Month: June 2015

To say you love Jesus while dissing his friends is nutty.  Jesus was ‘a friend of sinners’ (Matthew 11:19). Friends are kind, trusting, and accepting. They don’t put you down or deliberately hurt your feelings. They don’t make you feel worse about yourself than you already do. They listen to you and seek to understand. Friends are loyal, protective and trustworthy. They like hanging out with you. They make you smile. They laugh when you laugh and cry when you cry. Friends are willing to tell you the truth, but they’re respectful, sensitive to your feelings, and slow to condemn.

What if the followers of Jesus were a little more like Jesus? A little less condemning…a little more like-able? Friends?

I fail to see how making light of those who struggle with their sexual identity makes us more like Jesus. Ridiculing gays and trans-genders (like Caitlyn Jenner) is hardly ‘the act of a friend’. It’s demeaning, disrespecting, and de-valuing. Not what friends do! It’s nutty to think that you can love Jesus and diss his friends.

Been thinking a lot about this… Wondering how much more passionate and courageous I would be if these were my ‘1st truths’

1. I DIED. My true life (identity and mission) is now hidden with Christ in God (Colossians 3:3) In Christ…
2. I am a Son of the Father. My primary identity is not in what I do or what I’ve achieved. Who I am is who’s I am
3. I am ‘a Sent-One’. “My nourishment is to do the will of him who sent me.”
4. I am a servant. “I  did not come to be served, but to serve.”
5. I am a friend of sinners. “I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance”
6. I am a Kingdom voice. “I must proclaim the good news of the Kingdom for that is why I’ve come”
7. I am a defender of the poor and powerless. “I have come to proclaim good news to the poor.”
8. I am a disciple-maker. “Follow me, as I also follow Christ”
9. My goal in life is to become ‘a Jesus Junior’ …to believe what he believed, behave the way he behaved, and join him in his mission
10. I will give my everything for Him. He gave his everything for me

So this morning I’m out snorkeling at low-tide. The surf is pounding hard from a tropical storm off the coast of Mexico…but it’s at least 50 yards off in the distance. The beach is peaceful and deserted. Only one set of footprints have scarred the sand since dawn. I’ve got this beautiful place all to myself.  I throw my stuff on a rock, slip on my prescription goggles, and slide into the warm tropical water. The reef is amazing: angelfish, clownfish, puffer fish, surgeonfish…underwater caves and colorful coral formations. Wow…I’m mesmerized. The minutes slip by. I drift in the current. I lose track of time. Suddenly, off in the distance, I see through my goggles what appears to be a plastic bag drifting toward the ocean floor. I’m appalled. Who would trash this pristine marine mecca? I get closer. The bag has car keys in it. Oh no…it’s my rental car keys! I quickly snatch the bag and ascend to the surface. I look around for the big black rock on which I’d put my stuff. Uh…oh, the tide has made a quick comeback. The rock has almost disappeared beneath the waves. Panic hits. I frantically swim for the rock, fighting against the waves and currents. Thank God, I see my green shirt. My eyeglasses were tucked inside the shirt. I pick up the sea-soaked shirt. Stupid shirt! My glasses are gone. Out to sea. This is going to be a really lousy vacation! I can’t see anything without my prescription lenses. I start praying hard. For the next half hour I scour every inch of the ocean floor within 30 feet of the rock. I search the sand, the rocks, the coral, the seaweed, the underwater caverns. I go over every detail of the constantly changing marine terrain. Distracting fish are all around me. Yellows, blues, reds. A small octopus drifts by. I’m singularly focused. I’m praying hard under the waves. Then…amazingly, I spot a couple of familiar looking sticks protruding out from between some coral. It’s the temples of my glasses. Thank you Jesus! I can see.

There’s got to be a sermon illustration in this. I’ll figure that out later. For now…I’m just thankful! During tomorrow’s low tide, I’m not leaving my stuff anywhere near the water

Ok…so Becky broke her ankle while we were scrambling over some slippery rocks down at Playa Negra. Bummer for her. Bummer for us. Vacation won’t include soaking in the hot springs,  riding horseback to the Rincon waterfalls, tubing the Tempisque, exploring the jungles of Manual Antonio, or taking long leisurely strolls on Playa Blanca. More time to write, reflect, and pray. More opportunity to serve and care for my bride…probably a good thing…maybe a God thing.

Last night, after getting back from the hospital and settling Becky onto the sofa, I went out for a quick bite at the local cafe. Best chicken sandwich ever. Best fries ever. The chef (Garrett) walked away from a promising culinary career in Santa Barbara. Like everyone else down here, he lives on next to nothing. A very friendly outgoing guy…he fits in with the locals. The barista (Orion) used to run a thriving coffee shop in San Fran. Weary of the rat-race, he migrated down here for the quietness of the jungle. Every morning he gets up with the sun to spend a couple hours surfing before work. He’s lucky to make $6/ an hour…think’s it’s good money. He didn’t come here lured by the promise of success. Gabriella works behind the counter. Dark, swarthy skin. Long braided dreads wrapped up in a bun. Very athletic. She surfs for two or three hours every morning, rain or shine. Say’s that surfing inside the curl “is a spiritual experience.” Her husband left her three months ago. Moved back to Santa Cruz. Took the kids with him. She freely admits her  brokenness. “It’s my fault. I gave all of my attention to the kids.” In spite of her pain, Gabriella is a caring sweetheart. Very ‘other centered’. Yesterday afternoon, she showed up at the front door of our condo with a pineapple smoothie laced with ‘something special’. “Secret recipe, good for achy bones and whatever else ails you” she said. (Hmmm…unfamiliar taste. I wonder what was in it…)

The tiny outdoor cafe was filled with an assortment of interesting people. Apart from a handful of Ticos, most of the diners were transplanted gringoes: a gay couple, a land developer down on his luck, a handful of vacationing surfer dudes, and an old geezer who’d been drinking most of the night. (“I’ll help you carry your wife upstairs, but you probably ought to know that I’m drunk. My brother just died.”)

Interesting people. Everyone has a story… a reason for being here. For some it’s the promise of anonymity. For others it’s the surfing, the adventure, the women, the laid-back pace of life. For still others, it’s an escape. My sense is that everyone here just wants to be loved and accepted. Not judged. I wonder how Jesus would care for this gaggle of friendly gentle-hearted individualists.

Becky prayed with a lady she met in the emergency room of the clinic. Yesterday, we had our first ‘spiritual conversation. Praying for a full-on opportunity to share Jesus.