Times of change are tough.

Sometimes they come upon us gradually—reeling us in like an angler, one foot of line at a time, as we struggle to rush away with our prize, not even realizing that we are slowly being pulled, inexorably, to the fisherman’s hand. The last thing the fishy expects is to suddenly be hauled out of the water, surrounded by all that dry stuff (I think they call it “air”..?)

Sometimes periods of change are more sudden, and it’s more like the fox that’s walking down the path. A sweet, innocent, harmless, mouse-eatin’, doe-eyed little fox… Imagine you’re a fox. You’re prancing along, you get thirsty, you spot a little brook, you put your little fox lips down to the cool water… BAM! A net springs up around you and rips you off the ground! Your feet are running frantically, grabbing at nothing but air…

Sometimes change happens like that. Sudden-like.

It can leave us frantic. It can leave us breathless. It can leave us stunned.

But in almost every case, it can leave us scared.

“Gee, Matt, calm down! Isn’t change good sometimes?”

You’re right. Change doesn’t always have to be an outdoorsman metaphor.

Sometimes change, whether sudden or gradual, brings wonderful things with it. Let’s go back to the fox…

Let’s say that you’re the fox, and your entire habitat has been destroyed by fires. The little brook you’re putting your little fox lips down to drink from is flowing with ash and silt, and the water may as well be poison. The net that snares you is the net of a wildlife rescue team, here to relocate you to a fairytale forest beyond your wildest dreams… Now I ask ya… If you knew what the Rescuer had in store for you, would you still struggle in the net like that?

Times of change are tough. But they aren’t always bad.

Let me walk you through some of the change that I’ve experienced in the last couple years…

So, I guess we all experienced the whole virus thing back in 2020. We’ll skip that year, since it sorta feels like that year skipped us.

So, let’s just start with June 2021, and make our way to this June, in 2022.

I had met the girl of my dreams, and convinced her to move to Georgia so we could get married… By June, our wedding had already been delayed twice. Also, my mom had been in the hospital a few times already, I think.

Well, by December of 2021, I had gotten a new job (in Sep), set a wedding date (Oct), seen my mom in the hospital again (Nov), and gotten married (Dec 3). Something of a whirlwind.

Things were looking great, as December started. Amazing changes happening. My mom was able to be present for my wedding. She loved the affair. My job was going well, and I was getting ready to start my training to be a manager in the company. I was enjoying my new life with my new wife, and things were going very well.

Then January happened…

On January 2^nd, I visited my mom and dad, and Mom wasn’t doing well at all. She was in and out of consciousness, and only somewhat lucid. Our pastor was there the same day, and though my father (the doctor) was trying to put on a brave face and be optimistic, I insisted to our pastor that we should pray over her and anoint her in accordance with the Word of God.

The three of us gathered around her bed and prayed. The pastor anointed her with oil. I continued to pray in my heart.

Then I kissed my mother on the head as she slept, told her I loved her, hugged my father, and walked out the door.

That was the last time I saw my mother alive.

The next morning, as I began to feel strangely ill, I received a call from my sister…

It was the call.

My mama had gone that morning, in comfort, into the arms of her Savior.

I called my wife, she came home from work, and we made our way weepily to my aunt’s house, where my parents had been staying.

I sat at the foot of my mom’s bed, barely able to keep myself together. I felt so sick and could barely stay awake.

But I sat alone with my mommy for a while, and as I sat with her body, I held her foot, lovingly, and I started to sing through the sobs—“Great is Thy faithfulness, O God, my Father. There is no shadow of turning with Thee. Thou changest not, Thy compassions they fail not. As Thou hast been, Thou forever wilt be. Great is Thy faithfulness, great is Thy faithfulness! Morning by morning, new mercies I see. All I have needed Thy hand hath provided. Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me…”

All three verses. All three choruses.

All of me wracked with grief and tears. Barely able to choke out half the words, let alone hold the tune.

I finished the song. Stood up. Kissed my mama on the head. And spoke to her a saying that the two of us had used to encourage one another over the last few years, “He is good, and He does good. Faithful He has been and faithful He will remain.” And then I added, “enter into the joy of your Master…”

I stumbled back down the hallway to where my family was gathered. Sat down in the kitchen, nearly passing out.

Ten minutes later I tested positive for COVID-19.

Thus began the hardest month of my entire life.

I would be sick and bed-ridden for the next three weeks, only barely able to keep touch with my office, and completely unable to string two thoughts together in any intelligent way.

After being reassured by my HR department that my illness and bereavement would not affect my job, I then found myself being demoted to a position that I’d not been trained for at the end of the month. After one week in the new position, with no training, my company then fired me for not being productive (citing “time theft”).

Talk about kicking a man when he’s down.

The net had sprung up around me.

I didn’t know what to do. I was desperate, but still fighting the fog and the weakness that Covid had left me with.

I felt like my life was completely destroyed.

My mom was gone. My health was still fragile. And my job had lied to me, betrayed me, set me up to fail, and falsely accused me, just so they could save a buck.

During this time, my wife was a rock for me.

She encouraged me. Wept with me. Sought to understand my stress. And showed me love in ways that I didn’t know were possible.

I would be despondent and weepy, and (though she had also been hit with Covid at the same time I was, and every bit as seriously) she would hold me and love me. I would be irritated and weak, and she would be patient and serve me. I would be unenthusiastic and sour, and she would be my joy. I cannot praise her faithfulness enough.

(To have been put through such trials and tribulations, within the first months of marriage, and to have not gotten a single break to simply sit and be, since the day we said “I do…”    Elissa, I cannot express my appreciation, love, and respect for you. Please forgive me for my faults and my short comings—for they are many—and know that you are my heart and my home.)

But this was the net of the Rescuer.

Little did I know that God was working to pave a path forward for me, for Elissa, and for the entire Kunz family.

Change has been swiftly occurring, and I believe I am still in the net, because I feel like I’m still struggling… But I’m beginning to catch what may be a glimpse of Faerie—that better world—ahead in the distance.

This week, after months of living hand-to-mouth, barely making rent, Elissa working her tail off at the restaurant, after hundreds of resumes and cover letters sent, I finally received and accepted a job offer that has the promise of providing us with a survivable income.

It is in a new industry, with a very different direction than what I was previously doing, but its beliefs align with my own, and I am excited for the opportunity.

Expect to hear more about it in the coming weeks.

In the meantime, I am working to remember that not all change is scary change, and (because He is sovereign) all change is God’s change. He Himself does not change, but He guides and directs the change within and around us. Sometimes it’s painful and frightening, and sometimes we don’t even notice it, but it acts inexorably upon us all the same.

For years, my work uniform has consisted of scrubs when I worked at the doctor’s office, and then gym shorts and sweats when I worked remotely. Now, it actually matters what kind of pants I’m going to be wearing.

Pants are a weird way to monitor change in one’s life, but to me, right now, it makes sense.

Maybe it makes sense to you too.

If you’re going through a period of change, I want to encourage you, whether it’s slow or fast, hard or easy, scary or exciting or boring, hold fast to God. The change comes from Him, and He’s taking you exactly where you need to be.

It may be by hook and line, or it may be by net, or it may just be Him taking you by the hand and guiding you into the next phase of your life (as He did with my mother).

Do not fear it.

Rather, let your fears die.

Let your faithlessness die.

Kill your sin.

Be cleansed.

Believe in Christ.

Times of change are tough… but they are good.

Why do I write? That’s a good question:

I write to get thoughts out of my head…

I write to help others understand me…

I write to help others understand themselves…

I write so that I feel less alone…

I write so that maybe others feel less alone…

I write to encourage those who need encouraging…

I write so that people can maybe see a new point of view…

I write so that stories that would otherwise never be known might be shared with the world…

I write to show that writing still matters…

I write because I love words, and writing, and the Oxford comma…

I write because it’s fun…

I write because it brings me joy to see my thoughts organized in letters and spaces…

I write because the very act of writing is an act of creation, and I was created in the image of a Creator, with the purpose of creating things…

I write because language has power…

I write because I was made to write…

I write to remind others of ancient truths…

I write so that others might hear the good news of the Gospel…

I write so that God might be glorified in my life and the lives of others…

I write so that I myself might remember who I am in Christ, and writing helps me focus my mind…

I write because it reminds me of what I know and what I don’t know…

I write that I might be humbled…

I write so that others might engage with me and approve or reprove…

I write that I might receive correction…

I write that others might be corrected…

I write so that an idea might last longer than three seconds…

I write because it fills a void in my heart and my head…

I write because it brings me sanity…

I write because the written word contains a certain unspoken beauty…

I write because I can make jokes like the last sentence…

I write because it helps me know my own heart and mind…

I write because it shows my weaknesses to myself and others…

I write because it shows my strengths to myself and others…

I write because it shows others that I am at least trying…

I write even though others may not appreciate it…

I write even though I may write repetitively…

I write even though I may be redundant…

I write even though I may be annoying…

I write even though I may disappoint others…

I write even though I may disappoint myself…

I write though what I say may hurt another…

I write even though I may be hurt by another…

I write even though it is terrifying at times…

I write even though I don’t always think I should…

I write even though I don’t think I am worth it…

I write even though I think most people should ignore me…

I write even though much of what I write feels like drivel and twattle…

I write even though it reveals that I’m not like others…

I will keep writing even if people dislike me…

I will keep writing even though people disagree with me…

I will keep writing even if what I say is “canceled”…

I will keep writing because I write for Christ…

I will keep writing for Christ because I know it glorifies God…

I will keep writing for Christ even if they hate me…

I will keep writing for Christ even if they come for me…

I will keep writing…

Soli Deo Gloria

Sometimes my brain feels like a bowl of spaghetti. It’s twisted, and all my thoughts are mixed up, and I can’t seem to follow where one ends and another begins. Other times it’s not. Other times it’s like a bowl of snakes—and each little “murder noodle” is hungry, writhing, and wants to bite. My thoughts are constantly vying for attention, and they can get really loud sometimes (did you know that brain snakes had vocal cords?)

I remember years ago, when I was still in my early teens, being told that I needed to learn to be more organized. I said, “okay,” and continued on my merry way, snakes and all.

In college, I had a friend who meticulously planned her life in a basic day-planner—appointments, classes, meals, meetings, social events—all neatly arranged by time and date and duration. I marveled at her. She marveled back at me, “You don’t plan ANYTHING?” I explained that my life was too hectic to plan—I couldn’t count on anything I wrote down ever actually happening, so why write it down?

In fairness to both of us, we lived incredibly different existences—she was from your standard structured, very vanilla, very sheltered environment (in this case, “sheltered” meaning “largely free from life’s worries and anxieties”), and I came from a rather nonstandard environment of mildly controlled chaos, constant emergencies, and life or death health scenarios.

My friend (bless her heart!) bought me a planner, to try and help me organize my life. She sat down with me and said, “now write down what your day is going to contain.” I just laughed.

“What’s funny?”

I just laughed more. Then I simply said, “I don’t have a clue how today is going to go, so how can I write about it?”

She said I was missing the point. I said she was missing my point.

We were both right.

On the one hand, I couldn’t make her understand that the ordinary course of a day for me could mean walking out of a college class at any given moment and having to drive across town to collect a piece of medical machinery to help my mom keep breathing (and thus living), which could take half an hour or half a day. I couldn’t explain that my family’s wellbeing took precedence over my day-to-day life.

On the other hand, she couldn’t make me understand that just because I wrote down my plans didn’t mean that I was ultimately beholden to them. You see, in my mind, if I wrote them down, they were a done deal, and any breakage of those plans became a failure on my part—a failure to keep my word. And that idea was devastating to me.

It still is. See, I tend to put a great deal more stock in the written word than the spoken word.

We’ll get back to spoken vs written word in a bit, but for now, let’s keep talking about those weird brain snakes.

Now, maybe you’re like me, and you understand when I say that my brain is sort of like the teacups ride at Disney World—constantly swirling, giving me glimpses of the idea I want to see, but then it’s gone and I have to endure another spin-cycle before the idea comes back around. And other times my brain is like a rollercoaster, and I can see the idea off ahead of me, and as I get closer it becomes clearer and clearer, till I zoom right passed it, praying a got a decent look at the thing.

And then still other times my brain is like the Déjà vu or the Ninja (Six Flags over Georgia peeps will understand the reference)—that one ride that’s always got the sign out front, “closed for repairs”.

The point being, my brain is a veritable carnival of nope-ropes (snakes), and though many have laid out different systems and methods of organizing my thoughts, I’ve never been successful in implementing them.

“Well, maybe you’re just not trying hard enough.”

Well, you’re right. Maybe tears and panic attacks and existential crises aren’t trying hard enough.

Then again…

Maybe I’m just different. (I know I’m not the only one.)

Thankfully, my father and mother gave me lots of good schooling and taught me how to be smart and intelligent, so I’m usually able to get by.

But no application of intelligence will turn a bowl of snakes into an Excel spreadsheet.

In this, I consider myself a lost cause.

Thankfully, I have other giftings and skills. Ones that actually benefit from the carnival in my mind.

Now, I may just be part of that whole spectrum of “neurodivergent” people that have been raising such a ruckus lately (Hi, honey! Love you!). If that’s the case, fine. We have a word for it then—a very vague, unhelpful-other-than-naming-it, solution-less word.

As for what actions can be taken by ME to address things, I have no idea.

 Calling myself “neurodivergent” merely puts the onus on the rest of the world to accept me as I am, and deal with my particular divergences. But that’s not what I want. I want to be able to overcome whatever mental eccentricities lie beneath my surface, so that I can thrive in the world in which I live. I don’t want the world to conform around me, I want to be able to overcome the world as it is. I want to prove to myself that I don’t have to be like the world, and that I don’t have to have the world change for me, in order to succeed and do well.

In short, I want to thrive on my own terms. Neurodivergent or not. It shouldn’t matter, as long as I’m good enough.

Now, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not knocking the whole “neurodivergent” trend. I’m just stubborn and don’t want to be restricted (or even excused and/or understood) by a label.

As you read this, I hope some of you may feel as though you’ve found somebody who understands your mental struggles. If so, praise God!

Others of you may be trying to figure out how I even tie my shoes. If so, well, you see, when I get a good tie, I just leave them tied, and that way I can easily slip them on 98% of the time.

Still some others may just be even more convinced that I’m just stubborn and refuse to learn how to organize my life and control my thoughts. (I wish that were true…)

So then, how is it that I can sit here and write over a thousand words in less than an hour, examining and explaining my own mental dilemma? Well, writing is my outlet.

The Lord, in His grace, has allowed me to have a rather clear mind when it comes to the written word. When I sit down and start weaving words, I find my thoughts to become significantly clearer.

Now, at the same time, let’s not make the mistake of thinking that the snakes get still and quiet when I write. Rather, they all just tend to writhe in the same direction. I would be lying if I said that I had ever written a rough draft, and then revised it, and then finalized it, when it comes to my own writing. I’ve never followed an organized structure or process of writing—I simply write. Will I proofread this piece before I publish? Probably (maybe….). But I definitely won’t go back to rewrite portions of it.

Do I treat all of my writing this way? Mostly. But not if I’m writing for somebody else (i.e. professional writing, journalism, etc.)

But when it comes to my own written word, it’s largely a stream of consciousness type of experience-ideas lining up, and then me just knocking ‘em down with the keyboard. (That may account for my ramblings and my long-winding points.)

Speaking of long-winding points, I mentioned that I was going to talk about the written word versus the spoken word, and this seems like a sufficiently forced segue…

I said that when I wrote something down in a planner that it felt like it became law to me; I HAD to do that thing, or else I had failed. The written word carries a significant weight for me, and I believe it is tied to an intrinsically biblical principle.

As Christians, we are called to examine every aspect of the world and our lives and hold it up against the standard of the Word of God—the written Word of God.

Even if a voice called out from Heaven and declared something to the entirety of the Church, the people of God are still responsible for going back to the Bible and seeking earnestly within its pages to confirm the veracity of that heavenly voice. In other words, if God speaks out of Heaven, He expects His people to confirm His spoken word with His written Word. We see this principal laid out in the Book of Acts as well as Paul’s letter to the church in Galatia.

So, even God has constrained Himself to His written Word.

Now, beyond this we venture into theological and philosophical things that a greater mind than mine must ponder and figure. I dare not venture too far afield, unguided. But, this seems a rather safe observation to make—that the written word contains some degree of “superiority” over the spoken word.

This superiority, however, is not global. There are also applications of the spoken word that supersede and surpass the written word.

But don’t get your hopes up. I’m not going to think through all of those ways right now. Maybe in another article…?

I may not have all the answers, but I definitely think there’s something to be said for considering the relationship between the spoken and the written word, as well as the differences between them.

For the time being, I think the safest application I can make is in regards to prophecy in the church.

If a person speaks “a word” over another person and declares “thus says the Lord” into that person’s life, then they had better be DARN SURE that what they are saying is 100% backed up by Scripture—and I don’t just mean the Bible is silent on the matter, I mean that the Bible explicitly states that XYZ is the case.

There are many sects of the church today that play fast and loose with the Word of God. This is a huge issue, whether they realize it or not.

What they don’t seem to understand—perhaps they’re just ignoring it—is that to claim God has “given you a word” is 100% the same as saying “God says in the Bible.” So, anytime a person stands up in church and says, “God gave me this message…” they are claiming and ascribing divine Biblical authority to whatever they say next.

So, when a fella speaks up in small-group and says, “God told me…” then his next words BETTER be completely in agreement with what’s already in the Bible. Because if they aren’t we run into a handful of problems.

Let’s explore…

Say Little Johnny is looking for a job. It’s been months since he was solidly employed, and his friends are all seeing it wear on him. Well, at Bible study, his good friend Veronica Vision says that she was given a word from God for Little Johnny, and she stands up in front of the group and declares, “Johnny, God told me that your very next job interview is going to be the one!”

The group murmurs their assent, congratulates Johnny in advance, and moves on.

His interview is the following day. He attends. He goes in, with Veronica’s words ringing in his ears and in his heart. He totally crushes the interview. He’s stoked!

Three weeks go by, and he still hasn’t heard back from the company. He hasn’t attended any other interviews or sought any other work because of his confidence in the Word of God as delivered by his friend.

The job never comes.

Now flipping burgers at a run-down fast-food joint, he returns the group, tail between his legs.

The group asks about his new job… He tells them the story.

What do you think the group’s response to Johnny would be?

Would they just say they were sorry it didn’t work out?

Would they place the blame on Johnny for not believing in God strongly enough?

Would they pray over him to be able to find himself “in the center of God’s will for his life”?

I’ve seen each of these responses play out, and each of them is wrong.

The biblical response (if we’re being Levitical rule-followers) would be to drag Veronica outside the camp and stone her to death because she falsified the Word of God, making her the exact definition of a false prophet.

This is not a response I’ve seen as often…

It think it bears consideration.

“But Matt, you jerk, we don’t have to follow all the Laws anymore because Jesus fulfilled the Law!”

Ok, fine. But that doesn’t mean that we throw out the reasoning behind those laws. The law regarding false prophets existed because God takes His word that seriously—if you lie about God’s word, you die. Simple as that.

I think the church today needs to be very, very careful about how we approach the Word of God. Are we delighting in it, studying it deeply, and relying on the Word to guide our thoughts and understanding, rather than our thoughts and feelings guiding our understanding of the Word; or are we using the Bible to further our own ideas, our own standing, and to fulfill our own prideful needs to be important, special, or unique?

To all you Veronica’s out there, is speaking a potentially hopeful thing to a friend really worth blaspheming the Holy Spirit, misrepresenting God’s Word, abusing your status as God’s child, and making God a liar?

If it is, then you need to reevaluate your standing before the Lord.

If you truly believe that you are in fact prophesying, on behalf of God, then you might need to reevaluate which god it is whose word you’re delivering—because the Word of the God of the Bible NEVER fails, no matter who sets themselves against it, no matter what lack of faith it encounters, and no matter how insufficient the prophet may be.

So, if you’re delivering prophecies that aren’t coming true (if you have EVER delivered a prophecy that has not come true), then I can assure you that that prophecy isn’t coming from the Lord God Almighty.

I can prove this from Scripture if you like. But even I can see how obvious this truth is…

And my brain is a bowl of snakes!

New husbands always think they know everything… Or maybe that’s teenagers… or maybe that’s men… or maybe that’s 4-year-olds…? Hmm, maybe everyone thinks that they know everything? Could it be pandemic? Sure seems like it. Liberals, conservatives; red, blue; young, old; men, women; single, married, divorced, widowed; right, wrong, you name it—everybody has got the answers. Including me! So, listen up…

Six months ago, I said “I do” to the woman of my dreams. She’s spunky, adorable, massively talented in the arts, smarter than I’ll ever dream of being, and understands me in ways I don’t even understand myself. She was, quite literally, made for me.

It all began with a comment on the Facebooks, which led to a conversation about how we are “creators, made in the image of our Creator, for the purpose of creating things out of the things that He has created.” (a conversation that started on Day 1, and still continues on our Beyond the Garden Podcast—check it out!) Next thing I know, I’m traveling over 700 miles to meet this incredible woman, see some pretty flowers, meet her family, eat at a random Applebee’s in Pennsylvania, and fly home after 21 hours. It was a whirlwind tour that set me on the path to wedded bliss. And I still can’t believe that I ever got caught up in it!

I’m not a storm chaser, by any means. I don’t go looking for social excitement. In fact, prior to asking Elissa (that’s the lucky lady’s name) if we could meet, I’d really only ever asked a very small handful of girls to go out on dates. I’d certainly never said, “Can I fly 704 miles to take you out for a mediocre lunch at your favorite neighborhood bar and grill?”

And yet, here I am! Married! And I got to tell you, it’s been easier than I was led to believe it would be. And I have some ideas as to why…

Elissa and I were told, from the time we were both children, that marriage would be the hardest, most difficult, most annoying, and most arduous relationship either of us would ever experience. Yeah, there’d be some fun parts too, but for the most part, we expected struggle. Sure enough, there’s been struggle… But it hasn’t been a struggle against one another, it’s been a struggle alongside one another.

I think that this may be in part because we got married at an older age. I was 31 and she was 29. Additionally, we had spent the vast majority of our lives serving our families at the expense of our own selves—thus, marriage, for us, has been an incredibly freeing and liberating experience. We aren’t tied down to anybody other than one another (and we happen to really like one another, so it’s cool).

We’re also both very deferential. In fact, when we fight (if they can be called “fights”), it’s usually a case of trying to “out-defer” one another.

(Kinda weird lookin fights, frankly… “What do you want for dinner?” “I don’t know… what do YOU want for dinner?” “I want what YOU want, so what do YOU want?…” you see where this is going, and yes, it IS that obnoxious.)

We both had already experienced significant hardships prior to entering marriage. Getting married wasn’t just a newfound freedom of sorts, it was a partnership unlike anything either of us had known—somebody to encourage, and have your back, and razz you when you need it, and to faithfully wound and faithfully bind up your wounds… all without the baggage (warranted or not) that family brings.

Will the “freshness” of the whole situation eventually wear off? Sure. It would be foolish to assume otherwise. But this intervening time is perfect for growing our relationship and strengthening our bond with one another and with God, so that when harder times do hit us, we’re ready to weather them together.

Similarly to the first point, we didn’t walk into this marriage with our eyes closed. We weren’t little kids, fresh out of school (or still IN school), desperately wanting a marriage certificate/permission slip to “do it”. We weren’t dreamy-eyed lovers, embarking upon our fairytale adventure, looking for our happily-ever-after. And we weren’t naïve children, swept up on a wave of emotion and ignorance, which threatened to undo us because we were just “too young to know any better” or we “weren’t ready for it” or we “didn’t have any knowledge of the world”. And yes, we encountered all of these attitudes and opinions in our quest for premarital counseling—ironically, most of these opinions were from Christian men and women who should have known us much, much better. Both of us had seen marriages rise and fall, and rise and continue rising, and rise and plateau. We both knew what was possible, we knew what it took, and quite frankly, we entered into marriage far better equipped than most of the people that weighed in on whether we were ready or not.

I don’t say any of this to belittle or disfavor anybody who counseled us. We received a great many wonderful pieces of wisdom, from a great many sources. (I had no idea there was more than one “secret to marriage.” …apparently there’s thousands!) I simply am trying to make the point that we were far more prepared for marriage than anyone seemed to think was possible for two crazy kids… But that’s the thing… we weren’t kids. We were grown people, with a combined 20 years outside of teenagedom.

Alright, at the risk of sounding bitter (which I’m not), whiny (which I’m not intending to be), unappreciative (which I so am not), or childish (which would undermine my entire point), I will get on with my blog post.

It’s been a while since I wrote on here, and so I’ll ask your forgiveness now as I tell you that all of this was merely introduction. There was a lot to catch you up on, and a lot that’s been rattling around my head, and now I’m back to tell you what I’ve discovered…

THE SECRET TO MARRIAGE!

Dun dun DUNNNN!!!!

(I remember now… it WAS new husbands…)

So, I don’t know if this is a secret, or if it should BE a secret, but it’s quickly become a foundational part of our marriage: I brush Elissa’s hair.

That’s right.

I brush her hair.

I! Brush! Her! Milkshake! (wait, that’s the wrong movie…)

I brush Elissa’s hair. Not every day, but often enough. And there’s a very specific reason behind it…

As far as I am aware, most men don’t brush their wives’ hair. Let alone BALD men, like me. But it’s important to me that I do this for her, that I serve her in gentleness in this way. Sure I could take the garbage to the street, or grab things off the top shelf, or punch mountain lions in the face to show her I love her, and I do all those things! But, to step outside of myself, and do something for her that I can’t even do for myself… That’s different.

Heck, I had to LEARN HOW TO BRUSH HAIR to serve her this way. I didn’t know what I was doing! I didn’t know not to start right at the scalp with a fine-tooth comb and just yank straight down! (That’s how Ariel did it in The Little Mermaid when I was like 6.)

I had to learn!

I had to learn to start with a brush or a wider comb, down at the ends of the hair, and slowly make my way up, providing pressure and tension when I encounter a tangle, instead of just brute forcing my way through it. I had to learn how to be gentle, attentive, and caring when tending to my wife’s hair.

And then… Then I had to learn to let her turn the tables on me…

I had to learn to let her shave my head.

I’m largely bald, so I shave my head every other day.

Elissa learned how to do that.

I had to learn to sit still, and to breathe, and to trust my wife (who knicks her legs now and then) to put a razor to my scalp.

In my ten years of shaving my head, I’ve accidentally cut myself once. ONCE.

The thought of somebody else shaving my head and cutting me freaks me out. But I’ve learned to let my Ellie-girl serve me in this way, even as I wash, condition, and brush her hair for her.

But why?

Why not just bring her breakfast in bed? Why not just rub her tired feet? Why not just give her an extra cuddle now and then?

Well, those things happen. Frequently.

But those things come naturally to me.

Brushing hair does not.

Furthermore, it’s a skill that I have absolutely zero other use for. It is something that my hands do exclusively in service to my wife. I can’t even brush my own hair! (Did I mention I’m bald?)

Gentlemen, I may be a newly married man, but I firmly believe I have discovered one of the many ballyhooed “secrets to marriage”…

Brush her hair!

Greetings and grace,

Though a writer, I have never read nor written a document such as this, therefore, I apologize if I have skipped, overlooked, or otherwise neglected any convention of sorts. What follows is my attempt to present a basic “philosophy of worship,” a “direction of conviction,” if you will.

Philosophy of Worship

Worship is, first and foremost, a compulsory position of the spirit and mind – I like the term “heartset” – and therefore exists irrelevant of the circumstances surrounding the heart. Man was made to worship and will never fail to worship; he cannot help it. The question then becomes, what will he worship? There are only two true options: God, and not-God.

Any worship of any thing other than the revealed God of Holy Scripture is, by definition, the sin of idolatry. Be it a graven image, a carved idol, a giant hunk of rock in the desert, or a flying man in red and gold armor on a tv screen, any worship (adoration and/or reverence) not given to God is disproportionate and sinful, and therefore condemnable before the holy Law of God.

All correct worship given to God is proper and deserved. In fact, it is impossible for worship to God to be disproportionate, for He deserves far beyond what even the fullness of our worship can ascribe.

Worship to God is correct when it follows the model of worship laid out (as both directed and inferred) in the Bible. This correct worship takes different forms, but in the context of congregational gatherings is usually comprised of prayer, the two sacraments of the New Covenant, reading/hearing and responding to the Word of God, material offerings, and spoken/sung praises to God. (There are other aspects as well, but here I am only addressing the “praises”.)

There are congregations that say the instructions for worship in the Bible are strict and non-negotiable, and therefore must be followed to the T (i.e. regulative worship). The other side of the pew says that that which is normal in a culture and is not prohibited by the Word of God is acceptable for worship (normative worship). Yet, both camps often fail to accomplish what they set out to accomplish.

The Regulators often make a fuss of modern worship practices, while then propping up their grand piano and singing hymns written by men less than 300 years ago. This is modern worship, by historical standards. (Granted, there are those few churches that only sing the Psalms, and those a capella. Yet, even then, should they not be singing in ancient Hebrew to truly fit their definition of worship?)

Meanwhile, the Normies are busy doing things their own way, seeking to glorify God through whatever way seems best to them, as long as it doesn’t compromise Scripture. (That may sound like an oversimplification, but it is the end result of the logic.) The danger here is that too much license can be taken, and what is meant to be God-centered worship often can become stage-centered religious shows.

Personally, I lean towards the normative approach. I cite Psalm 150 as my reasoning. God commands us through the psalmist to praise Him with an assortment of instruments—all instruments available to that people, in that place, at that time. His point isn’t that these are the only instruments acceptable in worship, but rather that we are to utilize everything at hand to praise God. If that means with the lute and the timbrel, because those are what’s available, then use them; if you have access to pianos, and guitars, and drums, and synth-pads, then use those. But that doesn’t mean go crazy!

Exodus 36 describes some of the manner in which the Tabernacle was to be built. It refers repeatedly to “those that have skill,” as well as those “whose hearts are stirred up” to the task. Likewise, Psalm 33:3 says to “play skillfully” to God. This presents us with some prerequisites for the quality of our arts in worship. It isn’t to be a raucous free-for-all of instruments, voices, and flailing limbs. It is to have order—for God is a God of order. It is to be done skillfully—for God’s Word has said. And it is to be done with a right heart—because, again, thus sayeth the Lord. It is also to be objectively and subjectively beautiful—this is inferred in every single Psalm, by the nature of the whole of Creation, and by the very person of God Himself.

The beauty of worship, however, is not primarily to be found in the chords played, the lines sung, nor the hands raised. The beauty of worship is found first in the object being worshipped, the Lord God Almighty. Then it is found in the prostrate posture of a broken, contrite, and mended heart. These are the objective beauties of worship. Only with these in place can the subjective elements of worship (the music, the words, the raised hands) find any beauty at all. All of these things ought to be in place on the platform during worship.

This brings us to my own personal convictions about what worship ought to look like in a congregational setting.

Direction of Conviction

I remember attending a very large church with some friends. There was perhaps 3,000 people in attendance. The worship band came out on stage, and a guy (the leader apparently) started to utter an epically breathy prayer into the microphone. However, this prayer wouldn’t be complete without a really cool keyboard synth being played in a steady crescendo behind it, and fog machines beginning to throw smoke out onto the stage. (I know, because I had my eyes open…) By the time the end of the prayer was reached, I was straining to hear the amen over the swelling keyboard and was also straining to see the band leader’s PT Flyers poking out from the bottom of his skinny jeans, what with all the dry ice effects. Then the 6-song worship-set began. I can only assume that the congregation’s moving mouths meant that they were, in fact, singing along to the music, but I couldn’t hear my own voice, let alone theirs.

The songs were very Christian-radio-friendly; major pop-rock vibes. They contained some out-of-context scripture references; lots of imagery of fire, and water, and wind; and made constant vague references to God’s “awesomeness,” “greatness,” “amazingness,” and other such words that a lazy songwriter would use to describe the infinite Lord of the universe. (I know whereof I speak, because those are the exact words I find myself using whenever I am lazily writing a song about God.) The drums pounded in my ears, the guitar solo was face-melting, and the bass beat so hard on my chest I thought I was having palpitations. All in all, it was a fantastic show! And indeed, for about half a song I almost forgot my purpose for being there and just started shouting along, vacuously, without any mind for the words, nor the Lord, nor even my own soul. I was lost to the moment. The emotion, and the sensory-overload, and the wave of mass-action (I think that’s also called “mob mentality”) overcame me, and for a full verse and chorus I became a mindless drone of the performers in front of me.

I had been a worship leader and a songwriter for over five years at this point, and I was mortified by what I was experiencing. It wasn’t church—it was a concert. It wasn’t submission—it was show. It wasn’t worship—it was ritual. The speaker/pastor then got up and talked about marriage, and compared it to a luxury sports vehicle, never once opening the Bible. He drew some good diagrams on his big pad and turned some really cool sounding phrases (like how to have a “Corvette kind of love”), but never once spoke the Word of God.

I asked some people afterwards if the pastor ever taught from the Bible. I was met by awkward looks. Finally, some helpful person volunteered, “I think he quoted Hosea like a few weeks ago or something.” The group nearly cheered for the person remembering, as they all began to recall the last time they heard the Word of God from the pulpit. But while I smiled away with them, my heart was crushed. Here was a group, claiming to be God’s people—quite possibly with a legitimate claim on the blood of Christ—completely starved for the Word of God. So far beyond hungry were they that they must have been in a state of spiritual delirium (or perhaps that was just an after effect of the smog they’d been inhaling from the stage for the last hour and a half).

What these people called a worship service had all the hallmarks of a really well-produced rock concert and almost none of the hallmarks of a God-oriented, Christ-centered, biblically-based service of worship. It felt far less like being in fellowship with the children of God and far more like being surrounded, on all sides, by “Jesus freaks”. I was careful to attend several more services throughout the next couple of years, just to be certain of what I had experienced. Today, after much prayer and study, I am even more afraid for the leadership of that church than I once was for the congregants. The leaders would appear to have a great vision of what it means to be a concert venue, and little notion of what it means to have a high view of God.

I cannot think of a single passage in all of Scripture that commands, nor even commends, the use of smoke and lasers to work people into a frenzy (though the desolation of the Midianites at the hands of Gideon’s 300 does stick out in my mind.) But, sadly, I have seen this trend in many churches (some of which are truly seeking to honor God in their worship but have simply found themselves out of sorts and in over their heads). Many, in their attempts to modernize their worship, have somehow proved Karl Marx right—their worship services have become little more than a weekly dose of religiously-inspired dopamine.

This ought not be so.

However, the way to avoid such failure is not to swing hard in the other direction, casting off every last vestige of worldly instrumentation. Last I checked, instruments were worldly by their very nature. Rather, we have a responsibility to properly utilize our God given faculties and resources for the glory of God and the edification of the saints.

One of the clearest ways to do this is to educate our congregations on what it is to worship properly. Many have been brought up in traditions of worship that are cold and stoic, many that are spirited and free, and still more that are simply there for the music. Yet, in most cases there is often a lack of understanding of what worship is. Thus, teaching congregations what real worship looks like is, to me, a priority in our day and age. I think one effective way of doing that is to look to the old traditions (without idolizing them) and seeing the beauty and value of the style and spirit, and then to emulate them. Another way is to dive into the Psalms, and to sing songs taken straight from the pages of Scripture; and not happy joyful songs only, but also dark and deep songs, expressing the fullness of the Christian walk, both when in the joyful footsteps of the Lord and in the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

Real godly worship is done in spirit and in truth. It doesn’t require smoke machines, and mirrors, and Vegas-level showmanship. It takes sincere faith (spirit) and biblical understanding (truth). Everything after that is just icing on the cake.

But there’s such a thing as too much icing. Therefore, I tend to shy away from those things that smack of shallow theology and emotional manipulation. Sincere worship will always utilize the emotions. The same is true of rightly played music. However, it can be very tempting to use music as an emotional “stimulant” in our worship services. That, I believe, is sinful. Music is simply a presentation of our worship. All aesthetics are simply a representation of our subjective preferences. To put it simply, the act of worship is a gift and music is simply the wrapper. If our heart is truly worshiping, then it shouldn’t matter what is happening around us. However, that does not give a worship leader carte blanch to do whatever he wants.

As a worship leader, it is my job to stand before the congregation and lead them in an appropriate response to what we have just heard from the Word of God. That is a solemn responsibility, nearly on par with the teaching of the Word. Therefore, each and every person on the platform must be of the same heart and mind, that this is about God first, then His people. At no point is this moment about the musicians and leaders. The second it shifts in our minds, we heap condemnation on ourselves by trying to stand before the congregation and steal the glory of God.

It takes skilled, dedicated individuals to undertake such a holy task. It takes those who are broken and worthless, humbled; those who would sometimes rather not; those who would hide their faces from the Living God for fear of His holiness. It takes servants and slaves, not performers and stars.

Even as I write these things, I feel wholly unqualified (spiritually and otherwise) to hold such a position in the church of Christ. Perhaps that makes me the right person for the job, or perhaps my fears and misgivings are well-founded; I do not know. But I know what worship is… And I know I often fail to do it as I ought.

This is the general state of my conviction regarding worship and its undertaking.

May the Lord guide my steps in all things.

Amen.

What a year last week was, huh? I don’t know about you, but I’ve been stressing out like crazy. Just to give you a glimpse… 2020 (need I say more?), my guy didn’t win (and my other guy is going to a runoff), my job is going away, I can’t find an apartment, and I’m supposed to be getting married in January. Those are just a handful of the stressors I have at the moment. [screams internally]

I know, I know, I handle things like a champ. But don’t let that fool you! I’m a wreck! 😊

You see, I spend a lot of time trusting in myself, “you got this, Matty,” “c’mon, Matty,” “you’ve seen pole-vaulting done before, Matty,” and sometimes that’s enough. But then other times it isn’t, and that’s where I fall on my face.

In all honestly, I’ve never tried pole vaulting (but does using a tree limb to cross a stream count?). I imagine that I would be very much—how you say?—not good at it. And thus, I don’t often put myself in positions where pole vaulting is a necessary skill (I know I look like an Olympian, but that’s just my physique).

However, sometimes I don’t always have an option. Sometimes there’s just a pole that needs vaulting (that sentence makes sense, right…? Have I taken the metaphor too far? Maybe…)

Pole vaulting aside, there’s tons of areas of life which I don’t feel prepared, up to speed, ready for—areas where I don’t feel like I am enough. And, sure enough, there are tons of areas of life for which I am not enough! How bout that, huh!

These areas get in my head and make me think thoughts that really don’t do anything at all to help me—“you’ll never make it,” “you’re just a kid—a thirty year old kid,” you’re a loser, with nothing to offer.” Basically, the thoughts are kinda jerks. And they saunter on over to my you-can-do-it thoughts and push them, tease them, and steal their lunch money. This makes my happy thoughts sad.

Next thing I know, I am drowning in depression and despair, wondering how I’m going to make the next day work.

I mean, how am I supposed to handle these things? I’m not smart enough! I’m not strong enough! Heck, if we’re gonna revisit pole vaulting, I’m not even light enough!!

I’m just not enough!

How can I deal with no job, no home, no wedding? How can I deal with a country that’s going the way of so many countries before it, diving headlong into the open arms of tyranny and socialism? How can I deal with a Church that is divided and confused? How can I deal with… How can I deal???

The world is too much! What do you want from me world?? What do you want from me God????

How am I supposed to handle these things? They’re too big for me! They are beyond me! They are too high for me!… They are too high… I cannot attain… “Such knowledge”… “I cannot attain”… Where have I heard that before..?

Where…?

Where……

“Where can I go from Your Spirit? Or where can I flee from Your presence? If I ascend to Heaven, You are there. If I make my bed in Sheol, You are there. If I take the wings of the dawn, if I dwell in the remotest parts of the sea, even there Your hand will lead me and Your right hand will lay hold of me. If I say, ‘surely the darkness will overwhelm me, and the light around me will be as night!’ even the darkness is not dark to You, O Lord. And the night is as bright as the day. Darkness and light are alike to You.”

As I remember these words from King David, in the 139^th Psalm, I am also reminded of another phrase: “The Lord! The Lord!…” from Exodus 34:

So Moses cut two tablets of stone like the first. And he rose early in the morning and went up on Mount Sinai, as the LORD had commanded him, and took in his hand two tablets of stone. The LORD descended in the cloud and stood with him there, and proclaimed the name of the LORD.  The LORD passed before him and proclaimed, “The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness,  keeping steadfast love for thousands, a forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, but who will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children and the children’s children, to the third and the fourth generation.”  And Moses quickly bowed his head toward the earth and worshiped.  And he said, “If now I have found favor in your sight, O Lord, please let the Lord go in the midst of us, for it is a stiff-necked people, and pardon our iniquity and our sin, and take us for your inheritance.” And God said, “Behold, I am making a covenant…”

Our God abounds in steadfast love and faithfulness to His people. He will provide all they need, and He will protect them. It may not always look like we hope, but it is always good.

And if ever we doubt God’s faithfulness, He reiterates how faithful He is even in His expression of judgement upon the wicked. If He will remember iniquities to the third and fourth generations, then He is a God who is faithful to His own holiness. He will by no means leave the guilty unpunished.

So then, why do I fear evil men? Why do I dread what the guilty may do to me? Why do I fear my OWN guilt?

Do I even now have guilt? I don’t believe I do. It was taken from me. Placed upon Christ Jesus, through the miracle of what the theologians call “double imputation” (He gives me His righteousness and perfection, and He takes my sin and guilt before the Father), but what I just call grace. I have been saved from my own guilt and sin, from my own lack of righteousness, from my own inability to deal.

I have a holy Father, a loving Brother, and an indwelling Spirit, all of whom are working together at every moment to draw me into closer and deeper fellowship with them. This. Is. My. God.

He. Will. Not. Let. Me. Go.

So yeah, it’s been one heck of a year. For some of us, it’s been a heck of a life! But, I have a God… no… I have THE God. I have the Creator of all things, the Alpha and the Omega, who was, and is, and is to come. I have Him! Or, more rightly… He has me.

“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?” (Psalm 27)

If, today, I am faced with trials that I do not know how to handle, mountains that I have no strength to climb, poles over which I cannot vault, I will not despair. I have Christ.

I may have rocky roads ahead… But I have Christ.

I may not have a job in a month… But I have Christ.

I may have pain and physical limitations… But I have Christ.

I may have to struggle to eat and live… But I have Christ.

I may have to delay my marriage to the girl of my dreams… But I have Christ.

I may have fears and trepidations about the direction of my home and nation… But I have Christ.

I may have broken relationships and people who despise me for my beliefs and actions… But I have Christ.

I may have dreams and hopes in this world that will never be met… But I have Christ.

I may have deep personal struggles, and I may fight against sin like crazy, and I may feel like the darkness is pressing down on me when I lie awake at night… But I have Christ.

I may be the world’s worst pole vaulter… But I have Christ.

Dear friend, it doesn’t matter what this world is putting us through, so long as we have the hope of our eternal calling, the promise of new life and glory, the light of the world, the Lamb slain before the foundations of the earth—Jesus, the Son of God.

Trust in Him.

Don’t trust in yourself.

Self is a very bad person to trust in. (Trust me. I don’t!)

Trust in Him.

Trust in Him!

TRUST IN HIM!!!

…and no other.

Today saw me running from Jehovah’s Witnesses.

Not literally, but you know how you do: you walk out your door, glance at them getting out of their car two doors down, realize who they are, break out in a cold sweat, and then it becomes an awkwardly casual footrace to reach your car without making eye-contact.

Safely ensconced in my not-so-safe ’04 Corolla, I backed out of my driveway and beat a hasty retreat.

I’m not proud of fleeing from Jehovah’s Witnesses, but I’m not particularly ashamed, either.

It is what it is.

Arriving home an hour later, I discovered some Edward Jones Financial Investments literature tucked away at my front door.

I’m not saying I felt foolish, but I’m not saying I didn’t, either.

I’m sure I’m not the first person to run away from financial advisors, and I won’t be the last, but that’s not why I’m writing.

You see, during my hiding (err, I mean, my “me time”), I was thinking long and hard about what I would even say to Jehovah’s Witnesses.

(For those who may not know, JWs teach the Bible… sort of. They teach that Jesus Christ, is actually a created being, as opposed to being what the Bible clearly says he is—the second person of the Holy Trinity. This false teaching of theirs ends up making the Bible into nonsense basically, because the divine eternality of Christ is fundamentally essential to the Scriptures—as well as the whole of creation itself. Removing Jesus’ “God-ness” immediately and inescapably causes every core doctrine of the Christian faith to fail.)

So, I sat in my car, eating McNuggets and thinking about the implications of Jesus being infinite God of infinite God (as one does).

It occurs to me, that if (err, since) God is infinite, we have an interesting math equation on our hands.

I started in Genesis, so that’s where I’ll take you…

TO THE BATCA..!!… I mean… THE GARDEN OF EDEN!!

*Adam West-y scene change*

“In the beginning…” the infinite God made all things.

But He didn’t make all things infinite—that’s a theological impossibility.

The infinite God made a finite universe.

Enter Adam.

God, being infinite, told Adam, being finite, “Don’t eat that fruit.”

Adam, being finite, and not an idiot (yet), said, “Yes, sir.”

Eventually, Adam becomes an idiot (probably over a girl, too), and eats the fruit.

Now, we have a problem.

A finite creature has broken the command/law of the infinite God.

We have to do some thinking now. (sorry!)

I’ll make the keywords bold here, just to help us follow…

If a finite creature breaks an infinite law, what is the magnitude of the break?

Is it a finite infraction because the one who broke it was finite?

Or is it an infinite infraction because the One who gave the law was infinite?

Obviously, a command or law only has as much power as the one who gives it, therefore, Adam’s transgression of God’s law was an infinite transgression.

But wait!… there’s more…

We’re not done thinking yet, we’ve merely read the rules and set up the board… Now it’s time to play…

Adam is now indebted to God, infinitely.

Think about it!

Adam (a finite being) owes God (an infinite being) an infinite debt!

(This is completely justified and logical!)

How can God receive payment for this debt?

A finite thing can’t possibly pay back an infinite price!

Can he?

Well, there is one mathematically sound possibility…

He can pay back his debt for all eternity.

If the price is infinite (never-ending), then the payment must be likewise.

Adam can pay his debt, in a way—though it will never be fully satisfied.

Exeunt Adam.

(I hope you realize that everything that applies to Adam applies to all of Humanity.) (Romans 5)

Okay, cool. So… What does any of this have to do with Jehovah’s Witnesses?

Well, see, Jehovah’s Witnesses want to tell you that you can be saved by the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the cross, because his blood has the power to save us from our debt to God.

But they’re wrong.

Not about how you can be saved from your sins, but about who can save you from your sins. (Try and follow me here… It’s still Jesus!)

The Jesus that JWs believe in has absolutely zero power to save.

The Jesus of the Bible, on the other hand, CAN save!

So, now we have a battle of Jesus vs Jesus on our hands.

But that might get confusing, so let’s call the Jesus of the Bible, the uncreated, eternal, fully-divine, truly God Jesus by an appropriate title—let’s go with “Lord and Master Jesus Christ”, or “Jesus” for short.

We’ll call the Jesus of the Jehovah’s Witnesses something equally appropriate—“Bob.”

COME ONE, COME ALL, TO THE COSMIC SMACK-DOWN OF THE CENTURY! IN THE RED CORNER, HAILING FROM THE REALMS OF HEAVEN ABOVE, MAKER OF ALL THINGS, VERY GOD OF VERY GOD, UNMATCHED, UNCREATED, UNDEFEATED, ALL HAIL THE POWER OF… JESUS!!!

AND IN THE BLUE CORNER, FROM THE MIND OF CHARLES TAZE RUSSELL, IT’S A NEW SPIN ON YOUR OLD FAVORITE ARIAN HERESY… Bob.

I’m not trying to make anyone upset here. If you’re a Jehovah’s Witness, and you’re reading this, please understand… I am NOT, nor would I EVER, belittle the name of the infinite God of the Universe.

But what I hope to help you see is that your “Jesus”, is not anything even close to worthy of worship.

Hence, Bob.

I could point to dozens of biblical texts to prove my point (and I will add a link to resources at the end of this), but I believe that the very order and logic of the universe that God has created also has the power to defend the God of the Bible (Romans 1).

Let’s return to our equation from the Garden—finite being (A) owes infinite debt (d) to infinite being (G).

Another way of saying it might be, A + d = hopeless.

Here’s the plain explanation, if you haven’t already put the math together in your head:

The only thing that can repay an infinite debt is an infinite payment; therefore, any payment made which is less than infinite is an insufficient payment.

Only a being of infinite proportions can repay a debt of infinite proportions; thus a finite being is, by definition, mathematically prohibited from repaying an infinite debt (save by payment over infinite time).

Any claim made, therefore, to payment of an infinite debt must be made by an infinite being, otherwise it is a lie.

Are you tracking with me? Read it again if you need to…

Therefore, when Jehovah’s Witnesses claim that their savior, Bob, is a created being, being made by Jehovah, the Father, but not fully equal to Him, and certainly not of the same essence and substance, they mathematically eliminate Bob from being capable to save them from their infinite debt to God because of their sins.

But when the biblical Jesus says, “ego eimi,” “I am,” He is claiming full deity and equality with Yahweh.

If/since he is equal to God, thus being of the very same infinite essence and substance, he has the power, and the infinitude to pay the infinite price on behalf of the finite transgressors (i.e. us).

The math works.

It also works logically in both directions (much like an equation would).

Jesus is God, therefore he is able to pay the infinite debt owed by man to the Father.

And…

Jesus is able to pay the infinite debt owed by man to the Father, therefore he is God.

Bob can’t do that.

Now, somebody may say that Jesus never actually claimed to be God; that that’s not what he meant when he said all that stuff.

That’s bogus.

Of course, that’s what he meant!

That’s why the Jews picked up stones to try and kill the guy, because they knew he was equating himself with their God!

They called him a blasphemer for his statements, and then put him to death for the very same crime!

The whole reason Jesus was killed by the Jews was because he claimed to be the almighty, infinite, God.

If you do not know Jesus, the real Jesus (not Bob), please read the Bible.

Start in the Gospel of John (New Testament, fourth book/section).

You can read the whole thing in a couple hours.

Spread it out over the week if you want.

If you aren’t used to historical accounts, then I recommend the New International Version, for readability. If you don’t mind slightly archaic phrasing, go for the English Standard Version. Both are quite faithful to the original Greek and Hebrew texts of the Bible.

Avoid the New World Translation, published in 1950, because it has been purposefully edited by the Watch Tower Society to add and remove certain keywords and phrases that point to the divinity of Christ.

I hope you have learned something today, and that I haven’t been a poor witness for my God, Jesus Christ.

As promised, here are the resources for further study on Jehovah’s Witnesses, Arianism, and a biblical response to them: https://carm.org/jehovahs-witnesses

I know this post definitely took on a teachy kind of tone.

I’m almost sorry about that…

I just opened Facebook, and I deeply regret it.

Why? Because it’s February 14.

Valentine’s Day.

And I am single.

I’m well aware of my status as unattached and unattractive.

Why do we need an entire day to remind me?

I get that it’s all a made-up conspiracy by Hallmark and other greeting card companies, and it’s a sound financial move on their part to encourage one single day a year where buying just a measly card is perfectly acceptable.

No holes in that business plan.

But corporate conspiracy or not, it still messes with my head.

It probably shouldn’t… I know.

But it does, nonetheless.

It makes me wonder why I’m alone.

Why it’s just little old me against the world.

Why when I try to pick somebody for my team they simply smile and politely say “no, thank you.”

But I can push all of that out of my head.

It’s stinkin’ thinkin’, and I know it.

Until I make the ultimate lonely-single-person-on-valentine’s-day mistake:

I open social media.

Blam! 

Couple after couple after happy stinkin’ couple…

“I’ve never loved you more”

“30 years! High school sweethearts!”

“OMG seventeen and a half hours with this amazing man! #blessed”

I get swept off my feet by a wave of sugary sweetness that was never intended for me, and it knocks me head over heels, until I’m battered and bruised.

I know I should stop scrolling. But they look so happy.

So in love.

A teen couple here…

Young parents there…

Octogenarians celebrating over a half century of Valentine’s Days together…

I want to be that 80-year-old man, able to celebrate 50 years with his wife.

But time is not on my side.

In fact, the math is getting less and less likely.

And I feel like the longer it takes, the less likely it becomes.

At almost 30, is there anybody out there for me?

I remember having the same thought at 18 when people were coupling up and I was just lonely at home.

Now, at 28, a whole decade has passed, and those couples are married with kids, and I’m still lonely at home.

And Facebook just sits there, bathing me in blue light, mocking me.

Maybe I’m just not worth any girl’s time.

Maybe I am just as bad and worthless a person as I’m prone to think.

Maybe I should just accept my fate that God wants me to be alone.

Isn’t that what’s best anyway? Submitting to God?

Of course it is… So… Am I doing it?

I tend to think I am, but perhaps I’m spending too much time feeling sorry for myself.

I’m pretty sure God doesn’t command that.

So, maybe I’m not properly submitting?

Maybe it’s not about my singleness nearly as much as it’s about my childishness.

And I don’t just mean acting like a child (though I often do) but being a child.

A child of God.

If I am His child, shouldn’t I be obeying in gladness and in hope?

Let me rephrase…

Since I am His child, shouldn’t I be obeying in gladness and in hope?

Absolutely, I should.

Am I doing that? Absolutely not.

So, where do I need to change?

I need to trust God that He truly is good.

If I end up getting to be the husband and father I so desire to be, then it is proof that God is good.

And if I remain single my entire life, and die alone, it is also proof that God is good.

Because God’s goodness is not determined by my opinion of what He has done in my life.

Rather, my opinion should be determined by rightly understanding God’s goodness in my life.

God has, is, and will bless me forever.

He’s promised me that.

He has already begun.

It may not be exactly what I tried to order off the menu, but then again… When did God ever take my order?

When did I know what was best?

Who am I?

And that’s the question I need to ruminate on this Valentine’s Day…

Who do I think I am?

And further still…

Who do I know God to be?

“Then Moses summoned Joshua and said to him in the sight of all Israel, “Be strong and courageous, for you shall go with this people into the land that the Lord has sworn to their fathers to give them, and you shall put them in possession of it. It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.” (Deuteronomy 31:7-8)

As Christians, we have been promised an even greater land than Canaan.

We have been promised streets of gold and rivers of joy.

And we have been sealed with the Holy Spirit of the Living God.

The same God who went before Israel, He goes before me.

He goes before you, too.

Single, married, widowed, divorced.

He will not leave you, nor forsake you.

Do not fear or be dismayed.

And maybe stay off Facebook today…

You know… just to be safe…