Shaun Grove's "Welcome Home"

Take, me, make me
All You want me to be
That's all I'm asking, all I'm asking

Welcome to this heart of mine
I've buried under prideful vines
Grown to hide the mess I've made
Inside of me
Come decorate, Lord
Open up the creaking door
And walk upon the dusty floor
Scrape away the guilty stains
Until no sin or shame remain
Spread Your love upon the walls
And occupy the empty halls
Until the man I am has faded
No more doors are barricaded

Come inside this heart of mine
It's not my own
Make it home
Come and take this heart and make it
All Your own
Welcome home

Take a seat, pull up a chair
Forgive me for the disrepair
And the souvenirs from floor to ceiling
Gathered on my search for meaning
Every closet's filled with clutter
Messes yet to be discovered
I'm overwhelmed, I understand
I can't make this place all that You can

Come inside this heart of mine
It's not my own
Make it home
Come and take this heart and make it
All Your own
Welcome home

I took the space that You placed in me
Redecorated in shades of greed
And I made sure every door stayed locked
Every window blocked, and still You knocked

Come inside this heart of mine
It's not my own
Make it home
Come and take this heart and make it
All Your own

Welcome home
Take me, make me
All You want me to be
That's all I'm asking, all I'm asking

Prayer

Jabez cried out to the God if Israel, "Oh, that you would bless me and enlarge my territory! Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain." ~I Chronicles 4:10

When the whole "Prayer of Jabez" thing was going on a few years ago, I joined the side of the cynics and the conservative Christians who scoffed it, thinking that it's nothing more than a "fad" and that true Christians wouldn't pray such a prayer. I said that there is no "secret password" to God, no magical key that unlocks His power. And so I refused to read the book or even pray that prayer, saying that as a genuine Christian I was supposed to keep to some more dignified style of prayer, and not give way to the latest style.

I've always had a hard time with prayer; I don't understand why it's necessary since God knows everything, and I've never really known if it was all that effective. I mean, I feel like God's going to do pretty much what He wants to, and so how can my prayer effect that?

Recently God has been teaching me about prayer. And perhaps the most astonishing that I've learned is that God chooses to work through prayer. It sounds simple, but it's something that I've missed for my entire life of being a Christian.

God can choose to work however He wants. After all, He's God. And, for whatever reason, He has decided that the way He works here on earth is through our prayers. He responds to prayer and He moves through prayer. In Numbers 14, we read where God had planned to smite the Israelites for their behavior. But Moses prayed, and God spared them "as you asked" (Numbers 14:20). God chooses to work through prayer. It might not make sense. But it's the way it is. So you can either fight it, and refuse to pray and ask God for things, or you can accept it, and begin a disciplined life of prayer.

Which leads me to the prayer of Jabez. I still don't think it's the lucky quarter that always pays out when put into a slot machine. But that doesn't mean I think it's pointless. There was a lot of anecdotal evidence out there that people who started praying it started to have amazing things happen. Wilkinson sights several of his own personal examples in his life in the book where praying the prayer helped otherwise impossible situations. Many other people have similar accounts.

And you know what? That makes sense. Because the "Prayer of Jabez" did two good things for people. One, it got people on their knees, before God, in prayer. And that is a wonderful position to be. It allowed people to connect with God, and it opened up a line of communication with God perhaps some people had never had before. And because God chooses to work through prayer, God chose to respond to some people's prayer. And in doing so, He answered what is truly an amazing prayer.

And that is the second good thing the "Prayer of Jabez" did for people: it allowed them to pray in a way they never had before--it allowed a limitless God to begin to do limitless things. So often when we pray, we give God specifics, and we restrict what He is able to do. We pray so hard that He will grant us this job, or that girlfriend. And the whole time God is up there saying, "But you don't understand...that job is so much better. This girlfriend will develop into so much more of a meaningful relationship." But we keep on praying for specifics, that I think that sometimes God finally gives us over to our prayer and says, "OK...if that's what you want, well then here you go."

Or, even worse, sometimes we want something and fail to even ask for it at all.

Chuck Swindoll is convinced that there will be a room in Heaven that will be full of all of the things that we never asked for here on earth. I'd like to agree. I think we'll get to Heaven, and Jesus will open a door to a huge room that is filled to the brim of things--both tangible and intangible. When we look in there, we will see all of the desires of our heart. We'll see some of the secret burning desires that we were too embarassed to ask for. Or we'll see things that we never even thought of asking for, but instantaneously we'll see how we could have used them in our life--"that would have made this difficult experience so much easier." After seeing all of these things, confused, we'll ask Jesus, "what is this room?" He will respond, "these are all of the things that I wanted to give you in life." "Well, why didn't you?" we'll ask. His answer will shock our inner being, "Because...you never asked for them."

What is so amazing about the prayer of Jabez--or any prayer of that nature--is that it doesn't restrain God. It asks God to enlarge our territory--but doesn't tell Him how. It asks God to bless us--but leaves it to Him to determine in what way. It asks God to protect us--and leaves the details to Him. So often we choke God with our prayers. This prayer simply says, "God--show Your favor upon me. How You do it is up to You." When we let God decide how, and get away from our small thinking, I think we'll be blown away by how He chooses to work in our lives.

I like the story of the man who asks the Pastor if it's OK to pray that he wins lottery. The Pastor responds, "Sure it is...if you want to limit God to just the lottery."

Now I'm not preaching the prosperity Gospel here, and I don't think that God's blessings will necessarily come by way of greater financial means. But I am saying that I think we are held back from His blessings by our own lack of faith in trusting Him to do "immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine" (Ephesians 3:20).

And so I, for one, am going to begin practicing some big prayer. I'm going to spend more time asking God for big stuff, not limiting Him to my measly perspective. I'm going to ask Him to bless me and my family in ways I can't even imagine right now. And I might use the Prayer of Jabez every once in a while to help model the type of prayer that I pray. I don't know what will come of it. But I do know I have absolutely nothing to lose by it. God chooses to work through prayer, and it's time I resist that and start meeting Him there.

Now enough writing--it's time for me to start praying!

It's Just a Game

I woke up this morning and was surprised to see the sun shining. I thought for sure that it wasn't going to come out today.

When I turned on the TV, I immediately turned to the news. I wanted to see what country had declared nuclear war on us. I was certain that it was just a matter of hours before Armageddon would start and the end of the world was at hand.

Surprisingly, there was no mention of any sort of nuclear weaponry whatsoever. Instead, the top story was about Ariel Sharon being hospitalized. Go figure.

I then opened up my Bible. I wanted to look up John 3:16. I was expecting it to be no longer there--erased over night. I was half-surprised as I flipped through my Bible to the verse to even find that my New Testament still a part of it. I had a feeling that it might have decided to jump ship. But no, it was still there, and as I turned through John, the hole that I thought would be in place of 3:16 wasn't there. Instead, there was the verse, same place it had ever been. Jesus, it turns out, still saves.

In fact, today was just about like any other day I had ever faced before. No end of the world. No catastrophic event. Just a normal Thursday.

Not surprised? Then you obviously weren't around a bunch of USC fans last night.

Yesterday I attended the Rose Bowl game between Texas and USC. I went because this entire season I have been following USC football.

Actually, following is not the right word. I have been engrossed. Engulfed. Consumed. I live in San Francisco, and work in a job that commonly requires me to work weekends. And yet I made it to every home game in Southern California except for one. It didn't matter how little sleep I had gotten, or what time I had to wake up to get to a flight. It didn't matter that I was in New York the morning of one game, and took a 6:30 am plane trip to make it. I risked my reputation at my job, my health, and my general, overall well-being and disposition to watch a bunch of people play football for an entire season.

And when we went the whole season undefeated and got a bid to the championship game, why I would have sold most all of my possessions for a pair of those tickets. I ended up nearly doing that--paying close to $2,000 for two. You would have thought that my entire self worth was wrapped up in that game--and it nearly was.

And then the game came. And it was a great game. One for the ages. A frustrating first half gave way to a shoot-out in the second. We scored, and then they scored, and then we scored again. Finally we started to break away. And with five minutes left in the fourth quarter, we were up by twelve.

Why, they should have handed us the championship trophy right there. After all, who could blow a twelve point lead with five minutes left? The game was about over in my book, and I was already thinking about how I would gloat at work that next day.

But then the unthinkable happened. They scored, and were within five points of us. We got the ball again, and started marching it down the field. We were doing pretty good, but got halted. And with about two minutes left, we were fourth-and-two. All we had to get was two yards, and the game would be over.

We were inches short.

Texas got the ball. And they marched down the field. Time was running out on them, but it didn't matter. We could not stop them. There were twelve yards from the end zone. Fourth and five. One last play. And with thirty seconds left...

You would have thought that instantaneously every Trojan fan in that stadium had just heard that their mother had died.

No, I think they would have rather heard that than what they did hear: the roar of 30,000 screaming, overjoyed Texas fans.

A few minutes later the Texas team was on the field, receiving the crystal football. And you can bet that more than one USC fan was calculating the risk-reward ratio of running onto the field and grabbing that trophy out of the presenter's hand.

And I stood there, watching that scene before me, a revolutionary thought immediately started to make its way into my head. I felt dirty thinking it, and immediately tried to push it out. But it wouldn't leave. And after a futile attempt to try and resist it, I finally gave up, and let it enter in:

It's just a game.

Yep, that's right. You heard me. It's just a game. It's all a game. A game we lost, mind you, but a game nonetheless.

The world keeps on spinning. The sun, I found out today, keeps on rising. And Jesus keeps on saving.

It's just a game.

I realized, in that moment, how completely out of whack my perspective has been these last six months. I was able to see nothing but Cardinal and Gold. I had wrapped so much of myself into this season, that it's all I was becoming identified by. And it was time for me to stop.

Trojan fans might get mad at me for saying that. One, in fact, was so upset at my sudden positive disposition after the game that he told me that it "wasn't the same" with me, because I hadn't been as "into it" as he was, and didn't have "as much emotionally invested into it" as he did. Last time I checked, he knew the same number of football players that I did--zero--so that makes perfect sense. But he wasn't the only one. People all around were shocked that I could even breathe after that game, let alone joke around.

But I can see where they're coming from. I mean, after all, we lost. And so I'm supposed to be devastated, right? I'm supposed to be depressed over the next three weeks, and talk about how we were robbed, and hang my head low. That is what a true Trojan fan is supposed to do, right?

If that's what I'm supposed to do, then count me out. Don't get me wrong, I was disappointed, and more than once caught myself thinking "what if." But I refuse to let my sense of self come from the outcome of how a bunch of people I don't even know play a football game.

Attitude is a choice, and I simply do not want to choose to be downcast over the final score of a game. What good does that do to me? How does that help me function better in life? Maybe that attitude doesn't make me as good of a Trojan fan as every one else, but they're all a pretty miserable lot right now, so I don't know if I really want to be associated with them anyway.

There are more important things to life than football, I finally realized, and I am choosing to set my focus on those things. This world keeps on spinning, and I'm going to keep on chuggin' along. Tomorrow, I will look at the sun be thankful once again for it. And I'll appreciate that we're not in a nuclear showdown right now. And I will praise God that John 3:16 is still a part of my Bible. And when Trojan fans decide to come around, I'll be sure to welcome them, with open arms, back to the real world...

...a world where football is just a game, and Jesus keeps on saving.

Showbread's "Matthias Replaces Judas"

It is so that my transgressions have born a withered fruit,
The sun has scorched the rising plains;
Alas they have no root. The bleached bones of animals bound by leather strips,
Dance through the air with laughter as I wield this wicked whip.

As you did warn me carpenter, this world has weakened my heart,
So easily I disparage, self-seeking the work of my art.
And there you have come to me at the moment I bathe in my sorrow,
So in love with myself, sought after avoiding tomorrow.
Where do you find the love to offer he who betrays you?
And offer to wash my feet as I offer to disobey you.
Your beauty does bereave me, and how my words do fail,
So faithfully and dutifully I award you with betrayal.

The weak and the down trodden fall on broken legs,
As I walk past a smile I cast, fervor in my stead.
But my bones like plastic, do buckle backward now,
I lay in this field by Judas and anticipate the plow.
I can not be forgiven; my wages will be paid,
For those more lovely and admirable is least among the saved.
And where would I fit Jesus?
What place is left for me?
The price of atonement is more than I've found to offer as my plea.

Jesus my heart is all I have to give to you--so weak and so unworthy,
This simply will not do. No alabaster jar, no diamond in the rough,
For your body that was broken, how can this be enough?
By me you were abandoned, by me you were betrayed,
Yet in your arms and in your heart forever I have stayed.

Your glory illuminates my life, no darkness will descend,
For you have loved me forever, and your love will never end.

2005

2005 is officially gone. It disappeared sometime last night--I'm not exactly sure when, but it was shortly after the DJ said "[expletive], it's almost 2006" and a whole crowd of sweaty, disgusting and very drunk people stopped their fornication on the dance floor for 10 brief seconds before starting 2006 much the same way they ended 2005.

Yes, 2005 is over. And in all honesty, I'm not too upset about it. 2005 doesn't hold for me a lot of great memories. In fact, as I look back on it, it definitely qualifies for the dubious distinction of being the "Worst Year of My Life So Far" and although too early to tell, might be "of All Time" for me when I reflect over my life on my eventual deathbed.

Now worst does not mean insignificant. And worst doesn't mean all bad. In fact, I think I will look back on 2005 with equal parts respect and disgust somewhere in the future. But right now, I am too close to it for that respect part--and hence the disgust.

2005 will go down as a pretty significant year in my life. I realized, perhaps not fully, but partially, the cost of following my own plans and ambitions over Christ's. I learned the pain and the heartache of not choosing God's will fully and completely. I discovered how far a Christian can get away from God by choosing to simply neglect Him. I learned what it's like to spend 365 days of your life doing something you hate. And I learned how painful it is to break up with someone you love.

I have cried more times in the past twelve months than I had in probably the 10 years before 2005. I have had, quite literally, the life sucked out of me, and have adopted a new semi-permanent posture, that with my head down and hand on my belt, waiting for that next email that will inevitably destroy another weekend.

In short, I have spent a year absolutely and utterly defeated.

And for that reason, I am more than happy to wave 2005 goodbye.

But I will not leave it behind without taking from it some very significant, very deep and very profound truths, truths that have meaningfully changed my life, truths that will aid me immeasurably in my future profession.

I have learned, more than anything, about the love of Christ. That, in and of itself, makes the year not only worth it, but makes 10 more like it completely acceptable. I have learned this year how absolutely amazing Jesus Christ is. I have learned that He loves me, just as I am, if you can believe it, and no matter how many times I run away from Him, each time He welcomes me back with open arms.

I have learned that He died for me. And I learned that even after dying for me, He wants to know me better. And I have learned that, although inexplicably I avoid getting to know Him better, getting to know Him better is freakin' awesome. I have learned there is no place like being in Christ's arms, so much so that I have found myself thanking Him for the suffering that has often brought me there so many times the past year.

I have learned this past year about faith. I have learned about it without ever having it. God has showed me the joy of trusting Him--even though I have yet to do it. He has showed me that my current state is the result of not trusting Him, and that the world will not offer anything better than this if I don't learn to finally lean on Him. And reluctantly I'm beginning.

I have learned this past year about fulfillment. And I have learned that it doesn't come from things. It doesn't matter how many things you have, or how many things you make an hour. It might put a smile on your face when you get a lot of things all at once on something they call "bonus day," but that you still have to go to work that next day to earn those things, and no matter how much you might like things and how much they may make life easier, no amount of work that you hate is worth the accumulation of more things.

I have learned this past year about sacrifice. I have learned that most things in life take some sort of sacrifice. And I have learned that some sacrifice is worth it. And some is not. Sacrificing comfort during that last half mile on the treadmill is worth it, because you feel so much better afterwards. Sacrificing a weekend to help a client determine what company they shouldn't buy (like they were going to anyway) is not worth it because it isn't fulfilling. Sacrificing a good night's sleep to take a 6:30 am flight home from New York to watch a football game is worth it because there's nothing like spending time with friends. Sacrificing a good night's sleep to prepare a pitch for a company you know nothing about is not worth it because, well, it isn't fulfilling. And pitches just create more work. They always create more work.

And I have learned this past year about love. I've learned that love hurts. Sometimes, it hurts a lot. But it's worth it. It's worth it because it's awesome when you're in love, and despite the pain that it might entail somewhere down the line, that is what you risk in love. To shy away from that risk, to keep from loving someone because you don't want to get hurt--to stand outside the fire, to quote the great philosopher Garth Brooks--is not living life the way it's meant to be lived. It's merely surviving life. And life is not meant to be survived.

And I've learned that. That's been a painful one. But an important one, and one that I will preach about through life. Life is not meant to be survived. God did not build us to go through life hanging on by our fingers. God gave us dreams, ambitions and desires, not so we could sit in our cube and be mocked by them, but instead to fulfill them. God wants us to be fulfilled. He created us--each of us--for a reason. And He wants us to fulfill that purpose. And if we do, God promises He will take care of everything else--all that other stuff that keeps us from doing it in the first place. God's got that part handled. God doesn't want anyone to have a 2005 like mine. My number one response this year when people asked me how I was doing was "Survivin'. I'm survivin'." That should never be a response. God wants us to thrive. But it's our choice as to whether or not we do. When you truly live life, you risk getting burned, but I think those scars are less painful than the ones I accumulated this year simply sitting back and "surviving."

So, what will 2006 bring? Thankfully, an end to my job. That is the only thing I am certain of--I will do everything in my power to make sure that when I walk into that building on June 30, it will be the last time I ever step foot in that place as an employee. My life, quite literally, depends on it.

Other than that, only God knows. I don't have any illusions that 2006 will be less difficult than 2005. It might bring for me more challenges, more suffering, more heartache. But 2006 will be the first year I begin to live a life of faith--wherever that may take me. And when you're performing a script written by God, one thing is for sure: you're never merely surviving. You're living life truly as it was intended. I can't wait to find out what He intends for me. I have a feeling I'll thrive in it.

Hello, 2006.