A thrill of hope

Merry Christmas! I woke up this morning with an old Christmas hymn stuck in my head. I decided to look it up and read the words. "O Holy Night" was actually inspired by a French poem, "Minuit, chrétiens" (Midnight, Christians) by Placide Cappeau. I'll leave you with it:


"Midnight, Christians, it's the solemn hour,
When God-man descended to us
To erase the stain of original sin
And to end the wrath of His Father.
The entire world thrills with hope
On this night that gives it a Savior.
People kneel down, wait for your deliverance.
Christmas, Christmas, here is the Redeemer,
Christmas, Christmas, here is the Redeemer!
The ardent light of our Faith,
Guides us all to the cradle of the infant,
As in ancient times a brilliant star
Conducted the Magi there from the orient.
The King of kings was born in a humble manger;
O mighty ones of today, proud of your grandeur,
It is to your pride that God preaches.
Bow your heads before the Redeemer!
Bow your heads before the Redeemer!
The Redeemer has overcome every obstacle:
The Earth is free, and Heaven is open.
He sees a brother where there was only a slave,
Love unites those that iron had chained.
Who will tell Him of our gratitude,
For all of us He is born, He suffers and dies.
People stand up! Sing of your deliverance,
Christmas, Christmas, sing of the Redeemer,
Christmas, Christmas, sing of the Redeemer!"

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Today's Memory

I woke up early today with a list of things I needed to do. I spent a little time reading this morning, like I do most mornings, and then proceeded to get myself ready. I had this thought that if I didn't slow things down and really process what was happening I was likely to miss out on the little things, the important things, the things that make memories. I think this happens to us all.

I went back home to help my dad move some belongings out of my grandma's house before it's sold. It was eerie being in the empty house that held so many memories. It was a little sad seeing my father say his last goodbye's to the house he grew up in and was a part of. The house was part of him. He told me a few stories about things he would do as a child: jump from the top of the steps, sneak out of his bedroom window, etc.

I concluded that the things that seem insignificant today, could be something worth cherishing later. Slow down. Breathe easy. Be free. Live. Love. Laugh.

Too many days end up being forgotten. Make a memory today.

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Solid


My heart had become buried 6 feet under. It had become cold and stagnant without a pulse. A god that had at one time felt alive to me had become distant. It may have been experiences; it may have been circumstances; it may have been the church that dug my grave. But buried in the soil with my heart was hope and redemption that wouldn’t be uncovered until I was ready to let go of my scars and idols.

There was a series of events and cast of characters that helped dig my spiritual “hole.” They were unplanned, unusual, and rather direct in their destruction. The church had played the role of primary grave digger, but it was supported in large part by a mixture of unhealthy relationships and steady abuse of substances.

I attended a Christian college in Lynchburg, Virginia to pursue ministry opportunities. In hindsight I think I was chasing after the favor of both man and God. When I arrived at college, I quickly became lost in the fold of a sub-culture I didn't fully understand and certainly didn't feel a part of. I quickly became reckless in my abandon of this very legalistic setting. I refused to accept the Sunday school answers when talking about real life struggles. I was shocked at how ignorant some could be about life outside of the "Christian School Bubble." I resented the rules that imposed upon my freedom and the perceived judgment I felt from other Christians. It was at this point I wanted nothing to do with the church.

So I took my hope that I had in God and put them in other things. Music, my girlfriend, controlling substances; they all substituted in and replaced a vacated faith. I languished for a period of time around the east coast, playing music, partying, forgetting as best as I could about God. Within the course of a year, a 3 year relationship with my girlfriend ended abruptly; my parents were going through a struggle that threatened their marriage, and I had become dependent upon alcohol and drugs to deal with my pain. These things left me badly shaken and near the bottom’s end. It was at this point I realized that everything stable in my life had failed me, while I had forsaken the one true constant.

At that time it had been years since I had given much thought of God. I realized that it wasn’t Him I resented; it was the things I let get in the way of Him that skewed my vision of His role in my life. I’ve always maintained a close relationship with Josh Dix. He’s been the big brother I never had. He took me out one day and we discussed our thoughts on our church experiences, becoming sickened by what we had perceived as an unreal faith, and finding redemption in what Christ had really come to earth to save. Josh had introduced me to The Journey where he had been leading worship, and I obliged to check it out if not more than as a thank you to him. I came to my first service and I was instantly hooked on the power of the message and the way it was communicated in a real and authentic way. For the first time in my life I was seeing Jesus' role as redeemer of my life.

Two years later here I am...at a realization that it doesn't matter if I'm better or worse off, but that His grace is enough. I'm what Brennan Manning refers to as a Ragamuffin. A person who is honest about their personal failings and knows they desperately need the grace and love of God; someone more concerned about finding an intimate relationship with God than fulfilling the expectations of cultural Christianity. This revelation dug me out of my grave and laid a foundation for Christ to use.


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