“Do good and you’ll be rewarded for it.”
-Proverbs 28:10 (MSG)

I love verses like this. I could camp-out here (if I didn’t hate camping).  Stay for awhile.  Maybe put down some roots.  That’s good stuff.  I like rewards.  Rewards are good.  Right?

There I go assuming again…

As I pondered this verse over the past few days, a sobering question arose.  Rewards are good for me, but who says that rewards always feel good? Am I making some bad assumptions:

Reward = comfort
Reward = notoriety
Reward = riches
Reward = happiness
Reward = my desired outcome

Woohoo!  Bring it on God!  I’m ready for my reward!

But what if God’s greatest reward is my crushing? What if it’s the systematic disassembling of everything I ever thought I wanted?  The loss of my dream so that His dreams can come alive in me?  What if that reward is a closeness to God that can only be obtained by the complete dismantling of everything I am?  What if that reward is the putting to death of all my self-driven motivation? What if it comes full of pain, questions, uncertainty, and gut-wrenching, sleepless nights?

“Well, uh…you can keep that reward God.  Not interested.  I’m happy to leave that one on the table.  Save that one for someone else.  Yeah, in fact I know exactly who you can give that one to.  Want a name?  I’ve got it right here in my iPhone...gimme just a second…”

God’s greatest reward is His presence, His love, His deep and ever-pursuing passion to make right everything in me that I can’t make right on my own.  And all it takes to obtain that reward is…

…all of me.

My reward is His life, but the pathway to get there costs me everything.  Some reward?

Yeah, it is.

Death.  Always a great way to start a blog when you want to build readership.  Bet you’ll be quick to forward this link to all your friends.  No better way to get invited to a party than to start throwing the death word around.

Yesterday was Easter, so I thought it would be good to dedicate my early morning to re-reading the Resurrection Story.  But it wasn’t only the empty tomb that grabbed my attention.  The last chapter of the Gospel of John tells the story of Jesus conversation with his disciple Peter (if you don’t know the story, Peter had just vehemently and publicly denied knowing Jesus the morning of His death).

So Peter and Jesus were chatting, making things right, when Jesus said something that seems rather strange:  “I tell you the truth, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.” (John 21:18).

Huh?  But then the Bible explains itself:

“Jesus said this to indicate the kind of death by which Peter would glorify God. Then he said to him, ‘Follow me!’”

The kind of death?  By which He would glorify God?  I thought this was Easter?  Pastels.  Bunnies.  Eggs.  Death?  Why does it always require death to glorify God?

As much as we talk about the unconditional love of Christ, there should never be any doubt – accepting that love is free, a gift, but that’s just the beginning of a journey.  The cost of following Christ, truly following Christ, is high.  All but one of Jesus’ disciples was killed, the other exiled to live alone on an island.  Do we really understand what Jesus asks of us?

Death.  Dying.  To Self.  To our perspectives.  To our kingdoms.  To our plans for our lives.  To our safety.  Our comfort.  Our selfishness.

Death.  Only death brings life…real life.

The quietness of the house tonight has made me introspective.  I’m pondering more than one unfortunate and sorrowful story of respected spiritual leaders, some of who I know personally, who are not ending well.  Years of effective service drowned in torrents of suspicion, accusation, or slowly found irrelevance.  As a leader who is just starting a new church-planting journey, I’m tempted to point the finger and say “that will never be me.”  But I’m tormented by the unfortunate knowledge of my own humanity.  Why do we hold onto things so long and so tightly?

It’s easy to throw stones when you sit where I am today…literally with nothing.  Nothing but a dream that’s bigger than my reality.  No massive throngs of people listening to me teach, no years of “successful” history to lean back into, no big salary.  When you don’t have much it’s not hard to let it go.  But after 5, 9, 18 years of “sweat equity,” will I still be able to withstand the allure?

Once again, Jesus was the ultimate example.  He personally invested in countless lives, was followed across the countryside by massive crowds, healed the sick and even raised the dead (you know His Twitter feed would have outnumbered even President Obama’s).  And right as His power and influence reached the point of critical mass, as the people were ready to crown Him King…

He died.  He died. He willfully died.

Jesus held everything loosely.  The One who owned it all to begin with never acted as if He owned anything.  I hope the same will be said about me.  I guess only time will tell.