The “middle” part of your salvation, what theologians call “progressive sanctification,” is more important right now than either justification* or glorification*.

Go ahead. Label me a heretic. It’s okay. You can use the hashtag #BenReedTheHeretic.

image via Creation Swap user Mirian Trinidad

It’s all talk

We tend to talk a lot about the beginning and end of salvation.

We love to (rightly) look backwards and remind ourselves of our sin and our story. Remind ourselves of our beautiful Savior.

We also love to (rightly) look forwards with hope, anticipating eternity in heaven.

But the most important part of your spiritual growth is not in looking back. It’s also not in looking forward. It’s in what you’re going to do now. 

In looking back on who Jesus is, what He did, and growing to understand his love and grace more doesn’t propel you to live differently, what good is it? ** If this dreaming back doesn’t leave you more generous, loving, forgiving, and full of grace, then has it done anything?

Looking backwards isn’t as important right now.

In looking forward with great hope in the second coming of Jesus, to the day when there will be no more tears or crying or pain, doesn’t mean you take more faith risks, then you’re just an idle dreamer. If you’re not consistently breathing hope into the life of others with your forward-reaching dreams, if you’re not progressively becoming more loving, more gracious, more hospitable, and less bitter, then what good are your mere daydreams? They’ve become a sort of twisted self-pleasing fantasy.

Looking forward isn’t as important right now.

The Glorious Middle

What’s important right now is the “glorious middle,” that part of your salvation that’s overlooked because it’s not sexy. It’s sexy to talk about what’s coming. It’s sexy to talk about what has passed. But what’s now is what we’re all experiencing, the doldrums of existence on earth. It’s picking the kids up from school. It’s being late for work. It’s getting sick. It’s dealing with loss and pain. It’s being financially strapped. It’s dealing with difficult relationships. It’s not ever having enough time.

It’s in those, shockingly normal activities, to which Paul says, “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.” (Philippians 2:12) How do I know that Paul’s referring to the mundane, everyday life here? Because he follows this command with, “Do all things without grumbling…” (Philippians 2:14) Nobody grumbles about heaven. Nobody grumbles about the great sacrifice Christ paid on our behalf. Either of those will get you kicked out of a deacon’s meeting faster than if a couple of poker chips were to fall out of your pocket.

Think deeply on who Jesus is, the depth and filthiness of your sin, and the glorious forgiveness that God offers us in Christ.

Think deeply on the promised life to come, eternity spent in the presence of God.

But don’t neglect the “glorious middle,” the glorious, yet unglamorously normal life that God has called you to right here and now.

That’s more important.

Don’t leave your Gospel zipper undone.

* justification – the moment when God declares you “just” before him, as a judge declares a criminal just and free. This happens the moment you place your faith in Christ.

* glorification – this will be your nature after death, where you will be made whole for eternity, in heaven with God.

** I’m not advocating salvation by works here. Salvation is by faith alone, in Christ alone. I’m talking about ongoing, progressive sanctification.

 *** image via Creation Swap user Mirian Trinidad

 

I serve on staff with a team of young pastors. I love the guys and girls I get to do ministry with.

Our lead pastors (Ron Edmondson and Chad Rowland) know how to lead younger pastors unbelievably well. In fact, one of our pastors, Ron Edmondson, wrote a post yesterday on raising up young leaders that articulates some of the practices he uses with guys like me.

I know there are some pastors wondering, “How do I lead younger pastors?” I also know there are some younger guys frustrated because their pastor has no clue how to lead them well.

Here are some important principles I think will help older leaders to guide us young guys well.

10 principles to leading young pastors

Things to stop

Quit telling us what to do.

Nobody wants to be micromanaged. Especially high calibre leaders. The more you direct our every step, the more we’ll balk at your leadership. Lead us by doing hard, creative, meaningful work with character. Instead of telling us what to do, do the work and invite us into the process of planning, dreaming, and scheming you go through.

Quit telling us who to be.

With the advents of the internets, we have access to the greatest leaders, the most prolific communicators, and the sharpest minds in the world. We’re following a plethora of high-quality leaders through their podcasts, blogs, books, and webinars. But we don’t have access to other pastors’ lives like we do yours, working alongside you week after week. Instead of telling us who to be, model for us who we could be if we were to fully flesh out our God-given gifts.

Quit telling us “the why.”

We get your vision. In fact, that’s one of the major reasons we decided to work for you…we, at some level, bought into the vision. But if we’re constantly poking holes, asking questions, and stretching the box, we don’t need to hear “the why” again. More than likely, it’s “the why” that we’re questioning. Instead of telling us “the why” once again, let us help you see if there’s a better “why.”

Quit expecting less-than-exceptional work.

We’re capable of more than you expect. Throw projects, concepts, and ideas our way, and give us the freedom to accomplish those in a way different than you may have initially drawn up in your mind. Raise the bar. We’ll rise to it. Instead of expecting decent work, expect us to blow you away.

Quit telling us only what you’re disappointed with.

We need to hear where we need to improve. But we also need to hear which decisions we’re making are making an impact. The more you share the negative things exclusively, the less we’ll come to you for advice, wisdom, and counsel. Instead of telling us only what you’re disappointed with, give us consistent feedback.

Here’s the guiding principle:

If you want to lead young pastors well, stop “telling” us. Instead, lead us.

There’s such a difference between leading and parenting. Between leading and micromanaging. Between leading and controlling. Between leading and doling out tasks.

Things to start

Start giving young pastors the chance to make mistakes.

This is costly in the short run, but costly not to in the long run.

Start giving young pastors the chance to do things differently.

This means you may have to bend on the details of how you thought your vision would be accomplished.

Start giving young pastors the chance to stretch the box.

Change may be difficult, but box a young pastor in and you’ll suffocate them.

Start giving young pastors a seat at the leadership table, even when they haven’t earned it.

This is a move that will enstill confidence in younger pastors, and give them the chance to flesh out creative ideas. It also helps us see what it takes to be more influential in our leadership.

We young pastors may be a bit idealistic. We may be a bit rough around the edges. We may be quick to decide things you’d rather ponder on. We may be slow to move on something you’re ready to pounce on.

The bottom line is that we need to be led.

Question:

Do you serve with young leaders? What am I missing?

* image credit: background via Creation Swap, Divine Fusion // edits mine

 

Growing up, I played a fair amount of golf. My parents would drop me off in the morning and pick me up later that afternoon.

Many days, I was by myself, just me and the narrow fairways.

image credit: Creative Commons

There’s something epic about that picture to me, even now. Here’s the picture:

A 12 year old beating buckets of range balls on the dew-soaked ground until his hands callous over while the sun comes up. Walking 9 hours on a golf course by himself, evaluating every shot, pouring over every sliding putt. Kicking himself every drive that trickled into the second cut of rough. Spending hours on the putting green engraining that perfect putting stroke.

Gotcha fooled

And I’d love to say that that was the real picture. But more often than not, halfway through the first bucket of range balls, I’d decide to call it quits and just start my round. By hole 5, instead of lining up every putt, I would try to break my speed record of how quickly I could finish the hole.

It wasn’t gritty. It wasn’t hard, disciplined work. There was nothing epic about it. No Braveheart music was playing in the background as the sun set.

For too long, I operated by myself spiritually, too. And I don’t mean that I wasn’t a part of a local church. I don’t mean I was intentionally trying to go it alone. It just sort of happened.

The trap is set

Sin snuck up on me, and I chose to bury it.

Instead of bearing my soul, I hid it, covering up with a mask of, “It’s all good.” Putting on a facade, I chose to battle my sin alone, me-and-Jesus style.

The more I wore my mask, the fuller and more beautiful it became. Me-and-Jesus style was safe, but damaging. It was safe, but kept people at a distance. It was safe, but held me back.

It wasn’t gritty. It wasn’t hard, disciplined work. There was nothing epic about it. No Braveheart music was playing in the background as the sun set.

It was a life of acting like I was okay. Acting like I always had it together. Acting like I had all of the answers. Projecting an image I wanted you to see. But in my heart, knowing I wasn’t taking the steps of faith I needed.

Bringing other guys into the battle with me made all of the difference. Jesus was more than enough for my salvation…but sanctification was another thing. I needed authentic community. I needed significant relationships where I could be honest. I needed to be known.

God’s not created us to go through life on our own. The more you try to, the less fulfilling you’ll find life to be. You’ll also find that sin overtakes much quicker, fears conquer, doubts are more persuasive, sin more enticing, passing problems overwhelm much more fully, and the daily grind of life takes its toll more rapidly.

You were created incomplete…needing to be invested in. As much as you need to be invested in, you also need to invest in others. That’s the double-edged beauty that is community.

Authentic community is real, messy, gut-wrenching, and full of grace and hope.

I need that.

And so do you.

Let love be without hypocrisy. – Romans 12:9

* image credit: Creative Commons user FoxyPar4

 

You may have caught my 5 Things a Pastor Should Never Say or my 7 Phrases a Pastor Should Say Regularly Off-Stage or even my 5 Things You Should Be Careful Saying to Your Pastor.

image via Creation Swap user Daniel Romero

Today, I want to give a voice to the pastors who often feel trapped, and can’t say what they really want to say. 

Not all pastors are in this boat. Some are riding the waves of freedom, able to speak wisdom freely. I’m thankful to be serving in a local church that gives incredible amounts of freedom.

Others, though, are trapped. Given the opportunity, here’s what they’d say.

7 Truths a Pastor Wishes They Could Say

1. This week has worn me out.

There’s a reason why there’s a distinct calling into full-time vocational ministry. It’s exhausting, often unrewarding, and will ultimately cost you your life. The work of a pastor leaves them worn out emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

Pastors would like to tell you they’re worn out, but they can’t because you expect too much of them.

2. I need help.

Pastors are real people with real families with real struggles. Sometimes they need physical help in leading. Other times they need financial help. Sometimes they need counseling help with their lives. Asking for help is not a sign of weakness…it’s a sign of wisdom. (Re: Galatians 6:1-3)

Pastors would like to ask for help, but they know that if they do, their job will be in jeopardy.

3. Quit making everything about you.

It’s easy to unload all of your junk on your pastor. And at one level, that’s incredibly healthy. Your pastor is equipped to help minister the Gospel into your specific situation. But when your every conversation revolves around you, your problems, your opportunities, and your struggles, you leave little room for your pastor to build real relationships. Good friends don’t just call you when they need something.

Pastors would like to build real friendship with you, but they can’t because everything is always about you.

4. I have no interest in doing a cantata.

No explanation needed here. If a cantata is being done, this statement is running through your pastor’s head.

5. I can’t fix everything in your life.

Pastors are often seen as a cure-all. Pastors have all of the right answers, they know just that *perfect* verse, and they can pray the *perfect* prayer that will quickly and seamlessly fix the problem that you’ve been struggling with for decades. It’s not your pastor’s job to fix you. That’s a role that the Holy Spirit reserves for Himself.

Pastors would like to tell you this, but you won’t work out your own faith with fear and trembling. (Re: Philippians 2:12-13)

6. Grow up.

At some point in your natural development, you started feeding yourself, clothing yourself, bathing yourself, and fending for yourself. Spiritually, this has got to happen, too. Sure, your pastor has a role to play there. But taking ownership of your own spiritual growth has to happen.

Pastors would like to tell you this, but you need to grow up before you’ll listen.

7. The end goal of Christianity isn’t to get someone to come into a church building. It’s for someone to build a relationship with the living God.

Bringing someone to church with you is often a phenomenal step of faith. But that should never be the end goal. Never. That also shouldn’t be your primary means of introducing people to God. Evangelism happens best in the context of relationships. 

Pastors would like to say this, but when the primary focus is on numbers (whether they’re decreasing or increasing), they don’t have the freedom to.

Question:

Can you think of anything else a pastor wishes they could say?

* image credit: Creation Swap User Daniel Romero

 

Here are some of my favorites from around the web this week:

It only grows in secret - Justin and Trisha Davis

The power of temptation is not in it’s ability to cause us to sin; its in its ability to keep us quiet. This is a powerful post.

If you want to attract leaders - Ron Edmondson

We’ve got a ton of leaders at Grace Community Church. Here are some of the keys that have gotten us there, from one of our pastors, Ron Edmondson.

Top tips for building relationships with volunteers - North Point Community Church

Some of the team from North Point Community Church in Alpharetta, GA, share tips on building relationships with volunteers they lead.

When Bible study becomes idolatry - Allen White

Can studying the Bible really become idolatry? Allen White thinks so.

Small Group show - Steve Gladen and Brett Eastman

This is really a great resource for small group point people. On this episode, they cover 10 good ideas for utilizing Easter as a catalyst for small group growth.

Recruiting volunteers - Brandon Reed

The first thing you need to understand is that it’s better to put someone in a role than it is to just plug a hole. My brother, Brandon Reed, does a great job explaining the difference in recruiting volunteers and simply filling a hole.

You come across anything noteworthy this week?

 

I recently said this on Twitter and Facebook:

You’re better off maintaining a friendship than winning a theological argument.

Apparently, that’s something that’ll stir people up.

Some people view that statement as an attempt to comprise the truth. Let it be known: that was never my intent.

photo credit: Creative Commons user Sepehr Ehsani

I want to balance grace and truth. And I think that means a few things.

How to balance grace & truth

 1. Don’t be a jerk. Even if the truth you espouse is rooted in the Bible.

2. Know what’s theologically vital and what’s not. The non-vital truths should be held with an open hand. The vital truths should not be held in a fist ready to sock someone in the gut with, though.

3. Know who you’re talking to. “Exegeting” your audience is key. Seminary students are not the same audience as the barista behind the bar at your local coffee shop.

4. Stand for truth. Don’t compromise. Balancing doesn’t mean you have to callous your convictions.

5. Be patient with people. How long did it take you to arrive on the theological camp where you now reside?

6. Be humble. Even when you know you’re right.

7. Remember that destroying a relationship leaves no chance of redemption. I’m not downplaying God’s sovereignty here…if God wants to save them, we can’t stop him. Are there times when people part ways and don’t do ministry together? Sure. Are there times when beliefs cause us to head in different directions? You bet. But destroying a relationship isn’t wise or redemptive.

Balance. Fight hard for both grace and truth.

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. – John 1:14, emphasis mine

Question: 

Which do you tend to gravitate more towards: grace or truth?

 * photo credit: Creative Commons user Sepehr Ehsani

 

You may have caught my 5 Things a Pastor Should Never Say or my 7 Phrases a Pastor Should Regularly Say Off-Stage.

Today’s a bit different, though. Today, it’s all about you.

image credit: Creative Commons user Kolby Schnelli

Because sometimes you forget that we pastors are people, too. We’re not superhumans. We’re not mini gods. We’re people, with families. We have hobbies. We have good days and bad. We have days when we feel close to God, and days when He seems distant. We have good ideas and awful ones. We have great church members…and ones like you. (I’m kidding…)

We don’t always know what we’re doing. We’re often outsiders in many conversations, because…when your pastor shows up, you change the subject. We have struggles, too.

I want to help you out, though. Because I know you don’t want to say the wrong thing to your pastor, right? You don’t want to inadvertently offend the guy who’s getting ready to go on stage.

5 Things You Shouldn’t Say to your Pastor

1. What do you even do all week?

This question is loaded with the assumption that pastors sit around, drink coffee, and read their Bible all week in a nice, quiet office. Ahh…how nice that would be. The life of a pastor is much more complicated. We’re helping people understand the deepest, most profound aspects of their lives, with all of the junk that will be dredged up because of those conversations. We’re leading teams of people. We’re active in our communities. We’re slating announcements and videos. We’re crafting web pages. We’re recruiting leaders. And…oh yeah, most of us preach and teach regularly. So we study.

2. You just work one day/week, right?

This one is similar to the first, but there’s an intended sense of humor here. Here’s the truth: that line was barely funny the first time. I hope you know that pastors work much more than one day/week. Sarcasm always has an intended angle of truth, right? So every time you say it, there’s a small part of you that believes it. So if you truly don’t believe it…don’t say it.

3. Your job must be easy.

Maybe you’ve never said this, but I guarantee you’ve thought it. You feel like if you were a pastor, life would be much easier. And to be honest, maybe it would. There are much worse places to work. But every occupation has its difficulties, too. Just because pastors get to meet and greet on Sunday mornings doesn’t mean that their work is so easy throughout the week. We do have to deal with people like you, after all.

4. Why can’t you meet with me when I want?

If you want help, you get it, right? If it’s counseling help you need, you’ll take an hour off of work to get it. If you need your teeth worked on, you’ll schedule an appointment with your dentist at his convenience. If you need your car worked on, you’ll drop it off when they’re open. So why do you expect a pastor is “open” 24 hours/day? If the issue you need help with is that vital, then it’s worth bending your schedule around.

5. That wasn’t my favorite sermon.

This is one of those post-sermon no-nos. Most pastors know when they missed the mark. They don’t need the reminder from you, especially right after they preached. The time right after preaching is typically a vulnerable time for most pastors. Try to find something to encourage them on, rather than picking apart their sermon.

Throughout this list, I’m not encouraging dishonesty. Don’t lie to your pastor. I’m also not saying that pastors are above difficult questioning. Sometimes that’s needed.

But if you’re going to question your pastor, fill it with grace and love.

Question:

Pastors: what have you heard that made your skin crawl?

Non-pastors: what have you said that afterwards you thought, “Whoops…shouldn’t have said that!”?

*image credit: Creative Commons user Kolby Schnelli

 

I recently wrote a post relaying phrases a pastor should never say.

Though this is important, there are also things that a pastor should regularly be in the habit of saying. And not the passing, “Good to see ya” that every pastor says. Not the trivial phrases that everyone expects.

image credit: Creative Commons, Franklin Photos

There are phrases that every pastor should say that take you off guard. These words help build culture and show what a local church values. As they say, “As the pastor goes, so goes the local church.” (nobody that I know has said that. It just sounds catchy and works here) They speak volumes beyond what a pastor communicates from stage.

 7 Phrases a Pastor Should Say Off-Stage

1. I’ll return that email tomorrow.

There are certain things that are pressing in nature. Everything else should be relegated to email…which can be checked and responded to tomorrow. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither were the problems you’re dealing with in this moment. Most of the time, your marriage isn’t going to be fixed if we wait until tomorrow. Your job crisis won’t go away before the sun comes up tomorrow. And your parenting woes can wait until later, too. It’s okay to say, “Tomorrow.”

2. No, I can’t meet on Tuesday evening. That’s my family time.

Setting aside time to be with your family is vital. Letting others know that you’ve made a priority out of spending quantity and quality time with your family is highly important, because your congregation takes its cues from you. If you want them to value their family, you’ve got to value yours.

3. I need rest, too.

Pastor, you’re not a superhuman. We need rest, too. And if we want others to experience the natural rhythms of life, and honor God with their rest, we’ve got to model that. Don’t work 6 days/week, and also Sunday. Take your Sabbath. The work God has called you to deserves your best, which you can’t give without adequate amounts of rest.

4. I don’t know the answer.

Pastor, you’re not a superhuman here, either. Unless you’re the Bibleman. Quit acting like you always have the answer, even when you don’t. We’re pretty good at this, aren’t we? We can fudge our way around theologically even though we have no idea what we’re talking about.

When you model humility in this area, those you lead will feel the freedom to not have every answer before they feel like they can lead. They’ll also not come to you for every answer, creating a culture of self-learners.

5. I need help.

There are certain pastors that try to do everything on their own. In the process, they cap their leadership. The local church was never meant to function under the leadership of one person. Varying gifts are utilized when others are given the chance to lead and flesh those gifts out. Pastors can’t do it on their own. They should bring others to the table. (the same goes for times in a pastor’s life when he needs spiritual/counseling/financial help. Modeling that it’s okay to ask for help in this area is an important step for pastors, too).

When you ask for help, you encourage others to do the same.

6. I value my wife more than I value my ministry.

Say this and mean it. Build your schedule around it. Block off time with her. And if you’re asked about it, don’t hesitate to let people know what you’re doing. (1 Timothy 3:4-5) Protecting your marriage is one of the most important things you can do as a pastor.

7. I don’t have time for small group either. But I make time.

You’ve got the same number of hours in a day that those you lead have. You can’t make time any more than you can make dirt. You have to take time if you want to live life in community. If this is truly a value of you and your church, then model it. Block off the time once/week to minister, and be ministered to, in authentic community.

Question:

Did I leave anything out? Anything else you think a pastor should regularly say off-stage?

* image credit: Creative Commons, Franklin Photos

 

photo credit: Creative Commons user Ingesting

Like that lonely thread all by itself that you pull on an old sweater, I found myself unraveling my calling recently.

It started off innocently enough, with someone pushing back on my theology. I didn’t get prickly or defensive. I went introspective. Let me try to get you in my mode of warped thinking.

Ever heard someone tell you how they hate they could only get to the gym twice this week and think, “Geez…quit saying I’m lazy!” Or maybe you’ve heard someone mention how they’ve switched to a new, healthy way of eating and all you hear is, “You’re so irresponsible with your diet!” Or maybe someone says, “I love getting up early to read my Bible” and all you hear is a heap of condemnation thrown your way.” They say one thing…you hear another.

The unraveling begins

That’s sort of what happened recently when I was questioned about my theology. Not “questioned” as in “What do you believe about ____.” Questioned as in, “Why would you ever say ____?!?”

The thread was hanging loose and I gave it a little tug, only to have more of the thread exposed. Another little pull left more thread in my hand. Another jerk and a hole appeared in the sleeve.

I started wondering, “Am I really a theologian? Do I even have any idea what I’m talking about?” I thought, “Has God really called me to ministry? Am I being effective? Have I ever been effective?” I let my mind wander: “Why would God call me into ministry? Why would He ever use me to lead people and communicate truth?”

I’m useless. I’m worthless. I have nothing to offer.

Feeding the lie

I stopped myself.

I was being fed a Lie. And I was tossing him more snacks. With every passing thought, that Lie was hastily burrowing itself into the fabric of my identity. My identity that is deeply rooted in Christ was being unraveled and dismantled, and I was watching it happen before my eyes.

If I didn’t do something quickly, the whole sweater was about to be a pile of thread in my hands.

So I did what you have to do if you want to stop the thread: I cut it off. I didn’t allow it to do more damage. I didn’t keep pondering the theological challenge. I didn’t keep feeding the Lie. I snipped it with a pair of scissors.

I can only think that if identity insecurities crop their nasty head up in my life, they do in yours, too. When we should find our identity in being called the King’s son, we often find it in

• being a parent
• our career
• our church
• our hobby
• our insights
• being right
• our theology
• our talents

Reorienting your identity

When someone questions one of those “identities,” the thread comes loose. You find yourself either lashing out in anger or turning inwards in deep introspection.

The answer to this spiral is to root your identity not in what you’ve earned, but in who God has declared you to be.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will… – Ephesians 1:3-5 (emphasis mine)

You’re a child of the King

No longer are you outsiders and foreigners and weird cousins. You’re now a son, with all of the inheritance and blessings that a son should receive. And nobody can take that name from you. Not even you.

Let that truth fight the Lie of insecurity for you.

* photo credit: Creative Commons user Ingesting

 

image credit: Creative Commons Kiss the Lava

The story of the Prodigal Son, from Luke 15, is one of those stories that you’ve probably heard so often that it goes in one ear and out the other.

It’s a story that’s easily taken for granted, filed away in the folder: “I’ve got that one figured out.”

Read it too quickly and you’ll miss its beauty and depth. Check this out:

There was a man who had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me.’ And he divided his property between them. Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took a journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in reckless living. And when he had spent everything, a severe famine arose in that country, and he began to be in need….But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.”’ And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. (Luke 15:11-14; 17-20)

When the Prodigal son returned home, his father didn’t greet him with a new set of rules and regulations and expectations and guilt.

Because grace doesn’t heap burdens. It releases them. Grace doesn’t tighten restrictions. It frees prodigals to receive joy. Instead of chaining, it loosens bonds. In fact, “grace” says you were in bondage before, and that now it’s time to be free.

Even when you’ve squandered your life. Even when you’ve destroyed relationships. Even when you’ve walked away from those who love you. Even when you’ve done that thing again…and again. Even when you’ve held on to bitterness. Even when you’ve acted the fool. Even when you’ve spit in the face of those who love you the most.

When what you deserve is to be cut off from the family, left out in the cold, and shut out from all blessings. When what you think is coming your way includes condemnation and shame. When your stupidity has landed you in a heaping pile of your own mess, your Father smiles and says,

“You were dead, but now you’re alive. You were lost, but now you’re found. You. Are. My. Son.”

And there it is. God rewrites your story, changes the ending, and gives you a new name.

It’s easy to find ourselves broken by life, by the choices of others, and by our own poor decisions, stuck in a hole we dug ourselves into. No matter how deep you’ve gone, how far you’ve strayed, or how many broken lives you’ve left in your path of destruction, it’s not too late.

Turn back now, and your eyes will meet a Savior running towards you with arms open and full of Joy.

* photo credit: Creative Commons user Kiss the Lava