10 Years Later

The story of Jacob meeting God in the middle of the night and then wrestling with him until dawn has come to mean something to me.

I’m sure some proper theologians would raise an eyebrow at me because I’m not sure that my context fits the context of the story. If I’m honest, I don’t really understand the context of that story. It’s a sort of odd pause right in the middle of all this build-up leading Jacob to confront his past—the brother he cheated not once, but twice; the brother who had, like Jacob, become a sort of nation unto himself with an army that Jacob’s scouts had just seen heading his direction.

Jacob’s resilience in the wrestling match is remarkable, so much so that God finally gives up trying to keep the fight fair and touches Jacob’s hip. It is torn out of it socket, and Jacob doesn’t yet realize that he was fighting with God, who then blesses Jacob with a new name. Jacob is filled with awe and names the place “…Penuel, for he said ‘I have seen God face to face, yet my life has been preserved.'”

And then he walked away with a limp.

What I’m saying is that I feel that way, that I have seen the face of God, wrestled with him for many hours, but now I have a limp. I’m not sure if everyone who has grieved would feel that way, but I’m not sure how else to describe it. I’m grateful to have been with God, to have heard his voice, to feel him so close, but everyday I feel the anxiety of loss, the wondering if he’ll let death rob me again. It is my deepest fear. Deeper than any fear of my own death or physical pain.

It’s a paradox, and I wouldn’t believe it if someone else was saying they felt this way, that they somehow fear God but also trust him more than anything else. But it’s not unfamiliar to us. Job felt this way, so frustrated with God’s seeming injustice, but then also overwhelmed and silenced when God finally spoke and said,

“Would you discredit my justice?
    Would you condemn me to justify yourself?
Do you have an arm like God’s,
    and can your voice thunder like his?
Then adorn yourself with glory and splendor,
    and clothe yourself in honor and majesty.
Unleash the fury of your wrath,
    look at all who are proud and bring them low,
look at all who are proud and humble them,
    crush the wicked where they stand.
Bury them all in the dust together;
    shroud their faces in the grave.
Then I myself will admit to you
    that your own right hand can save you."

Jesus was there, too, on his knees in Gethsemane knowing the wrath that was about to be poured out on him, weeping tears of blood. But he trusted God with his whole heart. “Not my will, but yours be done.”

I’m not saying I’m Job or Jesus, I’m just saying that the paradox is there. We can see it. And if you have a limp too, it’s okay. You’re not a doubter or anything like that. You’re alive. You’ve walked on. Sometimes God chooses to heal people so completely it’s as if the wound was never there. And sometimes he lets things heal on their own, scars, limps, and all. And he is no stranger to that, either, carrying his own scars for us to see.

Very recently I’ve come to realize that I can’t control the pain. If God chooses to let something like this happen again, then there’s nothing I can do about it, and to sit here and be afraid of that pain that does not yet exist (or may never exist) isn’t doing anything for me. That doesn’t mean that anytime my wife is out running errands and she calls my phone that I don’t wonder if it’s actually her on the other end or if it’s a police officer calling with the worst news all over again. A limp is a limp. I guess I’ve just made my peace with it, now. And my peace with God. I think Paul called it “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.”

And that’s been the struggle of it, the final one—learning how to hold on to joy.

I’ve had a complicated relationship with joy for the past few years. My life is filled with good things: a beautiful family, a great job, a nice home. But I’ve always been waiting for the other shoe to drop, wondering where’s the catch? And that wondering had spoiled my joy.

I was with my kids a few weeks ago at the park a few blocks from my house, a park with a big open field, and we used it to fly five dollar Target kites. Kite flying is one of the simple delights left to us—it requires no electricity, doesn’t need an app, there’s no subscription. Just wind and a child’s grip. And there in the park with my kids, joy found me. It would be better to say that the Holy Spirit found me, and Its raiment was joy. And I felt the delight of it, watching my kids delight and wonder at the pull of simple fabric stretched over the ever-present Kansas wind. Just joy.

And I was reminded that joy is everywhere; it grows like a weed. All you have to do it just look around and pick some. God didn’t leave us to parched earth when he spoke that long and terrible curse and drove us out of Eden. John Mark McMillan wrote “There’s a cup of joy for every taste of sorrow,” and it’s wonderfully true. It doesn’t always feel that way, but it’s true nonetheless.

Ashley was a mother and a daughter and my friend. Her life was bursting with potential and she was often joyful, more so than I was. I’m grateful for that. Jesus will return and we will say death where is your sting? Grave, where is your victory? Not yet, but soon.

He who testifies to these things says, ‘Yes, I am coming soon.’

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.
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Goodbye, Rush

I started listening to Rush Limbaugh when I was 7? 8? Maybe earlier, actually. My dad was a bi-vocational preacher, so he spent most of his 60 hour weeks driving trucks, and his hours between 12pm and 3pm pretty much every day were spent listening to Rush in between deliveries or on long hauls across the midwest. On the occasions where I had him on a weekday and we found ourselves in the car, Rush was on.

Obviously, I didn’t get it at first. This was the mid-nineties, so I remember hearing Rush say the name Clinton a lot, and not in a good way. I remember him being especially riled up about the Lewinsky ordeal and hearing my dad bark back to the radio, or maybe he was talking to my mom, but she wasn’t listening or she just nodded in agreement, not unlike my wife does when I get ranty about politics. Whoever Rush was, my dad liked him, and I liked my dad, so I figured it was good.

I started listening all by myself during my senior year of high school. I had a co-op arrangement with the local airport–I sat at the desk and counted airplanes on mondays and fridays, they paid me money, and I gave that money back for flight training. The airport was small, so there wasn’t much air traffic, which meant that I had a lot of time on my hands in the afternoon. I listened to Rush.

I kept listening, and a few years later I found myself working as a cable guy in the small towns around Tulsa, Oklahoma. I spent a lot of time driving in my panel van from service call to service call, and I filled in that time with Rush. And then Hannity from 3pm to quittin time. And I started adding in some Neal Boortz from nine to noon. Soon my whole day was filled with conservative talk radio, and I felt myself turning into a real patriot. Mind you, this was right after the crash in ’08; the economy was in shambles, Obama had just been elected in a big blue wave, and the american ideological landscape wasn’t just shifting; it was collapsing. Especially to a guy like me who came from a country church Jesus bubble. I’m not saying that bubble was all bad, but I wasn’t too familiar with anyone who saw the world differently than my conservative evangelical upbringing.

I really latched onto those guys. Truth be told I liked Boortz the best; he was more of a libertarian than Rush or Hannity with his talk about the fair tax and all that, but I really believed pretty much everything all of them had to say. It matched what I saw as the truth growing up, and I felt a camaraderie with other listeners, a few of which were my actual friends in real life–roommates, cousins, my dad. We loved to sit and rant about big government and crazy liberals. It was fun.

I started business school in 2010 at Ferris State University. College took up a lot of my time and I had a different full time job at a factory where I wasn’t allowed to listen to anything while on the floor, so I couldn’t keep up with Rush anymore. I studied journalism, too, which I picked up because I wanted to write professionally and I figured it would hone my skills and maybe land me a writing job once I graduated. As it turns out, the university provided free copies of the New York Times, so I started reading it as way to study good journalism. Say what you want about the news media, but the gray lady is the gray lady. You don’t get to the NYT by being a sucky writer. Being a Rush-Hannity-Boortz guy, I came to the paper with a lot of skepticism. I just mostly wanted to see how the pros did what they did.

To my suprise, I found the paper to be very critical of the Obama administration. The Times clearly was not a fan of the drone program and seemed pretty distrustful of Obama’s foreign policy in general. They came with a sharpness on his Iran policy and scrutinized the never-ending wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. And the business section? Very conservative. No one was supporting socialism in there at all.

Somewhere deep inside me, I heard myself say “Hmm…”

College suprised me too. I’d been told my whole life, not by anyone specifically but by everyone in general, that college professors were mostly atheists who were out to convert unsuspecting Christian kids, so I walked to class that first year expecting to have to defend my faith with quotes from C.S. Lewis, Joshua McDowell, and Ken Ham after getting called out by professors because they would smell the belief on me. I remember feeling foreign and on edge my first few weeks of class, sort of pumping myself up for a good ol’ fashioned debate, God’s Not Dead style.

It turns out that college professors aren’t that interested in arguing with students. Maybe there’s a few somewhere that are angsty enough to want to throw down with 18-year-olds whose frontal lobes haven’t fully developed yet, but I never met one. Like me, they were just trying to get through their day with their sanity intact.

Even more to my surprise, my classmates weren’t that interested in making me an atheist either. And I guess of all the people that should have been motivated to do so, they were the ones. I say that because my degree was focused on the music industry, so my cohort was full of kids that were from that world, and that world has a lot of free sex, drugs, alcohol, agnosticism, atheism, nihilism, and fluid sexuality. It’s not im-moral so much as a-moral, wholly secular. A no-harm, no-foul worldview. Rush, Hannity, and Boortz would have called them Progressives, the worst kind of liberal other than an actual communist. At one time in my life, I would have called them heathens.

They knew I was a Christian. They knew I was a conservative Christian, at that. Yet, no one wanted to fight me. In fact, it turns out I was pretty handy with accounting and business law, so mostly they wanted my help from time to time because I was a good classmate. We all got along really well. Became friends. Good friends. Really good friends.

All this time my journalism classes were teaching me what it meant to be a good journalist. I found myself in the minority there, as well, in that most of my classmates were liberal or psuedo-liberal, and I was often the lone conservative playing devil’s advocate here and there when there was a discussion around current events. But nobody wanted my head on a plate. We were learning about the truth and how to get at it, how to document it, how to communicate it. Just the facts. The J6–Who? What? When? Where? Why? How?

Somewhere along in my junior year I had a spare minute and tuned back into conservative radio. I listened for about ten minutes and then I shut it right off. Something about it didn’t click anymore. I thought for a moment to try and put my finger on it, driving alone in my car.

Fear.

That’s what it was. Not the normal news media kind of fear, because–let’s be honest–that’s part of what sells papers. Most of what makes news “newsworthy” is that it engenders some sort of fear about something. The environment, the economy, the election, what have you. No, this was different. This was fear-mongering. They were trying to make me believe that liberals and progressives and democrats were out to get me. Me and my kind. My family. My way of life. My beliefs. My religion. It was all on the table, all at stake, and only they had the answer.

And there in the car I thought about my liberal friends and how they were my friends even though I deeply disagreed with them on things like abortion and homosexuality and economic policy. I wasn’t afraid of them at all. They were nice people like me, just trying to get through the day with their sanity intact. They wanted a good job and a good living. Maybe a few kids one day. Or just a dog and a reasonable car in a reasonable home in a pleasant town.

I’m not saying there aren’t some liberals out there trying to burn things down. There are. But there’s some conservatives out there, too, doing the same thing. They attacked the capitol not long ago, a feat the crazy liberals hadn’t managed or even dared to do despite all the warnings from conservative radio to the contrary.

To top this all off, I’m a Christian. Like, a for-real Christian. Frankly, Jesus and I have more important things on our minds than the American Republic, so even if the half of America that didn’t vote for President Donald John Trump actually were out to get me and destroy my way of life, I’m called to bless those who persecute me. Jesus took no interest in the empire or freeing the Jews from Roman subjugation. He wouldn’t do tricks for Herod and he barely spoke to Pilate. In fact, he confused and frustrated his followers because he wouldn’t use his power to expand his influence. He told people he healed to keep it a secret, and he denied every opportunity to set himself up as a threat to the temple leadership. Instead, he just communicated the heart of the Father over and over and over again. Unrelentingly, recklessly, and unashamedly.

I know it’s a little different for us because Jesus couldn’t vote and had no systemic way to participate in politics. We in America do, thankfully, and that leads us into a thicket that’s hard to navigate, moreso now than ever. Neither party offers complete agreement with some of our deepest ethical convictions.

But we certainly should pull ourselves out of and away from all of the back-biting, name-calling, and fear-mongering. And if those of us on the conservative evangelical side of things are honest with ourselves, Rush did a lot of that. I can’t say it was good, and I’m not glad that I took such long, deep drinks of it.

I want to give Rush the benefit of the doubt and say that he meant well, especially at first. The GOP needed a firebrand like him, but maybe after all the money and fame and courting of presidents and senators and congressmen, he got lost, like any of us probably would. I certainly can’t side with people that are happy that he died. I wrote a while back about how people react to famous people dying, and in there I said that God wants them too, conservative or liberal. I believe God’s heart broke when Hitler shot himself just as much as it did when Ghandi died. Both passed on without having come to the resurrection knowledge of Jesus, we assume. I hope Rush didn’t. He knew a lot of Christians and hopefully he’ll be the guy that the parable of the 11th hour was talking about.

That day in the car during my junior year, I said goodbye to Rush. Hopefully I’ll be able say hello, in person, and to some of my liberal friends, too, because we all came to know Jesus together.

What a day of rejoicing that could be.

It’s Your Right to Not Wear a Mask.

You’re right.

It’s your right to not wear a mask, to stand in civil disobedience from politicized authorities.

There exists no moral imperative to cater to the fears or concerns of others.

There’s some evidence that says masks don’t do much.

Herd immunity can eliminate COVID-19 after a reasonable amount of time.

You’re right. Take care of you and yours.

But, Christian, God expects you to endure greater suffering. Jesus said “In this world you will have trouble,” but wearing a mask to church to make other believers feel safe is a speed bump. It’s not anywhere near the trouble he was talking about. Wearing a mask at Menards is annoying, but that’s all it is. Jesus said what he said to his disciples not too long before his own excruciating death, and he had their deaths in mind when he said it. Peter would be crucified. James beheaded. Thomas would disappear into the Indian jungles. John would die alone on an island.

So, if this is the hill you’re choosing to die on, you should know steeper slopes await you, and you’re not going to make it. This is the smallest of favors the Lord will ask, to endure a scratchy beard and hot air on your eyelids.

By all means, vote your conscience. Make your case. Protest injustice. But, perhaps do it with a mask on so that you might comfort the heart of those wracked with fear.

Big News

If you weren’t in church today, you didn’t hear that I’ve accepted an offer to be an Associate Worship Pastor at LifeMission Church in Olathe, Kansas.

Olathe is a southwest suburb of Kansas City; Abigail and I will begin moving our family there on July 7th. My first day in the office is July 8th.

Continue reading “Big News”

Three Things the Holy Spirit Won’t Do

In the last month, a good number of people in our congregation prayed to receive the Baptism of the Holy Spirit.

If you’re reading this and you have no idea what I’m talking about, that’s fine, just head over to our podcast page and have a listen to The Big Three, our most recent sermon series about Salvation, Water Baptism, and the Baptism of the Holy Spirit.

This last week, Pastor Ross wanted to help us navigate what life in, by, and through the Holy Spirit might look like. He told us that we:

  • will experience conviction, 
  • should be looking for direction, and
  • that this isn’t the end, only the beginning.

As I was listening to his sermon, I started thinking about my own walk with the Holy Spirit since I received His baptism at the age of 14 and how I and others close to me have made some pretty common and easily avoidable mistakes trying to walk in the Holy Spirit. There’s three things I’ve learned about the Holy Spirit in the last 16 years I’d like to share to hopefully save our people (or anyone reading this) some time and embarrassment. Continue reading “Three Things the Holy Spirit Won’t Do”

Why I Don’t Want to be a Millionaire, Updated

Last year, I published the following post in hopes of encouraging people that found themselves in a similar boat—doing ok financially but not exactly racking up the dolla-bills in the old 401k (or Roth, or what have you). Since that time, I read a blog by Pastor Daniel Grothe (GROW-thee) that opened my eyes a little bit more to how God works with our finances, and I’ve added some thoughts to the end of my original post. If you’ve already read the old one, that’s fine; scroll down to the updated section. Otherwise, read on.

Blessings – Joey C

Continue reading “Why I Don’t Want to be a Millionaire, Updated”

Child-like Worship

Pastor Keith’s message last weekend was convicting.

He kindly called us out, asking us to look inside of us and see if we were answering Christ’s call to child-like faith. He pointed out that most adults are cynical, that we’ve abandoned the simple trust and joy or the sense of wonder we had when we were kids. One of the first places we can put his message into practice is worship this coming Sunday.Continue reading “Child-like Worship”

Anthony Bourdain Was a Person God Wanted

Christians can get a little snarky sometimes when celebrities die. It’s a problem.

The problem is that we as Christians often want to invalidate the death of a celebrity (especially suicides) simply because that celebrity wasn’t an Evangelical Christian or didn’t in some way espouse or support Evangelical values. Somehow, by way of their celebrity lifestyle, and some by the way they chose to ultimately end that life, we turn celebrities into the enemy while we forget that the Apostle Paul said that our fight is not against the people around us, but against evil itself.

Continue reading “Anthony Bourdain Was a Person God Wanted”

Minor Miracles

This last weekend we welcomed our daughter, Eloise (EL-oo-eeze), into the world, and I couldn’t be more proud of my wife. I don’t think she was nervous at all, and when the time came to finally push, it only took one. She was so chill that she treated the whole thing like a trip to the grocery store. If they would have let us, she would have packed up and gone home a couple hours later. Here’s an adorable picture of them both from Sunday morning:

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Ridiculous, right? I can’t handle it.

Continue reading “Minor Miracles”