Do your kids consistently overfill their glasses in an effort to defy gravity (or to raise your parental blood pressure), just to see how much they can liquid they can get in there?   It’s like each time they pour anything liquid, they intend to experiment with the scientific limitations of surface tension.  Who knew liquids could be mounded so consistently up over the lip of their cups…that with just the slightest touch of the hand or the lips, gravity wins and the contents gush down the side of the glass all over the table?

I’d like to think this is the Holy Spirit’s vision for His filling in every Christian–filled so full of Christ that we defy the physical capacity of our souls–brimming over–that at that slightest interaction with another human being, the surface tension breaks and Christ spills out.

Maggie and I had that experience at breakfast recently.  In our sweet conversation as dad and daughter together she would often pause to wipe away a tear brimming in her eyes–just over little things about her everyday life as a kid and our everyday experiences as a family.  It doesn’t take very long for us to be reminded with gratitude that I’m still able to take my daughter out for breakfast–that’s probably why that meal was so tender between us.  A bump and a spill.

Just a few intentional minutes alone with my lovely daughter draws up deeply satisfying joy within me.

This is all part of my master plan as a dad this new year.  Still inspired by Case Seymour’s Legacy Parenting talk from last year’s Men’s Retreat here at Blanchard–I’ve finally “put my money where my mouth is” and have started the process of, as Seymour urged, taking each of my girls out for alone time with me at least once a month.   I’ve bought each of them a journal as well, with the intent of teaching them how to write down their own personal interactions with God and Scripture down so we can talk about them as we get together.

During our first breakfast together, I encouraged Maggie to take a Psalm she could read while inviting the Holy Spirit to speak to her each day–maybe before she turns on anything electronic in the house– a good discipline even for her techie dad.

Later that night as I tucked Maggie in bed and she said her prayers, she beautifully weaved a promise she had read that day in Psalm 17 into her conversation with her heavenly Father, asking God to hide her ‘”Opa” in the shadow of His wings”‘ as he continues to recover from his stroke.  Another bump and a beautiful spill.

I’ve been discussing the topic of “church effectiveness” with several key leaders at Blanchard Warrenville lately.   Inspired by my breakfasts with my daughter and my experience in ministry, I deeply believe the more intentionally we choose to “bump up” into one another and spill out Christ’s abundance, our church will continually grow in effectiveness–not only by growing up as more and more mature followers of Christ, but spilling over with our neighbors, co-workers and friends who don’t know Jesus yet.

The statistics are brutal at our church and many others when we avoid the mess of relationship–it (and we) won’t survive.

When we resist being in intentional, discipling relationships with one another, whether out of fear, our past, our pride or our busyness; we fail to live life as God intended it. We wither.  We drift.  We disengage within our own ghostly emptiness.  We dodge and weave to avoid the messy spills.  We die of thirst with water all around us.

How wonderful and pleasant it is when [God's people] live together in harmony! For harmony is as precious as the anointing oil that was poured over Aaron’s head, that ran down his beard and onto the border of his robe. (Ps. 133:1-2 NLV) 

Jesus replied, “Anyone who drinks this water will soon become thirsty again.  But those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life.” (Jn. 4:13-14 NLV)

How’s the quality of your relationships these days?  What changes can you make to purposefully spill over into someone’s life?  It’s a beautiful mess.

Don’t look at other Christians tonight.  They’ll just disappoint you by failing you, because, like me, they’re just sinful people saved by God’s grace.  Don’t look at them.  Look at Jesus, out of His love [to save] you, coming from the glories of heaven to be that weak, little baby in the manger!

That quote from my Christmas Eve message at Blanchard Warrenville is true–but it sticks in my craw, nonetheless.  There is no more common excuse to refuse to believe in Christ in the western world today than to look at Christians. “They’re hypocrites”, say the disenchanted twenty and thirty-somethings leaving the organized Church in droves all across this nation.  ”They’re not believable.”  ”They don’t look any different than anyone else.”  Our critics in society may be right in visual observation.  But that’s not the way it’s supposed to be…

It’s clear Christ meant for Christians to be inspiring, contagious, devoted disciplemakers.  But most of the time, we’re not.  We’re just normal, imperfect, weighed down, preoccupied human beings with a unique difference from all other human beings–the mind-bending capacity and Scriptural assurance that we are all, by the Holy Spirit’s power, in the process of being fully formed into Christ’s likeness.

And while the work is guaranteed, I don’t think it’s always meant to be shouted from the rooftops or the pulpit (but it is for some…).  God has other very quiet, compelling ways to declare his maturing work in people.  That’s why being in relationships with people who don’t know him is so very important to the saturation of the Christ’s saving gospel throughout societies and cultures.  When skeptics point the finger of disbelief, it’s probably an indicator that they aren’t in a meaningful relationship with a  Christian who’s humble, Spirit-filled, or committed to practicing the disciplines of the faith–like Bible reading, prayer, fasting, solitude and Sabbath.  I know some people who are like this at Blanchard Alliance Church. They inspire me all the time as a pastor and fellow disciple.

In light of these “salt-of-the-earth” people, I’ve compiled a list of key verses that encourage me about the work God has promised to do in me to help me become like Jesus.  As you read them, I hope it’s clear that it’s God work–on his timetable.  Perhaps you’re stuck and discouraged and a bit of a skeptic about Christians today, too.  I hope these verses of Scripture inspire you, reinvigorate you, remind you of God’s promised work in you to help you get back on track with your faith.

• It is for freedom that Christ came to set you free.  Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. (Gal. 5:1)

• Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. (Gal. 5:25)

• It was he who gave some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers, to prepare God’s people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ. (Eph. 4:11-13)

• Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. (Gal. 6:9)

• And you also were included in Christ, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation.  Having believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God’s possession–to the praise of His glory.” (Eph. 1:13-14)

What Christian do you know right now that you can observe and even document this mysterious, mystical transformation toward Christlikeness?

By all means, look at them.  Be inspired by them.  Remember the maturation process is not a race, it’s at God’s pace.  Your progression toward maturity will look different than another Christian’s.

I hope you see this transformation in yourself.  How do you see God’s maturing work in your own life?  Is there sin that’s tripping you up?  Confess it, get help from a growing Christian and rely on the Holy Spirit to keep his promises.  And always be inspired by Christ’s example and, in faith, be confident in what he’s come to transform you to become.

I’m often baffled by my nagging, lifelong quest to earn God’s favor.  As I celebrate Christmas year after year, you’d think the real truth of Christ’s birth would sink deep, deep, down into the corners of my heart.  Jesus loved me so much that he gave up the glory of heaven for the filth of a stable and the dishonor of needing “diaper changes” and his mother Mary’s milk to survive.  The Uncreated God, born in a stable, laid in a  manger, wrapped in crude swaddling clothes–the first son of peasant parents.

And I continue to question whether God favors me?

The sweet refugees in my wife’s ESL classes well understood the mysteriousness of it all when she shared the Christmas story with them recently.  She told  me the shocking circumstances of Jesus’ birth was palpable in her classroom.  ”What?, they muttered and shook their heads in disbelief.”  ”A king born in a stable?  That’s nonsense!”  No “king” should be born that way!  They deserve better.

Yet this is the depth of Christ’s love for me.  He submitted to the will of His Father by obediently coming to earth to become the Perfect Man.  This is the wonder of Christmas.  How dare I question Christ’s affection for me?  His favor extends to me 2000 years later, ever forgiving, ever transforming me into His likeness.

Mary understood Christ’s favor.  I’m often moved by her response to the angel Gabriel’s message.  ”My soul glorifies the LORD, for he has been mindful of His humble servant”  That God even thought of Mary enough to send his own angelic emissary to prepare her for her pregnancy speaks loudly of  His great compassion for humanity.

But we’re jaded in North America, aren’t we?  Jesus is just a tool in an SNL sketch with Tim Tebow.  We mock the Truth that sets us free. We crucify Christians for their hypocritical, “holier-than-thou” behavior and mock Christ as a caricature of Himself: a bearded, white-robed Anglo with a fog machine for effect as he interacts with people.  We probably put more effort into helping our kids to believe in Santa than we do to lead them to discover the wonder of embracing the depth and breadth of Christ’s gracious saving love gifted to us that Bethlehem night.

I had a special experience this past week where I was reminded of what it feels like to receive God’s favor.  As I anticipated my third MRI to check on the status of my brain surgery a year and a half ago, I could feel the anxiety crawling up the roots of my soul.   To find solace, I sat down with my Bible to hear from God, reading in the quiet of the morning before all the kids were up.  While some might simply label it as psychological self-delusion, Christ’s peace and favor settled over me as I ate that Living Bread.  In just a few minutes, a beautiful stillness and quietness settled upon me that cannot be explained rationally.

In the final few days leading up to our Christmas celebrations in the Church around the world, I encourage you to take some time to gauge your own sense of God’s favor resting upon you.  How can you testify to His favor and delight in you?  If you’re a parent like me, how can we help our children to embrace God’s favor upon them:  perhaps blessing them with words and actions that reflect our own favor toward them as “Mom” or “Dad”?

For his anger lasts only a moment, 
  but his favor lasts a lifetime; 
weeping may stay for the night, 
   but rejoicing comes in the morning. Psalm 30:5 (NIV)

“Glory to God in the highest! And on earth, peace to men on whom His favor rests.” (Luke 2:14 NIV)

That’s what the angels thundered across the glowing sky as they announced Jesus’ birth near Bethlehem.

As a man on whom God’s favor rests, I wonder if this reality leads my heart to a place of peace?

(All too often, I know it doesn’t–I’ve always got something to try to manage or take control of myself because, at least temporarily, it helps me to “feel better” in my everyday bursts of busyness).

God favors me?  Ridiculous!

But I think if I gave this angelic Advent declaration more credence, the wars within me might just cease.  If I would just receive God’s great favor for me with open hands–to embrace the fact that He came so close from so far to personally show His love, forgiveness and grace  to me.  This inner kind of quiet heart transformation is the kind of peace Jesus came to offer.  I think we get it wrong sometimes.  We think Jesus came to bring peace on earth–which he will someday when He comes again to make all things new–but that night in Bethlehem the angels declared that Jesus came to bring His Advent peace to my heart, to flesh-and-blood people first.

It’s been awhile since I’ve quoted lyrics in my blog, though I usually use them to make a point.  This time it’s more of a counter-point.  Bono’s a complicated, conflicted man (as am I…), yet I appreciate his frustration and what I believe to be his genuine faith in Christ.  My good friend Julian recommended this bio of Bono to me recently.  It’s a very interesting, inspiring read.   A few years ago, Bono wrote this song, which mourns the fact that Jesus hasn’t delivered on His promise to bring “peace on earth”.  Maybe you feel like Bono did this Christmas season.  I’d encourage you to see it a little differently…

I admire Bono’s  honesty and would agree that the Church itself has caused its fair share of wars on this earth.  I can’t see the big picture of everything God’s up to.  Jesus came to bring Peace on earth?  Yes.  Someday…

But let’s start with my own heart.  This drowning man has all the line he needs–the peace of Christ within is the greatest possession I own–my pearl of great price.  So I choose to undeservedly receive Christ’s rich favor and welcome His peace to reign and rule in my heart.  And I hope you will, too.

God’s richest peace this Advent season…

I wish they had surgical glue when I was a kid.  My face would have been better for it.  I have more facial scars than most people I know–and great stories to go along with them:  slamming my own head in a car door; tripping in front of a wood carving of a fisherman holding a turtle upside-down (with a really sharp tail that gashed my 3 yr. old lip…)  My girls are always asking me to tell the story of “how I got that scar.”

But Ellie’s sweet face wasn’t meant to be the manuscript for those kind of silly, painful and “permanent” stories.  She got her first “storyline” last Tuesday night.  Her cute forehead met the edge of our workdesk upstairs as she reached down for a pencil and punctured a nice 1/2  inch diagonal slice right in the center of it.  As a dad, I must say the blood that spurted out of the cut was cool (but terrifying to look at–especially for her sister…).  As the blood flowed, we quickly grabbed an old washcloth to press on the wound,  and loaded my still-whimpering Ellie into the car to head off to the Convenient Care Center.

As I drove and talked with Ellie, I mourned the fact that her once scarless face would never be the same again.  Of all things, Ellie’s new scar is a hopeful reminder that, because of Christ’s arrival during Advent, it’s only temporary.  I’m mad she’ll have it for this lifetime, but because of Christ lowering himself to become a perfect, sinless Savior, that scar is just a reminder that her body’s just a rental.

Born into squalid filth, Jesus arrived as a perfect, beautiful baby boy.  I’m sure He earned his share of scars on his rental body over thirty-three years, too.  So, in the end, Ellie’s first scar is only temporary:  a simple reminder to be thankful this Advent that, like Isaiah said,

“By his stripes, we are healed.”

Forever and ever.

I take all this stuff for granted–as if it’s normal and unnecessary to be more emotionally invested and expressive with those I love. So this Thanksgiving, I’m feeling a need to be more like a miserable puddle of grateful tears for my abundance rather than a put-together, self-sufficient, self-important pastor, husband, dad and blogger.

As I continue to recover from brain surgery, I admit at how often I resist “letting go”: to unashamedly receive the wonders of Christ’s abundant kindness, healing and compassionate care in my life.

Like many of you, I’ve observed Gabby Giffords recovery from her devastating brain injury (far worse and more complicated than mine…). In watching Gabby’s courageous steps in rehab, I’ve had opportunity to remember (because I don’t…) with Karyn how desperate and uncertain my own recovery was immediately after my surgery: paralyzed on the left side, the robotic, emotionless affect on my face, the repeated words as if my mind was stuck in the groove of some old scratched LP. I often take for granted the miraculous extent of my recovery. Tap. Tap. That’s the sound of my thoughts bumping up against that “glass” encasing my heart. I’m able to cognitively understand how I’ve recovered, but I hold myself back from allowing Gratitude to pierce that tough case protecting the flesh of my heart.

To be honest I’m afraid of what will happen if I do…

I’m afraid of looking like that endearing “fool”, David, dancing with pure abandon and joy before his forgiving, gracious God. Or like that other “fool”, Moses, falling prostrate on his face before God for forty days and forty nights in abject wonder of God’s great righteousness, holiness and purity–and yet, despite this stark reality, still deeply loving and longing to be in relationship with sinful men like him and the selfish, willful people of Israel he represented as their spiritual leader (Deut. 9)?

So this Thanksgiving, God, please pierce my heart. Shatter my sense of self-protection. Instead, soften me with the oil of gratitude. And help me to express it–however it comes out, with tears, with laughter, with a kiss, with a good hug. Overwhelm me with the abundance of all that I have because of You.

“You have prepared a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil: my cup overflows. (Ps. 23:5)

How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” (1 Jn. 3:1)

Amen.

Simeon, a recent immigrant to the U.S. from Ethiopia, looked around the room, quickly crossed himself, then softly began to tell his story of being approved as a homeowner for a Habitat for Humanity home here in DuPage County.  His solemnity, sincerity and gratitude melded so beautifully together that his words seemed reverent, even worshipful.  And they were.

I serve on the Board of DuPage Habitat for Humanity. I was at a breakfast with some friends from Blanchard to help them learn the story of what Habitat is doing to serve the underserved population of lower income families in this county (the 19th wealthiest in the U.S.), to help them become homeowners without crushing them financially.

Simeon, is a father of one of those families, having left the home of his birth to live as a refugee in Dubai for six years until recently arriving in the U.S. to start a new life here–married, with twins on the way, Simeon drives a taxi from 4:30 to noon, then works another job from noon to 9:30 every day–caring for the needs of his current family, while sending money back home to support his extended family members in Ethiopia.

Simeon didn’t complain about his life or his long work hours.  Instead as his already-consecrated story continued at our breakfast, he spoke of being so impressed with Habitat volunteers who freely gave their time to work alongside him to build his family’s new home in West Chicago.  He repeated over and over again how moved he was at other people’s kindness demonstrated by their sweat equity investment in his home-to-be–without expecting anything in return.

I’d never met Simeon before this morning.  But I already love him for many reasons:  for his profound gratitude, his work ethic and the way he began to tell his story today.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be as grateful–or as reverent–I can learn from a man who’s as worshipful with his words before spoken as he was.  I have the terrible habit of running off at the mouth–being too quick to speak, too slow to listen.  Perhaps it’s an Ethiopian Christian discipline to cross yourself before you speak.  That’s instructive to my own faith.  What a lovely, worshipful way to invite Christ’s presence to be the channel by which our words flow out of our mouths…

To pause–even externally by crossing ourselves–to consecrate our words before spoken…

Simeon’s been like David to me today when he spoke so long ago in Psalm 19:14 (NIV),

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer.

Buried in sermon prep at my Warrenville office last Friday afternoon, an unexpected man suddenly burst through my unlocked door. He introduced himself as “Eric” and asked if I had a minute to talk to him.  Needless to say, in the middle of a sermon on trusting the Holy Spirit to fill, lead and guide my waking moments…Eric had my full attention.  He shared that he had recently lost his job and his place to stay, was living out of his car and had been sleeping in it the past several nights.  He got teary as he related the embarrassment he felt during the previous evening when a police officer had shined a flashlight into his car where he was overnighting, asked him his story and started laughing at him.  Eric continued by affirming he was a Christian, still trusting God to take care of Him.  I asked him a few questions about his background, which he politely and gently answered with “Yes, sirs”.  I asked if I could pray for him and read some Scripture with him and he quickly agreed.

As I read Psalm 23, I shared with him my own unexpected struggle with brain cancer and how God had “led me beside quiet waters and restored my soul” during my recovery over the last year and a half.

Sure, I had brain cancer, but I have a family that loves me, a great church I belong to, and a good, rewarding job. I’ve never spent the night in a car because I had nowhere else to go.

As we prayed, I wondered if Eric would be just like many of the other needy and desperate homeless people I’ve met during my time at Blanchard.  But I just had a gut feeling that Eric was different.  I felt so comfortable in my spirit that I even gave Eric some money to help him get in his car and drive south to move in and “start over” with an aunt in Southern Illinois.  He showed me $10 and said he just needed $20 more to get him enough gas money to get him there.  Normally I wouldn’t do this (and I don’t usually carry cash…), but this time I had some and gave it to him.  We said goodbye and he said he was on his way to southern Illinois.  I prayed he was telling the truth and would get there.

I didn’t hear from him again till Sunday evening, when he shared that after he left my office on Friday, he got a flat tire and spent the money on a used tire to fix it.  He said he wanted to do some more work to earn another $20.  Hard to provide at 6pm on a Sunday night.  I just didn’t know what to say except I was sorry I couldn’t help him.  I could have extended radical hospitality and asked him to spend the night in our guest room–but with a wife and three young kids potentially at risk, I was just too chicken (some people would have done it nonetheless…)  So Eric was just going to have to spend another night in his car…

Eric called again on Tuesday morning this week asking if I had thought of any other ways he could earn some money–I said “no” but sensed the Holy Spirit asking me for more.  When Eric called initially that morning, I had a really full afternoon:  three appointments one after the other in Addison then Wheaton and back to Addison.  I was totally booked.  But between 12 and 1 every single person cancelled.  Suddenly, I had an afternoon free.  Then Eric called again asking for me to pray for him.  I believe God had cleared my schedule for a reason.  I asked him where he had spent the night.  He said “in the parking lot at Menards”.  I asked if he could meet me at Burger King in Warrenville at 2 o’clock.  I said I would buy him a $30 gas card to get him to Aunt Terry’s house.  He agreed.

As I pulled into the parking lot at Burger King, it dawned on me that I should offer to feed Eric, so I got out of the car and asked him to share a meal with me.  He happily agreed.  He had a Whopper Jr. meal.  He was most interested in his drink, though, and apologetically swallowed it down in just a few sips, going for an immediate refill.  As I ate my Whopper, I felt the need to affirm my desire for Eric to get home and start over.  We talked about him finding work, maybe even going to SIU for a degree.  I still believed he was telling the truth and asked him to recognize that I didn’t want him taking advantage of me, that I had a family to think of and the money I would share with him, though God’s ultimately, was still mine nonetheless.  He said “Yes, Sir”, looked me in the eye, and confidently reached his dirty hand across the table, shook mine  and assured me his word was good.

We finished our meal and crossed Rt. 59 to the Shell station; I bought the gas card, gave it to Eric and asked to pray for him again.  After we prayed I asked him to call me that night when he arrived.  He said he would, got in his maroon Camry, and left.

Although he never called back and I don’t know if I’ll ever see Eric again–I truly hope he’s happily at home and being cared for by his Aunt Terry in Southern Illinois.

If I’ve been a fool for Christ, so be it.  But isn’t it remarkable (and inefficient!) how messy life is when we choose to follow the Holy Spirit’s guiding and trust Him to lead our steps?

It’s never the way I would choose to schedule my own time.  But isn’t that the point?

Eric’s interruption reminds me my life is not my own; that, in fact, my days were designed to be in sync with the work God has already prepared for me ahead of time. (Eph 2:8-10) Paul keeps going by reminding me to  ”be continually filled with the Spirit and to offer my body [and my time] as a living sacrifice”.(Eph. 5:18, Rom 12:1-2)  This is my spiritual act of daily worship, he says.  I just wish this behavior defined the better part of my days, like other quiet people at Blanchard who live life like this all the time…for refugees, and orphans, and needy neighbors, and…

UPDATE as of 3:45 Wednesday:

I just got a call from our office manager letting me know that Eric’s no stranger to Blanchard.  It turns out my hunch was wrong.  Eric doesn’t appear to be who he says he is.

Sure, I’m bummed and feel taken advantage of.  And, unfortunately, I’m going not always going to hear the voice of God clearly.  But I don’t want to give up trying!  I’ll obviously be far more wary next time–yet I don’t want to lose that tenderness for people in need.  Call me stubborn, but I’m still grateful for the interruption Eric’s been.  I’ve obviously been more in tune with how God wants me to treat the alien and the stranger, the fatherless and the widow.  Maybe that’s more what the Spirit had in mind all along?  Another word from Paul comes to mind:  Now we see through a glass darkly, then we shall see face to face”…Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

And God, be close to Eric for whatever’s he’s up against.  Reveal yourself to Him today; show Him that you love him unconditionally and can rescue Him.

As I prepare to preach this Sunday at Warrenville, the thought of the filling of the Holy Spirit is heavy on my mind.  While I’m certainly no expert on this topic (but I long to be…), I’m deeply aware that anything I want to become in Christ is impossible without the Spirit’s infilling power.  In general, like Dr. Lyle Dorsett and Francis Chan, I believe the simple teaching on the critical work of the Holy Spirit is noticeably absent in the pulpits of evangelical churches in America today.

I think we’re much more interested in cognition than a commitment to everyday life with Jesus:  well-grounded theological, expositional preaching, intellectual constructs rather than the desperate seeking of the filling of the Holy Spirit as our fundamental power source as Christians to become like Christ and trust that God’s immutable Word alive in us is enough to change the world and our decaying culture for the gospel of Jesus Christ.

The Christian and Missionary Alliance has long taught that a critical growth point in the life of Christians becoming mature are “crisis experiences” with the Holy Spirit–whether one or many over the course of a lifetime–a moment in time where a Christian has a unique experience of sensing the Holy Spirit’s presence and power which radically reshapes that person’s life direction and ability to live the life God has created them for as His followers.  D.L. Moody had one such experience and he described it like this:

Well, one day, in the city of New York — oh, what a day! — I cannot describe it, I seldom refer to it; it is almost too sacred an experience to name. Paul had an experience of which he never spoke for fourteen years. I can only say that God revealed Himself to me, and I had such an experience of His love that I had to ask Him to stay His hand. I went to preaching again. The sermons were not different; I did not present any new truths, and yet hundreds were converted. I would not now be placed back where I was before that blessed experience if you should give me all the world — it would be as the small dust of the balance. (You can read more about Moody’s inspiring, Spirit-filled life in Dorsett’s great biography A Passion for Souls)

I don’t know that my crisis experience at 24 compares with Moody’s, but I had an encounter with God like that on the shores of a lonely lake in Three Rivers, WI, while preparing to start grad school at Wheaton College in the summer of 1995.  I sensed the Holy Spirit asking me a simple, clear question:  ”Am I enough?”.  As a young grad student who had grown complacent (lukewarm, at best…) in my relationship with Christ over my two years since graduating from Wheaton College, I was suddenly terrified at being thrust back into an environment as a Graduate Resident Advisor, responsible for mentoring and spiritually guiding eight Resident Assistants in Fischer Hall.  But for the Holy Spirit’s infilling for the task ahead of me, I knew I would miserably fail–let alone trust God as a single man with an already-stated commitment to fulfilling God’s long-established calling in my life to be a missionary.

So that afternoon in Wisconsin, I gave my life away once again for the Holy Spirit to fill me and renew me with power to make me more like Jesus for the residence life staff at Fischer to see.  I long for a fresh crisis and infilling like that again–to be so devoted to seeking the Holy Spirit that He accomplishes in me the great works He has already planned for me (Eph. 2:8-10).

The focus of my message this Sunday will be centered on Eph. 5:18

Do not get drunk on wine, which leads to debauchery, but instead be filled with the Spirit

The tense of the verb “filled” really speaks of a continuous, ongoing need for the filling of the Holy Spirit to become like Christ.  I’m challenged by this radical, daily commitment to fervently seek the Holy Spirit’s power in my life.  Much like Jesus taught in Luke 11, Luke notes the object of asking, seeking and knocking–the gift of the Holy Spirit from the Father in heaven.

I’m a devoted seeker in crisis these days.  How about you?

I can always count on a deep theological conversation when my father-in-law visits.  I admire Stan for keeping his mind sharp in his retirement years by constantly asking what Karyn and I are reading, borrowing the books for himself (like Jack Deere’s Surprised By the Power of the Spirit), and then, upon returning them, engaging me in a conversation of what he’s learned.

Lately, we’ve been discussing the dearth of teaching in the Church on the power of the Holy Spirit in the Christian life–His critical role to help us have the strength and authority to become mature and like Christ ourselves.  I think we’re often afraid or uncomfortable with the more miraculous gifts of the Spirit: miracles, healing, speaking in tongues, words of prophecy, because we may have grown up in churches that act as if the Spirit simply doesn’t operate that way anymore.  And because we don’t see them or, in this case, Him, we assume the Holy Spirit doesn’t do these things today.

Too often, our human experience trumps Scriptural teaching.

The Alliance’s beliefs on the Holy Spirit’s very active role in the life of the believer and the Church are some of the most defining aspects of our denomination’s history and theology.

This past Sunday, James Grout shared an important message on Blanchard Alliance Church’s Identity Series at Warrenville from 2 Cor 5:17-21, reminding us of Paul’s words that anyone who is “in Christ”  is a new creation.  And, as a result of being made new, Christ in us calls us all into a life as “missionaries”–ambassadors of  reconciliation.

This identity transformation is so remarkable, says Paul, that Christ makes his appeal to the world to be reconciled to Christ through us as his missionaries–that those of us “in Christ” have become the righteousness of Christ to the world.  

Really?  I wish this statement more honestly described not only me but the Church as well.  Why is it so hard to stay centered in our identities in Christ?  

I believe practicing the presence of the infilling Holy Spirit in my everyday life is critical to growing mature as a believer in Jesus and my commitment to being an “everyday missionary”.  How do we do that?  Paul tells us to “be continually filled with the Holy Spirit.” (Eph. 5:18)  That’s why D.L. Moody once warned in a sermon that we’re all like “leaky [buckets]“:

“…we have to keep right under the fountain all the time to keep full of Christ, and so have a fresh supply. I believe this is a mistake a great many of us are making; we are trying to do God’s work with the grace God gave us ten years ago. We say, if it is necessary, we will go on with the same grace. Now, what we want is a fresh supply, a fresh anointing and fresh power, and if we seek it, and seek it with all our hearts, we will obtain it.”

Read the Moody’s full sermon transcript here.  It’s worth the time.

As James continued to share what it means to find his own identity in Christ as a missionary, I’m reminded of the value of sharing our story of when we as Christians chose to follow Jesus.  Chad Smith from our District Office often sends out e-mails with links from different resources he’s found online that he thinks will be helpful to us as church leaders.  This week, he sent a link to Tim Keller’s Redeemer Presbyterian Church with a whole series of video stories of Christians sharing how they chose to become followers of Jesus.

They’re all worth watching, but I think this story about an actress named Ellie Ellsworth is especially apropos as I think about my identity in Christ.  Listen to how she found everything she had been looking for in life–after years of searching–in the love and presence of Christ.