Cars roar past. Tree branches roar past. Two young women jogging in the opposite direction float past. Focus. There are better things waiting. How long has it been? Four years? Much was given and much was taken away in those days. Blessed be the name of the Lord. I had blindly sold my sweat and air and birth-right for what was sitting before me. It was sweet in that moment, fingers wrapped into mine and curls that smelled like summer brushing my bare back. She felt like sunlight. Tasted like water sprayed from waves from sea from distant shores.

Like all good waves we receded back down the beach. I run past, giving a half smile to beautifully painful memories. Sand kicks up and falls down into my shoes. More grime to wash away. But oh how good it felt to have someone to hold with real arms and to love with a real heart! Was it love though? Young passion to burn, press, and then drift away may like to call itself love, but it knows little of the full and steady flow that love really brings. It wants the world with no strings attached, then gets frustrated when it gets tangled up and held back. I remember reading a story like that; Esau and his hunger wanting a full stomach enough to sell his right as first born. I’ve got an echo of Esau in me. He loves to sit and indulge in his pleasures, pretending no strings are tangled around his fingers.

I press harder, focus harder. Four years of sweat, ocean spray’s less romantic cousin. God created man to till the ground and work it; to multiply upon the earth and subdue it. That was easily done before sin made the ground grow stones and weeds with more diligence than useful things, but now the story is different. Now people drive machines half the size of my garage to make the earth grow their food.   They fly plains to drop bombs on weeds. Those men who work the ground know sweat in their work, but as for me my job is a desk and a chair and a computer. I multiply nothing and my muscles do next to nothing.

Does mental sweat count?  Someone might make a convincing argument that yes,  it definitely does, but my body won’t buy it. My body needs to stretch and bend and know it’s being disciplined for something better up ahead. So I run. And occasionally grab heavy things to lift. All for the sake of the future.

According to the street sign’s we’re almost done. Less cars here, more houses with large fences and beautiful lawns. No sand, but plenty of dirt that needs to be washed away. I pass her driveway and focus. No cars and no lights on, only my memory calling me foolish for choosing to run this way today. By now we’re supposed to know better. And half of me does; the other half is still Esau wanting to have his soup and his birthright too. To be free of grime while fulfilling all his desires. No. Sorry boy, it ain’t gonna happen.

The last three quarter mile is the hardest in this route, all uphill through back alleys and across one major highway. I press hard; the kingdom has been advancing from that day until now, and only hard-pressing men overtake it. My chest stretches and bends, heaving air in and out like waves on a beach and like earthly prosperity and love comes and goes. Thank God there’s something better ahead. My mind hammers at hope as I vault the highway divide, slipping between waves of traffic. One particularly conscientious driver honks from 40 yards back. I wave in acknowledgement of his kind deed.

Esau finally got it, but not until he lost most of what he prized. Same with Job. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away; blessed be the name of the Lord. Even Jacob, the brother who had it early on had to sweat in order to taste the promise. He knew what it was to subdue and plant. No half-garage machines or airplanes for him, only the longing for the taste of sea spray and the feel of sunlight. He worked for it and got it, but not till the second attempt. That’s what happens when your uncle is as conniving as you. Then God wrestled him and knocked his hip out of joint. Then he got promised the whole world and was given a new name.

Greater things are yet to come, oh Jacob, now Israel. Meet your brother Esau and see how he has changed.

I can see my house, and the lights are on. Odd. I don’t remember turning any on before heading out the door. Sweat drips across my lip and I taste salt water. Sea spray. I slow to a walk to cool down for the last couple blocks. There’s a car in the driveway that I recognize. I breathe and press hard. Esau knows what waits, what he wants. The other half says to move on. My eyes close and my heart sets itself not on earthly things. There is work to be done and kingdoms to catch. I need to shower before sunlight will hit my skin right or my hands will hold another’s well. We’ve got a new name coming.

I run past, glancing at my watch. Greater things are yet to come.

Esau runs.

So walk, measure out immeasurable greatness
and beg a vision’s expanse
to grasp at the edges of
the hope, the promise, and the power of the God
who put his hands down into a grave
and rose to take his rest.

Then we all, seated now within himself
and forgetting about ourselves
are cast by grace into faith
to stand before the Name of names
and resound in the perfect voice
all the glory’s praise.

For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering. For he who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one source. That is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers, saying,

“I will tell of your name to my brothers;

in the midst of the congregation I will sing your praise.”

-          Hebrews 2:10-12

I have an accusation to bring against many of you, my fellow Christians. Your hearts are small and shriveled, and you do not believe even the edge of what God says about your place in his heart. We understand that God has a hatred for sin; that he is just when he judges. We have been taught and can grasp (as amazing as it is) that Christ came and died to bear the legal penalty of our sins. We get that, because of Christ, we will someday get to live eternally in the presence of God, worshipping him. But what? Is that it? Do we get saved through Christ then join the throng standing several hundred feet back from the throne, looking on in amazement as the 24 elders and cherubim and seraphim worship, enjoying the rays emanating from the throne and occasionally joining our voices with the song? Ha! Do not think so lowly of your Lord’s love that you insult him.

The writer of Hebrews will allow no such half-hearted imagining of God’s work on behalf of those whom he has chosen and called. His bold declaration is that Christ is not ashamed to call us his brothers. Do you grasp the massive weight of that statement? Enter the throne room of God. Walk upon your shaking legs into the great hall where the throne of jasper and carnelian sits looming over a sea of glass. Shield your eyes, if you dare look; or fall prostrate as Isaiah did, mumbling in fear at the presence of the one who makes the earth shake and mountains melt and makes galaxies collapse simply by willing it. None compare to him. None can approach him. What sort of reception do you expect upon your entrance? In such company a man is worthy of no notice. The cherubim, perhaps, with their many wings and never-ceasing voices, would command some attention. The shaking pillars and the air filled with smoke might play a distraction to a particularly scatter-brained being. But no, the all commanding center of attention is God himself.

What will you do when you enter that throne room which all men fear to enter and Christ stands and greets you as brother and sister, the delight of your presence bright in his eyes as he embraces you with shameless love? This truth should leave us breathless! God himself, unashamed to call a man his brother? Foolishness at best. No real God would stoop so low as dirty himself by association with things of flesh, blood, and dust.

Yet that is exactly what our God has done. Christ came; dust, sweat, and manure as his greeting. Christ came, lived and breathed humid air, peeled sunburned skin, and tripped and fell into the dust that his hands had used to form the first Adam. Christ lived and died, as much man as God, and purchased those who follow him a way into paradise. Even a thief bleeding out upon a cross was not below him. But Christ did not stop with purchasing us entrance, for that would be far too small a reward for his sacrifice. Instead, his blood bought for us an entrance into the very family of God. We are no second rate sons or daughter. Paul declares in Ephesians 2 that, “God, being rich in mercy…made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus.”

Your king does not frown upon you, Christian. Christ will neither scold nor push you away. He is a sympathetic high priest who knows full well all our struggles. Not only that, but it was fitting and appropriate for him to bring many sons to glory; the work he did in saving you was a pleasing work to him. He delights in you – in His work in you – for he sanctifies you, and you are given to him by his father. Therefore he calls you brother, and will rejoice when you finally enter into the Kingdom with him.

My prayer for you, my friends, is the same as Paul prayed for the Ephesians; that God would enlighten your eyes and enlarge your hearts so that you can know just how great his promises and passion toward you is, and how immeasurable his power is to complete the work he has begun. Hold fast, and rejoice! Your King loves you beyond all imagination.

But no logic have men for things
that make neither sense nor mind
instead the live a perfect order
ignoring the impossibly

Of fingers curling round coffee cups
or planets making perfect course;
Of water cycling from sky to earth
or women giving children birth.
Instead, all is kept well sorted through
for “geniuses” to see.

Such order; such order is not for me
I shall keep bare the trust I have
and live, simply
letting a greater genius than the man I am
guide the way I think.

In a recent post I mentioned how the chaos of life often contributes greatly to my distraction from the things we as Christians ought to focus on. The Lord has a funny way of pressing topics home to me, often from unexpected sources. This afternoon I was listening to the White Horse Inn, a podcast discussion between a several Reformed pastors that usually focuses on church life, theology, biblical interpretation and the like. This week’s topic just happened to be “distracting ourselves to death,” somewhat of a departure from their normal subject matter. The discussion and analysis of the topic was poignant enough that I decide to lay out some of my response and share with you. Some of the statistics that they pointed out, such as our shrinking attention span, the dismal state of our education system, and the difficulty of getting people to actually work at something like reading or studying were staggering to me.

It is a sad truth that Americans have much lacking in the discipline of the mind. Ours is becoming a culture built upon distraction; our brains being trained to be comforted by a constant beck and call of background media. We tune out the people around us by turning up the music. We pass time by flipping channels, lingering only so long as something catches our eye. We distract ourselves from the focus of study by consistently checking our phones, computers, and the like.

Ha. As I started typing this my phone notified me of a text message, distracting me from the conversation I was in the midst of via Facebook chat, which was distracting me from organizing my thoughts to write this post. Three fingers pointing right back at me, mocking the one pointed at everyone else.

But that was then. I’ve reformed my ways since writing that last paragraph. I’m a new man. I’ve exited windows and closed tabs. Even muted my phone. And no, that’s not a TV that you hear in the background. Or music through the headphones.

(See what I just did there? I distracted you from the subject at hand with a comic interjection to keep your attention. I’m playing to your handicap.)

Through these headphones one of the guests on the White Horse Inn observed that the problem isn’t mainly that we get distracted so easily, but that we are becoming people who depend on distraction in order to function. Our minds become frantic for some new stimulation if the volume level stays below the peak line for too long. The long conversation must be interrupted and begun again in order for us to stay on task. The 45 minute sermon needs a video somewhere in the middle to remind people to stay awake. We need short chapters and large section headings.

Over time, this constant state of distraction cripples the brain. It prevents us from being able to dig down into things that are meant to engage us on a deeper level. Art becomes less meaningful as we lose the ability to attend to the small details. Music becomes more trivial and more people love a song for its catchy beat than its astute lyrics (observe; crank dat by soulja boy or Tonight by the Black Eyed Peas).

This is particularly relevant for we as Christians. We are to be a people who have knowledge of God’s Word and have spent the time, focus, and effort it takes to engage and wrestle with the Gospel and the Bible, having strengthened our souls and readied our minds by that engagement. We are commanded to “let the Word of Christ dwell richly in you.” There will be little richness to that field which is only lightly plowed. We are to be steadfast and regular in prayer. But how can these things be done if our minds have been shallowed by a lifetime of training that says anything which takes more than 5 minutes to understand isn’t work the effort?

It is my experience that the greatest treasures are found in Scripture, prayer, and the Christian life in general through much faithful striving. Proverbs declares that, “It is the glory of God to conceal things, but the glory of kings is to search things out.” (Prov. 25:2) Oh how true this is! The times where I have come to a passage that particularly perplexed me and spent 10, 25, 30 minutes (and even longer) thinking, reading, cross-referencing, and charting out the sentence and my thoughts have brought forth some of the sweetest fruit in my study of the Word. There is glory in there; a glory fit for kings!

Yet still our entire culture stands in opposition. Daily life pours itself out like a bucket of glitter and confetti calling for our attention, yet still Christ stands and says, “I am to be your focus. Don’t set your mind on this world, set it above where I am, seated and ruling with my father and where you soon shall be.” We forget the things of God easily enough as it is. How jealous we should be to protect ourselves, our friends, and our children from things that will drag us away even more!

Go, grab the word, and dig deep in it. Capture – make – a rare moment of solitude and lift your soul to the Lord in undivided adoration. Begin to train your mind to dig the long, painful furrows of deep thought. The fruit born will be well worth the work!

I’ve come to Moorhead quite a different man than I was when I attended CLC four years ago. No more can I walk silently through halls and classes; my life must be a beacon and a banner. My voice must be a declaration of love and truth. I have tasted and I have seen that there are things far more massive than the futility of a life lived upon earthly things, and I shall give what life I have left to help others to see as well. May God use me.

I go to war; war has come to me, and I intend to make the most of it.

I pray the same is true for you.

A fall, a summer, a winter move
like the sound of your joy throughout the trees
bringing life to this broken earth
and changing branches to growing leaves.

More or less than blind I’d been
till you came and kissed me with all your strength
and I awoke, gasping for a colored breath
and a soul to contain a perfect gift.

a wonder, the laughter, a fearful thrill
like a horizon bigger than our little world
leaving me grasping at a galaxy of thought
for words to repeat what you had done.

More or less than a slave I was
when you bought me for yourself and said,
stay, hope, and only trust -
I shall be your father
and you shall be my son.

How long must the finale tarry? I am a sojourner in a foreign land, catching the scent of home on the wind as it sings trees to sleep, and it reminds me of just how far away I am. Further than stars from earth, flickering as their light refracts through the atmosphere, much like the pictures of home flicker and distort through these broken senses. We take the satellite route home, slowly drifting through the sky. Oh how I would love to be a shooting star instead; a bright burn across a sky, sputtering out as all around watch. Shooting stars make it home quicker.

But we will go home, in good time. How sweet a thought that is!  Christ said, “I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.” To be with Christ, my brother and savior and King. That is a good thing.

Autumn is closer. A night is beginning and a day ending, and I am a day closer to home. My bones still ache, and this body coughs with its frustration at earthly life. It’s tired, and I will sleep to wake up to a new day. Then, some day in the future, I will lay down to my final sleep and awake in a new world as a new man. No more mirrors or pains. Real stars.

Things tend to get lost in all that life throws my way. Between two jobs, studying, family, and all the other odds and ends of a common week I tend to lose sight of the greater picture of what God is doing. And it’s when I start forgetting that gloriously massive story that I begin to get discouraged and feel as though the way I spend my time is of little consequence. Evenings that should be full with rejoicing interaction with family, both earthly and spiritual, become times to sit around and be entertained in front of the television or computer. Morning that are meant to be bright beginnings to days centered in the Lord fall to dreary half-awake, half-hearted starts. The sight of a massive thunderhead rolling through the sky that should lift my mind to the power of its creator becomes a passing complaint about too much rain this summer.

When we lose the perspective of God’s plan, our actions become small and meaningless and sin comes far too easy. And when I say sin I don’t (only) mean going around doing evil. I mean failing to do as we are commanded in Colossians 3; “set your mind on things that are above, not on things that are of earth.” Peter called it “being sober minded” and setting our hope fully on the grace that will soon be revealed.

Forget the cost of that tank of gas. Forget that your late. Forget the fact that you haven’t slept well the last three nights. If that’s what’s on your mind, you’re focusing on the wrong things. Stop remembering the things that will fall like grass and start remembering what is eternal. Jesus said to. Have you forgotten that everything is good for you, because God makes it that way? Have you forgotten that solar systems and sea horses groan in longing for the day that you are revealed for who you really are? Have you forgotten that God has a throne and you are seated upon it with Christ?

I mean, really. Forget something of less consequence next time. Like breathing. Remember where your mind is supposed to be sitting.

How desperate we ought to be for eyes that see from a higher vantage point than the middle of our head! We must remember that we are players in a work that God has been doing since the beginning of time. He didn’t simply create this world and turn it loose; he has intentionally placed you in the time and place that you are currently in for the sake of doing the work that was planned for you to do from before trees grew. The Lord loved the people around you so much that he placed you near them so that they might see Him reflected in your life. Your tiny. Tiny like the molecules in an atom bomb that turn a city to dust. Molecules like the ones you are made out of that are being held together by God because he has a plan for you.

Forget about your canker sore. Get some perspective. You’re related by blood to the guy who laughs and smiles when every nation on earth decides to declare war on him.

Oh how that knowledge should wake us from lazy hours and passive living! We are ambassadors, princes, priests, and a people who have the very God of very God pulsing within us. Our stage is a massive one and our part essential. Don’t waste your days. Instead, keep in mind the fact that nothing – absolutely nothing – in your life is accidental. Grab some perspective, pray that God would enlarge your heart to feel it, and let the small stuff (money, clothing, life) slide. You have been chosen and are being prepared for glory. Remind yourself often of that fact. It’s one thing we should never forget.

I long for that oneness of heart but fall far short of obtaining it. What should be thundering passion thrumming within my chest as I pray or study the Word often becomes a mere clinical examination of deity. Words rolled from the mouth of God onto paper and preserved for thousands of years should strike me with massive for, yet they seem to move through me with little effect. A life that should be lived in the confident courage of knowing that if God is for me, none can be against me becomes a barely-swimming struggle to stay afloat in a storm.

Still, in that often unaffected mind there is a seed that knows it is meant to inspire fruit of an unearthly quality. A fruit that sets captives free and heals the wounded; a fruit that wells up within its eater to become springs of living water; a fruit that awakes sleepers and breaks curses; a fruit that abides, because the branch that bears it does the same.  And this branch – this small branch of a man – aches deeply at his better hours to be part of a generation that pushes forth, suffering and dying their way into life, just like their savior did. It is fruit like that that the Lord has sent his Spirit to bring forth. Christ sent his Spirit to lead us to him who is the only way, truth, and life.

And where is Christ to be found? He is upon the cross, crying out in agony and gagging upon his own blood. He is in eternity, reveling at the work that the Godhead has wrought. He is at a grave’s entrance, bidding Lazarus to rise and standing to reveal his own resurrection. He is standing at an altar purified by his own blood, waiting for his bride to come and be purified so that he may take her as his own. Christ is in you oh believer.

In you.

Have you understood that, or has your mind so long crippled by sin so as to prevent you from seeing the vast expanse of what has been placed within you when God sent his Spirit? Christ – the one in whom God was pleased to dwell – dwells in you. Your yet-sinful flesh somehow contains all the fullness of God.  How can we dare to dabble in anything as trivial as what is of this earth? It is ludicrous that you should be captivated by television or sports of food or sex or coffee or careers when all things are already yours. The greatest things of the world are loss when compared to that surpassing greatness which has been planted within you as the Spirit has begun to grow.

Yet even as I sit and write these things part of my mind wants to just quit writing and go play video games from now until midnight. Not two days ago I chose to blatantly ignore that very Spirit’s leading, trading a God’s will for a few hours of entertainment and pleasure. How dare I do so? Have we forgotten so easily him who called us by the riches of his grace? Do we deny the blood of his new creation that now flows within our veins? God help us.

And indeed he shall.

Here is my call, you Christian men and women; I say no new thing, I only urge you once again to take up your cross and follow your God, to the death if you must (and indeed you must). Stand from your stupor; awake you sleeping generation! God has done the thing and it is marvelous in our eyes. Now we are to continue it by his power. As the Father did his works in and through the Son, so we are to do Christ’s work, moving as he leads. Forget these passing pleasures and focus yourself on that which is imperishable and unfading. I for one am tired of spending my life on drops of dust when my God offers and ocean in which to swim.

To be honest, I don’t know what that ocean looks like for you, but I know for me there are some things I need to get rid of before I swim well. Those lead weights for me take the forms of entertainment and pleasure, and no man can swim well with lead upon him. I intend to replace those worthless (at best) things with prayer, meditation upon the word, speaking of Christ to those who don’t know him, and so much more. It means that who I marry is directly guided by Christ’s cross. It means that sleep is not my highest priority, Christ is. It means that my worry is not money, but whether I am pleasing my God by the way I live.

Like I said, I don’t know what swimming in the ocean looks like for you, but you need to know. Christ is in you like the sap of the vine is in its branches. His life leads down to death and up again into infinite life, all for the glory of the Father. If his life is in you, yours will look like his. That is no small thing. The Superbowl, tsunamis, and life are small things. Your car breaking down is a small thing. Don’t live life focused on the small things. Live like Christ; to the praise of the Lord’s glorious grace.