A Discriminate Life

“What is indiscriminate compassion? Take a look at a rose. Is it possible for the rose to say, ‘I’ll offer my fragrance to good people and withhold it from bad people’? Or can you imagine a lamp that withholds its rays from a wicked person who seeks to walk in its light? It could do that only by ceasing to be a lamp. And observe how helplessly and indiscriminately a tree gives its shade to everyone, good and bad, young and old, high and low; to animals and humans and every living creature—even to the one who seeks to cut it down. This is the first quality of compassion—its indiscriminate character.” Abba’s Child, Brennan Manning.

I am ashamed to admit I have lived a life of discriminate character thus far.

Raised in fundamental and evangelical roots with a mindset towards losing favor for a sinful lifestyle, I became a wonderful judge and jury. If someone was living with their significant other, the tsk tsk began. If someone revealed their tendency toward alcohol, drug, or other addiction, my eyebrow raised. If someone attended a “lesser” church than my denomination, well, that person couldn’t possibly pour into my spiritual walk.

Some call this being judgmental. I prefer the term discriminate. For me to be discriminate is a far more calculated and educated form of judgment.

I started shedding this callous title several years ago when God, in His humorous wisdom, brought several people into my life that helped peel away this encrustation from my soul.

The first was a couple of women I work with. There was instant knitting in the Spirit when I met them. They loved the Lord, were the most grace-filled Christians I’d met in a long time – and they were domestic partners. I had no idea when I first met them. They were just like me, yet they had no callous discrimination as their vision.

The second was an Episcopal music minister in charge of the music in a community theater production…and his partner. This precious couple welcomed this evangelical bigot with open arms and won my heart.

The final chink in my discriminate armor came as a dear friend and writing mentor, herself a Spirit-filled Christian and minister’s wife. Her love and acceptance of all faiths – including pagans (gasp) - chaffed my well-worn religiosity. Her open curiosity and love of “them” was a stark contrast to my holy-tinted glasses.

I waffled. I swayed. I fussed a little.

And then the Lord brought a transgender individual into my life. As a young man, I emotionally adopted him as one of mine. Then came the news that “he” is now a “she” in the eyes of the law. This pushes new boundaries of my indiscriminate love and acceptance; but if you’ve kept up with my journey, many boundaries have been challenged and this was just one more. How could I not unconditionally love this “new” individual despite the gender switch?

God uses the most interesting things to teach us about how He views and loves us; but piece-by-piece my discrimination has chipped away to reveal new skin in the shape of my Redeemer’s heart.

Are these lifestyles I embrace as Biblical? No.

Do I know what the Word says about said-lifestyles? Yes.

Am I willing to look past the lifestyle to the soul living it? That was Jesus’ question to me.

My answer: God uses the things I have called foolish to confound the religious “wise”. I am embracing my new foolishness with a resounding YES.

Obedience vs Sacrifice

I have learned much about shedding the carnal nature lately. I liken it to circumcision without numbing medication (not that I've ever been circumcised, but the vivid imagination of a writer fills in the blanks). I have had a face-to-face with my carnal side before. Some meetings were victorious, others, not so much.

Most recently I was challenged by the Holy Spirit to lay down something that I have longed for most of my adult life. I wish I could say I easily shed my wantonness and chose obedience. Victory eventually came, but a sacrifice was involved.

When Abraham trudged up Mt Moriah with his son, they went alone and Isaac carried the wood. The Bible doesn't state, but I imagine Isaac questioned his father and struggled when Abraham slowly tied his hands. He probably pleaded, fought, panicked and even compromised.

The Word also doesn't tell us what was going on in Abraham’s mind, but I can only imagine.

“Lord, do you really mean for me to do this?”

Silence.

“But Lord, I waited so long for Isaac. You promised!”

Silence.

“Lord, if you let him live, I’ll… .”

More silence.

Can you relate?

During this shedding session, I learned many things:

1.    We don’t get to choose what we have to sacrifice. God chooses.

2.    We have to go it alone. Just Him and us.

3.    The thing we must sacrifice will carry its own fuel.

4.    The sacrifice will be something we treasure.

5.    If we are NOT obedient, there will be a sacrifice.

6.    If we ARE obedient, the sacrifice might get up and live.

7.    If required to sacrifice it, there will be great blessings in the aftermath.

Obedience is better than sacrifice…but oh so much harder.

White Noise

How do you shed the busy brain? Do you retrain it? Discipline it?

How do you be still in your thoughts?


For my entire adolescent and adult life I have had an ongoing exercise wheel squeaking in my head as my thoughts run in full circle going nowhere and finding no end to their journey.

Some thoughts complete themselves. Others just keep running hoping to find the end of themselves.

I wonder if the Apostle Paul had this problem. Maybe that is why he was a scribe (I like to think of a scribe as a Bible-day writer except with more education). At least the written word allows the thoughts a vehicle to go somewhere. Perhaps that is why I write.

I read once that “Silence is solitude practiced in action.” (unknown)

I read a story recently that impacted me. There was a harried executive who went to the desert hermit and complained about his frustration in prayer, his flawed virtue, and his failed relationships. The hermit listened closely to this man’s struggle through the Christian life. Then he went into his cave and brought out a bowl. “Now watch the water as I pour it into the basin,” he said. The water splashed on the bottom and against the sides of the bowl agitated and in turmoil. At first the stirred up water swirled around the inside of the bowl, then gradually began to settle. Finally the small ripples evolved into larger swells.



Eventually the surfaced became so smooth that the executive could see his face reflected in the calm water. “That is the way it is when you live constantly in the midst of others,” said the hermit. “You do not see yourself as you really are because of all the confusion and disturbance. You fail to recognize the divine presence in your life and the consciousness of your belovedness slowly fades.”

Trying to be still in your soul requires waiting. A Holy waiting and watching.

When we are liberated from dependence on people, busy thoughts, and even the white noise of life we can truly see and sense how God sees us. Holy silence drowns out other’s opinion of us; for when we are truly silent all we hear is our breath syncing with God’s heartbeat.

I don’t know if shedding the noise of life is possible, but I want to try – one silent moment at a time.

The Enemy of Preference

Some people prefer vanilla over chocolate (I still can't understand this).

Some men prefer blonds to brunettes.

I prefer flavored coffee over regular.

But when the Lord started nudging me to a new church different from the denomination I'd served in for over 20 years, I said, "But Lord, I prefer this denomination. I have grown up in, led worship in, and even preached in this denomination." I married, served, raised children within the walls of this denomination. It was like a part of my family.

So the Lord watched and waited. I fussed.

Then one Sunday when road construction kept me away from my preferred church, I decided to go to the other one instead. I slipped into a seat in the back as the visiting pastor gave his opening statement, "Preference will keep you from your destiny."

I was stunned. The pastor went on but my attention was riveted by that one statement. I pondered and marinated it in my soul and spirit for the rest of the service.

When service concluded, I was chatting with a mother when her two sons approached us. Like a slow-moving funnel cloud, the gift of discernment and knowledge swirled to the surface and I was able to see a gifting mantle on each boy. When I mentioned this to the mother, she started crying. "Yes! That is such a confirmation. Thank you!"

For years, my spiritual gifts lay dormant; not because of some dark hidden sin, or I was in the wrong denomination, but because I was in a season of fire burning, healing, and rest. I needed to let the Holy Spirit work without the distraction of ministry and active gifts.

My whole married life I was known within my preferred denomination as my Ex's wife. All ministry came out of being his wife. 

Not just by being me.

Now as I sit in my new church, just being me and being known as "me", the door of possibility swings open before me. Just like the mythical Phoenix, I am rising from the ashes of my past a new creation. The old me is still there - only refined by fire and pressed like fine grapes in a wine press.

I don't know what lay ahead, but I do know that I could have missed an important road on my journey by the enemy called "preference."

Trash Becomes Treasure

“Without your wounds where would your power be? One broken human being ministering to another can bring more healing to this world than an angel who has never known pain, fear, betrayal or addiction.” Abba’s Child by Brennon Manning.

In the last few months, the Lord brought a precious friend into my life that helped heal one of the great unanswered questions I’ve had for the last 24 years. Many questions haunted my heart like whispering shadows, but this one was the nagging, whining child that got much of my scattered attention. “Why did my ex do what he did over and over knowing it was ripping his family apart?”

This email from my friend addressed that whiney child’s cry. “You ask after 24 years why can't he come clean and move into the light. The easy answer is he doesn't want to. THE REAL REASON GOES MUCH DEEPER. If he keeps the secret, control becomes his lifeline. He has wounded everyone who loved and/or trusted him, he has lived a life as a hypocrite, the shame and guilt are like a noose around his neck. The more he struggles, the tighter it gets till he just gives in and it becomes a self coping pattern that he has had for a long time.” Then he encased the truth in a nutshell. ”The heart of David wanted to obey God and did, but he and his family suffered the consequences of his sin.”

As I read this, the last vestige of hurt melted in the wake of this visual. It struck a deep cord of slumbering compassion buried in self-pity, offense and pain. I’ve heard it said, “Hurting people hurt people.” There is my answer. How many times do we demonize others because of pain inflicted by a wounded soul with a self-administered noose around their neck?

I proclaim myself guilty.

This precious, self-acknowledged, surrendered addict helped me see the broken humanity through my addicted ex’s eyes. What a gift! My hardened hurt melted and became pliable empathy in the Master’s hand. Compassion shaped itself into a beautiful crown of forgiveness completing a healing that started years ago.

And it took another addict to show me.

Not a self-help book…

Not a therapy session…

Not a well-orated sermon…

Not even Oprah...

…but another broken human being who has wrestled with God, the author of Truth, surrendered to Him, and who now walks with a beautiful limp.

Who am I to judge another’s brokenness as stinking refuse? Brokenness, surrendered in the Master’s hand during a spiritual wrestling match, is life and healing to other broken souls. As my new friend says, “God used my garbage and made it my gift.”

Do you know what happens when we take our garbage and put it at the foot of the Cross and light it on fire?

The remaining ashes become the main ingredient in our new-found anointing. 

Rising from the Ashes

God sends us through a Holy Fire for a purpose. He never wastes a hurt. He also never wastes an opportunity to set ablaze that which doesn’t serve Him.

 So why do we hate sitting in ashes?

For a short season of my life, I was really into gardening and one of the things I learned was that ashes are very good for the soil and bring the pH back into balance. Some of the most beautiful spring flowers came from rain-soaked soil filled with ashes during the fall and winter.

During the intense blaze of my Holy Fire came an utter sense of quiet in my spirit and soul. Not the kind of quiet that is welcome after a cacophony of noise; but the kind that screamed of loss. I no longer heard the Lord’s prophetic voice. I couldn’t sense the Holy Spirit’s prompting. I couldn’t see what my future looked like. I couldn’t feel my destiny in my spirit.

This frightened me more than I can explain. It was as if I had forgotten my name - my identity.

I wonder if this is how amnesia victims feel.

It was a hollow cavern that echoed for infinity in my spirit. I had no desire to discipline my spirit into submission. No desire to pray any deeper than, “God minister to…God bless…God heal…” The intercessor was in a burned out stupor. The insightful prophetic was deaf and mute. The Word sat and stared back at me as if in another language.

It was a nothingness. The only thing present was a vague knowing that I wasn’t alone, and an understanding that above the nothingness, He watched and waited. The past was a shadow that didn’t loom or lurk – it was merely present. It didn’t shout, gesture, or condemn. It just was. Present to the degree that it reminded me of who people saw me as and what I was known for.

For most of my life, the sense of destiny and fulfillment was always in front of me – just out of arms reach – but still in front of me like a carrot dangling, enticing, promising. Yet, for the last 18 months, I sat on my laurels in the wake of this nothingness with my dreams and hopes burning to the ground. For months, I felt guilty because I had no vision, no hope, no dreams.

During my Job season, I learned a valuable lesson – don’t go sifting through the ashes after a Holy Fire. You get burned. I don’t know how many times I sat in the midst of my ashes sifting for a piece of my burned up dreams and hopes and each time, I scorched my fingers.

Why do we persist in sifting through ashes for burned up dreams?

Because we tend to focus on who we were…not who we are. God’s destiny for you and me does not exist in the ashes. It exists in the glorious by-product of seeds sown in soil that has been fed with the ashes of our past and then rain-soaked.

Each time I sifted through the embers, the Lord in His infinite Mercy and Grace reminded me, “Child, your destiny does not lie in the ashes. Do not remember the former things, Nor consider the things of old. Behold I will do a new thing. Now it shall spring forth. Shall you not know it? I will even make a road in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” Is 43:18-19.

I feel the seeds rising through the soil, pushing through the ashes. There is a road just up ahead.

I see it. I feel it.