Sometimes following Jesus is like having the stomach flu. That internal rumbling in your digestive track. Uncomfortable. Disturbing. I thought Jesus lived in my heart, how did he find His way to my small intestine?

I’ve definitely been there. The summer of 2000, I was avoiding full time ministry like Jay Cutler and the second half of the NFC Championship game. And it was eating me for lunch. We Christians call it conviction. That gnawing feeling inside your gut that is spelling out in no uncertain terms:

God is compelling me to do something I don’t really want to do. Insert vomit here.

But honestly, I’ve learned to welcome this type of nausea.  When we have the courage to respond and obey, life becomes beautiful. The Kingdom of God comes alive in us and around us. We begin to live in the reality of doing things God’s way. Never painless. Never without a cost. But always full of life. Real life.

But I’ve also experienced an impostor.

Rather than wrestling with internal, God-initiated challenges, I far too often find myself embracing the sinister villain of guilt. I wear its heavy strands around my neck like a concrete necklace even Mr. T. would see as a bad fashion statement.

I compare myself to others.

She’s taking a missions trip to Kenya.

He volunteers at the homeless shelter.

They’re adopting a child from Eastern Europe.

He quit his job to start a non-profit.

And rather than allowing the challenge of those we admire to inspire our own obedience to the Father, we become overwhelmed by shameful comparisons. Why am I not doing what “that guy” is doing? Maybe some day I’ll have “that kind” of faith. When will I man up to “that kind” of courage?” When will God be “that proud” of me?

Let me both let you off and put you back on the hook, ok?

Jesus said:

“Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” -Matthew 11:29-30

Jesus isn’t asking you to be somebody you’re not.  He isn’t asking you to mimic someone else’s obedience. He’s not placing anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. You can’t sustain that.

But He is calling you to obey. To become who He created you to be. And He never said it wouldn’t be painful. He never said it wouldn’t be costly. He never said it wouldn’t rumble in your stomach at 2am like a bad piece of meat.

So be inspired by others. Be challenged by their actions. But don’t wear the guilt of comparison. The question for you is simple:

What is God asking of you? Are you responding?

I’m shifting the focus of my prayers.

(Not like to another deity, don’t worry).

I’ve begun to notice a lot of “shoulds” infiltrating my conversations with God.  Should I choose this one or that one? Should we go there or stay here? Lots of complicated specifics. Should I? Shouldn’t I?

Not inherently bad prayers. God definitely cares about the specs.

But at times I feel like a bad meteorologist. I focus feverishly on trying to predict which way the wind is blowing, rather than just asking the Source of the wind to come alive inside of me.

Jesus said to pray:

“Your kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” -Matthew 6:10

Your kingdom come.

What if that became my foundational prayer? What if the kingdom Jesus talked about was lit as a fire inside of me? (Mat 3:11-12) What if rivers of living water began to originate from an internal Source? (John 7:38) What if God’s Kingdom really came, transforming me from the inside out?

Wouldn’t all these complicated little “should I?” or “shouldn’t I?” dilemmas just begin to flow naturally? Wouldn’t they be God-originated? Wouldn’t they be energized? Wouldn’t they be sustainable?

Too simple? What do you think?

Some days weigh a lot.

Yesterday definitely needed Weight Watchers, Biggest Loser, or some other soon to quit New Year’s resolution.

At 1:56PM I received an automated call from my kids’ school principal. A seventh grade girl, who undoubtedly passes my daughter countless times in the hallway each and every day, had unexpectedly and mysteriously died. Home sick with what must have seemed like a simple fever, her parents found her unresponsive.

She never woke up.

Gone.

What?

Why?

Shocked parents left to relive that last meaningful interaction with their little princess. A school full of devastated students forced to carry a burden their emotional muscles aren’t ready for. What do you do with death? Especially when the one that died was only 12 years old?

Everything that’s in me wants to explain it. And even though we don’t know this family personally, my kids will be expecting something brilliant from me. I need to find that ideal Scripture about perfect peace or eternal life that will deaden the sting or bring logical understanding into the confusion. That’s what pastor-dads do, right?

Actually, yes. We desperately need the illuminating truth and perspective of Scripture. But sometimes we use quick explanations, even accurate Biblical ones, to dodge the reality and avoid the pain. We think we’re doing a good thing, but maybe we need to take a closer look.

Do you know what Jesus did when His friend Lazarus died? Jesus. Son of God. The One with all the answers. How did he respond?

He cried.

He wept.

He fully embraced the pain and emotion. He stepped into it raw, authentic, and whole.

And maybe that’s what we need to do first. Resist quick answers. Swallow the cliches. Just feel the pain of our broken humanity. Fully. Together.

And experience the presence of Jesus, who knows our every sorrow, walking right there with us, too.

Please pray for the Acton family today, as they find themselves traveling a road no parent should ever have to walk.

Sometimes beautiful and encouraging morphs into scary and disturbing. These two opposing forces strangely emanating from a single source.  Surprising. Confusing. Even disgusting.

A loving embrace from your favorite Aunt Sue: Beautiful
Aunt Sue’s jalapeno and cigarette breath: Disturbing

Ben Affleck’s performance in Good Will Hunting: Beautiful
Ben Affleck in Gigli: Disturbing

An aging Brett Favre playing football like a 16 year old boy: Beautiful
An aging Brett Favre text messaging like a 16 year old boy: Disturbing

Get the picture? There’s a strange tension that emerges when two seemingly opposing expressions spring up from the same root. And in risk of sounding disrespectful, Jesus was no different. Thankfully, His take on disturbing was a substantial departure from the examples I listed above. But the Son of God definitely knew how to throw down some “did He really just say that?” moments.  For instance…

One minute He would say beautiful and encouraging things like this:

“The one who believes in me, even though he or she dies, will live.” John 11:25-26

“You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. Don’t be afraid of missing out. You’re my dearest friends! The Father wants to give you the very kingdom itself.” Luke 12:31-32

“I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” Matthew 11:30

Warm. Delightful. Like a warm blanket next to the fire on a cold, snowy day.

Then a few paragraphs later He seems to shift directions like Sarah Palin voting democrat:

“Sell everything you own and give it away to the poor.  You will have riches in heaven.  Then come follow me.” Luke 18:22

[In response to a man who's father just died] “Follow me, and let the dead bury their own dead.” Matthew 8:22

“If you prefer father or mother over me, you don’t deserve me. If you prefer son or daughter over me, you don’t deserve me.” Matthew 10:37

Disturbing. Scary. Our fancy 21st century discussions and Bible study commentaries have become great at explaining these things away, but Jesus never did.  He just laid them out there. Left them for us to wrestle. Here you go. Chew on this.

Because He loves us.

Yep.  Because He loves us. Real love exists in the tension between unconditional encouragement and unyielding challenge. He takes us as we are, but He doesn’t leave us there.  His aim is our ultimate good.  And Jesus knows full well that journey has to be beautifully disturbing.  That’s real love.

What passages of Scripture do you find the most encouraging? The most disturbing?

How do you wrestle with them?

Yesterday I counseled a ninja.

Not an actual stealth soldier trained in the martial arts, but someone nearly as talented.  A person undeniably adept at verbal ninjitsu, the dark art of maneuvering around an issue by distracting everyone else with all the wrong questions.

It was a frustrating exchange.  Regardless of what I said, this person continued to loudly and emphatically repeat questions that moved the dialog away from the real issues. The ones that were just too personal. Too painful.

The right questions are vitally important.  They illuminate. But they also force our hand.  Good questions can be scary, especially when they make us look inward. So we’ve all become quite clever at not only avoiding them, but throwing out well placed distractions to move the focus elsewhere.

That’s why Jesus often answered questions with questions. If you look throughout the gospels, He rarely responded directly to an inquiry, especially from a religious leader.  Not only were they usually asking the wrong things, but their questions were laced with hidden meaning intended to trap or distract Jesus from the real conversation.

Jesus was the ultimate verbal ninja. He always knew how to bring the dialog back to the things that really mattered.

Which got me wondering.

Are there any questions I’m asking that are just veiled attempts to avoid what Jesus is really asking of me?