On Sundays around 10:30 in the morning I often go to a meeting. It is normally held in a large building. There are lots of church there, all kinds – lovely people. There are men and women, children, babies – the old and young all gathering together.
They come from all walks of life. There are lawyers and painters, salesmen and waiters. There are Butchers and Bakers and Candlestick makers. There are…well, you get it.
The church gathers and sings beautiful love songs to God. We pray for each other and encourage and challenge each other to love greater and live bolder. Often someone speaks about the goodness of God. It’s a pretty cool thing to do on a Sunday morning.
One day while I was out for a drive, I passed one of the big buildings where we gathered on Sunday mornings and I noticed that the sign on the front lawn said church. It implied that the buildings name was “church.” I chuckled to myself. Somebody had a sense of humor.
However, over the next couple days I started seeing these signs everywhere. I began to feel concern; maybe this wasn’t a practical joke after all. Maybe some of the church had forgotten what church really was.
Then one day I ran into a man who wanted directions to church. I smiled, threw out my arms and said, “you found him!” He gave me a very confused, somewhat frightened look and then quickly drove away. It was then that I realized he wanted to know the location of the building we met in.
Suddenly the signs weren’t so funny. “This is not good. This is not good at all. This is dangerously close to that evil thing I heard about called religion. People should not think that the church is a place or even a set of beliefs.” Church is people, its an assembly of believers who know and express the love, restoration, healing and deliverance of God.
When people start thinking church is just a building or set of beliefs, they become sorely disappointed. Though buildings and a set of beliefs are good, they can never love you, heal you, pray for you, dream with you, challenge you…
When people forget what the church truly is, they become heart broken and disillusioned.
Kids who grow up never knowing that they are the church and that God is more that a nice guy in heaven who likes people to gather together on a Sunday morning for a religious experience…
These kids eventually start dreading “church.” They start doing anything they can to get out of going to "church". These kids start stealing their parent’s cars and driving like madmen, ignoring stop signs and even outrunning policeman – all in an effort to escape the doldrums of what "church" has come to mean – a name for a building.
But do not fear, there is hope! I have met many church who still remember what church is and they are waking up those who have forgotten. On Sundays at around 10:30 they gather and they love. They love God and they love eachother.
Kids have again experienced that they are the church, they are loved and becoming love. They have given dad back the car keys and even now they are dreaming of what a church who knows its identity can do in advancing the Kingdom!
Friday, August 28, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
Crane Jumping
My brother Joel has always been my hero. Though I have often wished I could join him on one of his adventures, when it comes to crane jumping, I can say with certainty, "I am glad I wasn't there."
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
Everything He Has Is Ours
The Prodigal Son - Luke 15:11-32
I love the story of the prodigal son. I grew up loving it – it was a favorite. Part of the reason was because of the Keith Green song about the same story called “The Prodigal Son Suite.” I used to sit in the living room crossed legged on the carpet in front of my dads huge stereo speaker. As the song burst from the speakers I would pretend to play the piano on the carpet. I played so long and so rigorously that my mom would actually move the speaker due to the carpet being worn out.
It’s a beautiful song about a beautiful story - a story of the goodness of Gods love. The amazing unmerited mercy and grace of a good Father.
You know it. There was a father with two sons. The younger came to dad and asked for his inheritance. Dad gave it to him and he went out into the world and spent it in every self-centered way conceivable. Eventually he ran out of cash. Then the country went into recession (famine) and the only job he could find was feeding pigs. He hit bottom when he realized that the pigs ate better than he did.
So he decides to go home, beg forgiveness and ask his father for a place among the servants.
Here is how Keith puts it.
The Son
“…I was near home, in site of the house,
My father just stared, dropped open his mouth,
He ran up the road, and fell to my feet, and cried, and cried,
Father I've sinned, Heaven ashamed,
I'm no longer worthy to wear your name,
I've learned that my home is right where you are,
Oh father, take me in.”
The Father
“Bring the best robe, put it on my son,
Shoes for his feet, hurry put them on,
This is my son who I thought had died,
Prepare a feast for my son's alive…”
I can hear this song in my head even while I write. I am transported back in front of the speaker in our living room, the piano, strings and the horns a back drop for Keith’s voice as He sings from the fathers perspective.
“My son was lost, oh thank you God he's found, My son was dead and he's now alive, Prepare a feast for my son's alive…”
It’s a sweeping masterpiece - both the story and Keith’s rendition.
I think everyone loves this story. It’s so beautiful and it seems right that it end with the celebration feast - Everyone joyful that the son has returned. There’s singing, dancing, laughing and eating late into the night as mercy and grace pass through the room like good wine…
But the story doesn’t end there.
There’s an epilogue where we don’t want one. It’s kinda distracting and honestly its kinda sad and disappointing. Its not the happily ever after we want at the end of a beautiful story. It’s a sour note – one that never made it into Keith’s song and rightfully so.
This is a story about a father with two sons…
“Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. “Your brother has come,' he replied, 'and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.'
"The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, 'Look! All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!'
'My son,' the father said, 'you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. (Luke 15:25-31)
Big brother comes in after a hard day of working out in the field. He has been sweating and toiling, he has been “slaving.” Was he envious of little brother? Yep. But what’s interesting is that his father doesn’t address the envy, he speaks to the heart of the matter.
He says, “…you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.”
I feel like often in my life, I have worked and toiled – I have sweated out my faith. I have done the right stuff; I’ve been good and “godly.” I’ve even done a little slaving – all for Jesus of course… I don’t think I’m alone in this.
I think many Christians have been trying to earn a place in our father’s house. Here is the amazing thing; we can’t earn what is already given. You can’t earn being an heir. You can’t earn your way into son ship our daughter ship. You’re born into that. You get it. It’s given. If you have asked Jesus to be your Lord and Savior, then you have been re-born into an inheritance that is eternal.
I ache for the big brother who has the spirit of religion on him. He is living from a place of religion – set of beliefs – and not relationship. If you live outside the context of relationship, you are unable to celebrate when a relationship is restored.
Because of his limited understanding, big brothers world is very small. Because he doesn't live from the revelation that everything Dad has is his, His potential is only as big as his own personal abilities. He only has access to his own strength, his own knowledge - whatever he can accomplish by the sweat of his brow.
And so, he does all the right things for the wrong reasons. And even though that might seem alright - cause “hey, the right stuff is getting done” - the problem is not only is the older son missing out on the joy of life, eventually he finds himself offended and at odds with his dad.
Here’s the thing, if I don’t embrace and live from the revelation that “Everything my Heavenly Father has is mine,” then some day something will happen that I cant understand and I will find myself hurt, angry and at odds with dad.
I have met many Christians who have been hurt by the goodness of God because they have been living and doing all the right stuff from the wrong revelation. If we don’t understand that “Everything he has is ours,” we not only miss out on the celebration, we find ourselves resenting our heavenly Father. We find ourselves at odds with the very nature that is his Love. Suddenly our misunderstanding trumps our Fathers love. Our lack of revelation determines how we live and how we love.
But when life is lived from our fathers perspective, the joy we experience from the return of a prodigal is not something that has to be mustered up, it is simply an overflow of our fathers heart.
Jesus died and rose so we would never again have to slave. When we see our inheritance for what it is, the very power of Love, we no longer need worry or fret. We need never slave again.
“For the kingdom of heaven is at hand" (Matt 10:7). It’s right here, at hand, within reach. You see, we are heirs to the King. Everything he has is ours and its ours right now. Not when we die or after we have earned it but right now. Not because of what we have done but because of what Jesus did. And because we are now heirs, every aspect of our father is available to us.
Everything he has is ours! Do you need mercy? It’s yours! Do you need friendship? It’s yours! Need hope, He is Hope! Need provision, joy, love, a Sabbath, a miracle, everything he has is ours! How awesome is that!
I love the story of the prodigal son. I grew up loving it – it was a favorite. Part of the reason was because of the Keith Green song about the same story called “The Prodigal Son Suite.” I used to sit in the living room crossed legged on the carpet in front of my dads huge stereo speaker. As the song burst from the speakers I would pretend to play the piano on the carpet. I played so long and so rigorously that my mom would actually move the speaker due to the carpet being worn out.
It’s a beautiful song about a beautiful story - a story of the goodness of Gods love. The amazing unmerited mercy and grace of a good Father.
You know it. There was a father with two sons. The younger came to dad and asked for his inheritance. Dad gave it to him and he went out into the world and spent it in every self-centered way conceivable. Eventually he ran out of cash. Then the country went into recession (famine) and the only job he could find was feeding pigs. He hit bottom when he realized that the pigs ate better than he did.
So he decides to go home, beg forgiveness and ask his father for a place among the servants.
Here is how Keith puts it.
The Son
“…I was near home, in site of the house,
My father just stared, dropped open his mouth,
He ran up the road, and fell to my feet, and cried, and cried,
Father I've sinned, Heaven ashamed,
I'm no longer worthy to wear your name,
I've learned that my home is right where you are,
Oh father, take me in.”
The Father
“Bring the best robe, put it on my son,
Shoes for his feet, hurry put them on,
This is my son who I thought had died,
Prepare a feast for my son's alive…”
I can hear this song in my head even while I write. I am transported back in front of the speaker in our living room, the piano, strings and the horns a back drop for Keith’s voice as He sings from the fathers perspective.
“My son was lost, oh thank you God he's found, My son was dead and he's now alive, Prepare a feast for my son's alive…”
It’s a sweeping masterpiece - both the story and Keith’s rendition.
I think everyone loves this story. It’s so beautiful and it seems right that it end with the celebration feast - Everyone joyful that the son has returned. There’s singing, dancing, laughing and eating late into the night as mercy and grace pass through the room like good wine…
But the story doesn’t end there.
There’s an epilogue where we don’t want one. It’s kinda distracting and honestly its kinda sad and disappointing. Its not the happily ever after we want at the end of a beautiful story. It’s a sour note – one that never made it into Keith’s song and rightfully so.
This is a story about a father with two sons…
“Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. “Your brother has come,' he replied, 'and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.'
"The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, 'Look! All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!'
'My son,' the father said, 'you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. (Luke 15:25-31)
Big brother comes in after a hard day of working out in the field. He has been sweating and toiling, he has been “slaving.” Was he envious of little brother? Yep. But what’s interesting is that his father doesn’t address the envy, he speaks to the heart of the matter.
He says, “…you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.”
I feel like often in my life, I have worked and toiled – I have sweated out my faith. I have done the right stuff; I’ve been good and “godly.” I’ve even done a little slaving – all for Jesus of course… I don’t think I’m alone in this.
I think many Christians have been trying to earn a place in our father’s house. Here is the amazing thing; we can’t earn what is already given. You can’t earn being an heir. You can’t earn your way into son ship our daughter ship. You’re born into that. You get it. It’s given. If you have asked Jesus to be your Lord and Savior, then you have been re-born into an inheritance that is eternal.
I ache for the big brother who has the spirit of religion on him. He is living from a place of religion – set of beliefs – and not relationship. If you live outside the context of relationship, you are unable to celebrate when a relationship is restored.
Because of his limited understanding, big brothers world is very small. Because he doesn't live from the revelation that everything Dad has is his, His potential is only as big as his own personal abilities. He only has access to his own strength, his own knowledge - whatever he can accomplish by the sweat of his brow.
And so, he does all the right things for the wrong reasons. And even though that might seem alright - cause “hey, the right stuff is getting done” - the problem is not only is the older son missing out on the joy of life, eventually he finds himself offended and at odds with his dad.
Here’s the thing, if I don’t embrace and live from the revelation that “Everything my Heavenly Father has is mine,” then some day something will happen that I cant understand and I will find myself hurt, angry and at odds with dad.
I have met many Christians who have been hurt by the goodness of God because they have been living and doing all the right stuff from the wrong revelation. If we don’t understand that “Everything he has is ours,” we not only miss out on the celebration, we find ourselves resenting our heavenly Father. We find ourselves at odds with the very nature that is his Love. Suddenly our misunderstanding trumps our Fathers love. Our lack of revelation determines how we live and how we love.
But when life is lived from our fathers perspective, the joy we experience from the return of a prodigal is not something that has to be mustered up, it is simply an overflow of our fathers heart.
Jesus died and rose so we would never again have to slave. When we see our inheritance for what it is, the very power of Love, we no longer need worry or fret. We need never slave again.
“For the kingdom of heaven is at hand" (Matt 10:7). It’s right here, at hand, within reach. You see, we are heirs to the King. Everything he has is ours and its ours right now. Not when we die or after we have earned it but right now. Not because of what we have done but because of what Jesus did. And because we are now heirs, every aspect of our father is available to us.
Everything he has is ours! Do you need mercy? It’s yours! Do you need friendship? It’s yours! Need hope, He is Hope! Need provision, joy, love, a Sabbath, a miracle, everything he has is ours! How awesome is that!
Friday, August 7, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Look Up & Let Go
Grand Central Station. Spring of 1993 - late afternoon…
“I’m here” I thought to myself.
“Don’t look up and don’t let go of your bag.”
I was beginning my new life as an adult! After a 16-hour Greyhound bus ride, Id arrived to meet my new employer in the greatest city in world history. At least, that’s what I’ve been told by New Yorkers since. I had been hired to be a roadie for one of the worlds greatest trumpet players ever, at least that’s what I’ve been told Doc Severinson said - Trumpeter for the Johnny Carson show.
The station felt dirty… “Well not really dirty, just old,” I thought as I headed out to the street.
“Don’t look up and don’t let go of your bag”
I had twenty-nine dollars and thirty-one cents in my pocket. I had started out with thirty but had bought a Recess Peanut butter Cup at one of the stops. It had been a nice touch to the apple and peanut butter and jelly sandwich my mom had packed for me.
My folks didn’t have any money and this was before credit card debt was a way of life, so I had just enough to buy the twenty dollar ticket back to Rochester NY if my ride didn’t show.
“Don’t look up and don’t let go of your bag…”
Everyone was heading up and out. I joined the flow and stepped out onto Park Ave. I was 18 years old and had never been alone in a city of any size.
“Don’t look up and don’t let go of your bag.”
The fear was real but contained.
I found a pay phone and instead of using more of my precious capital, I called my parents collect. “I’m here.” Moms first question was “Is an adult there to pick you up?” “No mom, but I think I will try to hail a cab and go to the hotel and see if I can find them.” I said bravely.
My mom had wanted me to immediately buy a return ticket and catch the next Greyhound home. But that would have ended my new life. This was NYC and I wasn’t ready to call it quits and get back on a bus for home.
“Don’t look up and don’t let go of your bag…”
"Don’t look up and don’t let go of your bag." That was the last piece of advice my Dad said in my ear as he hugged me goodbye. I clutched my bag and kept my eyes forward, determined not to look up, determined to hail a cab, determined to get myself to my new employers Hotel - the Marriott Marquis right on Times Square. The map my dad and I had looked at before I left showed the Hotel to be only four blocks from Grand Central Station, so this was do-able.
The street was filled bumper to bumper with yellow cabs. I had only the movies as a reference. I worked up the nerve and started toward the street timidly waiving my arm. No cabs stopped. There is nothing timid about NYC. While I stood there contemplating my next move, I noticed I was looking up…
When I brought my focus back to street level, I was startled to discover an older fella had invaded my personal space. He was maybe in his mid 40s. His hair was wiry and mostly grey, he had a distinct unpleasant body odor but what most stood out was the patchwork of bandages that lined the insides of both arms.
“Where are you going?” He asked. He was missing a front tooth.
I nodded, “I’m fine sir, thanks.”
He leaned closer, “Need a cab?”
I just wanted him to go away. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“Where are you going” he asked bluntly.
I shouldn’t have looked up I thought and then, because of my good upbringing, I answered the question. “ I am staying at the Marriott Marquis on Times Square.”
“I know where that is - it’s close. You don’t need a cab. Five bucks and I’ll take you there.”
Before I could agree he snatched my bag out of my hand and started across the street.” “Don’t look up and don’t let go of your bag,” I thought one last time as I followed the man who had taken my bag. I began praying fervently. “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.”
“Once upon a time…” I followed a guy through the streets of NY, was yelled at by a couple fellas, cursed at by another fella I bumped into, taken to the wrong hotel, told it was the right hotel, cursed at again - this time by a cabbie - and finally delivered to the correct Hotel where eventually I met a mythic trumpet player and his crew, was led through the bowels of Madison Square Gardens while the National Democratic Convention for Bill Clinton was winding down, witnessed the gay pride parade and then flown off in a personal King Air to begin my grand adventure as an adult.
This was the beginning of my journey into adulthood and also the beginning of a spiritual journal. One in which I have had to learn just the opposite of my dads directions – Keep your eyes up and let go of your bags. Or, Look up, let go.
Once upon a time I looked up and let go... And as Robert Frost - the greatest poet ever known to mankind, at least that's what my 11th grade English teacher said - once wrote "that has made all the difference."
“I’m here” I thought to myself.
“Don’t look up and don’t let go of your bag.”
I was beginning my new life as an adult! After a 16-hour Greyhound bus ride, Id arrived to meet my new employer in the greatest city in world history. At least, that’s what I’ve been told by New Yorkers since. I had been hired to be a roadie for one of the worlds greatest trumpet players ever, at least that’s what I’ve been told Doc Severinson said - Trumpeter for the Johnny Carson show.
The station felt dirty… “Well not really dirty, just old,” I thought as I headed out to the street.
“Don’t look up and don’t let go of your bag”
I had twenty-nine dollars and thirty-one cents in my pocket. I had started out with thirty but had bought a Recess Peanut butter Cup at one of the stops. It had been a nice touch to the apple and peanut butter and jelly sandwich my mom had packed for me.
My folks didn’t have any money and this was before credit card debt was a way of life, so I had just enough to buy the twenty dollar ticket back to Rochester NY if my ride didn’t show.
“Don’t look up and don’t let go of your bag…”
Everyone was heading up and out. I joined the flow and stepped out onto Park Ave. I was 18 years old and had never been alone in a city of any size.
“Don’t look up and don’t let go of your bag.”
The fear was real but contained.
I found a pay phone and instead of using more of my precious capital, I called my parents collect. “I’m here.” Moms first question was “Is an adult there to pick you up?” “No mom, but I think I will try to hail a cab and go to the hotel and see if I can find them.” I said bravely.
My mom had wanted me to immediately buy a return ticket and catch the next Greyhound home. But that would have ended my new life. This was NYC and I wasn’t ready to call it quits and get back on a bus for home.
“Don’t look up and don’t let go of your bag…”
"Don’t look up and don’t let go of your bag." That was the last piece of advice my Dad said in my ear as he hugged me goodbye. I clutched my bag and kept my eyes forward, determined not to look up, determined to hail a cab, determined to get myself to my new employers Hotel - the Marriott Marquis right on Times Square. The map my dad and I had looked at before I left showed the Hotel to be only four blocks from Grand Central Station, so this was do-able.
The street was filled bumper to bumper with yellow cabs. I had only the movies as a reference. I worked up the nerve and started toward the street timidly waiving my arm. No cabs stopped. There is nothing timid about NYC. While I stood there contemplating my next move, I noticed I was looking up…
When I brought my focus back to street level, I was startled to discover an older fella had invaded my personal space. He was maybe in his mid 40s. His hair was wiry and mostly grey, he had a distinct unpleasant body odor but what most stood out was the patchwork of bandages that lined the insides of both arms.
“Where are you going?” He asked. He was missing a front tooth.
I nodded, “I’m fine sir, thanks.”
He leaned closer, “Need a cab?”
I just wanted him to go away. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“Where are you going” he asked bluntly.
I shouldn’t have looked up I thought and then, because of my good upbringing, I answered the question. “ I am staying at the Marriott Marquis on Times Square.”
“I know where that is - it’s close. You don’t need a cab. Five bucks and I’ll take you there.”
Before I could agree he snatched my bag out of my hand and started across the street.” “Don’t look up and don’t let go of your bag,” I thought one last time as I followed the man who had taken my bag. I began praying fervently. “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.”
“Once upon a time…” I followed a guy through the streets of NY, was yelled at by a couple fellas, cursed at by another fella I bumped into, taken to the wrong hotel, told it was the right hotel, cursed at again - this time by a cabbie - and finally delivered to the correct Hotel where eventually I met a mythic trumpet player and his crew, was led through the bowels of Madison Square Gardens while the National Democratic Convention for Bill Clinton was winding down, witnessed the gay pride parade and then flown off in a personal King Air to begin my grand adventure as an adult.
This was the beginning of my journey into adulthood and also the beginning of a spiritual journal. One in which I have had to learn just the opposite of my dads directions – Keep your eyes up and let go of your bags. Or, Look up, let go.
Once upon a time I looked up and let go... And as Robert Frost - the greatest poet ever known to mankind, at least that's what my 11th grade English teacher said - once wrote "that has made all the difference."
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Kingdom Come
Taken from Matt 13:46
There was a fella who knew of a treasure that was buried in a field. This treasure was greater than any treasure any mind could conceive. It was beyond imagination. The treasures name was Truth. This fella was so excited about the treasure that he sold everything he owned - right down to the clothes on his back. He gave all that he was and all that he had and naked he went to his field. He began to dig. And there he found his treasure and it was a Kingdom. It was a greater Kingdom than I can describe but I will try nonetheless.
This Kingdom was built on love. The King himself was love. The Kingdoms greatest power was found in joy, which was engaged through believing. Everything about the Kingdom was good. There was no evil in the Kingdom, not even a single drop - not a sliver. There was no sickness or sadness in this Kingdom and because this Kingdom was founded on love, all sorrow was redeemed and restored to joy. In this kingdom all things always worked to good.
And amazingly, this fella, the one who went digging in the nude, well, he became an heir and citizen in this kingdom. In essence, he was reborn and became a new creation taking on the very nature of His King - love. He was given new clothes and they fit him like a glove. These clothes were righteous and this fella was marvelous to behold because he had the love of His King in Him. Because of love, this fella had access to every part of this kingdom.
This Kingdom had a creed. It was known as the good news. The King spoke it often and the fella’s heart leaped with joy to hear it! It went like this “Thy Kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.” This next part may seem odd but it is truly astounding – the moment this fella received the love of his King he found that his field was now apart of the Kingdom. In fact wherever he stepped the King and His Kingdom went with him. And then he realized that this is why he existed – to know the Kings love and to establish his Kingdom…
Ok, I know what your thinking, your thinking I haven’t done this Kingdom justice. I know I haven’t, but in all fairness, I only learned how to write about 30 years ago. I do have several more pages to give it a go and I plan on writing about it for at least another 50 years. So bear with me…
At the age of five, around the time I began learning how to write, I found my treasure. I gave Jesus all of me and I asked him into my heart. At that moment, I became an heir of the King and I gained citizenship to the same Kingdom I just described. Since then I have been discovering just how amazing this King and His Kingdom is. Since then, I have been discovering what it means to be an heir of the King and citizen of His Kingdom.
Some refer to this moment in a person’s life as “salvation.” Yep, that’s a good word for it. But it’s not just a moment. Since the age of five, I have been learning that Salvation is the most beautiful of life’s miracles. I once was dead, now I’m alive! I once was clothed in self-centered ignorance, I’m now clothed in love and righteousness. I once was a citizen of a fallen Kingdom, I now am a citizen of Heaven. What makes the miracle of salvation so much more amazing is the fact that it doesn’t end there. Our salvation is not the end of our story; it’s the beginning of a new one.
If I may put it this way, after saying yes to Jesus, salvation is not only the answer, it’s the question. The question, “how shall we now live?” Most of my life I have understood salvation as an assurance of heaven after I die. Well, yes, that’s true, but there’s so much more. You see, I am saved to bring heaven to earth while I’m alive.
Just like that fella who bought the field, I have met the King and taken on His identity as my own. I have become love and because of this love, I have His creed burned on my heart… “Thy Kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven.”
There was a fella who knew of a treasure that was buried in a field. This treasure was greater than any treasure any mind could conceive. It was beyond imagination. The treasures name was Truth. This fella was so excited about the treasure that he sold everything he owned - right down to the clothes on his back. He gave all that he was and all that he had and naked he went to his field. He began to dig. And there he found his treasure and it was a Kingdom. It was a greater Kingdom than I can describe but I will try nonetheless.
This Kingdom was built on love. The King himself was love. The Kingdoms greatest power was found in joy, which was engaged through believing. Everything about the Kingdom was good. There was no evil in the Kingdom, not even a single drop - not a sliver. There was no sickness or sadness in this Kingdom and because this Kingdom was founded on love, all sorrow was redeemed and restored to joy. In this kingdom all things always worked to good.
And amazingly, this fella, the one who went digging in the nude, well, he became an heir and citizen in this kingdom. In essence, he was reborn and became a new creation taking on the very nature of His King - love. He was given new clothes and they fit him like a glove. These clothes were righteous and this fella was marvelous to behold because he had the love of His King in Him. Because of love, this fella had access to every part of this kingdom.
This Kingdom had a creed. It was known as the good news. The King spoke it often and the fella’s heart leaped with joy to hear it! It went like this “Thy Kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.” This next part may seem odd but it is truly astounding – the moment this fella received the love of his King he found that his field was now apart of the Kingdom. In fact wherever he stepped the King and His Kingdom went with him. And then he realized that this is why he existed – to know the Kings love and to establish his Kingdom…
Ok, I know what your thinking, your thinking I haven’t done this Kingdom justice. I know I haven’t, but in all fairness, I only learned how to write about 30 years ago. I do have several more pages to give it a go and I plan on writing about it for at least another 50 years. So bear with me…
At the age of five, around the time I began learning how to write, I found my treasure. I gave Jesus all of me and I asked him into my heart. At that moment, I became an heir of the King and I gained citizenship to the same Kingdom I just described. Since then I have been discovering just how amazing this King and His Kingdom is. Since then, I have been discovering what it means to be an heir of the King and citizen of His Kingdom.
Some refer to this moment in a person’s life as “salvation.” Yep, that’s a good word for it. But it’s not just a moment. Since the age of five, I have been learning that Salvation is the most beautiful of life’s miracles. I once was dead, now I’m alive! I once was clothed in self-centered ignorance, I’m now clothed in love and righteousness. I once was a citizen of a fallen Kingdom, I now am a citizen of Heaven. What makes the miracle of salvation so much more amazing is the fact that it doesn’t end there. Our salvation is not the end of our story; it’s the beginning of a new one.
If I may put it this way, after saying yes to Jesus, salvation is not only the answer, it’s the question. The question, “how shall we now live?” Most of my life I have understood salvation as an assurance of heaven after I die. Well, yes, that’s true, but there’s so much more. You see, I am saved to bring heaven to earth while I’m alive.
Just like that fella who bought the field, I have met the King and taken on His identity as my own. I have become love and because of this love, I have His creed burned on my heart… “Thy Kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven.”
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