It broke my heart. I know it always will. It’s part of the game. Even if your team wins it all, the next day, it stops. Suddenly, the pattern of sun and seventh innings, of balls and strikes, of peanuts and cracker jacks breaks—along with your heart—and baseball stops. But on March 12th, baseball stopped before it had even begun. And my heart broke.

Baseball is a constant in the life of my family. Our vacations are planned around the home schedule of the Atlanta Braves. I watch almost every Braves game. From Opening Day to the final out of the season, baseball is a constant in our home. So when Major League Baseball cancelled the rest of Spring Training and pushed back Opening Day by at least two weeks, I felt a profound sadness. Like Bart Giamatti, I was counting on baseball. “I was counting on the game’s deep patterns, three strikes, three outs, three times three innings, and its deepest impulse, to go out and back, to leave and to return home, to set the order of the day and to organize the daylight.” But due to the measures our nation is taking to mitigate the spread of COVID-19, one of my constants is gone with no sure date of return. The unease I feel in this moment is deep and I know I am not alone.

In the providence of God, the theme my church chose for the year 2020 is “Yesterday, Today, Forever.” It’s based on Hebrews 13:8.

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. 

Hebrews 13:8 (ESV)

This is a core tenant of the Christian faith. God does not change. He is the alpha and omega, the beginning and the end. It’s the reality that Christians have clung to for millennia as they faced famine, persecution, and plague. It is an anchor that holds no matter the strength of the storm. It’s why the church grows when difficulties intensify. This God who bids us to come and find rest for our weary souls is the same God who called Abram, changed his name and promised to make him a blessing to the nations. This is the same God whose presence caused Mt. Sinai to smoke and quake and caused Moses’ face to shine. This is the same God who walked with David through the valley of the shadow of death. This same God spoke through the prophets and the Law and then came as a man to fulfill them both. Jesus—he is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Why does this comfort me? Because the God who never changes has promised us something.

And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.

Jesus of Nazareth (Matthew 28:20, ESV)

We have never been promised an easy life. The idea that our lives should be fat, lazy and light never came from the Bible (despite what you have heard from the religious hucksters and evangelical frauds populating television airwaves). Christians follow a crucified Messiah—one who said that following him involves picking up our cross. If you are looking for an easy life, Christianity doesn’t promise it. But what it does promise is so much greater. It promises the presence of God.

The story of the Bible is one of pursuit. Not man’s pursuit of God, but of God’s pursuit of man. God wants to be with his people. And in the coming of Jesus, we have the penultimate act in his pursuit. He has come and dealt with the sin that separated us. He ascended and sent his Spirit to dwell within us. No matter what we face, we do not do it alone. And those who endure to end are promised a new heaven and new earth away from the presence of sin and its effects and fully in the presence of Jesus “where everything sad is coming untrue.”

Life without constants is chaos. And right now, almost every constant in life is being taken away from us due to the extraordinary measures needed to contain the spread of COVID-19. It feels unsettling. It fees chaotic. But there is one constant that remains—one no virus can touch.

For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Romans 8:38-39 (ESV)

So if your life feels chaotic, if your constants no longer seem sure, come to Jesus. He doesn’t promise to remove the chaos right now. He promises you his presence in the midst of it. And he promises you a future in a Kingdom that cannot be shaken—with a few peanuts and cracker jacks thrown in for good measure.

Passion 2012 kicked off yesterday. If you are unfamiliar with the Passion movement, it is a movement of university-aged students united for the fame and name of Jesus. Isaiah 26:8 is the foundational verse of this movement. It states:

    In the path of your judgments,
O LORD, we wait for you;
your name and remembrance
are the desire of our soul.
(ESV)

This year, Passion 2012 marks an anniversary for me. For it was seven years ago, at Passion 2005 that I met Jesus. I had known about Jesus for a long time. But there, I met Him. He showed up. And my life has taken a drastic turn since then. From darkness to light. From slavery to freedom. From death to life. From enemy of God to son of God.

The number seven has great significance in the Scriptures. It signifies the rest of God, the rest that he would one day grant his people. Well, this is my seventh year of walking with Jesus. I do not know all that God will do in my life this year, but I know this: He is good, the Gospel is true and Jesus is at work in me and all around me.

Thanks to Louie, Pastor John and the rest of the Passion team for introducing me to Jesus. Here’s to year seven with Him and praying that thousands meet Him at Passion just like I did.

~sdg

ps – Passion 2012 is being live-streamed. Check it out here

The idea that Joe Paterno would be forced out of Penn State on moral grounds defies belief.

More than six decades of achievement, an entire adult life committed to the advancement of the core mission of his university, could not withstand the sin of omission committed by Paterno in the Jerry Sandusky child sexual abuse case.

It is not the something that Paterno did that brought him to this fate — a firing by phone by Penn State’s board of trustees Wednesday evening. It is the something that he did not do to stop Sandusky.

So begins the piece by Ivan Maisel on ESPN.com about the dramatic and tragic end to Nittany Lions’ coach Joe Paterno’s career. If you are unfamiliar with the specifics of the drama in State College, PA, a former long-time coach (Jerry Sandusky) at Penn State University was arrested over the weekend on charges of child sexual abuse. This arrest set off a chain events that led us to this point. Where a college football giant was felled by a sin of omission, felled by something he did not do.

While the details surrounding the allegations that have come to light in the recent days are gut-wrenchingly disgusting, it would be a mistake to assume we have nothing in common with the characters in this story. There is something we can learn here. This is a cautionary tale. It is a warning to us all.

 In moments like these, it is easy to become the very person Jesus warned us will not enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and treated others with contempt: “Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” (Luke 18:9-14 ESV)

The words of Paul seem relevant here:

For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned. (Romans 12:3 ESV, emphasis mine)

It is all grace. Your gifts. Your circumstances. Your skills. Your opportunities. Your righteousness. Whether little or much, it was assigned by God. It would be easy for us to read about the vile acts committed against children and think we are somehow better Jerry Sandusky. I mean, no one I know has ever raped a 10-year-old boy. I know I haven’t. Or what about JoePa? I mean, I’ve never covered up a friend’s criminal act. How about you? Does not our purity in these matters elevate us to higher moral plane?

It is at this point Isaiah bursts on the scene and screams, “Not so fast, my friends!” All our righteous acts are like polluted garments. They are used menstrual rags (Isaiah 64:6). Isaiah confirms what we fear. Even the most moral among us is in the same boat as the most vile. Before a pure and holy God, there is no difference between the man who rapes a child and the man who lusts after a woman on a computer screen. Both are indulging the lusts of their flesh. Both stand condemned of treason against their Creator and King.

Mr. Maisel asks, with almost a sense of incredulity (as if there is no answer), “if we cannot believe that JoePa knew to do what is good and right, than in whom, pray tell, can we believe?” If all we have are men to put our trust, we have none. For all men will fail us. But, may I give you some good news, Mr. Maisel? There is one in whom we can believe. He always knows what is good and right (in fact He defines it). He always does all that is morally required of him and he always abstains from evil. He is perfect.  There is no deceit in his mouth (1 Peter 2:22). But he is not simply an example for us. No, he is far more than that. He bore all our impurity. He took the record of debt that stood against us and nailed it to the cross (Colossians 2:13-15). He became sin that we might become the righteousness of God (2 Corinthians 5:21). This is the good news of the Gospel, Mr. Maisel. Jesus is that one in whom you can believe. And there is no other name given under heaven by which men can be saved (Acts 4:12). We can either believe on Jesus and never be disappointed or find ourselves constantly scandalized as our heroes are mercilessly exposed for what they are…deeply flawed shadows of the only hero who can save us.

The Nittany Lions may be cowed and exposed, but the Lion of Judah stands triumphant.

~sdg

Last night I was coloring (in the lines) with the kids I was watching at church. My wife walked in with her iPhone in hand and said, “Why didn’t you tell me Steve Jobs died?” I had not told her because I did not know. I was unaware that the man who has had a significant impact on how I connect with friends and family and the wider world had passed into eternity. And suddenly, inexplicably, I was sad. I only knew of him through his many “stevenotes” and anecdotes from the Apple blogs I follow. So my sadness surprised me. This was not the momentary sadness you feel when you hear about a tragic accident on the news. This was more personal. More real.

Earlier this summer, I had an imagined brush with death. Since then I have found myself pondering my mortality. I am truly a fragile creature. Humanity in general is quite fragile. We are dependent on forces greater than and outside of ourselves (both physical and spiritual forces). Despite what Western culture tells us, we are far from self-sufficient. This dependency can either be a great source of fear or comfort. We can fight against the dependency and live in fear, or accept it and live free. This is something I think Steve would have agreed with. His fragility, the certainty of his death, was a great motivator for him. He did not cower in fear at his dependent nature. It pushed him forward. In his well-documented commencement address to Stanford University in 2005, he said this:

Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

These are the words of a man who accepted his fate and is going to make the most of the time he had left. And there is some wisdom here. These words are Christ-haunted (to borrow a phrase of Flannery O’Connor). Yes, in the face of the death, all the frivolities of life fade away. Yet, what Steve says we are left with, the “truly important”, may be the death of us.

The “Follow Your Heart” mantra is nothing new. When there is no other standard by which to guide life, following our own heart is the logical end. And yet, this conclusion sours the wisdom we find here. For the human heart is deceptively wicked. As my pastor is fond of saying, if you got everything your heart desired, you would destroy your life and end up in hell. Remember, we are dependent creatures. Dependent to the point that we can not even trust the natural inclinations of our heart. For it seeks to destroy us.

So if Steve got the end wrong, what is left when death overshadows all our other fears and concerns? The answer to that question depends on how you answer another question. Who is Jesus? For those who say he is a good teacher or prophet or revolutionary on par with Gandhi or Buddha or Muhammad, there is nothing left. Death drowns it all and hope is lost. But if Jesus is Messiah King, Son of God, Son of Man, though death may weed out the frivolous, what’s left is the hope that death is not the end. Because Jesus conquered the grave, those who put their hope and trust in Him, will do likewise. Since new life is our promise, we are free to spend this life. And we follow not our heart in this life, but the heart of God. It’s a heart that is for the nations, that is on a rescue mission. A life spent following that heart will be far more adventurous and meaningful than anything we could do or achieve by following our own heart.

The good news that Steve gave those graduates that would seemingly free them from the power of death was a false hope. In the end, your accomplishments or lack thereof do not give or take away meaning. These realities we chase when we follow our own heart are but mists. They are as fleeting as the morning shadows. Eventually a high noon sun will burn them away.

Many, many people have rightly said that Steve Jobs changed the world. He did. But at what cost? Walter Isaacson, Steve Jobs’ biographer, relays this story which took place only a few weeks before Steve’s death.

A few weeks ago, I visited Jobs for the last time in his Palo Alto, Calif., home. He had moved to a downstairs bedroom because he was too weak to go up and down stairs. He was curled up in some pain, but his mind was still sharp and his humor vibrant. We talked about his childhood, and he gave me some pictures of his father and family to use in my biography. As a writer, I was used to being detached, but I was hit by a wave of sadness as I tried to say goodbye. In order to mask my emotion, I asked the one question that was still puzzling me: Why had he been so eager, during close to 50 interviews and conversations over the course of two years, to open up so much for a book when he was usually so private? “I wanted my kids to know me,” he said. “I wasn’t always there for them, and I wanted them to know why and to understand what I did.”

It appears that Steve was very much aware of at least one cost. My hope and prayer is that in the remaining days of his life, he realized that there was a greater cost still at stake.

I think this is where my sadness welled up from. A man who I admired for his tenacity and creativity and attention to detail, who imaged his Creator in ways I desire to do, slipped into eternity with questions surrounding his eternal state. I ought to feel sad. This moment deserves grief. For death has done what death does. It took.

But thanks be to God has the power to hold death at bay for those who trust in Him. For this is our only hope.

~sdg