Excel still more.

A few Sundays ago, in a really powerful sermon on 1 Thessalonians 4:1-7, Frank mentioned Paul's urgent command to "Excel still more."


With so many aspects of my life changing - an approaching marriage, a challenging job, friends who do not believe but listen - I've re-charged myself with reading Scripture every morning and with shoring up my own understanding of my beliefs. I'll get a good chance at that with Dave training for Campus Crusade; their basics of belief program is solid, and I'm excited to work through that after him.


But today has been circuitous and odd. We had a terrific thunderstorm this morning that spawned a tornado or two, and as I type, we're waiting on the next bout of weather - it's supposed to be worse. Until this morning, I've never been in a place where I've lost touch with my loved ones and am powerless to help them, much less know if they're safe. And when we finally got in touch again and I tried to work again, my heart wouldn't settle. So I pulled up the Veritas band on iTunes (something Dave sent me after a men's retreat a month ago).


One of the songs leads with a written excerpt that caught at my heart. So I'm researching the Heidelberg Catechism now and can hardly believe the beauty of what I'm finding. It's certainly a piece I want to spend some time soaking up. For today, get a feel for the lovely wording:

What is thy only comfort in life and death?

That I with body and soul,
both in life and death,
am not my own,
but belong unto my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ;
who, with his precious blood,
has fully satisfied for all my sins,
and delivered me from all the power of the devil;
and so preserves me 
that without the will of my heavenly Father,
not a hair can fall from my head;
yea, that all things must be subservient to my salvation,
and therefore, by his Holy Spirit,
He also assures me of eternal life,
and makes me sincerely willing and ready,
henceforth, to live unto him.

How many things are necessary for thee to know,
that thou, enjoying this comfort,
mayest live and die happily?

Three; 
the first, how great my sins and miseries are; 
the second, how I may be delivered from all my sins and miseries;
the third, how I shall express my gratitude to God for such
deliverance.

Just when you think you've got it...

I'm trying to think of an image to describe my spiritual life. The best I can come up with is a spiral: from outside the spiral (God's perspective), it's fairly easy to see where on the path I am, how far from one end, and how near to the other. From my perspective (inside the spiral), I only see layers moving slowly upward and the layers I've already put behind me. I seem to be constantly doubling back on myself, making very little progress, and even covering the same territory over and over.


I'm always surprised and disappointed to wake up one morning to discover a thin shell of callous over my heart. Coincidentally (or not so coincidentally and perhaps more divinely), I often sense this hardening and indifference on Sunday mornings as I'm hurrying to church. Even more divinely, my Father knows the fears and reactions of my heart - He knows what causes my retreat from His arms, and He waits for me. It's usually a Sunday like that when the teachings line up as either a gentle reminder or a kick in the seat of my pants. This week was so kind - there was no guilt or fear. Just a weary sense of, "I've seen this in myself before. I thought we'd gotten rid of it, Father. Here we go again."


If the spiral picture is accurate, we don't really ever get rid of or lose sight of those past things in our lives. And that may be a good thing - while that does not give us liberty to beat ourselves up over them, they do serve as memorials, or milestones. That's where I was - here I am now. We are never in both places.


Welcome to 2011. Apparently I'm going to ramble a lot this year. My apologies in advance. If you'd like to hear the same teaching, check out Frank Ramseur's New Years inspiration: Calvary Chapel Chattanooga.

Who says reflection is only for New Years?

Calvary Chapel Chattanooga's sermon, from September 19, 2010: How to Live with No Regrets.  I hope you like Frank as much as we do!

I had a few minutes to myself last night when all my friends had left, the party had been cleaned up, the dishwasher was running, and a very tired puppy was curled in my lap.  And I was able to relax, to drink the stillness of my house, and to thank my Father for the day - and my life.

I have lived among you all for 26 years.  And looking back, one regret overwhelms the others: I wish that I had made up my mind earlier in my life, that looking back now, I would see a blazing trail of certainty and love instead of a shadowy, moonlit meander.

But it's a bittersweet regret: if I had been more firm, more decisive and sure, I would have missed so many relationships, so many opportunities to learn and grow.  And while the ache of those broken, hurtful relationships lingers in my heart, I wouldn't opt for a "do-over."  I love and miss each of them and am better for having known and loved them.  I can't imagine my life without their addition to the story.

You'll find I quote Kahlil Gibran more often than probably necessary.  But I cannot help myself.

"Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight."

-On Joy and Sorrow, from The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran