I know this feeling. Why do I know this feeling?

The queasy stomach.

The clenched jaw.

The involuntary tightening of the neck and back muscles.

The mind racing to project every possible outcome and scenario.

The last time I felt this way I’d just quit my job.

I was a music pastor at a sizeable church. Successful by comparison. Comfortable salary. The course of life smoothly charted for at least another few decades. Until God stepped in and totally changed the trajectory. Completely messed with normal.

I remember coming home from one of our last mid-week music rehearsals to my wife filling out a part-time Fed-Ex application–and I lost it. Couldn’t hold it in any longer.

What had I done? Giving up such certainty on a whim. Destabilizing my reputation and my family’s future on a hunch God had spoken to me? I know I tell people He does that, but really? I’ve seen plenty of people embrace foolishness and call it faith. I must have drunk the Kool-Aid.

And now we find ourselves here once again.

A few months ago I felt like God said we needed to list our house. I didn’t want to. But I figured what the heck, it doesn’t stand a chance to sell in this real estate market. We’ll set the price high and watch our listing fall into the ever-expanding abyss of unsold homes. Oh yeah, and we can “obey God” in the process. It’s a win-win.

10 days, 2 showings, and 2 offers that ended up in a bidding war later….

We have a signed purchase agreement (and no clue where we’re heading). Hence, “that feeling” again. A mixture of anxiety and second guessing with a sprinkle of nausea thrown in for flavor.

I’ve seen a lot of well intentioned people do really stupid things in the name of faith.

I’ve also seen a lot of over-calculating believers completely miss God’s future because they’re holding so tightly to the present.

I’d prefer to be neither.

Where is the line between faith and foolishness? Have you ever confused the two?

As I shared here last week, we reluctantly decided to put our house on the market. And honestly, it’s been an emotional few days. Contracts. Disclosures. Pictures. Virtual tours.

Last night was our first showing.

My wife scrambled most of the day to get the place looking like a Good Housekeeping photo-spread, and then we vacated the premises for a nice long dinner with some CityCom friends. Coming home, I felt like one of The Three Bears: Somebody’s been walking through my house.

By the table where we share our meals.

On the carpet where my daughter took her first steps.

Through the backyard where we learned my son was a lefty.

Down the driveway where training wheels became two-wheelers.

And worse yet, these strangers were imagining themselves there. Living there! Creating their own memories there! In my house.

I felt violated.

And then I reached in my coat pocket and pulled out this:

Dinner was at one of our favorite downtown Asian restaurants. We don’t usually put any stock in these stale, eastern, after-dinner wafers, but this one left us wondering if God ever speaks in fortune cookie (you know, like He speaks through Tebow’s football stats).

Perhaps we’re stretching a bit, but as my wife and I shared our raw emotions standing in the kitchen that soon may or may not be ours any longer, this little slip of paper acted as a subtle reminder.

That God is with us.

That He knows our angst.

That what we feel isn’t wrong.

That He’s OK with our honesty.

And that whether we sell or stay, our deepest attachment must always be to Him.

It’s OK to wrestle with the unknown. To question whether you’re doing the right thing. To struggle with losing control. Anything less would make you inhuman (or a liar).

Just never hold onto anything tighter than you hold onto Jesus. That’s one fortune (or stat line) I know you can believe in.

Is suffering God’s desire for our lives? Masochism some unlisted fruit of the spirit? The gateway to knowing God? After all, Jesus said some really disturbing things like:

“Don’t run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I’ll show you how.” -Matthew 16:24

He was called a “man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.” -Isaiah 53:3

Suffering is an undeniable part of this human journey. But is it some kind of virtue to be pursued? I’m wrestling with that.

Jesus was crucified.

Paul was shipwrecked. Put in prison.

11 of 12 disciples were martyred for their faith.

I’m no theologian, but I don’t think any of them desired their painful outcomes (Jesus Himself is seen begging the Father to find another way the night before His death).

I think they were just dead set on embracing their purpose. Their God-given identity. Who God originally designed and created them to be from the foundation of the world. As they pursued that purpose, suffering became an undeniable side-effect.

As we pursue purpose, we will face suffering.

Pursuing God’s purpose assaults our sinful self-obsession.

Embrace the suffering.

Pursuing God’s purpose engages the sinful self-obsession in those around us.

Embrace the suffering.

Pursuing God’s purpose enrages the forces of darkness at work in this world.

Embrace the suffering.

Don’t go looking for pain (that’s just a little weird). Pursue purpose. And then prepare to embrace the suffering.

What do you think? Do you agree?

NOTE: My friend and co-pastor Nathan LaGrange shared his family’s personal journey towards God’s purpose, and the pain they’ve embraced as a result, this past Sunday at City Community Church. You can hear it here.

Today we celebrate one of history’s greatest dreamers. A man with a vision so compelling, so transforming, so revolutionary, he was willing to give everything (including his life) to see it become reality. He made the world a more beautiful place. We rightly stand in awe.

Martin Luther King had an imagination like few others. Or did he?

I think we’re all born with unimaginable imaginative potential. Unlike MLK, most of us have just quit using it.

The older I get, the more I’ve impulsively begun to lean into what I know. To protect what I have. It’s proven (for better or worse). It’s safer there. And to top it off, I’ve collected some nice things. Some important things.

A wife.

A family.

A house.

Some nice relationships.

Responsibilities.

An ebb and flow.

A reputation.

Certainty has it’s benefits (even if it’s only the illusion of certainty).

To risk all that for what’s behind door number 1 doesn’t seem overly pragmatic. As invigorating as a dream might be, it’s also carries a high likelihood of costing me something. Dreams are always trade-offs – what already is for what might be. And strangely enough, a known mess can seem more appealing that unknown possibility.

What if I end up with a billy goat? A timeshare? The latest Nickelback album? That’s just too much to consider.

While teaming with blood-pumping potential, my imagination is also an evil playground for some blood-curdling visions. Sure, that constant scrape against the window might just be a tree branch blowing in the wind, but it’s probably some serial killer re-enacting his favorite scene from Dexter.

Fear.

Pain.

Loss.

Self-protection.

They’re dream killers. If we don’t confront these counterfeits, the greatest oration we’ll ever deliver is the I (Used To Sorta Kinda) Have a Dream speech. I’ve seen that in plenty of reflections (including my own), but never any history books.

So I challenge you to pray this prayer with me in this year: “Lord, rekindle my imagination!”

It might cost you what you know. It might cost you your life. It also just might make your life count for something eternal.

Does your imagination need rekindling?

Earlier this week I shared some thoughts on why change is so difficult for us. Our own sin and the wounds of others weigh down and swallow up the beautiful identity God originally intended for us. Then we try to fix ourselves.

I used my daughter to help illustrate this reality at City Community Church last Sunday. Her therapy starts next week.

Hope you enjoy this short clip: