A Path Towards Urban Renewal: Compassion

As we have seen throughout theses posts, no virtue stands on it’s own. Peaceableness and justice are necessary, and even foundational for glimpses of shalom to be seen on this side of redemption, but they imply many unspoken virtues to be seen and lived out. Compassion is one of those virtues that seeps through the cracks of a peaceable and just life, but compassion just might be one of the least desired virtues once it is fully realized.

Most of us hear the word compassion and we are filled with good feelings and thoughts of love and joy by the mention of it. We like to think of ourselves as compassionate people, after all who wouldn’t have compassion on a poor old man who’s body has broken down, a malnourished child, a women who has been sold into sex slavery, or a family on the streets.

The problem we have here is that compassion isn’t the same as having sad feelings for someone’s situation, or thoughts of pity for those who are poor or oppressed. Those thoughts are just that; thoughts of pity. This is not compassion. For many of us, when real opportunities of compassion present themselves, we are too gripped by fear of loss and pain to enter into compassion.

To have compassion means to allow your love to meet someone’s suffering, brokenness. At the root of the word compassion, are two Latin words, pati (with) and cum (to suffer); meaning “to suffer with.” Compassion is when love intentionally moves you into the suffering and brokenness of others. “Compassion asks us to go where it hurts… to be weak with those who are weak, vulnerable with the vulnerable, and powerless with the powerless.” Compassion: A Reflection on the Christian Life, Nouwen, McNeill, and Morrison, 3-4.

Feelings and thoughts of sadness and pity is not compassion, but they can be the beginnings of us moving into compassion.

This is fully seen and realized in the New Testament account of Jesus’ last week before he was crucified. Many people call the week before the crucifixion, “Passion Week.” We learn in the narrative that Jesus turned his face towards Jerusalem, the very place where he would suffer intentionally, where he would move into our place of sin and brokenness, so that we would receive the fruits of his compassion; forgiveness and reconciliation. Maybe we should call that week, “Compassion Week,” since he suffered for our sake.

Thus, compassion is not a natural human virtue as is sometimes understood to be. If compassion were to be seen as a front and center virtue of the Christ followers life, we might begin to question the fruitfulness of compassion because of the cost it would place on our lives. A society governed by compassion may very well be seen as a foolish and weak society, and indeed, Christ was seen as foolish and weak.

Many people may even say or think to themselves, “Our world will not survive if compassion is a chief virtue.” This thinking would be especially true in a society like ours today, where our greatest ideals are to maximize our satisfaction and limit the amount of loss and pain we experience. We see this is in our business ventures, in start up ministries/churches, in the way we raise our children, and in the laws we legislate.

This is not all bad. In fact, much good comes out of limiting loss and pain, but in the process of longing for a better society, we forget that there is stilling suffering and those who are on the margins that do not have the ability to “regulate” their pain and loss. In our pursuit of our own “right” to happiness, we lost sight of those who have been robbed of theirs. Thus, on this side of redemption, compassion is a necessary and central virtue among God’s people.

We would do well to turn our ears on to the moment Jesus calls us to compassion: You must be compassionate, just as your Father is compassionate. Luke 6:36, NLT. This, in the context of real compassion, is a daunting call to sacrifice. This is a call to renewal in a society that seeks to protect number one as first priority. This is a call that we ought not to take lightly.

As Jesus has first died to renew our death filled lives, he is now our model and leader (our older brother) in sacrificial living. Salvation for the Christ follower is not merely a cognitive belief that places them in security in the heavenly realms with no earthly commitment to good. Salvation is a call to a whole new way of being human, a call to living out the upside down economy of God’s kingdom on earth, a call to be willing to lose it all for the sake of God’s kingdom being realized and embraced by those who are in darkness.

To the Christ follower, Jesus’ life is not the exception, but the norm. My prayer is that Christ followers would begin to take seriously the implications of the life of Jesus and allow God’s Spirit, who lives in his people, to move them into compassion, not for approval’s sake, but for obedience’s sake. After all, Christ, our savior and leader, learned obedience through what he suffered (Hebrews 5:8), and we are not exempt from this learning method. Renewal of cities is dependent on the compassion of others. No compassion, no true renewal.

“In a poem entitled ‘The Good Samaritan,’ Mark Littleton captures the essence of compassion”:

The stoop of a listening father.
The touch and wink of a passing nurse.
The gnarled fingers of a grandmother steadying a swing.
The clench of a surgeon’s teeth as he begins his cut.
The open hand and pocketbook of a traveling Samaritan.
The dew of heaven on dry lips.
Beyond Homelessness: Christian Faith in a Culture of Displacement, Prediger and Walsh, 221.

An Invitation to Suffering


“An Invitation to Suffering” is a short essay by Bob Lupton from his book, Theirs is the Kingdom: Celebrating the Gospel in Urban America. Bob has had a profound impact on my life as he freely shares his woes and joys of inner-city life and ministry for over 40 years in a very challenging and transparent way:

I do not like pain. Not in any form. Loneliness, sickness (my own or another’s), anxiety, frustration, disappointment, hurt–these are not the companions with which I choose to share my life. I actively avoid them. I buy drugs from the pharmacist to shield me from physical pain. I surround myself with people like myself who dispel my loneliness and reassure me that I am OK. I control my contacts with people who take more than they can give. I schedule my days to eliminate disruptions and to accomplish the things I think significant or pleasurable. A theology of abundance,  peace, and health has enormous appeal for me.

Recently, I witnessed a small act in the drama of city live that both moved and troubled me deeply. It was a familiar situation. A family with three small children was evicted again for nonpayment of rent.  Their ritual “put me up for just tonight” had been used too often. With no money for bargaining, the only place they could find to stay was a front porch. The father slept under a bush. Although I was quite unwilling to give them any more, I wondered what would become of them

Then an unbelievable but predictable event occurred. An unemployed brother whose own family was barely surviving took his evicted relatives in. Once again, it was those who could least afford extra mouths to feed and were already crowded to the point of eviction who found it in their hearts to help. Even more disturbing to me was the cost of caring: increased hunger; hot sleepless nights made even more uncomfortable by crying babies and wall-to-wall bodies; the stench of inadequate sanitation; short tempers; constant confusion.

This picture still burns in my mind. It is a haunting reminder of the energy I spend avoiding the cost of loving others. I establish an emergency fund instead of inviting hungry families to eat at my table.  I develop a housing program to avoid the turmoil of displaced families living in my home. I create employment projects that distance me from the aggravation of working with undisciplined people. As a counselor, I maintain detachment with a fifty-minute hour and an emphasis on client self-responsibility. And even as I share the gospel with the needy, I secretly hope that God will handle their problems.

Of course I don’t allow myself to think this way very often. I choose rather to concentrate on the positive things I am doing for people, the helpful things, right things. But when I am honest with myself, I must admit that I cannot fully care for one who is suffering without entering into his pain. The sick must be touched if they are to be healed. The weak myst be nourished, the wounded embraced. Care is the bigger part of the cure.

Yet I fear contagion. I fear my life will get out of control and I will be overshadowed by the urgent affairs of others. I fear for my family. I resist the Christ who beckons His followers to lay down their lives for each other. His talk of a yoke, a cross, of bearing one another’s burdens and giving one’s self away is not attractive to me. The implications of entering the world of suffering as a “Christ-one”, as yeast absorbed into the loaf of human need, are as terrifying as death itself. Yet this is the only way to life. The question is, will I choose life?”

Coram Deo

Coram Deo is a Latin phrase that means to live ones life in the presence of God, literally ‘before the face of God’. This means that there is never a moment when life is hidden from God. If God is who he says he is according to scripture and the Christian tradition, then he is always present, in all places, at all times. Boy, this sure makes life a little more interesting if one believes this, indeed, if one lives their life in such a way that this is true.

When I pastored Kineo Church, I would send us all off with a liturgical blessing every Sunday at the end of each service with this ‘priestly blessing’ that God told Moses to tell the priests to bless the people of Israel with:

“The LORD bless you and keep you; the LORD make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the LORD turn his face toward you and give you peace.” (Numbers 6:24-26, NIV)

Those two phrases: “the Lord shine his face upon you… the Lord turn his face toward you…” have always pierced my heart. Think about it. The Lord of all creation, allows his glory (power, beauty) to shine on us, and then in acceptance of us, he turns towards us in love, not away from us in disgust. This is a hard truth for many people to believe.

It’s hard for me to believe many times, because if ‘coram deo’ is true, then God has been with me and has witnessed me do many terrible things, as well as seen many terrible things done to me, even behind my back, and it seems God is passive in these moments. Oh man, I wrestle with this, and I’m not sure I’ll ever have a ‘pat’ answer on why, and this post wasn’t meant to seek any answers to that right now.

The point I’m getting after is this. If ‘coram deo’ is true, and one lived their life to the rhythm of this truth, then this would create a very consistent life, a non-hypocritical life, an honest life. If one lived as if they believed this, then there would be no denials of their corruption or masking of their behavior; one would simply admit what is true because they would know that God is with them and knows what really is true.

I struggle living like this. I struggle being okay with the reality that God is always with me, and I am before His face, and life can still suck. I struggle with experiencing his presence in a way that is tangible, but I also have freedom to real and honest and not try to pretend to you or anyone else who I am, or who I’m not. There’s freedom in that. This is why Paul says that there is freedom where ever the spirit of God is, which means freedom is present for you… right now, if you’re willing to believe that God is before you right now… He is not disgusted with you, and he isn’t hiding his face from you. This is how we get to the place where we have “nothing to hide, nothing to fear, nothing to prove, nothing to lose, and nothing to manage.”

God doesn’t play hide and seek. We do. God is like the kid in the closet yelling, “I’m not in the closet!” with a big grin on his face, because he wants you to find him. God, in Christ Jesus, took what you deserved so you could get what he deserves. Do you believe that? Does your life live like that’s true? Do your thoughts think in such a way that proves that’s true? I’m on a journey to believe this daily, and today, it’s a struggle. Good thing my beliefs and struggles aren’t what’s true all the time.

A Functional Mess

That day when you get up and you move past the memories of reality for the day, telling yourself, “I’m okay. I’ve just got to get some coffee and I’ll feel better.” Or the day when anxiety sets in and you aren’t sure how you are going to get through the day with all the people who “need” things from you, be it small children, people at work, or close friends and family. Yah, that kind of day. I’m not sure what to call those days, but it seems that, if you were to “sit” in those feelings of pain and anxiety, you may not make it, so you move on, functionally at least, but like all the popular shows these days with zombies, you’re a walking dead person, numb to life, with limbs (figuratively speaking) falling off your body, “But you’re okay, because you’re functional, not like that one person from church who has fallen a part and needs a support group to survive.” You’re a functional mess.

I’ve been a pastor for almost 7 years, and I was a Young Life leader for 10 years in central Phoenix. Most of the years that I have served in ministry, I have been a functional mess, feeling like “I’m okay”, because “I’m not like that guy who I just met with. Poor guy, he’s really got to get his act together.” But inside the whole time, I knew I was just as messy, I was just better at playing the “I’m okay script” than he was.

I am very aware that this observation may just be mine, from my small world of experiences, and I know full well that there are totally different experiences, but indulge with me for a moment in this observation from life. There’s seems to be an unwritten code in many “Christian” circles that having seasons of honesty about the complete mess you’re in, often results in a Christian responding in one of these ways:

Panic and fear over what you’re going through, because you’ve been the “strong one”;
Words of encouragement to pull you “out of the pit” and left with an Old Testament verse that claims a promise that was given to exiles in Israel, then a follow up call the next day or two to see if the verse worked;

Being dodged and not addressing the pain or suffering that has caused the messy season;
Superficial engagement that acts like you never mentioned anything messy, and many people wanting you to just move on and get better. I know there are more, but these seem to be what I’ve observed in over 17 years of ministry alongside other Christians.

Now, I say these without a harsh tone, but still with an honest one, with an honest pursuit of wanting unpack the reason why it seems that many Christians (myself included on many points over the last 17 years) seem to be worse at walking through deep pain and suffering than friends that many people have who aren’t Christians. I say that comment, because it has been true many times in my experience, as well as having heard this from many a people from the inside. There seems to be confusion on what it means to truly grieve and feel pain so that you can process it, work through your junk, and really get healthy, and what it means to claim the promises of God that you are a new creation.

Maybe it’s that many of us feel that if we let on that we are really the mess that we feel we are on the inside, then our peers and those we lead might “think” we don’t believe God’s promises, or that we might be giving room for the enemy to come in and deceive us, after all, “We are children of God, brothers in the line of Jesus, co-heirs to the kingdom of heaven. With that title, I’m not supposed to feel this way.” This is all true, so in fear of acting like we don’t believe it, we pretend, we numb, we quote Scripture, but the functional mess continues and we never seem to get over the messy hump.

I guess the purpose of this blog is two-fold. One is confessional. I am confessing that I’m a functional mess and am cutting back all areas of life. I’ve gone too hard, trying to build God’s kingdom, and although I believe God has used me in many ways, I often try to build more than God’s given me the grace to build. My wife and I have also had an usually difficult season of life circumstances that have happened, and we are making changes in our life to cope, grieve, and heal in a healthy way, one of those ways, being this blog; transparency about where we are.

The second purpose of this post is to give someone who may read this, the freedom to feel again. My wife and I have been given the freedom by some friends to feel, even to the point of being uglier than we wanted to be, but none the less, we didn’t run from the reality. We didn’t anesthetize ourselves from the reality of our pain or suffering. This has brought much freedom and healing into our lives.

Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 3:17, “Now the Lord is Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is there is freedom.” This means yes, freedom to be free from sin, shame, condemnation, but free from pain and suffering? I don’t think that’s what Paul was saying here. Freedom to feel. Freedom to confess sin. Freedom to say, “I’m a mess!”, yet know that you’re radically accepted and loved. Freedom to sit with others in their pain and agony. Freedom to trip and fall. Freedom to doubt and ask questions. Freedom to say, “I don’t know what I’m doing or who I am.”

It’s my conviction that it’s at this place of honesty, when the Lord shows up in real, tangible ways, and Scripture goes from memorized, therapeutic verses that we hope work, to life changing truths that bring the presence of God Himself into the situation that we are in. This is the hope; “the presence of God in the face of Jesus”. I pray that some of you may receive this kind freedom and joy that comes from this kind of honesty. Until then, I am in the struggle with you, learning to find joy and peace in the midst of the mess.

Embrace Your Limits

Everyone has limits, few want to admit them. In a day and age when limits are ignore because of the advancement of technology in many ways, limits are seen as hindrances to personal growth and pleasure. But we would be wise to embrace our limits and have eyes to see that limits in your life might even be what God uses to accomplish His purposes.

We can learn about limits by looking at the life of John the Baptist, or John the Baptizer (Johnny B). He was a prophet who came before Jesus to prepare the way for Jesus being the Messiah, the Savior of Israel, and of the whole world. Johnny B had a very unique, but successful ministry. He lived out in the desert, off the grid. He wore clothes that you could make out in the wild, he only ate food that you didn’t have to pay for or pay temple tax for. He was not immersed into the religious system of the day. That’s exactly why he was so crazy and weird.

Anyone who doesn’t want to live within the confines of a religious system will always be looked at as “weird” by those who are within that particular system. Johnny B’s message was simple: “Repent and be baptized.” In other words, “Turn from worshipping the system, and worship God again. Come back to your first love. The Messiah is coming. You better be ready for Him or you will miss Him.”

Johnny B was a weird-o, but he had a following and he was getting famous as a prophet of God. So when we come upon this passage in John 3, what Johnny B does is actually a very mature thing; he embraces his limits. He realizes who he is and lives in reality. Turn to John 3:22-30 with me now:

22 After this Jesus and his disciples went into the Judean countryside, and he remained there with them and was baptizing. 23 John also was baptizing at Aenon near Salim, because water was plentiful there, and people were coming and being baptized 24 (for John had not yet been put in prison).

25 Now a discussion arose between some of John’s disciples and a Jew over purification. 26 And they came to John and said to him, “Rabbi, he who was with you across the Jordan, to whom you bore witness—look, he is baptizing, and all are going to him.” 27 John answered, “A person cannot receive even one thing unless it is given him from heaven. 28 You yourselves bear me witness, that I said, ‘I am not the Christ, but I have been sent before him.’ 29 The one who has the bride is the bridegroom. The friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly at the bridegroom’s voice. Therefore this joy of mine is now complete. 30 He must increase, but I must decrease.”

Peter Scazzero, author of Emotionally Healthy Spirituality, says, “There is no greater disaster in the spiritual life than to be immersed in unreality. In fact the true spiritual life is not an escape from reality but an absolute commitment to it. Loss marks the place where self-knowledge and powerful transformation happen…” Let me say that last part again: “Loss marks the place where self-knowledge and powerful transformation happen…” In other words, not having enough to give, or coming to the end of yourself is the very means of growing up. This is called the gift of limits. This is what Johnny B models for us here.

Limits (or limitations) are the cause of much of our loss in life. Can you imagine the ego shot that Johnny B took by surrendering to his limits at the prime of his ministry? It is here that he fully felt and realized his limitations as a human being, and that his time was up. It was time to move over to let the more qualified person step in, in this case, the God of the universe.

We are limited creatures, but that is often a problem to us in our fast-paced, get-what-you-want, comfort-driven, climb-the-ladder-of-success kind of society. Many of us view limits as this attack against our freedom that interrupts our desired “normal” lives.

And because of these limits that keep us from that life that we think to be the “good life”, we turn to things to cope with the grief of the loss. Again, Peter Scazzero says, “We numb our pain through denial, blaming, rationalizations, addictions, and avoidance. We search for spiritual shortcuts around our wounds. We demand others take away our pain.”

To be honest, addictions of many kinds has been the drug of choice to help us deal with pain. We want to manage our lives and protect ourselves from the risk of being let down or bumping into our limits. We consumers demand that someone or something (a marriage, a sexual partner, an ideal family, children, an achievement, a career, a church, or a church leader) take our loneliness and pain away.

The sad thing about all this is that by running to addictions and short cuts, we deny and minimizing our pain and losses, and what this does over the course of many months and years, is that we stop being human the way God intended, and experience a way of being human that deteriorates our bodies and souls. We become empty religious Christians with very sophisticated masks. Eventually, this way of living wears us down so much, that we stop knowing how to feel altogether.

Much of our pain and misfortune from losses are like experiencing deaths (death of a dream, desire, family system, comfort, youth, routines). God has given all of us the gift of limits, and many of us hate it. We are limited, and believe it or not, it’s a gift. Limits keep us grounded and make us humble, needy, and creative.

Think about this: the reason why we all relate to the book of Job somehow, and the reason why whenever suffering and pain is spoken of, we are interested even though it brings up pain and other realities that we want to dodge, is because we all experience the same types of losses that Job did.

Job lost everything in one day: his family, his wealth, his health (Job 1:13-2:8). Most of us experience our losses more slowly, over the course of our whole lives, until we find ourselves on the door of death, leaving everything behind, but none-the-less, we still experience these losses like Job, and they hurt, they max out our limits. We are limited.

Many of you have experienced losses at church or in another intimate and vulnerable setting. You’ve been betrayed by a tradition, a leader, or a spouse. You’ve been hurt by someone in your community and you lose the joy of feeling comfortable there. You lose friends; they move, they don’t forgive you, they change.

Everybody who gives of themselves in community with other believers, sooner or later, experiences these kinds of loses and the grief that comes with those losses.

I’m going here because I want to take us to where our limits end. I believe it is at this place where special things happen; growth happens; maturing happens; a realized need for help happens… oh these are specials things! Often times our eyes and hearts are not opened to the deeper and more beautiful things of God until we reach our limits; we get to the end of ourselves; and that’s where we find Jesus.

But we need help going here, because turning to consult our pain and losses is counter-cultural today. But if we were to actually get to the heart of the gospel, we would see that this is actually normal. Let me show you:

John 12:24-25: Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.

Mark 8:34-35: If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it.

Mark 9:35b: If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.

Mark 10:43-45: But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.

The way up is down. The way to real power is to give up power. The way to gain power is to lose power. The way to become rich is to become poor. The way to be great is to be the slave of all! Limits!! We are limited, and realizing our limits is the key to embracing the good news of Jesus. That’s called living in reality. Oh how beautiful!

It works for us when we are young, vulnerable children to create coping mechanism to help us survive and deal with the pain of being wounded; that is actually a gift from God to children in many cases. Blocking out the pain, or forgetting abuse done to you as a child altogether, enables the child to keep living a “normal” life. So at that point, it’s a healthy thing to not fully experience, or block out, those painful realities when we’re young so we can be relatively stable.

But the transition into adulthood requires that we mature through our coping mechanisms such as: denial, minimizing, blaming others, blaming yourself, justifying actions, intellectualizing, distracting, becoming hostile, numbing, etc. The transition into maturity from childhood is one of honestly, looking at what is true; what really happened; how we truly are emotionally, etc. Jesus himself said, “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32).

Unfortunately, even as adults, it is ever so easy and convenient to carry with us many coping maneuvers to protect ourselves from pain. Here’s why this is a problem and why embracing reality (our limits) as adults is so crucial: false reality blocks us from growing up spiritually and emotionally, as well as from the light;

1 John 1:6-7: 6 If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth. 7 But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.

So what I want to do is to put some things out there, things that we who are still coping as children (and if we were honest, we’d all raise our hands to this), that we could do to help us to move in the direction of embracing our limits and reality:

1. Pay attention to the pain and don’t be quick to dismiss it, numb yourself from it, or call it a lie or an attack from the enemy. Jesus did this, even though He knew there was an answer to certain things; Jesus wept over Lazarus and cried out in grief over Jerusalem (see John 11:35 and Luke 13:34). He experienced the pain of the moment and lived in the reality of what happened. He wasn’t ultimately crushed by it, but He didn’t say: “Oh, let go and let God. I’m gonna raise that bro up again. Stop crying everyone!” No, he sat in the emotion of the moment and grieved.

2. Wait in the confusion to hear from Jesus. No one like confusion. There’s even a passage that says: 1 Cor. 14:33: For God is not a God of confusion but of peace. But this passage often times is misused, as Paul was describing different practices within the corporate church gatherings such as speaking in tongues without some to interpret it. God had often used confusion in the OT stories to accomplish His will, and often times, it’s not until we are so utterly confused and we stop looking for answers, that God shows up and reveals somethings so sweet and clear. “Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him” (Psalm 37:7).

3. Embrace the gift of limits. Embrace the reality that your body is the way it is. The same with your mind, your family, your finances, your talents, etc. Johnny B  understood his limits when he said this: “A man can receive only what is given him from heaven” (John 3:27). Essentially he was saying, “I accept my limits, my humanity, my declining popularity. He must increase. I must decrease. I’m good with that.” (see John 3:30).

4. Climb the latter of humility, not progress and success. Remember the gospel? The way up is down. The way to real power is to give up power. The way to gain power is to lose power. The way to become rich is to become poor. The way to be great is to be the slave of all! Prov. 22:4: The reward for humility and fear of the Lord is riches and honor and life.

5. Let the dead seed stay dead so it can get planted and grow. Good grieving and embracing your limits is not just letting go, but also letting it bless you. Remember, the resurrection only comes after death, real death. Trust that in God’s economy, ashes always produce beauty. Our losses are real, let them kill you, not destroy you, but kill you. And remember that our God, the living God, is big and He raises the dead! 2 Cor. 1:8-9: 8 For we do not want you to be unaware, brothers, of the affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. 9 Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead.

This journey is not popular and it will not be easy, but it is the way to maturity and intimacy with Jesus. There are many beautiful realities that spring forth in our lives as a result of embracing our limits and grieving our losses, and I would say that the greatest and most beautiful reality will be our relationship to God. We will move from a “Give me, give me, give me” prayer life to an intimate, loving prayer life characterized by a loving union with God. When we embrace our limits and let Jesus steal the show, we are changed forever.

Johnny B’s story ends sadly here on earth. Soon after he gives up being the man in the wilderness and begins to decrease, he really decreases. His church plant implodes, he gets arrested, thrown into jail, and then Herod has his head cut off because of a foolish vow he made to his mistresses daughter. Not the way any of us want to go, but the reality of the resurrection for Johnny B was certain, and his life was not wasted. I pray that our eyes and our hearts would be opened this morning to the all-surpassing beauty and power of God in Christ Jesus.