A Fido Friend

This morning, I was astonished by kindness.

There I was, spaced out, reading the advertisements for bass players and the Blair School of Music’s next performance, waiting in line at Fido with my friend Daniella. An older gentleman with an umbrella and distinguished spectacles waltzed through the doors and stood behind me in line. ‘I found it,’ he said jovially, ‘the back of the line! Anyone want to buy my spot?’

I smiled, politely amused.

But the man’s friendliness persisted and we soon began chatting. He was in town visiting his grown daughter who was parking the car and it was obvious from his tone and the affection in his voice that he loves her deeply and is very proud of her. You sometimes just know a good dad, and this was one. An amazingly friendly, hearty person, he asked questions and made jokes, he was engaging and kind. Without so much as exchanging names, we talked about where he was from and retirement and how he knows Tom Izzo. I gushed about Mateen Cleaves and how in eighth grade I was convinced that no one had ever played the game of basketball with so much heart. He agreed.

His daughter came in from outside, looked at her dad talking with us, and just laughed. He’s done this before. Daniella and I talked with her about her move to Nashville and her job. We had a pleasant conversation as the line inched forward and eventually made it to the register. Daniella and I each ordered and as I pulled out my wallet, the cashier looked behind me, over my right shoulder, and took a credit card from our new friend. ‘I’ve got it, girls,’ he boomed. ‘No way, really…’ I began to protest. A fatherly hand on my shoulder and an assured smile. ‘Yes way. It’s on me. Let this old dad get it.’ His daughter shook her head. ‘He does this,’ she said. ‘Well, okay, thank you so, so much,’ Daniella and I offered in unison.

I honestly felt like I was going to weep.

‘Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.’

'He has dealt bountifully with me...'

"But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me." Psalm 13:5-6

In the past few weeks, in my life and in the lives of those I love, I have seen the steadfast love of God. He has gently comforted, faithfully provided, and mercifully spoken into my community in a myriad of ways, showering us with a deep knowledge of His character. These are 'ebeneezer moments.' The psalmist utters these amazing words right after begging God to 'consider and answer' him, to keep his eyes from closing in death, a prayer of frustration and desperation. He is able to call on this God of steadfast love in both joy and sorrow. And, so much more than the psalmist, when times are trying and our trust is failing, our hearts can remember Jesus, can remember that we who once walked in darkness have been brought by grace into light, and rejoice. Then, with one heart and voice, we can rend praise back to the Lord, in whatever circumstances, for He has indeed dealt bountifully.

You, Me, the Red Jag, and some music

When I was a little girl, my Dad was the assistant coach of my soccer team. And every weekend, he and I would get in his red Jaguar XK8 and drive to the suburbs around Atlanta to participate in the fascinating, fun, and sometimes disturbing ritual of youth soccer. This was a sweet way for us to spend time together-- father and daughter--bound by the highways and Gatorade and Dad’s five CD changer. Through the soundtrack of that leather interior, he taught me about history and sound and his own life. Here’s the lineup of albums we worked our way through, a tribute in tracks to my dad—the coolest, wisest, most generous man I know.

The Allman Brothers, “Ramblin’ Man” -http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9PL3pyG6rh0 (Classic.)

Blind Faith, “Can’t Find My Way Home”- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IN1J5sMv28Q (It should be noted that the album cover for this one scarred me for life, thanks Dad. But a haunting, great song.)

The Beatles, “In my Life”-http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GqghbRBiCjU (This is still my favorite Beatles album and always will be. A fourth grade version of me may or may not have made up hand motions to “I’m looking Through You”…)

James Taylor, “Something in the Way She Moves” -http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UKyRuSoQ0Qo (The man. I think I went to Furman largely under the influence of “Carolina on my Mind”)

Bob Dylan, “Gotta Serve Somebody” -http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FavBDpg91gA (He speaks the truth, simple and profound.)

Thanks, Dad, for all the good times and all the good music. You’re the best and I love you!

The Proverbs Avett

The Avett Brothers are my favorite band. It goes beyond that, really. I may or may not have imagined (decided) to name my firstborn child Avett. Before I and Love and You, before Emotionalism, before the Grammys, I learned to love the sound of poetry screamed in tandem with an ecstatic banjo. I went to school in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains and it was the Carolinas that taught me to revel in their sweet Americana punk bluegrass sound. But the Avetts not only offer a rocking good time, but a wisdom as plentiful and true as the pines.

The Proverbs Avett, according to theme:

Forgetfulness

“I love you, but I can’t remember why.” (One Line Wonder)

Commitment

“And I’m done, forever. It’s you and me together. Yes, I’m done forever, it’s you and me forever. La la la la la la la la la.” (Colorshow)

Alcohol

“When I drink, I say things I don't want to say. I do things I don't want to do. I talk mean to you…And when I drink, I hear things that aren't really there, I feel things when I shouldn't really care, have fistfights with the air…When I drink, I spend the next morning in a haze. But we only get so many days. Now I have one less. Just do your best.” (When I Drink)

Family

“I wonder which brother is better, which one our parents love the most. I sure did get in lots of trouble, they seemed to let the other go. A tear fell from my father’s eyes. I wondered what my dad would say. He said ‘I love you and I’m proud of you both, in so many different ways.” (Murder in the City)

“If I get murdered in the city, go read the letter in my desk. Don’t bother with all my belongings, but pay attention to the note. Make sure my sister knows I loved her. Make sure my mother knows the same. Always remember there was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name. Always remember there was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name.” (Murder in the City)

Indecision and Infidelity

“So give me a try at describing just how difficult it is. When you kinda love two girls to figure out which one you miss. Stumble away from your stairway with your perfume on my clothes. Well I kinda loved two girls but now I've kinda lost 'em both.” (Distraction #74)

The Media

“So you want to be in love like the movies? But in the movies, they’re not in love at all. With a twinkle in their eyes, they’re just saying their lines, so we can’t be in love like the movies.” (Love Like the Movies)

Aging

“And I wanna grow old without the pain, give my body back to the Earth and not complain. Will you understand when I am too old of a man?” (The Perfect Space)

Summer

“What a darling summertime! I have a car, I have a dime, baby, baby. I know that won't buy anything, but I would steal you anything, baby, baby. The sun is hot, the wind is cool and we are finally out of school baby, baby …Ninety and risin'. Soon we'll have to hide out in the shade. Somewhere it's raining and baby I can almost hear you say that you love me and the summer day.” (Jenny and the Summer Day)

“I know that you're smiling, baby, I don't even need to see your face. Sunset at the shoreline, we are laughing, breaking up, just like the waves. Are you feeling, feeling, feeling like I'm, feeling like I'm floating, floating, up above that big blue ocean? Sand beneath our feet, big blue sky above our heads. No need to keep stressing from our everyday life on our minds, we have got to leave all that behind. “ (At the Beach)

Revenge

“Now all you ramblin' fellas,
you listen close to me:
That woman’s gonna bring you pain,
your heart is gonna bleed.
But it ain't worth the trouble, the suffering or the grief--
a bleeding heart is better than the penitentiary!
I killed Sally's lover
one dark and dreary day.
Sally got another,
and I got sent away.
Somebody get my shotgun, somebody get my blade,
Sally's been laying with another man
and I set him in his grave, yeah!” (I Killed Sally’s Lover)

Marriage

“Young bride, Take my name. Burn the questions, burn the shame. You don’t have to live by them. Please forgive them.” (The New Love Song)

“No longer do we wonder if we're together. We're way past that, and I've already asked her. So in January we're getting married. She's talking to me with her voice down so low I barely hear her, but I know what she's saying. I understand because my heart and hers are the same. And in January we're getting married.” (January Wedding)

Pride

“I want to have pride, like my mother has, not like the kind in the Bible that turns you bad.” (The Perfect Space)

Songwriting

“Well, I’ve been locking myself up in my house for some time now-- reading and writing and reading and thinking and searching for reasons and missing the seasons, the autumn, the spring, the summer, the snow--the record will stop the record will go. Latches latched the windows down, the dog coming in and the dog going out. Up with caffeine and down with the shots, constantly worried about what I’ve got. Distrating my work, but I cant make it stop, my confidence on my confidence off. I sink to the bottom and rise to the top and I think to myself that I do this a lot. The world outside just goes, it goes, it goes, it goes it goes, goes, it goes, it goes, it goes. I witness it all through the blinds of my window…” (Talk on Indolence)

Sanctification

“Tenderness and Grace, how you’ve come to change this place.” (The New Love Song)

Love and its Opposite

“Love writes a letter and sends it to Hate. ‘My vacation’s ending, I'm coming home late. The weather was fine and the ocean was great and I can't wait to see you again.’ /Hate reads the letter and throws it away.’No one here cares if you go or you stay. I barely even noticed that you were away. I'll see you or I won't, whatever.’ /Love sings a song as she sails through the sky.The water looks bluer through her pretty eyes. And everyone knows it whenever she flies, and also when she comes down. /Hate keeps his head up and walks through the street. Every stranger and drifter he greets. And shakes hands with every loner he meets with a serious look on his face. /Love arrives safely with suitcase in tow, carrying with her the good things we know--a reason to live and a reason to grow, to trust, to hope, to care. /Hate sits alone on the hood of his car, without much regard to the moon or the stars, lazily killing the last of a jar of the strongest stuff you can drink. /Love takes a taxi, a young man drives. As soon as he sees her, hope fills his eyes. But tears follow after, at the end of the ride, cause he might never see her again./Hate gets home lucky to still be alive. He screams o'er the sidewalk and into the drive. The clock in the kitchen says 2:55, and the clock in the kitchen is slow./Love has been waiting, patient and kind, just wanting a phone call or some kind of sign, that the one that she cares for, who's out of his mind, will make it back safe to her arms./Hate stumbles forward and leans in the door, weary head hung down, eyes to the floor. He says, ‘Love, I'm sorry,’ and she says, ‘What for? I'm yours and that's it, Whatever. I should not have been gone for so long. I'm yours and that's it, forever.’ You're mine and that's it, forever." (The Ballad of Love and Hate)

And there’s so much more. Go get Country Was or Carolina Jubilee or The Gleam or Four Thieves Gone or the Gleam II or Emotionalism or I and Love and You and get ready to sing and dance and exult and learn some wisdom.

Nashville, I think I'm in love with you

Steve Moakler and Ben Rector at 12th and Porter

Local Taco

Farm Work days

Percy Warner and Shelby Park

the sidewalks in my neighborhood

the Ryman

JJs, Fido, Frothy, Ugly Mugs, Crema

The Contributor

the nonsensical highways (Batman building, you don't scare me anymore)

City Church of East Nashville

...

Yep. This song pretty much sums it up.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQ7g2unzSYk

Singing Together

One of the advantages of living in Nashville is the opportunity to frequently hear some extraordinary live music. Tonight, I went down to a local coffee shop to hear some great artists sing their songs, and in doing so, bring peace and goodness into the neighborhood. Two things struck me as I listened.

The first is the evident enjoyment that music brings both to the audience and the performer. I saw this manifested especially sweetly tonight. Two of the performances were comprised of a husband and wife, singing and strumming together. In one act, a woman sang while her husband accompanied and harmonized. When she belted out the notes he nodded to himself, happy to hear her do what she was meant to do. He wasn't smiling at the audience, he wasn't performing in that moment, he was just adoring and appreciating the woman with whom he shares his life. In the other act, the duo took turns singing their songs. When the husband would speak about his songwriting and describe his lyrical inspiration, his wife chuckled and reacted, though she's certainly heard all of this before. And as he sang, what he couldn't see with his eyes closed was his wife's furrowed brow as she listened, considered his passion, and then nodded and knowingly and honestly. And when it was her turn to sing, he beamed and tapped his guitar in time. It was so sweet to see love manifested in that way. It seems beautifully unselfish to privately and intimately appreciate and delight when someone you love does what they were created to do-- in this case-- sing.

The second thing that dawned on me is how wondrous and miraculous it is when people sing together. To see even three people moving in perfect unison, crying out with the same words at the same time is to witness something transcendent. Something, be it art or music or God, is unifying three disparate bodies and minds and they are speaking in one voice. Oh, how glorious it will be when all of the nations and all of the angels cry with one voice, 'Holy, Holy, Holy!' Romans 15 encourages, "May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had, so that with one mind and one voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ."

I hope to sing with all Nashvillians soon--what a beautiful chorus that will be, when we all do exactly what we were made to do.

"The King's Speech" and the King's ear

On Saturday night, I went to see The King’s Speech. It was wonderful. The English landscapes, the swelling of the classical crescendos, the gorgeous hats and dresses, the nostalgia for a time I never knew. The whole movie was an enjoyable, inspirational, sobering, enlightening experience that swept the audience up into one’s man’s struggle, into a family, into a nation, into a moral conflict such that the world has rarely seen. I could probably wax on about many aspects of the movie, but one stood out to me throughout the car ride home and throughout the night: friendship.

My friend Lane pointed out to me that while there are innumerable movies both good and bad about love, it is rare to find one where friendship is lauded. We tend, in our culture, to forsake the enduring, subtle nature of friendship for the more dazzling, explosive ethos of romantic love. But friendship has simple, unmatched virtue.

Without giving too much away, the protagonist in the The King’s Speech is about man named Bertie, later known as King George VI, who has suffered his entire life with a stammer. Usually content to read and study out of the public eye, with the death of his father and abdication of his brother, Bertie is suddenly forced to assume a rather public persona of King of England, a prospect that terrifies him. At the root of his speech impediment is fear, which the quirky and audacious speech therapist, Lionel, who becomes his one true friend, soon identifies. A deep and unshakable insecurity about his own inadequacy and incompetence plagues Bertie as he has, throughout his life, withstood intimidation by his disapproving father and mockery by his selfish brother. But, as the scenes go on and the speech lessons continue, something remarkable happens. Not only does Bertie’s articulation improve, but he actually discovers his own voice. Because he had a friend, someone to care and to listen, he was able to speak. He was able to overcome his psychological demons and deliver a message of courage and hope to a people facing the destruction and devastation of a just war.

The support and encouragement of friendship is staggering and endlessly confirmed by human experience. If we have just one—one person who understands our plight, one who hears our troubles, one who sits beside us—we can endure almost anything. Bertie had Lionel. We have Jesus. This is the most incredibly humbling idea, so audacious that it is either insane or true. The King of Kings, the Author of Life, the Word who spoke all things into existence calls Himself our Friend. He listens to our sorrows and bears them with us. He asks us to come to Him when we are weary or frightened or overwhelmed. He “soothes our sorrows, heals our wounds and drives away our fears” as the hymn goes. He is our Advocate, the One who appeals to Justice on our behalf. “Jesus, what a friend for sinner! Jesus, lover of my soul! Friends may fail me, foes assail me, He my Savior, make me whole.” If Jesus is our Friend, what then can we fear? If He goes with us, where then shall we not go? If His name is on our lips, how then should we stammer?

While Bertie had his friend Lionel to listen to and help him, we have the ear and aid of God Almighty who deigns to consider us His friends. What a friend we have in Jesus!

Entitlement, a Thankful Heart, and our Daily Bread

For the last several months in our neighborhood group, we’ve been discussing the Lord’s Prayer and last night we came to the phrase “give us this day our daily bread.” It is a relatively simple prayer, but one filled with profound implications. The author of the study, John Smed, suggests that by praying for God to give us our daily bread, Jesus is “teaching us trust and thankfulness,” He is building “generosity and kindness,” and He is “developing our contentment and simplicity of life.” If there were ever three things I needed, those would be them. Give me this day my daily bread, oh Lord.

The first thing we must do in praying for daily bread is to “acknowledge our dependence on God” and understand that everything we have is not the product of our own thrift or industry or even our birthplace, but is an unwarranted gift from God, the Giver of all things. This allows us to cultivate a trusting and thankful spirit before the Father. We can ask for our needs and trust that He will provide them. Instead of anxiety and worry, we have rest and expectation. Look at the birds of the air, look at the lilies of the field.Then, when our needs are met, we can respond with gratitude and thanksgiving, instead of how I usually respond, with smug entitlement.

Smed also writes that “thanksgiving is an antidote to greed and to envy.” How true. I notice that in the arc of my own sin, envy comes directly from a heart that is not grateful and from a spirit of bitter discontent. That sneaky, accusatory voice of the old man whispers that God has neglected or forgotten me, that I am not really His child, and moreover, that I actually deserve whatever it is that I am coveting. I feel entitled to it. My ludicrous pride calls out that I should have the accolades or praise or things that I desire, as my eyes begin to flit from side to side, constantly comparing myself with others. What a lie this is. What I deserve is not comfort or blessing or approval. I deserve condemnation. But, all praise to the God of grace who, as Psalm 103 reminds, “does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities.”

Because of my great sin, which is a direct affront to the goodness and holiness of God Almighty, I deserve separation from the Author of Life. I deserve the cross. But God, my Father, full of mercy and compassion, poured out the judgment due me on Another. And I receive what Jesus deserves, the smiles and gifts of the Father. Psalm 103 continues, “For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us. As a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust.” Only the gospel will change my entitled, prideful, covetous heart that looks around at others and replace it with a thankful one that looks to Jesus.

It is only because of this gospel that we can pray as Jesus taught us to our Father, not as children of dust and death but children of light and life. The daily bread we ask for is not simply that that we eat, our physical needs, but also the daily knowledge of the gospel, of the Word, of Jesus, the Bread of Life.

Earth Mother

A couple of months ago, I read this article in the New York Times about the pervasive cultural pressure placed upon aging women to cut and/or dye their hair. (http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/24/fashion/24Mirror.html) Apparently, Garnier, Herbal Essences, and salons nationwide have a vested interest in keeping their clients buying various dyes and coming in bi-weekly for blowouts and fancy coiffing. And while the article is good and well-written, the really astounding feature are the more than 1200 comments left by readers, women possessing a variety of opinions and hairstyles. These women have appropriate mom dos complete with elegant swooshes, they have short pixie cuts, they have endless plaits that run down their back like water. They all have beautiful hair.

So, empowered and liberated by these personal testimonies, I made a little promise to myself. If and when my hair grays, I want to try to stave off the internal desire to preserve youth endlessly and just let it go. I want to let my hair grow out and just rock some long, crazy, gray hair. I’ll probably wear knit sweaters and tortoise shell classes and chacos. Just call me Earth Mother.

Then, while having coffee at Fido with my friend Meghan, I saw her. The real Earth Mother, and my new beauty icon. As this gorgeous, ethereal woman floated out of the snow and into the hustle of the coffee shop, we were entranced. She had longish gray locks softly curling at the ends, a poncho of sorts, a kind smile, and, just, wisdom. I can only hope that the experiences of my life, the trials and joys, will manifest in that sort of wisdom, rooted in a deep knowledge of the Lord’s goodness and provision over years and years. And wonderfully long, gray hair of course.

Criticism

There are few things I like less than criticism.

A desperate people pleaser and oldest child, I always want not only for people to approve of me, but for them to actually like me. In fact, if I find out that someone doesn’t like me I will go to great lengths to correct their obvious misunderstanding of my shimmering, sparkling self. If that sounds a prideful, that’s because it is.

Sure, I don’t mind being teased for being scattered or chided for being spacey. Those are both aspects of my personality that, though maybe not ideal, are understandable and even endearing. Go on, feel free to mock my stick figure artwork or cooking skills. Since I am self-aware and (somewhat) self-deprecating about these traits, I control the bounds of criticism. I’m not a perfectionist apparently, just a narcissist.

This morning I had a meeting that ended with the words, “Don’t be demoralized by my comments.” If that needs to be said, it’s typically not a good sign.

A professor had very calmly and astutely pointed out flaws in a paper I had written, questions I had left unaddressed and issues that needed to be raised. And, honestly, it was fine. And it got me thinking about the nature of criticism. Now, it could be that I simply don’t care about my academic career in the same way that I don’t care about the fact that my desk is completely unorganized. Or, it could be a sign of God’s grace in my life. In the past few years, I’ve had to come face to face with my own inadequacy in several areas. Graduating from college and pretending to be a grown up will do that pretty fast. Nothing like overwithdrawing from your checking account because you’re too lazy to take several months of paychecks to the bank to reinforce one’s fundamental incompetency. Or housesitting and leaving the back door wide open. But these past two years have also included some very good and important biblical teaching that is somehow making its way into my dense mind.

As Christians, we have an opportunity to face criticism differently, even to embrace it, unpleasant as it may be to our sensibilities. The core of Christianity is a whole understanding of our essential brokenness, an acceptance that there is nothing that we can do to earn God’s favor, the recognition that “every inclination of our hearts is only evil all the time.” And guess what? Because of Jesus Christ, that is not crushing, it’s liberating. I can’t do it. He did. There is a deep and abiding peace, born not of performance or parental approval or relational love, but born of the assurance that I am righteous and accepted by the God of all Gods because of the life, death and resurrection of another, namely Jesus.

Criticism and failure are no longer cataclysmic events, they are transformed into sanctifying moments in which we remind ourselves of Jesus’ adequacy to atone for our mess, to justify us anyway. God graciously shows us our sins in His Word and in the words of others, to bring us to the end of ourselves and to Him. Sandra McCracken sings of this in her song “In the Secret of His Presence,”:“Do you think He ne’er reproves me?/What a false friend He would be./If He never, never told me/ Of the sin which He must see/Of the sin which He must see.”

Better than being better, more perfect than being perfect, more likeable than being liked is to be sanctified by the Spirit, to be totally righteous in Jesus, and to be incomprehensibly loved by God.

So, bring on the criticism. I am a sinner, but Jesus rose from the dead.

"The Worst Prayer You'll ever Pray" and good news for us today

Oh y'all, trust me on this one.

Go to Southwood Presbyterian Church's sermon archive (http://www.southwood.org/audio/). The second sermon down is by their head pastor and my dear friend, Jean Larroux, on Psalm 139: 23-24: "Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting."

What a passionate, significant, heartbreaking reminder that Jesus is indeed better than me being better. Oh praise the Lord, He is the Way everlasting for sinners like me. Amen!

Go, Tell

In what’s become known as The Great Commission, Jesus instructs his disciples (and thus all believers) to “go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.” Christians should go, therefore, into the world-- into our schools and studios and offices—with the news of the risen Jesus that makes sinners into new creations.

I know this. But I am hesitant, dismissive, and even arrogant regarding evangelism. I have seen too many coercive commitments, too many cheap conversions. Pressure to pray the prayer, but no real fulfillment of Jesus’ command to make disciples and to teach.

I can recall times in my life where I have witnessed the miraculous, humbling power of the Spirit of Grace to transform a life and bring someone from darkness to light. Of course, my own story includes this event of eternal significance, when I heard the gospel and obeyed the call to follow Christ. But these moments, wonderful as they are, have been relatively rare in my personal experience. They are also, embarrassingly, increasingly atypical as I tend to ensconce myself with other Christians. We tell of “the hour I first believed” and remember being “born again” (truly, a beautiful, if now loaded, phrase), but I haven’t really felt compelled to evangelize much.

I could say that I don’t have the ‘gift’ of evangelism, and that may be true. But fundamentally, I don’t share the gospel because I don’t actually believe it’s good news. If Jesus rose from the dead, if there is full forgiveness of sins, if we have a living hope and real peace with God, isn’t that good news for everyone? It’s good news for the self-righteous Vanderbilt student who has every conceivable privilege. It’s good news for the felon spending a life in prison for a crime he did or didn’t commit. It’s good news for the lost, scared twenty-something trying to make ends meet. It’s good news for the brilliant and scattered professor who wonders if his life has meaning. It’s good news for me and for you, whoever you are.

If I truly believed this good news, I couldn’t help but tell those I love, and no shame or awkwardness or fear of mockery would inhibit me from telling everyone. And not simply so that the unsaved would receive salvation and spend eternity in heaven (though that certainly is part of it), but so that life in the here and now could be viewed redemptively and purposefully. Suddenly, if the gospel is true, our days and moments matter, suffering has meaning, and we can experience real rest and peace.

Nothing anybody ever says or does ever brings someone to faith, it is only by the Spirit of God. We merely participate in His sovereign and loving design to restore and redeem and “bring many sons to glory.” This is a profound privilege. Let us all pray that the irresistible grace of God would go forth in our lives and that the God of all grace would deign to use sinners like us in the telling of the gospel.

And when I begin to worry that I don’t know the words to speak or that my own sin should prevent me from sharing, I remember these sweet words of Jesus after He gives the Great Commission: “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”