Tales of a New-born Father!

Ever since that night I remain magnetized. The gravitational pull of Gods grace has curved in upon me. As Tim Keller likes to say, "The most important things in our life are not done by us but they are done to us." That night, the sky came to me. That night, God took me and wound me around His magnetic heart, never to let me go. That night sent shivers into my bones like an oil derrick. Every since then, I have had a hard time making sense of life. What does this all mean? Did Jesus really raise from the dead? What does His blood have to do with me? What about buddhists? Are they going to heaven? All these questions evaportated into the magnetic heart of God. God's heart raced out to me and stilled every crying voice within me. God grabbed me by the hand, sat me down into the rocking chair, and gave me His peace. His peace changed my life forever, and I will forever live to speak of His peace.

My life made sense, actually, for the first time. But, now, my life has another perspective, another layer, a frosting not just on top of the cake, but on the bottom. God’s presence is now here. God's word, God's being is not absent, just beyond the next mile marker. No. God is with me. On that night the word Emanuel took on a whole new incarnation.

My ears had always loved music. But I had never heard "truly beautiful music." On that day, in that  house, I got a glimpse of the substance and essence of the everlasting God. But this moment was fleeting. It is best that way. Otherwise, I would be crushed. But, along the path, as I have travelled, since that day, I have tried every means possible to get my head around that experience. Heck, I have even tried going to Divinity School to try to figure it out. I have worked in a church, as a pastor, to try to live it out. Each attempt worked in ways, and it failed in ways. I even have gotten married to a woman that feels the same thundering presence in her life. But none of these things replaces or comes close to that moment when I first heard the music.

None of these things, whether marriage, work, or pastoral training, have helped my mind come to terms with this thunder. And, I think, after all, this is a really good thing. It would be sad if I tried to exhaust God’s mystery. I can't. That is obvious now. Before, it made no sense to me. Heck, I have a hard time figuring out what is in the back of the refrigerator. How in the world could I expect myself to handle God? Well, the plane truth is that we can't. We need someone to help us. We need someone to take our hand and bring us into the presence. We need Jesus.

I cannot unpack God. And yet, I feel obliged to unpack the impact that Jesus' presence has had on my life. As I have gotten to know Jesus, I have gotten to know the Holy Spirit, and as I have gotten to know the Holy Spirit, I have gotten to know the love of the Father. As I have gotten to know the love of the Father, I have gotten to experience, and I have seen the beauty and perfection that lives within God.

I have always wanted to put words to my experience. At the point when I first heard God’s thunder clap, I had the assumption that my life story was the center of life. But as I met Jesus, as I mingled in His body, the church, and as I listened to Him speak to me through guides, through scripture, and through His presence, I was broken out of my own prison. I have been released into a grander, more beautiful story, the story of God. I want to, increasingly, tell God’s story, because in God’s story I find release. In God’s story I find refuge. In God’s story I find hope. In God’s story I find peace. I am found there. I can serve. I can weap with a homeless man. I can cry with a woman who is saying goodbye to her husband from lung cancer. I can wipe my childs nose that is dripping with blood. I am part of something much larger than me. And when I see that, I get a glimpse of freedom.



So what is God’s story? That is a big question! God does have a story though. We live for stories. Stories bring us to life. Kids do not ask for us to give us a textbook when they are young. No. Kids want for us to tell them stories. Why? We were made for it.



And so, my own story begins with me, but it ultimately must end outside of me. After all, I began because of my parents, not because of me. And once outside of myself, I am in a better place. I am then allowed to enter into God’s larger story for my life. And this is what has happened as I have come to assume the marks of a Christian.