Do you ever wonder how God sees you?

Sometimes I wonder how, or why, God would care about me. I understand the psalmist’s question:

When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them? [Psalm 8:3-4] 

In The Message it says, “Why do you bother with us? Why take a second look our way?”

It’s a good question. Why does infinite God bother with me? Why does the Creator who placed the stars and scooped out valleys with His hands even take a second look at me?

But I believe He does. As absurd as it seems, God loves me—and He loves you. Sometimes that’s all I can cling to, but it’s enough.

In fact, Scripture assures me that He knew me before I was born. I get that intellectually, but I’ve always wondered how it worked. How can He know us, and love us, before we’re who we are?

Then this weekend I was scanning Facebook and encountered this beautiful word picture from an expectant grandma (shared with permission):

One month from today (approximately) we will be welcoming grandcutie #5 into our lives. I love him already and I haven’t even laid eyes on his sweet face.

She’s never met the little one, but she already loves him. Isn’t that amazing?

And suddenly I had a glimpse of how it must work from God’s perspective.

If you’re thinking That’s nice, but it seems a little random—you’re probably right. Perhaps this video will provide some context. (If you can’t see the video, click here.)

What’s your takeaway from this tragedy?

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Good Without God?

Do I HAVE to Forgive?

To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you. Lewis Smedes

Don’t you hate it when faith conflicts with feelings?

If you’re any sort of sports fan you know about Michael Vick. He’s a pro football player who was convicted and sent to prison for financing and participating in a dog fighting operation. The details are literally unspeakable. You can Google him if you wish. I wouldn’t recommend it.

He’s out of prison and playing football again. He served his sentence, apologized, and received a second chance. He’s playing well, and by all accounts has turned his life around.

I hate what he did to dogs. His actions were despicable, horrific, evil—I can’t list enough adjectives to adequately portray my disgust. You can look at the pictures on my site and get a clear indication of how I feel about dogs in general and my dog specifically. Even if you don’t particularly like dogs you have to be sickened by what he did.

I’m glad he was caught and convicted and sent to jail. But now that he’s done with that portion of his life, there’s a big place in my gut that just doesn’t want him to succeed. In fact, I have this almost visceral desire to see him suffer more.

Am I the only person who struggles with this? Have you ever encountered a situation in which you didn’t feel like forgiving?

I listened today as someone publically ripped at Mr. Vick. It’s obvious that many folks feel like I do. They’ll never see him as anything but a vile, repulsive figure. As I listened, I acknowledged something I really don’t like:

I do not feel forgiving toward this guy.

In a few days we’ll celebrate Jesus’ birth. He came so I could be forgiven. All of my mistakes, awful choices, and failures are washed away because of the horrible price He paid.

My selfishness slapped me in the face.

Jesus came so Michael Vick could be forgiven.

I don’t have to approve of what he did. I don’t have to like him, or trust him, or admire him.

But if I’m going to be true to what I believe, I do have to respect him and love him. And yes, I do have to forgive him.

Like Jesus said, it’s easy to love those who love me back and share my values and do nice stuff to dogs. The tough part is loving the unlovable and respecting people when I feel like punching them.

The hard part is forgiving someone I don’t feel like forgiving.

I’m reminded that forgiveness isn’t a one-time event. I can’t just say “I forgive” while secretly hoping he blows out a knee.

Forgiveness is a decision followed by a difficult process. I decide to forgive and then I confront my judgmental feelings. I continually remind myself that I forgive because I’ve been forgiven. When I feel like he doesn’t deserve it, I remember that little baby.

I remind myself that I don’t deserve the grace He brought to the world. He gave freely what I could never earn.

I don’t feel like forgiving, but I want to do it anyway. I guess that’s where I begin.

That’s my Christmas wish.

Do you fight this kind of internal battle? How do you get past it?

Please leave a comment.

Relentless Grace: now for Amazon Kindle

Need a last-minute gift? If someone you know will find an Amazon Kindle under the tree next week, give them the gift of Relentless Grace as a Kindle ebook. Click here to order.

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Are you willing to surprise someone with unexpected grace?

Our pastor asked that question yesterday. I hate it when a speaker tosses out a nugget like that—I don’t think I heard much of the rest of his message.

Surprised by unexpected grace.

That’s precisely what God did for me. I truly believed I’d wasted the life He gave me, that I’d passed the point of no return. I thought I’d messed up too badly to ever find redemption. I saw myself as an irretrievably lost soul.

My heart couldn’t embrace what my head knew about forgiveness.

Then the injury happened. For a decade I wandered in total darkness, absolutely certain that I was so lost that even God couldn’t find me. Frankly, I wasn’t sure He was even searching.

Possibility, hope, new beginning—those weren’t even intellectual realities any longer. Purpose, meaning, relationship—those died in the ER, and I wished for my useless body to join them.

God surprised me with unexpected grace. Darkness receded. The Light of the world revealed a path marked by unmerited joy and unearned love. Where I perceived only pain and hopelessness, the Light revealed a journey filled with promise and potential.

God proved that life is always about second (and third and fourth and…) chances. He placed people in my path who refused to allow me to quit, who wouldn’t be pushed away no matter how hard I tried. They surprised, and shocked, me by demonstrating unexpected grace.

Ever wonder if you matter?

I’ve experienced how God uses people to be “Jesus in t-shirts and blue jeans.” You are that person on somebody’s path. Might be someone close, a casual acquaintance, or a total stranger. Someone needs you to reflect the Light.

In the forward to Relentless Grace I wrote that the story was God’s, not mine. That sounds like one of those things writers say with almost false humility, but it’s absolutely the truth. I couldn’t have created the story—God surprised me with unexpected, relentless grace. And He did it through people just like you.

(Self-serving aside: if you’re looking for an inspirational gift, we’re having a sale on print and audio versions of Relentless Grace. Details here.)

And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds… [Hebrews 10:24]

Enjoy this amazing video, and think about who needs you to be “Jesus in a t-shirt and blue jeans.”

If you can’t see the video, click here.

Who can you surprise today with unexpected grace?

Please leave a comment.

If you’d like a humorous take on this and missed Saturday’s post, you might find a chuckle in How Will We Leave Our Mark?

This is our contribution to the One Word Blog Carnival hosted by Bridget Chumbley. I hope you’ll visit the carnival and check out the other attractions.

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How Will We Leave Our Mark?

How To Stop Bullying

Gasoline, Money, And Stuff That Matters

Do you ever sense that the more you know the less you know?

Perhaps, at least for me, a more accurate assessment would be “the more I know the less I learn.”

Reconciled?

Some time ago I read a discussion of Second Corinthians (don’t recall exactly where) that ended with a confusing, and somewhat accusatory, question: Have YOU been reconciled to God?

I adopted my normal attitude toward difficult questions—I skipped over it. But the question nagged at me. I’m pretty sure the answer’s YES, but how do I know?

Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were entreating through us; we beg you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. [2 Corinthians 5:20]

The Greek word translated as “reconciled” in this passage (katallasso) connotes some kind of exchange. The exchange involved Jesus dying in my place.

Reconciliation isn’t anything I can do. I had a relationship with God. I messed it up. God reconciled me to Him through Jesus’ sacrifice.

All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ…God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ… [2 Corinthians 5:18-19]

For me, the question isn’t really whether I’m reconciled to God. The question is more about how that knowledge of katallasso changes my actions.

Knowledge & Learning

I always told my students that behavior measures the difference between knowledge and learning. Facts and information are empty knowledge until they cause some change in behavior.

By that measure, I’m definitely part of the slow-learner class. Here’s an example.

A while back I made a list of personal priorities:

1. Follow Jesus
2. Take care of myself (health, sleep, read, keep the batteries charged)
3. Serve others
4. Tasks, lists, stuff I “need” to do

This list exists in my head as knowledge. I believe it’s correct. But I fear that what I do, how I behave, often fails to reflect what I know.

Empty knowledge. Same behavior. Slow learner.

It’s as though I live out the old Abbott and Costello comedy routine: Who’s On First?

Watch the video clip, but imagine someone looking at my actions and trying to figure out Who’s In First? (If you can’t see the clip, click here to view it on my site.)

Who’s In First?

“First” is too frequently occupied by tasks, appointments, and self-created obligations. If I don’t save the world, who will? Yeah, I know God already did that, but still…

Sometimes “first” gets crowded with excessive mindless entertainment like the TV shows or sports I have to watch.

Occasionally—often by accident or default—there’s actually a bit of space on “first” for serving others and caring for myself.

But “first” is usually far too congested to leave space for God. He might be somewhere on the list—after the really important stuff—but I’m afraid my actions demonstrate that God isn’t on first in my life.

I AM reconciled to God, not through anything I’ve done but by His grace and forgiveness.

So what’s my response? I know what Jesus did—the question is, “What have I learned? How does the knowledge change my behavior?”

Do I behave differently because I “know” Who’s In First?

Not nearly as much as I’d like.

What’s your biggest struggle in translating your knowledge of reconciliation into action?

This is our contribution to the One Word Blog Carnival hosted by Bridget Chumbley. I hope you’ll visit the carnival and check out the other attractions.

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What If …

Resident Aliens

Politics And Jesus

… Jesus really meant what He said?

Condemn: to declare to be reprehensible, wrong, or evil…to judge unfit for use or consumption.

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus … [Romans 8:1]

What if that were true?

I know—it’s a complex theological statement. But what if it were as simple as “follow Jesus” = “no condemnation”?

What if every follower of Jesus stopped judging others as “reprehensible, wrong, or evil”? Even “those people”—you know, the ones who are, well, “unfit”?

What if

We refused to make—or forward, or approve—snarky political comments?

          We didn’t support causes or people that marginalize or diminish any individual or group?

Our Twitter and Facebook posts were conspicuous for their lack of condemnation?

          We greeted people and behaviors that offend us with love and acceptance?

We were known for the causes Jesus advanced—peace, agape, hope, mercy, grace?

          God’s kingdom mattered more than governments or countries or flags?

We were identified by the things in which we believe instead of the things with which we disagree?

          Others saw that we follow Jesus without being angry about it?

We stopped trying to win battles He never asked us to fight?

          We took The Great Commission as a standard by which to measure our own actions?

We loved evil into irrelevance (sort of like Jesus did) instead of trying to beat it into submission?

What if

I stopped the most disabling kind of condemnation—the “self” kind?

# # #

The Pharisees confronted Jesus with a woman caught in adultery. When they asked what should be done, He replied,

“If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.”

At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there. Jesus straightened up and asked her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”

“No one, sir,” she said.

“Then neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.” [John 8:7b-11]

What if He was serious?

What’s a “what if” you would add to this list?

This is our contribution to the One Word Blog Carnival hosted by Bridget Chumbley. I hope you’ll visit the carnival and check out the other attractions.

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Gasoline, Money, And Stuff That Matters

What Did You Learn?

How Important Is Right Theology?

Do you ever feel like you just don’t belong?

Here’s some potentially shocking news: you don’t.

You and I are strangers in a strange land. We live in enemy-occupied territory. It won’t always be that way—the rightful leader will be back one day. But what are we supposed to do in the meantime?

Christians seem pretty divided on that question. At the risk of over-generalizing, I perceive perhaps three main approaches.

Some folks seem to think we should circle the wagons and wait. Do our best to keep out the riff-raff, isolate ourselves, and just hang on until Jesus comes back for us.

For these people, the world is hopelessly lost. Those who accept Jesus will eventually be saved, the rest are doomed, and there’s nothing we can do about it except to lock the windows and hide.

Some folks want to fight the battle. We’re soldiers in a holy war, and it’s our job to win at nearly any cost.

For these folks, life is all about us against them. It’s really important to identify and marginalize “them.” If they’re not for us, they’re the enemy and must be defeated.

In this sacred battle, victory is imperative. We may not advocate actual physical violence, but pretty much any other tactics are fair game. We attack “them” personally and politically. If necessary, we’ll even spin the facts to achieve our God-mandated objectives.

It’s probably pretty obvious that neither of these mindsets works for me.

I think God wants me to adopt the status of a resident alien.

This is what the LORD Almighty, the God of Israel, says to all those I carried into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: “Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease. Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the LORD for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.” [Jeremiah 29:4-7]

Resident aliens don’t become citizens. They don’t assimilate or go along with customs that violate their core principles. They don’t seek to “fit in” at any cost, but rather to live within their adopted culture without rejecting their own.

But they also don’t expect their new home to adapt to them. They don’t rebel against things that are simply different from their homeland. They seek the well-being of their temporary home.

Resident aliens don’t battle with their surroundings. They seek peace and harmony. They don’t approach their hosts as enemies.

That’s how Jesus operated. He lived in the Jewish culture. He interacted with people, met them where they lived. He taught in synagogues and refused to endorse revolution against Rome’s tyranny. He was in the world, while certainly not being of the world.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. [John 3:16-17]

God loved this world so much that He sent Jesus to save it.

If I’m going to follow Jesus, I cannot withdraw from this alien culture. I can’t treat my life as something to simply be endured before I get to the good part.

I also cannot turn life into an endless battle in which everyone who thinks differently is perceived as an enemy to be vanquished. I can’t justify political attacks or personal demonization, even against those who oppose God and His ways. There’s that whole thing about loving everyone, even those who persecute me.

Let’s remember: this IS enemy-occupied territory, but the enemy isn’t the opposing political party or the atheists or the terrorists. The enemy isn’t those who disagree about government policy or taxes or national sovereignty.

The true enemy is much more evil and dangerous than any of these, and he wants us to forget about him and become preoccupied with worldly squabbles. He desperately hopes we’ll focus so intently on culture conflicts that we ignore the real spiritual war that seeks to destroy souls.

So what are we supposed to do?

Jesus invites us to embrace our status as resident aliens. He asks us to bring the very best of the culture from our true home—things like love, peace, kindness, and patience. He instructs us to imitate His radical policy of self-sacrifice out of love for a world that tortured and murdered Him.

Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” [Matthew 28:18-20]

Jesus’ parting words tell me His intent for my life. Whenever I’m unsure, I need to ask a simple question: Which choice will bring others closer to Jesus?

Nothing—not my rights or freedoms, not personal safety, not even love of country, can supersede His purpose. I’m called to make disciples, to demonstrate His love and grace—right here in this alien land.

Sounds simple enough, right?

It’s not.

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The Perfect Slogan

How To Know What’s Right

Question

Majestic.

The dining room of this old lodge overlooks the entire valley.

The cloudless sky is an impossible shade of blue. Across the valley some aspens are just beginning to turn, splashes of gold amidst the deep green pines. Aside from a narrow dirt road and an occasional four-wheeler heading into the national forest, there’s not much evidence that we’re only thirty miles from the city.

Everyone’s enjoying an afternoon of R&R. Six or seven guys are fly fishing in the pond. A few minutes ago a group of mountain bikers head up the hill. One group’s off on a hike, another headed down the valley to do some rock climbing. Individuals are scattered around the property reading, journaling, processing deep conversations and big questions.

I’m left alone for my own quiet R&R—writing and reflection. No cell coverage, no Internet or email to interrupt. No background noise from television. A weekend of football will pass without us.

We labeled this afternoon as “free time.” Does “free” refer to cost, as though the rest of the time is expensive? Perhaps it means that for a few short hours we’re not trapped by expectations and schedules. If so, it’s odd that we have to schedule time to let ourselves out of a self-constructed prison.

Men come and go, wandering between activities or sometimes just wandering. Interesting—the conversations and shared stories don’t feel at all like interruptions. There’s a sense of natural flow, as though whatever’s happening is just right for that moment. So I’m writing, and then I’m not, and somehow it’s all good. Much different from home, when anything—or anyone—who derails my train of thought becomes an unwelcome irritant.

In worship prior to our morning session, someone shared The Message translation of Matthew 11:28-30:

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

Sitting here in this calm, peaceful setting, it feels like I’m surrounded by the unforced rhythms of grace. I’m reminded that it’s a standing invitation. Come to me.

Unforced. That’s what’s different about these hours, about this weekend. We’ve agreed to retreat, to back away from hurry and worry, to stop trying to make it happen. We’ve agreed to listen and let ourselves be carried on the unforced rhythms of grace.

I suppose I should prepare for this evening, or get outside, or do something special with these hours. But this afternoon isn’t about “should.” This afternoon is about an encounter with The God Of “Re”. Retreat. Renew. Relax. Refresh. Rest.

So I’ll sit in front of these windows and watch my new friends, enjoy their tales of adventure, and practice trusting that whatever’s happening is okay. I’ll savor the solitude and reflect on the majesty of a high-country meadow.

I wonder what I’ll take down the mountain tomorrow. I wonder if it’ll be back to same-old-same-old, or if I’ll find a way to retain this sense of awe, this sense of authentic, unforced peace and grace.

I’ll figure that out later; next time (Thursday) I’ll see what I find, but not now. Right now is for right now, so I’ll just sit in this incredible place and let it speak to me.

Majestic.

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The God Of “Re”

Edit: Stories Worth Telling Part 5

Risk: Stories Worth Telling Part 4

Relationship: Stories Worth Telling Part 3

Do you think your story is worth telling?

I believe the answer is emphatically “Yes!”

God tells us about Himself through stories. Most of the Bible is stories about real people in real circumstances who struggled and failed and got it wrong more than they got it right. God’s own story comes to us through tales of people and their relationships. (How Important Is Right Theology?)

I’m thinking there’s a message there, that God’s choice to reveal Himself through human stories might be telling us about the best way to tell others about Him. Maybe people learn best about God through the stories of His people.

I operate from the premise that a story is worth telling if it brings people closer to Jesus. In a non-church setting it’s worthwhile if it helps listeners embrace His principles even if no religious terminology is involved. I can talk about love, respect, and forgiveness in any context.

If I’ve learned anything through talking to people about the story of Relentless Grace, it’s that “everyone has a story.” And I believe those stories are worth telling, if …

I’d like to spend a few posts talking about the “if,” because I think we can tell our stories in ways that are more or less helpful to others.

Today’s focus:

TELL THE TRUTH

A story that’s a lie won’t be helpful to anyone. That might seem sort of obvious, but apparently it’s not. I’ve heard, and told, stories that include intentional and accidental untruths.

Many Christians seem to believe that they can only talk about the victories, the good stuff, and the instances in which things turned out just right. They fail to acknowledge the struggles, failures, and weaknesses. These folks seem intent on portraying life as an endless progression of roses and sunshine.

Even tragedies are quickly transformed into celebrations. These stories are Hollywood movies—in one scene a horrific loss occurs, and in the next scene everyone’s happy. Injuries and illness miraculously disappear, grief and pain are compressed into a few seconds, and then the violins reach a happily-ever-after crescendo.

No one benefits from stories that relate this sort of impossibly false perfection. Reality includes conflict, pain, and doubt. Look at the heroes of the Bible—God didn’t tell us only their triumphs. In fact, we often learn more from the struggles of people like King David.

I’m not suggesting that we ought to manufacture problems, because the real ones are all to plentiful. But you do no one, including yourself, any favors by hiding behind a freshly scrubbed, Sunday morning façade.

A more subtle deception happens through an unintended choice of words. An example: “I’m thankful for the experience of cancer and chemotherapy.”

I don’t believe that. I’ve watched both of my parents and my best friend struggle through horrible deaths from cancer. I don’t believe anyone is thankful for that kind of pain. I’m certainly not grateful for the “opportunity” to watch their suffering, just as I’m not thankful for the pain and loss associated with my injury.

I am, however, abundantly grateful for the many things God has taught me through those experiences. I do not believe my injury was necessary for me to learn, but I believe God works for good even within tragedy (Romans 8:28)

My principle for story-telling is Grace And Truth (John 1:14). If you tell the truth with grace and love, then I believe you take a step toward a story worth telling.

What’s your take? Have you found that telling your true story helps others?

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How Important Is Right Theology?

Grace And Truth

A Million Miles

One Problem With A Weekend Retreat

The Perfect Slogan

Welcome to another Monday. Today’s word-of-the-week is

PAST

Why would anyone choose to begin a week by thinking about the past?

Good question, but I’ll bet a lot of us do it. Many folks approach the opportunity of a new beginning while carrying the burden of the past. Weighed down by guilt and regret, they can’t see the promise and opportunity in front of them because they’re looking over their shoulder at a past they cannot change.

There are some things you can do about the past.

• You can learn from past successes and failures.
• You can apologize and ask forgiveness for mistakes.
• You can sometimes make amends for unfortunate choices.

Note that these positive acts do not actually occur in the past. They each require you to look forward, to determine what’s within your control right now.

I believe our spiritual enemy celebrates when we dwell in the past. As long as we’re there we’re prisoners confined by choices and events we can never change. In the prison of the past we cannot accept God’s grace and look forward in hope.

Let’s make this a week of new beginnings and a time to focus on the light of the present rather than the darkness of the past.

And, if you wish, you might begin by allowing me to pester you into sharing Bouncing Back with those in your network. Thanks.

“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?” The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” [Luke 10:36-37]

It’s great to be back with you again after a few days of rest. Our trip was mostly vacation mixed with a bit of work—while we were in California I was blessed with the opportunity to speak to the congregation at Modesto Christian Reformed Church. (In case you’re wondering, the photo’s just a vacation shot from the Charles Schultz museum in Santa Rosa. Charlie Brown doesn’t attend Modesto CRC.)

There’s no such thing as a “routine” presentation. They’re all special, but this particular morning was particularly significant and personal because it closed an important circle in the story of Relentless Grace.

The pastor who invited me to speak is my friend Al Helder. If you’ve read the book you’ll recognize Al as the character who spent many long nights beside my hospital bed. He also performed our wedding eight years ago—in fact, we celebrated our anniversary during the trip.

Preparing for the morning provided a chance to reflect on an improbable thirty-year journey. I tried to extract a few insights that might help Al’s congregation understand our shared experiences. We based our discussion on Jesus’ parable of The Good Samaritan.

We are not defined by our experiences. My story’s nothing special; everyone has a unique, compelling personal story. I’m not an injury or a disability, nor am I the mistakes I’ve made along the way. In the parable, the man wasn’t less precious or worthy because of his misfortune.

We all know individuals with similar experiences and backgrounds but very different lives. We’re defined in the end by how we deal with the events we encounter. Some folks rise above incredible adversity, others shrink in the face of the smallest obstacles. Blessings and struggles are present on every road, but we determine the nature of the journey through our reactions and responses.

To me, experiences seem like context or background for the real story. They’re important, and we can certainly learn from them. But a story centered only on “what happened” can’t have much depth because “what happened” misses the most important components of the story.

We are defined by relationships. We’re made in God’s image, and He is about relationships. We are designed for authentic intimacy with God, with other people, and with ourselves.

I firmly believe I owe my eventual recovery to people who reflected God’s grace and mercy when I didn’t want to see them. They loved when it wasn’t easy, despite my stubborn resistance. Those folks were “Jesus with skin on” and they refused to allow fear to keep them from doing what had already been done for them.

The church exists to serve people. Church isn’t intended as an exclusive club reserved for a bit better class of sinner. It’s a hospital, not a hall of fame.

That means church can’t be just for folks who look, act, dress, and behave like us. Church should be uncomfortable at times because it reaches out and welcomes people who don’t fit in our comfort zone.

My life didn’t change because of an injury or due to any heroic personal decisions. It changed because people welcomed me and loved me when I was a mess, when I didn’t belong.

Of course, they were as messed-up as I was. I brought something they needed, though I didn’t see it at the time. As my friend Al is fond of saying, “Nobody’s here by accident.”

Jesus often shows up in unexpected clothing. During times of struggle I often wonder why God doesn’t step up, but that’s because I expect Him to speak from a burning bush.

Jesus was with me, speaking to me, throughout a horrible ordeal. I didn’t recognize Him because He wore a nurse’s scrubs, a therapist’s lab coat, or a college student’s blue jeans. He spoke to me and cared for me through ordinary, imperfect people.

Jesus’ message is actually pretty simple. That doesn’t mean it’s easy or convenient, but He tells us pretty clearly how to respond to His call. He ended the parable with a clear command: “Go and do likewise.”

We make it complicated. His simple message of unconditional love doesn’t fit our limited notions of how the world ought to work. It’s uncomfortable, it requires sacrifice. So we impose our own rules and conditions and turn His message into a tangle of religious rules. We endlessly debate the rules instead of following Jesus.

We lament that God won’t tell us what He wants. We pray for guidance and direction. We sing songs about the mystery of His purposes. That’s all good, but sometimes I wonder if it’s an elaborate religious smokescreen.

Jesus told the parable of The Good Samaritan in response to the question, “Who is my neighbor?”

At the end, He asked a question of His own: which of the characters was a neighbor to the man in need? The reply was, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Then Jesus told Him, “Go and do likewise.”

Perhaps if we did the truth we know, we’d learn the truth we need to know.

“Knowing about” doesn’t do much good. I thought I knew Jesus, but I really just knew about Him. I knew the facts, the story, the events, but those were useless when the storm arrived. I needed to meet Him, encounter Him in an intimate, transparent relationship.

It’s the same with grace. We all know about grace, but that’s like reading a book about kids and thinking you know how to be a parent. Grace becomes real when it’s reflected to those who need it (that’s you and me and everyone else).

Our words and knowledge don’t change lives. God’s grace and truth changes lives, and He uses ordinary people to demonstrate His love. And that brings me to a final observation …

God uses imperfect people to accomplish His perfect work. Ever wonder why God works through flawed human beings? It’s because they’re the only kind.

I’ve learned not to idealize people. Christians can do God’s work through the Spirit. Pastors have a special call on their lives. Teachers, preachers, writers—they all have something to contribute. Nobody’s here by accident.

But even the best of us are broken. We all have blind spots and biases. We all make mistakes and then rationalize or blame. We all judge and allow fear to color our vision. We all fail to do what’s right, even when we know it.

I don’t deserve any of the blessings I’ve received. I’m here for one simple reason: Jesus loves me.

Now I want to respond to His simple direction: “Go and do likewise.”

What’s your take on events, people, and what shapes your journey?

The first question which the priest and the Levite asked was: “If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?”

But the good Samaritan reversed the question: “If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?” Martin Luther King, Jr.

Did you enjoy this article? I encourage you to leave a comment, visit my website, and/or send me an email at rich@richdixon.net.

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