For everyone will be seasoned with fire, and every sacrifice will be seasoned with salt.–Mark 9:49

This is a crazy verse, friends. As I read it this morning, I had trouble wrapping my mind around the words. Consider this mental image:

You. Going about your daily life. Your creator looking on, caring, concerned. Loving you more than your human mind can ever comprehend. Taking joy in the life He molded and knowing you’ll never reach your full potential if the status quo is maintained.

Hanging from his shoulder, like a messenger bag, is a satchel. A glowing, burning satchel. His hands, still scarred with the price of your redemption, reach into the satchel and pull out tiny rocks of fire. They blaze as He releases them. Sparkling, dancing through the heavens, they land with a painful sizzle on your heart.

They hurt. So bad. You fight them at first, pushing at the offending circumstance, at the hurt before you. But, fire must do its work, and soon–maybe not soon enough–but soon, the fire dies, having consumed all there is to consume. The flammable impurities you harbored deep inside are gone. You are stronger, wiser. You may not understand the nature of the flame, but you are better for having been burned by it.

You have been seasoned with fire.

And now, another being enters. You can’t see him, of course. He’s spirit, like your creator. Only different. Very, very different. Never grasping the full potential of fire, he craves only its power to destroy. From his own satchel, burning bright like the creator’s, he pulls a handful of flaming rocks. Similar, so similar to the fiery salt of the creator. Before he can tip his hand though, before the fire makes its way to your heart, the creator stops him.

“Open it,” He says.

And the evil one does. He has to. Has no choice. As much as he craves freedom, he is still subject to the creator’s will. Finger by finger, the malevolent hand opens, and there, his own brand of seasoning sits, sparking and biting, anxious to consume. The creator sweeps away this flame and that, knowing, ever-knowing the limits of His created. From the hand of evil, your redeemer flicks pains and hurts not intended for you. He understands your purpose. Made you for a reason. This fire is to season, not to kill.

But, there in the hand of evil, He sees a pain that furthers His design for you, for His created order, so He leaves it. Allows it to stay. Were you there, you may question the decision, but it would not be yours to fight. He is the creator. You are the created. Regardless of the hand it comes from, this fire will make you strong.

And so, it falls–this pain, this hurt, this tribulation or trial–into your life, onto the ground of your heart. The evil one smiles at the ache it causes, at the blister that will scar, but your creator knows that fire can only consume the excess, the fat. It cannot harm metal most pure. The process is similar to every other seasoning and in the end, because your creator knows you best, the salt of fire has pulled you closer to perfection.

I’m sure it’s a bit different. I doubt God really carries a satchel full of flaming rocks. But, the idea that every single one of us will be seasoned with fire, that we’ll all face pain and hurt that will leave us scarred, reminds me of the flannel-graph characters I learned about in Sunday school. I’m reminded of Job, who said, “Though He slay me, yet I will trust Him.”

I’m reminded of Daniel who survived a den of lions because an angel kept their mouths shut.

I’m reminded of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego: Three men who were thrown into a furnace for refusing to bow down to the idol of a human king. Their words stir something deep inside me and today I hope they stir something in you. Resolve, maybe. Tenacity. The courage to stand when the world seems to be tearing itself apart at the seams.

To Nebuchadnezzar, they said, “If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it, and He will rescue us from your hand, O king. But even if He does not, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.”

Even if He does not. Did you see that phrase? EVEN IF HE DOES NOT!

Now, that’s faith. Faith that God’s plan is better than our plan. That His created purpose is more important than anything I cling to. Faith that recognizes a seasoning of fire. Faith that trusts God regardless of what my eyes see. Faith to leave my life in His hands, because His purpose is more important.

I want faith like that.

The kind of faith that can survive the fire.

This morning while lying in bed, listening to my children roar at one another from their separate sides of the room, God spoke.

To me.

He does this from time to time and I’m so very grateful.

And humbled.

Wanna know what He said?

Just four little words.

“I have a plan.”

That’s it. That’s all He said. See, God’s not into flowery talk. He knew what I needed to hear. And these four little words completed the puzzle my mind’s been grinding away at for the past couple weeks. And while I’ve been feeling a bit distant from my hopes and dreams–distant even from Him–God knew that the hitch in my spirit has been a lack of faith. Not that I didn’t believe, but that I’m so very human and I forget.

I forget that God has a plan. I forget that I’m part of the plan. That my life–my successes and failures–have a purpose. I get all caught up in logistics and the “how to” and the “what next,” that I neglect to sit at Christ’s feet and listen to Him, to His heart. To His plan.

And I’ll be honest, God having a “plan” doesn’t mean life’s going to be easy.

After all, God had a plan for Jeremiah. You remember Jeremiah? The “weeping prophet.” The guy who was called to prophecy destruction to God’s chosen nation. The guy God said this to, “Do not be terrified by them, or I will terrify you before them.” Yeah. God had a plan for Him.

God had a plan for Job. Ah, Job. We sing about Him on Sundays. “Blessed be your name on the road marked with suffering.” Job: The guy who lost absolutely everything. The guy God allowed Satan to attack. Uh huh. Say what you will, but Job’s suffering was part of God’s plan too.

Christians pray against plans like these in our prayer meetings.

And while I won’t try to convince you (or myself) that my daily life includes persecution like the kind Jeremiah suffered, or Job’s brand of unearned tragedy, my spirit, dependent upon the same God they served, learns from the courage they brandished.

There’s comfort in knowing I’m right in the thick of it. Right in the center of God’s plan and purpose for my life. It may be hard. It may not make any sense, but the minute God whispered, “I have a plan,” the pieces fell into place. The masterpiece God’s creating of me and my life is not complete, but I have this assurance: God has a plan.

You know what’s funny? My first response to his quiet reminder was to sit up and begin to scratch out my own plan. “Okay, God,” I said, “you have a plan! Woot! So, here’s what I’m gonna need you to do.”

Hmmm….

You ever try to tell God what His plan should look like?

After laughing at me (cause God likes to laugh), He brought verse after verse to remembrance.

Matthew 6 says this about our worries: Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these.

In all our anxiety, we must not toil or spin.

Matthew 6 also says this: Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things will be added unto you.

God and His kingdom come first. That’s a BIG part of the plan. No wonder suffering has a place. No wonder pain and endurance have value. The plan isn’t all about me.

And, one of my favorite verses, Philippians 4 says, “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Take your requests to God with a thankful heart. Prayer! What a novel thought!

So, if you’re like me, and you often forget that God has a plan, I’m here to remind you, just as the Holy Spirit reminded me: God has a plan. And if you’re seeking God, if you’re aiming for Him, you’re not going to miss it. Don’t buy into that kind of lie. We serve a big, sovereign God. A God who thinks His plan is awfully important. So, stop worrying! Be of good cheer!

God has a plan.

And you are a part of it!

I’m an information junkie.

When making a decision, I want options and I’d like to know just what they are.

Quickly.

In an age where computers are assumed vital, this is easily accomplished. Each morning, I fire up the thinking machine on my desk and within seconds, Fox News is dumping information into my lap. More information than a soul could possibly need. I scan the headlines while a cup of caffeinated-something-or-other keeps me chugging along just like the hard drive whirring within the plastic box at my side. The tower, it’s called. Just one of the many stops the daily news makes on its way to the nesting place between my ears.

But, Fox News isn’t my only source of info (some of you just heaved a huge sigh of relief).

I read ten or fifteen blogs a week; Google and I are fast-friends; there are RSS feeds that slide right into my email inbox; and Wikipedia is a frequent stop of mine. I don’t even (much) mind the oft-biased opinions threaded into the commentary spewed at me from the world at large. I’m smart enough to weed out the opinions. I’m well read. I know what I believe.

And yet, my moderately intelligent, sponge of a brain has a limit.

Like that line on the Bisquick Shake ‘N’ Pour container: You can keep adding water, surpass the recommended measurement. Fill it right up to the lid, in fact, and be darn proud of yourself for squeezing so much in. But, I’m not quite sure you’ll get what you’re looking for. For starters, I think you’ll have an awfully hard time getting the pancake mix and the water to successfully meld. To get full value out of your “shake,” the water and mix need a little elbow room. They need a place to dance around in. Without some empty space, you may just end up with a bloated tub of water and powder.

But, let’s say you’ve got the Paula Dean anointing and do get that itty-bitty handful of mix to blend with the oodles of water you’ve added. My guess is you’re going to have nothing but a slew of sad, thin, little pancakes. No substance. No yum-factor. Nothing for the chocolate chips to melt into. Just wafer thin, useless carb carriers. No one’s gonna want to eat ‘em and all your effort will have been for naught.

Often, when I’ve been on an information binge, I’m just like that pathetic Shake ‘N’ Pour container. I somehow exceed the recommended dose of global, situational, and social advisement, and there I sit: a bloated, good for nothing info-hog unable to successfully process the junk crammed into my head. These days are anxious days. Impatient ones. The cogs are hard at work trying to force too much info into the saturated sponge that has become my mind.

At times like these, when I’ve thoroughly gorged myself, it becomes necessary to unwind a bit–make room for the new facts and opinions to dance with the old ones. But, even this is only moderately successful, and it can take days for me to return to a sane place where thinking things of substance trumps regurgitating good-for-nothing bylines.

Advice from here. Advice from there. Tips on how to be successful. Testimonials from those who’ve failed. Tragic news stories from across the globe. Sports scores and The Fashion Police. “How-to” books and the like. While information technology can be a very liberating tool, I am finding that it can also handicap me. Too much, too quickly and I’m toast. I’m a walking sound bite–a billboard for the latest news I’ve ingested.

And that can’t be the way God intended it.

Perhaps it’s the difference between moderation and excess. Maybe it’s understanding the difference between the information I need and the information I want. Or it could be that while I’m craving knowledge, I should really be seeking wisdom.

James, the brother of Christ, talks a lot about wisdom. He says this, “But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, reasonable, full of mercy and good fruits, unwavering, without hypocrisy. And the seed whose fruit is righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.”

Maybe before sidling into the computer chair, I should open my Bible. Maybe filling my mind with a morning foundation of God stuff–pure, peaceable, gentle, reasonable wisdom from above–will remind me that collecting information will not make me wise.

I’ll say it again: Collecting information will not make me wise.

It will not make you wise.

The only way to redeem knowledge for wisdom is to apply the lessons of the Word to our busy, info-inundated lives. And to apply the Word, we must know the Word. And we will never, ever know the Word if we are spending our day searching computers, newspapers, or televisions for more information.

While extricating ourselves from a routine of intelligence gathering may be painful, I’m betting it pays off in dividends. I’m betting we’ll be more productive and more reasonable. We’ll be less anxious and less busy. If we swap out half the time we spend searching for meaningless information, trading it instead for time digging through the Word, I’m guessing our daily satchel of cares will be a little lighter and our heart a lot happier.

We may know a tad less, but we’ll have a direct line to that wisdom from above.

And that sounds like the kind of junkie I’d like to be.

I like to be entertained. I do.

My first job–if you don’t count folding the church bulletin–was at a lazer tag facility. Birthday parties, tournaments, video games, all-nighters. One of these days, I’ll do a post on the life-altering days of marshaling lazer tag games full of sweaty grown men, shooting their hearts out while the likes of Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” fills the black light arena with techno craziness. Fun stuff.

My second job–if you don’t count the short stint I had at a law firm during college–was at Hollywood Video where I worked my way from customer service, to management, to a Senior VP’s Executive Assistant. It was, by far, one of the best learning experiences of my life. And, I learned way more than I ever wanted to know about the management, perception, and marketing of entertainment.

During both of these jobs, I acted, performing in such shows as “Our Town” and “The Crucible.”

Like I said, I like to be entertained. And, apparently, I like to entertain.

Nowadays, I write. It’s my outlet. My expression, if you will, of the creativity screaming inside me. And I maintain that imaginative characters had better find a way to puncture their soul and let ingenuity run free. Because creativity hates to be trapped. Really, it’s a monster. A viscous, life-sucking beast that will claw up your insides if you don’t find a way to let it out and play.

My guess is that you’ve got a raging creativity monster inside of you as well. Some are smaller than others. Some are fluffy pink things who are satisfied with dissecting the intricacies of handbag construction, and some are slimy reptilian creatures sitting heavily in your gut, refusing to leave you in peace until you hand them a brush and canvas.

I’m a fan of creativity. I’m a fan of entertainment. I’m a fan of using the gifts we’ve been given to enrich the world around us. I like amusement parks and movie theatres. I crave bookshelves and well-written stories. I enjoy fireworks displays and art shows. I’m a sucker for galleries and community playhouses.

Yes, I’ll admit it.

I like eye candy.

Now, go ahead and say it.

Come on…

Let’s all be real.

You like eye candy, too.

It’s okay. I understand. Entirely.

Disclaimer: Candy consumed in mass quantity is a bad thing. And some candy will kill both you and your creative soul. You should stop consuming that kind immediately.

But, I deviate.

My point is this: Creativity, and the appreciation of it, is not a bad thing, but we do not exist to be entertained.

Can I get an “Amen”?

The Christian community is full of creative souls, and I am incredibly grateful. There is nothing more precious than our creativity being used to worship the ultimate king of creativity, the creator Himself. We don’t exist to be entertained by Him. We exist to know Him. To worship Him. To spread His good news–that we were all wretched in our sin and that even in our spiritual deadness, Christ came and was crucified. He died taking the penalty of sin with Him and then three days later, He rose from the dead, conquering death and its hold on humanity forever. That’s why we exist. That’s it. Him.

But oftentimes, this “entertain me” mentality rides the laces of our shoes and lands on the floor of the church. It worms its way up the legs of church-goers until what we have are pews and pews of dissident souls waiting to be entertained. And this, my friends, disturbs me.

I like a rockin’ worship service. Skits while they pass the offering bucket are welcome. And, funny preachers can be endearing. But let me say this: Worshiping God does not require a single instrument. It doesn’t require a cool worship leader or a tattooed drummer (love you Jordan!). It doesn’t require candles in the corner, or prayer stones. To worship God the Father, you don’t need a witty preacher or a Starbucks kiosk in the foyer.

“Then what does worship look like?” you ask.

I give you Romans 12:1: Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship.

My body. A sacrifice. Holy. Pleasing to God.

Twiddling my thumbs, waiting for the preacher to convince me to come back next week is not a sacrifice. It does not make me holy. And it does not please God. Offering ourselves up to God to be used for His purposes–that’s worship. Doing our darndest to keep ourselves pure and holy before the Lord–that’s worship.

And the mind-boggling part is that when we’re genuinely seeking to be used by God, for His glory and not for our own… When we’re striving for a lifestyle of holiness, God often challenges us to use our creative gifts and abilities to bring honor to Him. To enrich the body. To draw others to His kingdom.

When we choose worship over entertainment, God cracks us open and the giftings He’s placed near to our heart pour out onto others. Our creativity has an outlet. Our God is lifted high.

When entertainment is our goal, we’re often let down. When worship is our goal, we choose humility and allow Christ to lift us up.

It’s almost like He created it that way…

Your creativity in the hands of the creator.

What an amazing thing.

As an eager Sunday-schooler I knew all the moves to this song.

God’s not dead. NO! He is alive.
God’s not dead. NO! He is alive.
God’s not dead. NO! He is alive.
I can feel Him all over me.

There’s more to it, of course. Lyrics about feeling God in my hands and feet. Feeling Him in the air. We got to really feel God all over the place in that little Sunday School classroom.

As I got older, though, this juvenile song stirred up quite a bit of confusion in my mind. There are times, you see, when I don’t feel God at all. Not a lick. Not a tickle. Definitely no goosebumps. And there are times when I feel unloved, unwanted, alone, and abandoned. Those certainly aren’t attributes of God as listed in the Bible. So, what does that mean? Does that mean God’s dead? Is God’s aliveness based on my ability to feel Him? Like the proverbial tree falling in the forest. If there’s no one there to see it fall, does it make a sound?

That sort of thinking is ludicrous, right? Of course the tree makes a sound, and of course, God’s not dead. But, so often we live our lives as if He were.

For whatever reason, we each spend time walking through life feeling very much alone. Sometimes our own actions have led us to dark and silent places–places we wish God would just whisk us away from. Sometimes the very season we find ourselves in requires solitude, and we interpret our distance from others as distance from God. Sometimes, God speaks to us ever so softly and we must learn to quiet the world around us long enough to listen.

And then there are times when I wonder if the God of all Creation–the God who made you and knew you before you were born–knows that you depend too much on your emotions and not nearly enough on the Word. Don’t mistake me. God is the one who created our emotions and God is the one who, so often, allows us to feel His presence. But, our feelings are not to be depended on to the detriment of Scripture.

Like you, I feel lots of things in the course of a day. Love, hate, fear, resentment, sadness, pain. I feel anxious and lost. I have disappointments that drown me tears, and passions that turn my vision red. If salvation… If God’s existence was based on the feelings of humanity, we’d have killed Him long ago.

Oh wait. We did.

Just over 2,000 years ago, fear and anger reigned supreme in Jerusalem and an innocent man was crucified. I’m sure He wasn’t the first innocent man put to death, but this time hatred and confusion killed God. Emotions ran untamed and godless hands nailed our Savior to a tree. Oh, Christ wasn’t surprised. Not by any means. He knew the innate frailty of our human state. Our ridiculous dependence on how we feel. He knew the assertion the He was the “King of the Jews” would incite a rebellion. He knew some would believe–some would feel His Lordship–and He knew that some wouldn’t. Still, He came. He came because without His sacrifice we would be eternally separated from Him. All the warm fuzzy feelings in the universe can’t change that fact.

It isn’t our emotions that are bad, friends. It’s our utter dependence on them. Sheryl Crow croons loud and clear over radio waves the world-over, “If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad.” To that I can only repeat what Proverbs tells us twice: “There is a way which seems right to a man, but its end is the way of death.” So often we bank on what seems right. On what feels good.

And unfortunately, the Sanhedrin thought the same way. It seemed only right to them to turn Christ over to the Roman authorities. Their eyes were blind to the true nature of Christ: completely God, completely man, and wholly able to carry the wrongs of the world to the cross and there defeat sin and death forever.

That’s right! He defeated death. Three days after a city dominated by their emotions murdered Christ, that same God-man rose from the dead. See, your fear and hate, your sadness and desperation can convince you that God is dead, but history tells us a different story. Whether you feel it or not, God walked out of that tomb and is alive and well today. Your feelings are neither here nor there on the matter. And though God often fills us with happiness, peace, and joy, the absence of them in our lives doesn’t change the truth that the God of the universe–the God who created you and me, the God who died at the hands of angry people, and defeated death in spite of all our feelings on the subject–is still in control, still calling your name, still knocking on the door of your heart.

Believe me, friends, God’s not dead. He is alive. Not because I can feel it, but because it’s true. The Bible tells me so.

Men of Israel, listen to these words: Jesus the Nazarene, a man attested to you by God with miracles and wonders and signs which God performed through Him in your midst, just as you yourselves know–this Man, delivered over by the predetermined plan and foreknowledge of God, you nailed to a cross by the hands of godless men and put Him to death. But God raised Him up again, putting an end to the agony of death, since it was impossible for Him to be held in its power. –Acts 2:22-24