Follow the dust

The next day again John was standing with two of his disciples, and he looked at Jesus as he walked by and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God!”
John 1:35-36

Dust kicks up as he walks by. I can imagine seeing it. Smelling it. Feeling it.

His footprints leave a trail in it, indicating where he’s been, leaving a path for me to follow.

He hears me murmuring, having a conversation with myself, of doubt, of questions, of wonder.

He turns and asks, “What are you seeking?”

Me, the girl with one shoulder behind the tree, watching him with laser focus, lest he make a move that catches me off-guard.

He smiles and invites me to walk with him, to “Come and you will see,” where he stays, what he does, what he’s going to do next.

But I can’t see far enough ahead. I don’t understand everything. I still have worries.

He is turning the invisible inside out, making visible things that have been around me, but I’ve never before seen.

If I’ll keep following the dust, he’ll show me more.

I look down at his footsteps. They are safe. And they are dangerous. Contagious. Purposed. Glorious.

Knowing he’s in the lead, I can get dusty, live messy, look bedraggled.

And feel alive.

The closer we watch, the more we’ll see, the more we’ll love. Step out from behind the tree. Don’t be paralyzed in passivity just because you can’t see the whole trip. Take the journey one step at a time.

Follow the dust.

Whoever walks with the wise becomes wise....
Proverbs 13:20

...and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?
Micah 6:8

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Even though you may not fully trust Jesus yet, what one step can you take today to show you’re trying to trust him more?

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I’m blogging this week on Live Second.
Today, Week 9: Identity; Day 6: Creature.

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Hear television report Tamara Jolee’s walk with sudden disease at I Am Second.
“A peace came over me. No matter what happens, it’s going to be okay.”

Be filled at this table

Our moderator opens his Bible on a cold Monday night to the book of Ephesians. In the stillness and warmth of a balcony classroom, a handful of us sit in metal chairs around two tables pushed together as he slowly reads Ephesians 3:14-19. We listen.

He reads again.
One word—filled—speaks to me each time from the readings.

He reads a third time.
This time the word stretches into an image.

As the rest of the words tumble down—“every family” and “riches of his glory” and “filled with all the fullness of God”—my mind journeys . . .

. . . to a big, square farm table. Sturdy chairs encircle it, enough for everybody. People come in from the cold out, gathering around the loud, boisterous table. The corner fireplace keeps us warm as heavy chairs are pulled in closer and conversation spills all around.

Everyone is welcome.
Everyone belongs.
Everyone is loved around this table.

Because Jesus is here.

He steps among the crowd, laughing between smiles, and fills our mugs with steaming, aromatic drink. I wrap both hands around my cup and fill my throat warm with it.

The invitation is clear: Celebrate!

Celebrate with him, with the family, around his table.

Victory is won. Embrace his fullness in you. Revel in it. This life in Christ—this Spirit in you—is designed for satisfaction. Be strengthened by it, empowered by it. The fullness of his love is immeasurable in quantity, in quality, in essence.

Know this love that surpasses knowledge.

Let it fill you deep.

Back around our smaller, quieter classroom table, we express any final thoughts. We each pray for another, then put on our coats, and climb back in our cars, drive away into the cold.

Yet the warmth travels with us.
The memories linger full.
The family Spirit burns on and in.

I have a permanent place at the table.
Fresh grace served daily. 
Seating still available. 

. . . know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.
Ephesians 3:19

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Do you have a place at the table, too?

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I’m blogging this week about Live Second. Today is Session 2: Issues; Week 8: Success; Day 2 Ownership.

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Hear skater Brian Sumner’s story of success at I Am Second.
“I’d had enough fun and it wasn't fun anymore.”

Love in color

Auburn University and the University of Alabama are two of the biggest rivalries in college football.

 
You declare allegiance early on to one or the other and stick with it. And, unfortunately, often so fiercely that you hate anyone who wears the wrong colors.

But there are cracks in the conflict. I saw a huge schism last month.

Our daughter Jenna sings in the Auburn Gospel Choir. Once a year they team up to perform a Unity Concert with the Alabama Afro-American Choir (20-second video here).

Under the same roof. Side by side. Singing the same song.
Frankly, I wasn’t sure how the colors would mix.

But here’s what I noticed.

First, I saw color. I admit.

But then I noticed more: it was beautiful color. A wonderful blend.

Not just the blue and orange robes of the Auburn choir and the crimson ties of Alabama. But the black and white skins.

Although Auburn is predominantly made up of African-American students, there are several white kids sprinkled throughout. But Alabama was solidly dark.

Except for one. A single male student. A white boy.

A blind boy.

He stood protected in the middle, guided into place by fellow students (he left his cane in his chair). They gentled nudged him by elbows to sway in time to the music, to the right, to the left, as they sang.

And sing he did. They did. In unison, in harmony, in black and white.

And in color.

In a football stadium in November, the differences between Alabama and Auburn are as loud as they come.

But in a church building year-round, their unity of praise shouts even louder.

Unity doesn’t mean we all have to look alike. To sound alike. To believe exactly alike.

Unity means we’ve learned to live deeper than the differences—to see through many colors—to set eyes on the same Lord.

Don’t let your prejudice keep you from loving those wearing a different color than you. God wants all his children to love each other, not only those just like us.

Declare allegiance to him to love broadly. In unity, not uniformity.

Love in color. 

Jesus first.
Us second.

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Who can you love today that’s different than you?

I’m blogging this week on Live Second. Today, Session 2: Issues; Week 7: Relationships; Day 7: Unity.

Watch more on unity in relationships at I Am Second.
     “Would he ever consider reconciling our relationship? He laughed in my face and said I will never, ever consider doing that. But he would take the letter out 2 or 3 times a week and weep.”

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A second chance

I listen to Brian “Head” Welch tell about the performer's high. About how he didn't know how to stay sober. About how he sunk to the lowest gutter as lead guitarist of the band Korn.

A bad performance

While I can’t relate to those specifics, I can relate to what happened next: the need for another chance when things go bad.

Sometimes the bad thing is clearly followed by a second chance. Two Tuesdays ago I was at the “Lighting of the Green” concert at Lipscomb University, headed by singer Amy Grant.

And something went wrong.

Amy had just introduced a brand new group, a trio of men performing on stage for the very first time. I’m sure they had the performer's high, about to sing to a large audience, including the presence of large talent already covered in fame.

But the audio messed up. In and out. Loud then silent. We could see mouths moving, but only occasionally hear voices.

The group sang anyway. The audience politely clapped anyway. But this first performance would go down as a disaster.

Another chance

Until Amy Grant stepped in. She stalled for time as technicians switched out microphones and played with wires.

Then Amy asked the trio to repeat their performance.

A second chance.

This time, as they sang again with gusto, we could hear and enjoy every rehearsed note. The wrong had been righted. The second chance led to a roar of approval as they sang the last notes.

Me, too?

When things have gone wrong in my journey—either through my own sinful decisions or just life happening—I want a second chance, too. Someone to step in, rearrange the wires, and give me a clean start.

I don’t want to feel defeated when I flub up my first shot.

I don’t want my acceptance to be conditional on a perfect performance. Because I can never give one. Neither could the trio of guys at Lipscomb. Neither could singer Brian Welch (more of his story here).

So how do we find hope? Jesus Christ. He stepped in for us two thousand years ago. He continues to step in today.

Because he did give the perfect performance, he can hand out a second chance to the rest of us. And a third. And a four millionth chance, however many we need.

I’ll take the second chance. And praise him for it. Because he got it right the first time, I don’t have to.

I’m glad he’s first. And I am second.

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I’m blogging thoughts this week from Live Second. Today is from Session 2: Issues, Week 6: Struggles, Day 3: Confession.

When have you been thankful for a second chance?

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Live second

Have you seen an “I Am Second” video? I love them. They’re first-hand stories about Jesus changing lives. One story at a time.

Author Doug Bender later collected the stories into a book, I Am Second.

And now he’s written a daily devotional to make it personal for each of us.  Live Second: 365 Ways to Make Jesus First officially releases December 9, 2012.

Divided into twelve themed sessions for 52 weeks, each day contains scripture passages to read, questions to think about, a weekly video to watch, and prayers to pray.

Also starting December 9 and for four days, those who’ve previewed the devotional (including me) are sharing their own stories on their blogs about living second.

So join us as we walk through spiritual journeys of living second.

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