Tag Archives: identity

Alan from behind looking into the distance

Finding Myself Again

(A two minute read)

I have people in my life who will say that I ‘found Jesus.’ Others will say that I ‘came to faith.’ They misunderstand. The opposite is true. God came to me. I wasn’t looking for Him. But He was looking for me. Endlessly. And when my time came, I couldn’t ignore Him.

He approached me first, then I found Him. Then I came to find faith in Him. Only then could I hear Him say ‘Follow Me’. Only then could I follow Him.

In that faith that I found, I now know that there are great things in store for me. I’m God’s masterpiece, ‘created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, so that (I) should walk in them.’ *

Here’s the deal: I was His masterpiece before I followed Him in faith. I was His masterpiece when I was still His enemy and hated Him. I was His masterpiece when I was broken. That’s why He came after me, because I was broken and had thrown myself in the trash. I was like Forky in Toy Story 4. Because I lived in the trash, I thought I was trash.

God disagreed, and tracked me down. What artist paints a masterpiece and throws it in the trash? Or, in my case, if the masterwork is thrown in the trash, doesn’t the artist go to retrieve it? To redeem it?

It’s by God’s grace that I was pulled from the scrap heap, saved from my own destruction. Now, I may finally ‘walk out those good works that God prepared beforehand.’

I do this successfully only through complete surrender. Surrender is difficult sometimes, but it renders the Christian life very simple. The simple answer to every question is to turn to Jesus, who tracks me down no matter how far I wander. And when He reaches me again, He says ‘Follow Me’. And I do, because He’s the one worth following, and I find myself again.

* Ephesians 2:10 (NLT)

Photo by Rachel Richards

graffiti

Graffiti Artist

The sounds of young men shouting
In multi-colored throat, crying
‘I am here!, See my voice!’ all mean
Hearts pleading ‘Father, where are you?’

A fatherless generation
Wails in an urban wilderness.
Concrete gives voice
while the hearts camp in the desert.

There is no way home as
The blank stares of tower blocks
Offer no expression.
They give nothing away to young men.

Young men poke them in the eye and make them blink.
The fatherless offer expression of their own
And take what they need
In the absence of a father.

No ears to hear them, arms to hold them?
These broken sons of a nation
Which has them perch on breezeblock
Instead of crawling into Daddy’s lap.

‘What do you know, mate?’ comes the challenge.
‘I understand the pain’ I say,
‘Because I too built my own wall
And then spray-painted it.’

I gave myself orphanhood.
‘Take that or nothing,’ I thought.
Hobson’s Choice was all I saw
As I painted myself into a corner.

But each one can teach one.
Each one can reach one,
After the paint dries,
And we walk free.

an arrow attached to a tree

More Random Thoughts

(A five-minute read if you ponder these properly)

What if it was relationship media instead of social media?

The worst days are like run on sentences – they have no punctuation. And, even when they are done, you shake your head and wonder what just transpired.

When the lonely walk down the street, all they see is the pavement.

If you can’t enjoy, then enjoin.

It’s better to wear your heart on your sleeve than wear a sleeve over your heart.

Maybe instead of “seek and ye shall find” the quote should be “lose and ye shall find.”

He who lives by the chip shall die by the chip.

Need to deepen your relationship? Paint a picture. It lasts forever.

I just want to cerebrate.