a moment with a perfectionist friend.

I recently was talking with a friend who may or may not remind you of one of yours.

This guy is brilliant, hardworking, a great father and a loving husband, but he's also one of the greatest perfectionist I've ever met.

Like annoyingly perfectionist. Like he's got his budget tight, his debt responsible, he beard trimmed and his car vacuumed.

You know the type I'm talking about.

For all intensive purposes I'm jealous of how well he's got his life together.

But while hanging out recently he shared how his perfectionism is also a curse.

He said at any moment, for almost any subject, there's a voice whispering in his ear, like a devil on his shoulder, pointing out all his faults,

all the ways he might have screwed up,

might have crossed a line,

might have intentionally sinned or

intentionally did something that might hurt someone or

be seen as bad or

that might prove he's actually a horrible person and the entire world is gonna find out at any moment.

As he shared this my heart broke for him.

I told him therapist are amazing and he might need to check one out, and that I've loved mine.

But then the conversation turned to the role of the accuser on our shoulder, the one who's whispering the shame in our ear.

And these whispers come whether we're a perfectionist or not.

We all know that voice. The voice that reminds us of that moment we...

Said that,
Looked there,
Reacted that way,
Intentionally didn't do,
Intentionally did do.

The accuser doesn't care really what it is we did or didn't do, he simply hates us, well, not really us, he hates Jesus and which means he hates everything Jesus loves, which means he hates us, cause Jesus loves us.

Jesus loves us like crazy, so the accuser, he hates us like crazy.

So in that hate, he'll take every action we've done or not done and twist it and taint it and turn it so that it becomes a dagger for our heart, our confidence, our peace, our joy.

His hate is creative and vindictive and exhausting.

But here's what shuts up the accuser.

IT DOESN'T MATTER HOW ACCURATE THE ACCUSATIONS ARE, GRACE FORGIVES US. 

Think about that. Let that sink in.

It honestly doesn't matter if what the accuser is whispering is true or false, it doesn't matter if you're really a terrible person or not, or if you did that "thing" on purpose or not, or whether you're a good person or bad, the point of Jesus, his grace, his love, is to say we're loved period, chosen period, redeemed period and his love SHUTS THE ACCUSER UP!

So the next time the whispers come and shame seeps in, and the accuser is casting his accusations, tell him to shut up, cause grace forgives, grace covers, and it doesn't matter if you are or aren't what he's throwing in your face.

Grace wins, you're loved, and Jesus said you're enough for him, whether your life appears perfect or whether your life is a perfect mess.

Matthew 13:12

"For whoever has, to him more shall be given, and he will have an abundance; but whoever does not have, even what he has shall be taken away from him."

Some days it feels like life is smooth sailing, other days it feels like you're grasping for dear life in the bed of a truck hauling down a potted dirt road driven by a adolescent want-a-be stunt driver convinced he could run with the Dukes of Hazard, (haven't we all had a moment like that or is that just a North Georgia mountain childhood thing?).

I've been around people who it seems like no matter how much is thrown their way they still have a smile on their face, something to say thank you for, and an odd grace to keep sailing smoothly through the rough waters. While others are basically riding unicorns and drinking rainbows and yet are as sour and jaded as possible.

So what gives?

I once believed Matthew 13:12 was an unfair verse. That God was saying he'd bless the bless and keep cursing the curse. Like he walked around given out extra ice cream cones to the popular kids and an extra cosmic kick to the stomach to the rejects.

But in college someone in passing said this isn't about God's behavior but ours. That it's more about how the person who see's all the good things they've got in life starts noticing more and more good things. And the one who only sees what they don't have, seems to grow in their list of lacks and wants and should haves and why nots.

Its like once you start seeing the glass half full it just keeps filling, but when you start to see it half empty, it just keeps emptying.

But, at first glance that doesn't seem to be what Jesus was getting at here.  When I first read it, it was like Jesus was talking more about how to understand more things and how to be more biblically astute. I felt like I was being told how to out bible the bible scholars.

But Jesus didn't really seem to care to much about making us smarter, but he did seemed to care a whole LOT about us being freed to live a new kind of life. A life that's good and true and free from brokenness and corruption. A life that becomes marked by love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

So I wonder if what Jesus was getting at that day with his disciples was want my friend in college was talking about. That when we chose to live our lives looking for the life marked by the way of Jesus, then we start to see evidence of the way of Jesus all around us. But when we give into the undertow of the world and we start focusing on all the hurt and pain and junk around us, it's like we slowly drown in our fear, pessimism and hate.

I don't know about you, but I don't want to live a naive life, or ignorant life, I don't want to live life like I watched the movie IT as a kid, with my fingers in my ears, eyes closed, singing through most of it. But I do want to live a hopeful life.

I want to live a life that has eyes to see and ears that hear the glimpses of the Jesus kind of life breaking into our world all around us.

A life that even in the darkest of times and worst of moments can still find the good.

I want to be quick to see, identify and point out the glimpses of Heaven on earth even in the midst of Hell breaking loose.

Seeing and pointing out,
The Good things.
The Great things.
The Hopeful things.
The Joyful things.
The moments where the sliver linings of life present a beautiful expectancy of Jesus making all things new, and all things right.

The world doesn't need help seeing the hurt and the pain. We've got four thousand News channels and now for the first time in history a smart phone with access to the global conversation in the hands of everyone inviting us to point out and highlight and declare every little ugly moment of life happening around us.

If you need to see hurt and pain, go to Facebook, but where are our hope tellers, our joy bringers, our storytellers who highlight how everything isn't hopeless and burning to the ground. But that our children can have a good world to one day call their own and that we don't have to cower in fear declaring the best days as yesterdays but that there's hope on the horizon, joy all around, and good to be had.

I want the abundant life Jesus talked about. I want more and more and more and more of the good life. And I pray that as my cup fills up, it fills up those around me and so on and so on until the little world around me, isn't a half empty pit of despair but a group that's overflowing with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control not for our selfish enjoyment but for the benefit and enjoyment of everyone around us.

So may we start today. May we start pushing to see the good, the right, the true, even where social media and the news is screaming and complaining about the bad. May we look for sliver lining and the hope, not in a fake annoyingly optimistic way but in an honest life giving, hope restoring redeeming way.

So here's to seeing the good, to filling up with the Jesus kind of life and to being ready to be a light even in the darkness of moments.

Romans 8:35;37-39

"Can anything ever separate us from Christ's love? Does it mean he no longer loves us if we have trouble or calamity, or are persecuted, or hungry, or destitute, or in danger, or threatened with death?... No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us. And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God's love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow - not even the powers of hell can separate us from God's love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below - indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord."

These verses might have had the single greatest impact on my life. They're tattooed on my right hand, oriented so I can read them every time I extend my hand to greet someone. Why? So, I'm reminded of this truth for my life no matter what the person I'm greeting might commentate about me. 

If you boiled this passage down it carries the simple truth that we are LOVED PERIOD.

LOVED.

Loved with no ifs, ands or buts.

Loved without condition or clauses or statements.

JUST LOVED.  Just accepted, just chosen.

This is a love that says I love you no matter how many times you get it right, say the right words, put your best foot forward, but I also love you no matter how many times you just screwed things up, say the wrong thing, at the wrong time, in the wrong way, and no matter how many times the only thing you can put forward is this mess called our life. 

This love that Jesus offers is a love of grace and acceptance no matter what. It values honesty over hoakie displays of fake selves, it longs for conversations over correct vocabulary, it values coming back no matter how many times we turn away. 

This kind of unconditional, never-ending love, changes lives, changed the history of the world, and it has the power to change us. 

This type of love is a “I choose you no matter what” type of love. It’s not circumstantial, it’s committed. 

The love put on display by Jesus, the love Jesus invites us to reshape our lives around is a love that says… 

I choose you when you get it right, 

I choose you when you get it wrong

I choose you when you make me happy 

I choose you when you make me sad

I choose you when we’re on the same page 

I choose you when miscommunication seems to be our only communication  

I choose you when you provide everything I hoped for

I choose you when you only crave for yourself 

I choose you when you get my humor and laugh

I choose when you look at me like I’m crazy

I choose you when you’re clean, calm and collected

I choose you when you’re messy, A MESS, and in a million pieces

I choose you when you make sense to me

I choose you when you’re senseless, mindless, heartless, clueless I choose you today and I choose you no matter what tomorrow may bring

This unconditional love says you can know from this day forward you are not alone, and you cannot scare me away, you cannot push me away, there’s nothing that’s too much, too scary, too emotional, or too hurtful. 

I’m here no matter what may come; there is no need to hide, to feel like you must perform, or to ever hold back. 

This is the love I've discovered in Jesus, this is the love that's changed my life, this is the love we sing about on Sunday mornings, this is the love that's built movements and fought injustice and traveled the globe and stood with the forgotten and remembered the least, and it's the love that in the midst of 7.4 Billion people says I matter, I have a place, I have a purpose, that I'm not dispensable or forgettable, or only valued when I'm perfect. And so do you.

This is the love that when we're told "God so loved the world" he loved the world with.

So to everyone in your past that's said God needs your "Sunday best" or given you the impression that God needs you to behave a certain way, they're wrong. God needs NOTHING from us, other then to accept this outrageous love of another kind that he's offering to us.

And the crazy thing is, once I stopped trying to earn God's love, I've truly been changed by his love.

And the love I have to give is slowly starting to look a lot more like the love he's given me.

LOVED. is more then a tattoo or stickers it's a movement that's restoring humanity and rewriting history.

Psalms 46:10

I once had a friend share that God rarely speaks in a booming voice but more often in a quiet whisper that echoes around the caverns of our soul.

I LOVE THIS IMAGE!

I love believing God is still speaking, still trying to connect, still trying to be a part of our lives and world and that he's politely standing on the edge of our lives offering truth, value, direction, wisdom, and whatever else it might be that we're in need of in the moment.

But as he's offering his words of hope, comfort and guidance he doesn't mimic the behavior of an over jealous coach shouting demands from the sidelines or of a General atop a tank shouting orders that must be carried out. Which, I don't know why I picture General's leading from a tank, but that's the most macho image I can come up with, so yeah, in my mind general's lead from tanks shouting battle plans.

God's not a coach shouting and spitting on the sideline, throwing clipboards and anxiously watching the play clock, nor is he a general leading an attack, decisively demanding our moves and counter moves that must be obeyed.

I picture God more as a loving gentle father leaning on a split rail fence, watching his kids in this playground called life. The sun's slowly setting and the sky be beautiful, God's already prepared an amazing meal for dinner in the huge warm house behind him. A house with a big wrap around porch, a white bench swing, a guitar in the corner waiting to be picked and no mosquitos to be found.

He's leaning on the fence, one foot propped on the lower rail, elbows resting on the top. He's watching his kids play. He see's us dance and play and chase and work. He sees us trying to figure out how to play well with the other kids, he sees us fall down, get bumped around, get dizzy on the swings and scrap our knees and wipe dust from our face.

But he's the kind of Dad who patiently waits, he's not some crazed driven helicopter parent rushing in and controlling the games and telling us who can play with who and who can't go where and who secretly lives with a low level anxiety fearing that at any moment the worst might happen.

He's not frantic, he's just calm, relaxed, enjoying watching his kids play.

But he's also not distracted. There's not an app more entertaining then his little one's, there's nothing pressing his thoughts from the moment, there's nothing more important or demanding or stressing then just standing, watching and waiting.

But as he waits, he's not silent.

He calls our names, points out sticks that might trips us up, points out which slides we may might not be ready for yet, and which kids are playing rougher then we're able to handle. He invites us to the best swings and the smoothest monkey bars, and away from the broken glass the play ground bully left behind and away from those play forts that look exhilarating but he knows is actually broken and hurtful.

He gentle points out the bully and his friends. The ones who just make a mess of things, who don't play fair, who push us down, who change the rules and cause us to get confused and frustrated. The one's who shout we're not worthy to be picked to play, or tell us we're only worthy to be included until we make a mistake and screw things up, to which they make it clearly known they'll kick us off the team without thinking twice.

I picture God gentle standing, patiently waiting, calming instructing, pointing out, inviting towards, and warning of.

Be he stands on the edge, not shouting or franticly responding but lovingly speaking. Speaking at a voice that can be heard, but heard only when we stop to listen.

When we stop and turn our face towards him, allowing our ears to focus on his voice, our eyes on his lips, and in our attention decipher over the chaos of the playground his wisdom, his love, his guidance.

That's how I picture Psalms 46:10

"Be still, and know that I am God! I will be honored by every nation. I will be honored throughout the world." 

God patiently waiting, talking, inviting.

But also knowing that the sun is setting. Dinner will soon be served and playground must be cleared.

I know that he not only is delighting in our play, speaking into our games and moves, but also watching our clocks, and when it's our time to come in and clean up for dinner comes, calls us by name, calling us home.

What's interesting is as much as he loves each one of us, as much as he wants to grab us and squeeze us tight and run to the dinner table with us on his hip, he knows the choice is ours to make, not his.

The choice is our's to listen to his guidance on how to enjoy the play ground the most.

The choice is our's to listen to his invitation to come in for dinner.

The choice is our's to let him catch a warm bubble bath and help us clean up from the bumps and bruises of the play ground.

And the choice is our's to delight with him and the family in the big house, around the big table.

But the offer to make the choice often comes only to those who are willing to be still, to look towards his face, to tune our ears to his voice and follow his lips with our eyes.

So may we all have a blast on this playground of life.

May we have grand adventures and fun. May we play till our clothes are sweaty and our hearts are racing and our faces are covered in dust and smiles.

Yes, May we truly delight in this playground called life.

But may we also slow down, and look towards dad, locking eyes and listening close.

May we heed his wisdom and love.

May we trust his encouragement and belief.

May we watch out for the bullies and broken areas he's pointing out.

And when he calls our name, may we have so learned his voice that we rush to his arms, delight in his perfecting of us, and enjoy the party that's awaiting around his big big big dinner table.

So friends, may we be still and know that God is still speaking, and he's eyes are locked on each of us, delighting and waiting to love and encourage us all the way home.