29

Today marks 29 years of life. When I was younger I never thought I would make it this far, now that I am here, I realize I will probably live into my seventies. Despite internal protestations, life is a long plod in the same direction and not a dramatic sprint with a pole-vaulting fling in the middle.

Birthdays are a good time to pause and reflect on life and set up an Ebenezer moment that recognizes God’s unfailing grace. Here are a few reflections.

1. Life is unexpected. I did not anticipate becoming a pastor in a post-Vineyard church in a middle-to-upper class suburb of Chicago. I didn’t even plan on going to seminary, and much less getting a ThM. Two years ago I would not have dreamed of being the Lead Pastor of the church I am at. Be careful if you have a rigid agenda for your life.
   
   
2. God hears prayer. I remember in college praying for a strong community of guys to be a part of who are engaged in front-line ministry. It never really happened and I graduated, left the dorms, and went back to CA to look for a ministry position and my request rolled down below the drivers seat. Now, three years later, due to circumstances I never could have controlled, I find myself living in North Chicago, trying to engage this community in a house of guys who are committed to ministry and love Jesus Christ. It dawned on my the other day: "God, you heard me."
   
   
3. My guess is that finding a life of joy, influence and usefulness to God is less about the big decisions concerning what career we take or where we live or what degrees we have and a lot more about the little decisions that determine who we are becoming. A Christ-like person in a generic suburb with a boring day job will have a much more exciting and full life than the wild adventurous types whose outlook is essential self-absorbed and petty.
   
   
4. The Christian life is a life of hope in what we do not see. Our job is not to rationalize or justify that “we have a better life as Christians” before the very end. The Christian life is a life of sacrifice, cross-bearing, dying to self, and living to be forgotten. All the good things of our life here don’t weigh enough to balance out the scales of the sacrifices that are required. But there is a weight that does balance it out; in fact, it is so much heavier that it makes all the sacrifice and pain of this life seem trivial, “not worthy to be compared.” That weight, the weight of glory, is not for sale in storefront windows downtown nor can it be shown on a four minute video clip at church. It must be apprehended by one of the strangest and most wonderful abilities of the human heart: hope.