We're not really all that...

Sometimes I hate intellectual banter.

Honestly, it can smell of such arrogance and sound a bit like we’re “playing God.” We are silly and small. We know very little and yet act as if we have the corner on the deepest, most obscure thoughts that no one has ever had. Essentially, we think far too much of ourselves. We admire people like C.S. Lewis and hear stories of him and the Inklings sitting around in their Oxford pub speaking about fantasies and theology and the webbings of life. Ironic it is. We mimic them and somehow think we are the same, and yet the image of being smart and clever is far more motivating than truly learning from one another. We discuss topic after topic and comment on every new wave of thought as if we are the masters of words and opinions, thinking we have finally made a point no one else has ever made. It’s the world of the internet, free range thought and late night postings. Sadly, we have come to believe we are smarter than God Himself, and somewhere along the way we became arrogant enough to think we can more effectively speak for Him since He can’t quite make His own defense with enough clarity for the human race to be at ease.

Danger lurks around these platforms. Worship is misplaced. We begin to bow down to our own minds, and our personal, sophisticated creativity and have come to assume we are worth “following” on our blog, Twitter, or Facebook. Our goal, as Tim Keller says in his new book, The King’s Cross, is to get the rest of the world to “orbit” around us; instead of pointing them to “orbit” around someone far bigger. Now, of course I hesitate and have to consider my own participation in this, the writing world. Truth be told, I hate the tension that steals most of the experience from me. Underneath, deep inside of me, are many thoughts rolling around, and some that I wholeheartedly believe are worth sharing. However, I delay the delivery of these words all the time. Throwing my words, opinions and thoughts under my personal microscope, I critique my motives and discipline my intentions like a child who is wandering far off to do what he wants, void of all consideration and wisdom, narrowed by only the thought of self. I, too often, become the person who I am so frustrated with and as fear tangles around me, I restrain myself.

Those “thinkers” who are long gone, who we admired so much, were drenched in humility. Men like C.S. Lewis did not think highly of himself, he thought because he was a genuine intellect. He did not chase an image, he chased the truth. He did not chase a name, he chased clarity. A.W. Tozer taught himself by reading and re-reading, searching and thinking. He was quiet, awkward and mild. Charles Spurgeon preached to 10,000 people at a time on any given Sunday and yet lived hidden in the power of secret prayer. It seems their goals were different than the goals of the 21st century writers. We want a name. Many budding writers think our own minds are wells of inspiration and hidden theory and we thrive on our pulpit of self-promotion. This pride is our greatest barrier to truth. Our insights are clouded with cynicism and arrogance.

So I’m not sure about the balance. We who love to write, are called to write. Those who love to sing, must sing. The artist must paint. The dancer must dance. Our goals, our motives, our reason for doing what we do, must first take the stand and come under question. We must face our own cross-examination. Pride steals. It makes us ineffective in what we say and do. Human beings can smell it a mile away. C.S. Lewis said this of pride,

There is one vice of which no man in the world is free; which every one in the world loathes when he sees it in someone else; and of which hardly any people, except Christians, ever imagine that they are guilty themselves. I have heard people admit that they are bad-tempered, or that they cannot keep their heads about girls or drink, or even that they are cowards. I do not think I have ever heard anyone who was not a Christian accuse himself of this vice. And at the same time I have very seldom met anyone, who was not a Christian, who showed the slightest mercy to it in others. There is no fault which makes a man more unpopular, and no fault which we are more unconscious of in ourselves. And the more we have it ourselves, the more we dislike it in others.

So to those who write: Weigh your words carefully. But more than that, weigh why you do what you do. We are, and never were meant to be the center, that place is reserved for One.

His Promise Kept....

"Isn't it funny how day by day nothing changes but when you look back everything is different...." --Prince Caspian (C.S. Lewis)

I've held on to this hope. My counselor told me one time, "Dawn, it is a gift that you have friends who have known you long enough to be able to tell you that you are a different person than you were years ago, but the truth is, you are different whether you 'feel' it or not, or whether your friends can tell you or not. Jesus promises, and has made a commitment to you, to change you. He is doing it each day. It is a fact."

What a significant, and truly restful thought. The anxiety I feel at times over my own soul and my own state is appeased by this truth: He is making me more like Jesus and it has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with His promises.

Hold on to this when you fall. Keep focused on this fact when you see the same strongholds creep in again. Everything is truly different. And the greatest hope is that one day, the veil will be removed and what we see now in part we will one day soon see in whole! This is the hope of Heaven. This is another promise we cling to.

I Corinthians 13:12---
Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.

El Morro...

It means “Fortress.” In Old San Juan, Puerto Rico there stood beyond rolling, green hills a tall, stout fortress. Its walls high and its image one of strength and might. People peppered all about with kites and chairs and food. Kids rolling down the inclines and playing round after round of hide-and-go-seek. Behind all the activity, stands a powerful image of warfare. Defense. Protection. Resolute resistance. Back in the 19th century there was no frolic or play, laughter was scare and fear intensified every moment of reprieve, stealing any potential lightheartedness. War colored everything. Land was the goal, ownership and power were the driving force of the time. As I walked through the rooms and looked out over the rough waves rolling in from the North, I began to wander into the spiritual world. Peter calls it a war over our souls. He goes on to say that the Devil prowls around like a lion, seeking to kill. He is subtle, crafty, pointed, fixed on a goal of destruction. Troops led under his fierce command are enraged with his imparted fury and nothing or no one gets in his way.

Except one.

There is a force unstoppable and in place, a ready shield. There is a power that stands high above the ocean, thick walls of barbaric stone unbreakable, unbeatable and guarded day and night. Nations rise up, people strategize attacks, evil is vigilant and harsh in its movement toward the Kingdom of God and all its followers. This is war. This is conflict and combat. With much precision and detailed method, our authorities advise, collect data, observe enemy patterns and set up for the ensuing battle. Bloodshed is necessary and expected. Losses are inevitable. All precautions must be taken for each and every individual. A Commander will instruct, but cannot demand his platoon to obey; he can give credible counsel and delegate necessary procedure, but he cannot make one engage in the fight. Or better said, he will not.

In this war where the platform is unseen and the enemy invisible, we must prepare with different strategy. As I walked through El Morro and turned in a full circle around me, walls bordered every side and canons were set up at each post, ready to blast out the enemy coming in at night, in secret, concealed in the loud rage of the ocean. They were hard to spot, and as they ventured in they hit a barrier of great might, and it still stands centuries later. It remains in tact and strong. The spiritual battle is altogether unconventional and yet vaguely familiar to those who have fought these historic battles for land and sea. New eyes, new senses, unique and distinct plans. Strange measures must be made. This is an exotic, raging war over the souls of all mankind. He prowls in wait. This enemy is real, his death wish is the warrant on our lives.

Towers of concrete and wide walls are not needed in this battle on this plane. Paul spells it out in Ephesians: “Put on all of God’s armor so that you will be able to stand firm against all the strategies of the devil.” The protection we are to wear is quite mismatched from the strong site I saw in old San Juan. Truth, Readiness, God’s righteousness, Peace, Faith, Salvation, and the Word of God. No guns, helmets, swords, or grenades; no arrows, spears, chain mail or tanks. Everything is different. And in no way more simple, or less scary. The fight is executed in a realm unseen by human eyes and it cuts with a sharp and steady blow. We are to be engaged and we are to be ready. We are all participants, those with the name of Christ written on their souls are to be cautiously prepared for dispatch.

That’s you. That’s me. Each of us who take a place in the Body of Christ. So when I stood, so small, at the base of such a monstrous palace of protection I knew that this was a shadow of one much bigger, wider, more steady, more solid, more sturdy and more sure than any earthly stronghold. Understanding the battle is foundational to preparing for it. Who is our enemy, how does he fight, what are his patterns, what are our fears, what makes us crawl back, what makes us motivated, what are the weapons fashioned against us, who is fighting alongside of us, and who ultimately has our back? What does it look like for me to be a part of this invisible, but very real, attack against the people of God and the reign of His Kingdom?


We are vulnerable. There are weapons forged against us. If we sit still and hope for an arrow to miss us, or for the enemy not to notice us in our secret spot, we will soon be overtaken. Our enemy is smarter than us. The tools and ammunition must never sit in the closet useless and rotting. Instead these means of defense must be employed and unlocked or we sit helpless on enemy ground. Many have learned, with little time, to use weaponry, to shoot a gun and dodge a bullet. But what about the use of Truth, or Peace...what does it mean to fight with the Spirit of God?

“The Kingdom of Heaven is like a treasure that a man discovered hidden in a field. In his excitement, he hid it again and sold everything he owned to get enough money to buy the field.”

Work, labor, toil, sweat, seeking, engaging, listening, sitting, reading, memorizing, re-reading, studying... “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” ALL YOUR HEART. This battle is not for the faint of heart or the lazy, fearful and aimless. There is nothing about walking into a battle with a passive demeanor or response. There is clear direction. There is a means, a detailed and often painful process. Jesus called us to be a part of a Kingdom vision. It is not small.

So the weapons we fight with are not of this tangible world and yet we are to learn to engage them with vigor and hard work. He is the one to equip us and ready us; He is the one to send us out with supernatural aptitude and skill. He builds into us all of what we need. So arise, go ahead with confidence, tap into the potential that sits in full supply. Beware of the loss of shrinking back or forgetting the One who mounts His Horse with all authority. For you ride under His lead, you advance with His course of action, you are shielded by His wings. So, fear not. The Kingdom is within you. All that you need to fight, is all that you have already. Seek truth, righteousness, peace, salvation, and above all else, may His Word be our food.

Don't let your eyes rest, you may miss Him.

It is always refreshing to read the words of the saints. Have you ever sat with the writings of Charles Spurgeon or contemplated the thoughts of A.W. Tozer or Francis Feneoln? They were each so bold. So focused on one thing. Inspiring, to say the least.

I have some back issues, to put it lightly. The honest description is that I feel like an 80 year old trapped in this body. Some days are worse than others, but none without pain. In the end, I would say, though at times it is hard for me to really believe it: pain is a driving force, a sharpening tool, a humbling push, a necessary thing. I say that, while at the same exact time I can tell you boldly that I hate it. My mind wanders to a saint who lived above and in spite of her wrenching pain: Amy Carmichael. Look her up. Read a few of her thoughts and you will unearth some higher perspective. I just have a few lines of something I read today from a collection of her writings named, I Come Quietly to Meet You.

In one of the apocryphal books it is written: “Go your way, and see beauty and greatness...as much as your eyes are able to see” (II Esdras 10:55)...as much as your eyes are able to see. It is only when we look and look and look that we really see. And the more we know of the object we are looking at, the more we see in it...It is the I in you and me that blinds our eyes. The loss of I--that I may know Him, see Him with new clearness in all creation...even in the souls of the unlovable and unbeautiful. I want more and more to see His is goodness and His beauty. Not vaguely, nor just from time to time. I want to see Him truly, continually, in His work, in those who love Him, in His book, in Himself...

Not just from time to time...we settle for that every single day.

Amy Carmichael sat bedridden for many years suffering with intense neurological pain from a fall. She was expected to recover and never did. These were the years, in her bed, that she wrote of the treasures of the spiritual world. She came alive when her body was quite useless. But from ashes of pain came the beauty of her pen.

So today, as I am in pain, as are many, I look to Amy as a reminder of the beauty around me, all the time. Ash Wednesday approaches and leads us into a season of Lent. Let it be that we look for as much as our eyes can see....