great within me,
your consolation brought joy to my soul.
(Psalm 94:17-19)

Since that time, I’ve stretched over many steep proverbial riverbanks. God has never let me fall. Sometimes the journey towards the current seemed really, really long, and I’ve been really, really scared, but He has never let me fall.

Some saw a chance for renewal – a legacy that could be redeemed.

Some saw a chance to experience new life – a dormant faith rejuvenated.

Some saw an opportunity for impact – feelings of futility conquered.

Some saw purpose – a wandering soul set on a mission.

Notice how each expectation of hope was in a remedy for an expectation of hopelessness. Many of our number sadly experienced hope killing situations prior to Thrive Church. They saw, in Thrive Church, a chance for God to do something amazing. We would, together, come to love God in greater measure. We would intentionally do what it takes to love one another with grace and abandon. We would set out to conquer the world as we passed on Christ’s love. “Love God, love one another, and pass it on” became more than a motto – it was an expectation of hope.

⁴Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken your first love.
(Verse 4 of Revelation 2:1-7)

What a bomb Jesus delivers! This is an often quoted verse, but many forget it comes right after some pretty hefty praise. Jesus saw some good stuff – they were hard workers, they had great perseverance, they had good discernment. They were able to accomplish these great things because they were passionate about Jesus. But something happened along the way. They forgot why they were doing what they were doing. In other words, their first love was not also their last love.

⁵ If you do not repent, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place.
(Last half of verse 5 of Revelation 2:1-7)

I ask myself today, “are my expectations still living in hope? Is my first love, still my last love? Is Jesus Christ still my center (1 Corinthians 2:2) ?”

I resolve to shout, “Yes!” to each question, knowing that at this moment I fall short. I’m holding out for hope.

What about you?