Sunday, November 18, 2007

despising the homeless...

[Books and journals and articles and blogs that act like they have everything figured out sucks, and I don't really have to explain that much because we all don't like a Mr. KnowItAll. That being said, if you read this, you might be left searching, and I'm ok with that.]

I had a fantastic weekend, but a new thought/feeling/sensation or whatever it may be came across my brain, and its affect was not favorable and I'm very curious why such a thought would even cross my path. It felt, and currently feels, like one of those obscure dreams, where you wake up saying, "where did that dream come from?" or "why would I even dream such a thing?"

Saturday was amazing because I had the opportunity to volunteer at the New Orleans Mission. We helped their ministry by serving a special Thanksgiving meal for the homeless. Some of our attenders from HIMnI helped at this event, including myself, and I was glad to see an abundance of volunteers. There were so many volunteers that I found myself being most useful by having conversations with the homeless as they stood in line outside.

I had a video camera for a short while (you should be able to see the video soon after our December HIMnI on our website), and this one homeless guy asked me if I got everyone's permission to film them. I told him that unfortunately I hadn't. He then asked me if I thought it would be ok if someone came and punched me in the mother f#*@&ing face for filming them. I told him I'd be up to the challenge (don't really know what that meant at the time; I just blurted something out in order to give the appearance that I'm hardcore yo). He then said, now what if I punch you in the mother f*%#$ing face? I said that wouldn't be such a good idea, but you're welcome to it. And that was the end of our conversation.

We talked again about an hour later and everything was cool.

Homeless people are fun, full of grief and sorrow which isn't fun, but always full of honesty which is why I say they are fun. I'm just glad someone was honest enough to say they wanted to punch me in the face. I'm sure he hasn't been the first. In truth, I think this conversation was a foreshadow of things to come, except God's doing the punching this time around.

Anyways, we helped for a couple hours on Saturday and it brought me great satisfaction.

We also had a Thanksgiving meal at our church for Sunday lunch. For some reason I told our core team that I would make a green bean casserole and a sweet potato casserole. I did make both of them, but making casseroles sure does stress me out. I spent a couple hours this morning making them, and I was extremely proud of my green bean casserole, but wasn't feeling too confident about my sweet potato casserole. My electric mixer broke and I had to mash the sweet potatoes with a fork, which is no fun at all. I can see now why most men stick to grilling meat, because casseroles are just frustrating and exhausting.

So we had this huge Thanksgiving spread full of turkey and stuffing and casseroles and it was great seeing everyone eat as a family. We had some really strange people eat with us, and it made me think about genuine hospitality in the local church. I began to wonder if these people would feel welcome in most churches, or if these people would just get strange looks. There was this one man who dressed like a woman, and he was really nice and I'm glad I got to meet him, but it made me wonder if all churches would accept him the way he is. I began to wonder if the church really believes and practices the title of that popular invitational hymn, "Just As I Am," and I wonder why I was allowed to come to Jesus that way but I prevent others coming to Jesus in the same manner.

As I think about this tonight, I've also started thinking about why I despised some of the homeless today.

We had two people come in after the service, and our policy at Vieux Carre' has always been to only welcome those who will participate with us on Sunday morning. My pastor, however, has a generous heart, and decided to make some plates of food for these people who showed up late.

My initial reaction...

This isn't right.

I actually looked at them and began to despise them for freeloading. At Vieux Carre', our only expectation for those who live on the streets is that they would treat us and everyone else like family when they're in the walls of our church. We will always do our best to love the unlovable and the difficult, but we still try to emphasize love and respect in everything.

Needless to say, I still despised them for freeloading, and I soon discovered I was contradicting the very principles our church is trying to proclaim.

It's hit me pretty hard this afternoon, and I've been mulling it over in my head for quite some time, but I just don't understand why I began to despise the homeless today. I know God has forgiven me already for such a heinous thought, and I'm grateful that He's teaching me how to extend my compassion, but I still don't understand why such a thought would enter my mind. It goes way beyond my sinful nature, something more...

Hmm, I definitely gonna be thinking about this for a while. And I really hope God uses this to make me resemble Christ more, because my thoughts weren't in line with my actions, and we all know that makes a man a hypocrite and a liar, and no one wants to be that.

So I guess what I'm saying is...

Go ahead God, do your thing. You know me better than I know me, so please make sense of my heart and my mind for me, because I don't understand.

You know that thing that you do where you have something dirty and you make it clean? I like that trick. Could you do it again please?

Thursday, October 25, 2007

flickin off (or flippin off) New Orleans

I embrace each return to my beloved city with a two middle finger salute, held high. In case you didn't get that, I seriously "flick off" (or "flip off" to some) my dear New Orleans every time I return from a trip. My reasons are easily justifiable and worthy of such a salute, and I'll give my reason shortly. If you're from New Orleans, or have ever been, you know the exact location when the city finally becomes visible when driving in from Slidell heading west on I-10. What an amazing site for anyone who loves the city!


I just spent the last week in upstate South Carolina. We had a blast, speaking at two universities, two college gatherings, and three churches. By "we" I mean the Andrew Ogea Band, and the rest of the HIMnI staff, including my brother's wife. The week was one of our longest ever, but everyone who went agrees that it was an amazing time full of work, play, rest, and way too much food.



We returned to New Orleans late Sunday night, and I could sense that even though I had an amazing week in the land of smiling faces and beautiful places, I was glad to be back to the not-so Big Easy.

On Wednesday my Pastor and I walked around the Quarter for a while and met some interesting people. We came across Billy, another pastor in the Quarter. He's covered head to toe with tattoos, wears lots of silver, and came to faith in Christ through the Jesus Movement in the 70's. This former Vietnam veteran/Hippie inspired us to continue in our faith, reminding us to share with everyone who comes across our path. I'm grateful that we met him, because you have no idea how rare it is to come across another believer in the French Quarter. We are extremely grateful for Billy's commitment to the mission and we hope we can continue to partner in the gospel ministry for many years to come.

I told him about my two finger salute and he laughed hysterically. Billy told me he'll do the same whenever he returns to New Orleans from a trip.

Pastor Greg and I also met a man from John Hagee's church in Texas (I think). He's crazy, I gotta be honest, and I'm not too fond of his evangelism strategy in the Quarter. The first time I met him he was putting tracts on car windshields. I yelled at him and told him to quit being a pansy and have the courage to talk with someone face to face. He yelled back at me, then we became friends. Weird, I know, but the yelling was productive and fruitful.

I also met another man. I shall call him Manic Glen. Probably not to his face, but that's how I'll remember him since he was sooo left field. Remember the kid who chased butterflies and bumblebees in left field during the little league game, the kid who constantly talked to himself and pretended his baseball glove was a Star Wars face mask? Well, that's Glen.


Manic Glen walked up and talked to me and Pastor Billy (the tattoo/silver wearing pastor). He never stayed on topic, and looked at us with his crazy eyes. And to be truthful, Manic Glen is awesome! I already love the guy because he goes 1000 mph, talking about anything like the real D-day and brussel (sp) sprouts. He asked us if we wanted to smoke a joint with him, because he needed to chill out. I said no thanks (of course) and he left. Man he wears me out but I'm grateful for his honesty.

Anyways, we met several others while walking around, learned the one of our close homeless friends is lying to us about having children to support, and met for prayer and bible study that night.

In summary, it was a great day to be serving Jesus in the Quarter.

So, in case your wondering, why do I flick off my city, a city that is close to my heart, a city that gets me excited about serving Jesus and following him and giving him everything including my desires for security, power, and pleasure?

Well, I'm not exactly flicking off a place, but a person!

Ask any believer and they tell you the suppression and oppression they sense when they walk around New Orleans. Most believers, including myself, believe if Satan has a few strongholds, a few places where he's strongly established and is an overwhelming, almost immovable and impenetrable force, then you'd hear many Christ followers saying New Orleans is one of those places.

My homeless friends, even the local residents, will admit that New Orleans is a very dark place. It doesn't take away from the fact that many people, including myself, love the city. It's just dark.

I'm of the persuasion which believes Satan has a vacation home in New Orleans that he visits frequently. It's one of his favorite playgrounds. I'll venture to say that the roaring lion spends way too much time in my city, and i'm sick of it. I've had enough.

I know he doesn't want me here, I know he doesn't want anyone else here who possesses the light, which is why I always give him the salute he deserves.


"Guess who's back?!!!"

It's my "Here's Johnny!" moment, and it always makes me laugh.








More importantly, it inspires me and I know its probably not the best thing to do, but he (Satan) get me so angry. He's done enough to mess up my life, and I can't imagine what he's doing to everyone else. Now I'm not placing all blame on him, for I feel completely responsible for my current chaotic condition, but I am resolved to let Christ win and reign supreme in New Orleans. Christ has already conquered my demons; I'm just excited to see him take down the big dog once and for all.

Lately I've been thinking about heaven. And while thinking about heaven I thought about dodgeball. On our way up to South Carolina my friends and I all wore different colored sweatsuits. It made us look like a traveling professional dodgeball team.



So heaven, and dodgeball. Combining the two, I thought about how great it will be one day to play a game of dodgeball with Jesus, in heaven. I'm not sure if we'll be doing that kind of stuff, and I'd much rather be worshiping Jesus and bowing down to him because he's just too amazing for words. But if we do get to play dodgeball in heaven, I really hope Jesus is on my team, because let's be honest, Jesus wins at everything. He always wins. Jesus always wins and has proven himself to be completely victorious. Seriously, he beat sin and death, and no one has ever done that. No one besides Jesus will ever claim victory over our two greatest certainties in life, and I'm talking about death but not about taxes.

God, through his Spirit which lives inside of me, imparted by Jesus because of his death upon that cross, has taught me so much about the extent of his victory. Over all things!

So, in a weird, twisted, obscure way, I give a two fingered salute to Satan because I am so thrilled, honored, and humbled that God would use a pathetic person like me to usher in His kingdom and knock out the reigning champ.

Oh Jesus, show yourself in New Orleans. He's so scared. I know he is. You are near, you are here, and he doesn't like that very much.

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

antiques and queers...

In a previous blog I mentioned how I wanted to play chess with this old man at my favorite coffee shop. Well, it still hasn't happened. I saw him today playing a different game. For some reason this old guy is really intimidating me, but I still really want to talk with him about things, random things, maybe even special things, like Jesus.

Hmm,... yes.

Anyways, I spent the majority of my afternoon in that coffee shop systematizing my theology, and to my surprise it (by it I mean my theology) was coming together nice and orderly. Feeling rather organized from a mental/spiritual standpoint, I walked back to my car around 6pm to reward myself at my apartment with mindless television. The Quarter smelled of throw up, dog poop, beer, and rotten food, intermixed with some antiseptic spray that attempts to cover the smell.

As I opened my car door I noticed an old man sitting on some steps, enjoying the smell (probably not) and seeming very content. I didn't want to, already feeling quite satisfied since I organized my theology.

I'm sure God was very pleased with me that I had figured him out a little more, but that's another subject for another time.

In that moment, somewhere in my mind, I felt the gravitational pull towards this old man, who seemed far more inviting than the old man who plays chess at the coffee shop.

I threw my bag into the car, then casually said, "Nice night."
He's said, "Very Nice. It hasn't felt this good outside for quite a while."
I said, "You're right, it does feel good."

Pause.

I said, "Well, have a goodnight." (feeling much like Lloyd from Dumb and Dumber saying "Big Gulps huh?")
He said, "Won't you sit down?"
I said, "Sure, I've got some time."

I sat down next to him on his steps and Larry began to tell me about his life and the weather.

Halfway through the conversation he asked, "Would you like a coke?"
"Sure, I'd love one." said I:)

After Larry brought me a coke, he invited me inside where we talked for the next 30 minutes about whatever came to mind.

I learned that Larry used to be a marine merchant, but has been retired for quite some time. He traveled all over the world and wishes so badly he could still travel but can't because he suffers from Vertigo. Being an avid traveler, Larry recommended that I visit Spain and France, especially France because the women are absolutely gorgeous and oftentimes nude.
He also doesn't care much for sports, but loves antiques, "proper" music, and art.

Larry kept repeating certain phrases, like telling me the apartment belongs to his cousin and that his son recently died from leukemia.

In the process, though, he said I phrase I will soon never forget, because I loathe its association.

In the same sentence he said, "mother f!*#&ing queers and mother f%@#$ing Jesus."

The cursing was funny, because he's an old guy and I don't hear too many old guys talk like that, but its association wasn't.

He wasn't being critical, nor judgmental, its just the way he talked. From my conversation, I could tell he loves queers, and Jesus too, just not the kind of way I'd hope he'd love Jesus.

I found it semi-amusing, but it also made me feel very sad.

Somewhere along the line in his long, illustrious life, Larry's gotten to the point where he can say that in the same sentence and it practically has no meaning or no importance or significance whatsoever.

People of the cross, this is not good. This is definitely not good.

I got his number, and I'll visit him soon.

You know, I really enjoyed Larry, he brought great refreshment to my reason for being in the Quarter. I also hope that if you read this you'll say a quick prayer for Larry.

That's all.

Friday, September 21, 2007

my friend Ron...


My friend Ron Lyons painted this piece at Out Of Range. He called it, "When you pray, move your feet." I love his work. He has another piece called "So Try," which might be one of my favorite pieces ever. You can see it on his website. If you ever have an opportunity to visit New Orleans, make sure you visit one of his galleries on Royal.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

one studdly man (part 2)...

More quotes from my man, C. T. Studd. He brings me great encouragement.

Too long have we been waiting for one another to begin! The time of waiting is past! The hour of God has struck! War is declared! In God's Holy Name let us arise and build! 'The God of Heaven, He will fight for us', as we for Him. We will not build on the sand, but on the bedrock of the sayings of Christ, and the gates and minions of hell shall not prevail against us. Should such men as we fear? Before the world, aye, before the sleepy, lukewarm, faithless, namby-pamby Christian world, we will dare to trust our God, we will venture our all for Him, we will live and we will die for Him, and we will do it with His joy unspeakable singing aloud in our hearts. We will a thousand times sooner die trusting only our God, than live trusting in man. And when we come to this position the battle is already won, and the end of the glorious campaign in sight. We will have the real Holiness of God, not the sickly stuff of talk and dainty words and pretty thoughts; we will have a Masculine Holiness, one of daring faith and works for Jesus Christ.



True religion is a very practical thing if we do not adulterate it.



Difficulties, dangers, disease, death, or divisions don't deter any but Chocolate Soldiers from executing God's Will. When someone says there is a lion in the way, the real Christian promptly replies, "That's hardly enough inducement for me; I want a bear or two besides to make it worth my while to go."

Sunday, September 16, 2007

first Saints Sundays

We had our first Saints Sundays today at Vieux Carre' Baptist Church. It was quite the experience!

We moved our worship service from 11am to 10am, and this confused the mess out of our regular participants.

We opened the service with "When The Saints Go Marching In," who dat style, singing and chanting "who dat" throughout the song. Anyone familiar with Saints football will know exactly what I'm talking about.

As I was looking around, I noticed I was worshiping with a variety of people. Drug addicts, families, homosexuals, homeless, students, black, white, wealthy, poor, basically any type of person that comes to mind. (I even met a transvestite named Cookie at our church on Friday night and we had a fantastic conversation.)

It dawned on me; this is how church should be. This is what I want my family to look like. I'm not asking for perfection, I'm not even craving any sort of organization or structure; I just want to worship my perfect Savior amidst imperfect people craving to be perfected by Him who makes all things new.

So we watched the game after worship. Probably 50 people, which was more than we could handle. We ate Popeyes chicken, drank homemade sweet tea, and ate factory made brownies that come in a brown cardboard tray (still delicious).

The Saints were horrible. I stand by my team and still hope for the best, but currently I believe they are the worst team in the league. Hopefully that'll change next week since I am going to the game!

Our afternoon was crazy, unconventional, and at times felt like it was really lacking in vision and direction. But this stuff doesn't really matter to the family of Vieux Carre' Baptist Church. What mattered the most was the opportunity to spend time together. Saints Sundays was just another opportunity to hang with my family, and I'm glad that we did it.

I'm especially glad I got to hang out with Stephan and Priscilla, who aren't from America. Although they live in the French Quarter, they have no clue about football because they didn't grow up with it. I was glad to explain the game in between my yells and cursing (j/k).

I was also glad to talk with Will. Although we didn't talk as much as I wanted to, I'm still glad he hung around amidst the chaos to watch the first half with us. That was his second time visiting Vieux Carre' and I hope he'll come back again.

We had to kick two people out of the church after repeatedly telling them to only begin with two pieces of chicken until everyone else had a chance to eat. This one particular lady fixed herself three plates, then grabbed an empty Popeye's box to fill it with food for later. We warned her once, then she yelled at us, so we kicked her out. We still let her have the food, but she was just being stupid and inconsiderate.

To be honest, I enjoyed that, because everyone saw a visual example of how family is top priority at Vieux Carre'. Everyone else agreed. We can't have people around who repeatedly only think of themselves. That's just not who we are.

This was also the same lady who asked to sing at the end of our worship service. I told her no.
She said, "Well you just missed out on a blessing."
I said, "No I didn't."
She said, "Hell yes you did!"
I said, "Oh no you didn't! (pause) By what authority do you come wanting to share a song with this church?"
She said, "By the Holy Spirit (with lots of attitude)"
I said, "Good answer...But is this your family?"
She said, "Say what? (confused)"
I said, "Is this your church? Do you consider this to be your church family?"
She said, "No."
I said, "Well then, I reserve the right to say who's gonna sing to my family. Join us for a few more Sundays, then we'll think about letting you sing."
She said, "Well I guess this church must be all about the money, not about JEEEE-SUS!"
I said, "Shut up woman, you don't know anything about my family. I'm going to watch the game."

That was a fun conversation...

So basically it was a strange afternoon, but what afternoon's aren't strange in the French Quarter?

Maybe next time you can join us for a crazy afternoon filled with worship, Saints, and chicken...

Friday, September 14, 2007

becoming regular...

There's a particular table in a particular corner of a particular coffee shop on Royal St. where I'm gradually getting to the point where I can say that spot has become particularly mine.

Today is Friday, and I just realized I have visited my little corner four times this week.

Always the same spot, almost always the same drink, and nearly always the same routine.

If I had my way, I would frequent this same spot on a more consistent basis, at a more consistent time of the day, having consistent conversations with unfamiliar faces that hopefully would lead to consistent friendships.

I'm already beginning to tell who are the "regulars" in my little corner of the world. Even the baristas are beginning to recognize me. Maybe some day they will know exactly what I want to drink even without asking for it. Perhaps, if I commit to consistency, they will already have my drink ready by the time I walk in the door.

There's this old man who wears suspenders and looks "pissed off" all the time. On Tuesday a young lady said a few words to him and he immediately changed his demeanor. This old man talked way too much and probably scared the young lady with the amount of enthusiasm in his voice, but it was obvious that he was desperate for a decent conversation...

(Currently I am desperate for a decent conversation with the one who knows about all my particulars...)

This old guy has been at this coffee shop everytime I've been here, and God-willing, I hope I get to have a good conversation with him soon...

He was playing chess once, so I think I'll play him one day and let him whoop my ass...

Jesus would like that, seeing me get my ass whooped by an angry, old man. We'll probably talk about stuff, and that would be good because Jesus likes it when I talk to angry old men about stuff. Maybe we'll even talk about Him :)


Here's to becoming regular...

(last sip)

Monday, September 3, 2007

A weekend of denials...

My brother says I have a gift.
It is particular, and it is visible, but I'd rather deny this gift and claim some other gift instead.
In fact this gift frustrates me a little, if it is to be called such a thing. I could almost substitute the word "talent" instead, but I believe wholeheartedly that this "gift" has been given to me, and to take credit for a "talent" would assuredly mock the gift-giver.

My flesh would rather just call it a nuisance, but I am certain it came down from the Father of lights (Ja 1:17). Afterall, it is good. Not necessarily to my good, but it is most definitely good. And it is also perfect; for I see perfection carried out in its action, and God has made me responsible for sharing his good and perfect gift.

It is also because of this gift that I say I denied Christ three times this past weekend. At church yesterday I pleaded with my Lord for forgiveness from these sins of omission, and my gracious king brought, yet again, redemption to my heart, mind, and soul.

So here are the three denials, in chronological order:

First Denial @ Wagner's Meat Market.
I frequently visit this gas station at night when I crave something to drink. I was walking into the store when a lady asked me for some spare change. I quickly told her I had no money and went on to buy my drink. That Vitamin Water never tasted so gluttonous!

Second Denial @ the Southern Decadence Festival.
I went to my church on Friday night to visit my pastor and some friends. Pastor Greg had assembled some people together for prayer. In the meantime, the participants of Southern Decadence were all around us in the French Quarter. This festival, which celebrates gay life, occurs every year on Labor Day weekend. We had our doors wide open while we sang some praise songs together. Can I just say here that I was honored to praise God during such a time. We all felt the need to inhabit the air with God's praises since the French Quarter was so void of it during that weekend.
I was about to leave with my friend when I felt his presence drawing me to the festival, not away from it. I do believe God has created us, his children, to run towards the fire, not away from it. I had previously talked with a few men on the streets and told them to be safe, but I had kept my passion a secret, and passions are never kept secret which made me wonder if it was my passion at all.
Once more I was beckoned to go into the heart of the festival, and once more I turned away and went home. Denial number two.

Third Denial @ Wagner's Meat Market.
On this occassion, I was restless. I just couldn't sleep. So I decided to get something to drink at my favorite late-night watering hole.
As I was driving, which is less than a minute away, I told God I would give help this time if someone would ask. I had only brought change with me. $1.75, plus a handful of pennies, which meant I only had enough for one drink.
As I got out of my car, a man sitting, holding a cane and void of any hope on his face, asked me if I could spare some change.
Why I do not know, and I forever curse myself for passing such moments by, but I told the man, "sorry," and went inside the store...

shame...

I passed by him on my way out, holding my drink, and left to live my life of selfishness.

On this third visible denial, amongst many others during the weekend, I realized that my gift is being squandered and I am not pleasing my Lord with the gift he has given me.

I am captivated by Robbie Seay Band's latest album, "Give Yourself Away." In the song, "Go Outside," Robbie sings a line that has brought me low;

NO ONE SHOULD BE LEFT OUT

NO ONE SHOULD BE LEFT OUT

NO ONE SHOULD BE LEFT OUT

NO ONE SHOULD BE LEFT OUT

My brother says that the homeless and destitute are naturally drawn to me. I just hope I won't deny God's right to use his gift in his servant anymore. Pray that I may do so from here on out.

Friday, August 31, 2007

don't you wanna little taste of the GLORY...

(Nathan Cline and I love that quote from Nacho Libre!)




Sooooooo,
another year of HIMnI begins on September 20th.







New location, same purpose.

This year we'll be meeting at Carrollton Presbyterian. We moved from the Prytania Theatre because of recent renovations. They completely removed their stage and brought the screen forward, thus eliminating our hopes of using that amazing building for HIMnI.

But no worries, God has provided us with another excellent location for this year's HIMnI. Carrollton Presbyterian has been extremely cooperative and gracious, and we are thrilled to partner with them as we seek to proclaim God's glory together.

And how about that word, GLORY?

It's my new favorite word. My favorite word this past summer was "awesome." Anyone who heard me speak knows how many times I said the word "awesome." (The record was 20 times in 3 minutes during announcements.)

But lately, God has buried this idea of "glory" deep within my conscious, and He won't let me go of it.

I think this fascination first originated through a song. Our HIMnI band, known now as the Andrew Ogea Band, sings a song called "Your Glory." (Please get it on iTunes if you haven't already) Andrew and the gang led us in that song nearly every week this summer for MissionLab, and I fell in love with it. God used this song to help me meditate on my ultimate purpose.

I truly believe my ultimate purpose in life is to "PROCLAIM THE GLORY OF GOD."
I think most Christ followers will agree with that.

His majesty, his wondrous acts and marvelous love, his generous portions of peace and joy amidst other things, have brought me to a place of awe. I'm a bit fearful of God, because He is so overwhelming in glory that I can do nothing but marvel at his great name.

But what does glory necessarily mean?

I love the word. Really I do.

The most sovereign of the universe speaks to me through this word, and that's why I want to know more about it.

He is glorious, and glory flows from him onto us and all he has made. We make him glorious, through our successes and failures, but his glory stands firm and rests upon his name alone. My purpose is to enter into his glory, and to submit myself to the partaking of his glory, whether it be done through me, unto me, in me, or by me. All I know is that God alone is glorious, and we share in the mission of making the king of Glory known everywhere and to everyone.

On September 20th, we will begin a wonderful journey of comprehending the glory of God. I am an amateur, if that, and people know this about me. I am no seminary professor, and I have no extraordinary insight; all I claim to have is curiosity and desire. Together, I hope God will impart to us nuggets of wisdom pertaining to his glory. Our only prerequisite is that the Holy Spirit would show up and teach us about his wondrous glory.

I hope you are excited to join us on this journey.

If you need any information about HIMnI, please visit our website or contact me at greg@himni.org.

WE WANT

TO BE A PEOPLE

WHO LIVE

FOR HIS GLORY ALONE.


Hope to see you there. Together, let us learn what it truly means to live for the glory of a king.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

one studdly man...



Somewhere along this journey towards the French Quarter, God brought the life of C. T. Studd to my attention.

So before the madness begins, before my thoughts are neatly fashioned onto a page, I need to share about this amazing man who lived with reckless abandonment for the glory of a king.

Here's what this man of God once said:

"The best training for a soldier of Christ is not merely a theological college. They always seem to turn out sausages of varying lengths, tied at each end, without the glorious freedom a Christian ought to abound and rejoice in. You see, when in hand-to-hand conflict with the world and the devil, neat little biblical confectionery is like shooting lions with a pea-shooter: one needs a man who will let himself go and deliver blows right and left as hard as he can hit, trusting in the Holy Ghost. It's experience, not preaching that hurts the devil and confounds the world. The training is not that of the schools but of the market: it's the hot, free heart and not the balanced head that knocks the devil out. Nothing but forked-lightning Christians will count. A lost reputation is the best degree for Christ's service. It is not so much the degree of arts that is needed, but that of hearts, loyal and true, that love not their lives to the death: large and loving hearts which seek to save the lost multitudes, rather than guard the ninety-nine well-fed sheep in the British pen."

It was also C.T. Studd who said:

SOME WISH TO LIVE WITHIN
SOUND OF CHURCH OR CHAPEL BELL,

I WANT TO BUILD A RESCUE MISSION

WITHIN A YARD OF HELL.


I think C.T. must have been a violent man. The Word says, "“And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and violent men take it by force" (Mt. 11:12).

I pray Jesus teaches me to advance his kingdom without fear. I pray, as the days in this wonderful place unfold, that he will teach me how to be violent about his business like C.T. was in Africa.