Kevin DeShazo

I saw on a Facebook posting today that the father of a former co-worker of mine – somebody I worked with for 4 years (on the same team for 1 year) – passed away.  Four years ago.  Today is the anniversary of the day that they rushed his dad to the hospital with bleeding in his brain.  I sat 4 feet from this guy for an entire year.  Never had a clue.  Never cared enough to ask him about his family.  We went to the same church, so I knew general stuff, but never cared enough to really know him.  I just cared enough to judge him for always griping and being so negative.  Being a good Christian, of course I only judged him in love.

This past Sunday my friend Lance spoke at church.  He probably has more passion for The Church than anybody I’ve been around.  It is inspiring (click the link on his name for a taste).  I’m slowly moving into that place.  Slowly.  As he said on Sunday, The Church is a really hard to thing to love sometimes.  He shared a verse that has been sitting in the front of my mind this week.  Reading my friend’s Facebook post reminded me of it again.

This is how everyone will recognize that you are my disciples—when they see the love you have for each other. John 13:35 (MSG)

This is crazy.  The verse just prior to this Jesus tells, no, commands us to love each other as he loved us.  Clearly I didn’t love my co-worker.  In my eyes, his attitude made it hard to love him.  That was my excuse.   I’m no different.  There are a million reasons why I should not be shown love, grace, mercy.  Yet I’m loved.  Loved enough for somebody to take nails for me.

What if this became “the verse” for The Church?  What would change?  How would it impact our relationships with our spouse?  Our kids?  Our co-workers, church members, people in the hallway?  People that have hurt us deeply, offended us, wronged us?  Homosexuals, adulterers, molesters, liars, fakes?  Bin Laden, Castro, Ahmadinejad?  Look, I’m not saying it’s easy.  But we are commanded to do just this.  You want to show the love of Jesus to the world?  Love people.  Intentionally.  Be recognized by it.

It’ll freak people out.  And it will change the world.

What do you think?  How does this verse, if we really believe it, change things?

Saturday.  Saturday was about frustration.  Anger.  Guilt.  Hopelessness.  Humiliation.  Finger-pointing.  Doubting.  Self-doubt.  God-doubt.  Weeping.  Questioning.  Hate.  Pain.  Defeat.  Desperation.  Wonder.  Anxiety.  Heaviness.  Death.

But Sunday?  Sunday was about life.  Hope.  Truth.  Proof.  Lifted burdens.  Forgiveness.  Belief.  Eternity.  Victory.  Love.

Sunday?  Sunday was for celebration.

Hi blog, I’m Kevin.  Remember me?  No?  That’s ok.

Clearly it’s been a while since I’ve been on this thing.  I’d like to say I took a break because it is Holy Week and I’ve been focusing on that.  That seems to be a popular thing for some bloggers to be doing (kind of like giving up Twitter and/or Facebook for Lent).  The truth is I’ve just been busy.  And tired.  I have been thinking a lot about this week though.  It’s Easter week.  Maybe the most significant week of the year in the Christian faith.  I mean, this week is everything.  This is the week that He died.  For us.  That He was mocked.  For us.  That He was beaten.  For us.  That He was betrayed.  By us.

Even better, it is the week that He rose again.  For us.  That’s typically where we focus.  On the resurrection.  Rightfully so.  I mean, our king was murdered and rose from the dead.  Pretty big deal.  Huge deal.  Game-changing.  But we don’t often talk about the bad stuff.  We don’t talk about the pain of the week before.  We spoke at church this last week about understanding that if Good Friday is really good, it was only good after it was bad.  Really, really bad.  The worst.  And He knew it was coming.  The entire week, Jesus was hell-bound (poor choice of words?) on getting to Jerusalem.  To die.  He made his journey down to Jerusalem.  Luke 9 says that “Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem.”  Resolute is defined by Merriam Webster as “marked by firm determination. bold, steady.”  So Jesus boldly, steadily, with firm determination set out for Jerusalem.  For his death?  That’s ridiculous.  The question is always asked, “What would you do if you only had a week to live?”  We like to answer that we would do crazy fun things like sky-diving and world travels.  Really, we would probably freak out, cry and try to figure out a way to either avoid it or make it happen prematurely.  But Jesus went towards it.  With firm determination.  We say we want to be like Jesus.  What we really mean is that we want to be nice, loving, help people out, maybe pray for some people.  The easy stuff.  We avoid the Jesus who resolutely went towards his death.  We thank him, but we don’t want to be like him.  We don’t want to die to things.  We don’t want to give up things, especially our life – even though he tells us to live is Christ and to die is gain.  How do I change that in me?  I have no idea.  But I think it starts with, this Easter, simply recognizing and acknowledging that part of Jesus.  And admitting that if I really am trying to be like him, I need to be like all of him.

Here’s to remembering this Easter.

Do you avoid the “dying” part of our faith?  How can we get past this fear?

I can’t get this song out of my head.  Growing up, I got to hear Michael Gungor lead worship at Believers Church on Friday nights in Tulsa, OK.  He was incredible.  Now, he’s apparently a big time music guy.  And still incredibly talented.  Enjoy:

I have been reading the comments on this post by Carlos Whittaker, regarding a note sent to him by a homosexual friend who was kicked out of ministry.  You can, and should, read Los’ reply here.  I am grateful for his response.  Here is what gets me.  His blog is ranked #3 in “Christianity” blogs.  He has over 200,000 unique visitors each month.  Yet there was some serious, serious hate spilled in the comments section yesterday.  Stuff that would (should) make you cringe.  I was crazy angry.  And sad.  And ashamed.  This is a serious issue in the Church.  We are becoming known for what we are against, rather than what we are for.

It is easy to be against something.  It is easy to degrade somebody’s beliefs.  Somebody’s opinion, religion, sin.  It makes us feel good about ourselves.  We believe that we are so much better than John who looks at pornography or Thomas who is pro-choice.  Or Tiger Woods who, well, you know what he did.  There is no risk involved in being against something.  Just find an angry mob and join right in with your plank-eyed hatred and protesting.

But to be for something?  To show mercy, love, forgiveness, support?  To fight for the man being exiled from his church, family, work, and friends for his sexuality.  To sit with him over coffee and pray for him.  To listen to him.  To hurt with him.  That isn’t easy.  That is out of the ordinary.  That is risk.  That is what we are called to be and do.  Jesus was known for what he was for.  And what he was for changed the world.

Are you being identified for things you are against?  What are these things?
What are some things that you need to stand up for?

Today is Ash Wednesday.  The beginning of Lent.  Generally, I’ve not been one to give up anything during this season.  Mostly because I get tired of hearing people say they are giving up chocolate.  Or Facebook (Twitter will be the trendy pick this year).  Or soda/pop/coke – whatever variation works for your particular region.  Not that those are bad things to fast from, I’m just not sure what benefit one gets, in a spriritual sense, from giving up those things.  If giving up Dr Pepper brings you closer to Jesus, that’s a story I want to hear.  Maybe I should give up judging others?

This year, I am choosing to take part.  I am going to give up gossip.  Over the past year, it has snuck up on me and taken over.  It is killing my soul.  I hate it.  I have always hated it.  Now I’m the guy doing what he hates.  I need to shut my mouth and listen to people, listen to their story, rather than telling my version of their story.  Gossip assassinates character.  More than anything, it distracts from the Kingdom.  And that is unacceptable.  While giving up gossip, I will add reading one chapter of Proverbs per day during this season.  I started this in January but got off track quite quickly.  I also want to be intentional about listenting to people.  Really listening to them.  Listen and find out ways I can help them, serve them, pray for them.

If you read this, I want to know what you are giving up and what you are adding, if you are taking part in this season of Lent.  Even if you’ve never commented before.  Make yourself known.  If you’re not participating, I would also like to know why (sorry, I’m curious nosy).

**Edit: I saw this quote yesterday from an old high school friend, TJ McCloud, regarding the season of Lent, and thought I should mention it here.

Fasting, or giving up anything for a time is a powerful thing, but only when tied to deep prayer and purpose.

So, what are you giving up?