Ryan's Ramblings

“Don’t cling to me,” Jesus said, “for I haven’t yet ascended to the Father. But go find my brothers and tell them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” (John 20:17, NLT)

When I think of clinging, my mind goes to Bangalore, India. It was my privilege to work at an international school in South Korea for eight years, and a part of the school’s educational program included service to others. During Spring Break each year the school would send students out on service trips throughout Asia, and for four of those years it was my pleasure to lead a team of high school students to an orphanage in Bangalore.

What a joy it was for me and my family to spend time with the precious children there in that place. It was a week filled with talking, playing, teaching, singing, laughing, loving and making new friends. From those times and experiences I carry a myriad of rich memories, but the one that stands out the most is the way the little ones would cling to me when I was holding them. There were scores of little children in that place and they all wanted to be picked up, held and carried around—and they didn’t want to be put down. They held on tightly as I held them in my arms. They loved the time and attention—and I loved them.

When Mary saw Jesus alive near the empty tomb, she grabbed ahold of him and held on tightly. She was clinging to him and He said to her, “Don’t cling to me for I haven’t yet ascended to the Father.” But now, Jesus has ascended to heaven and He has sent His Spirit to live in and among us. Jesus is available to you, me and the entire world, and he wants us to cling to Him:

Cling tightly to the Lord your God. (Joshua 23:8, NLT)

Cling to your faith in Christ, and keep your conscience clear. (1 Timothy 1:19, NLT)

[O God] my soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me. (Psalm 63:8, ESV)

Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, unless you turn from your sins and become like little children, you will never get into the Kingdom of Heaven.” (Matthew 18:3, NLT)

Jesus is alive and he is as close as the mention of his name. He has you in His arms and He won’t put you down. He loves you.

It’s OK—cling to Jesus.

Have you noticed all the “don’ts” in Ephesians 4?

Don't be rebellious,
don't lie,
don't pretend to be something you're not,
don't seek revenge,
don't stay angry,
don't drive angry,
(sorry, that's not from Eph. 4, it's from the movie, “Groundhog Day”)
don't steal,
don't use foul language,
don't talk bad about people,
and don't hold a grudge.

All of those "don'ts" are good advice, but they pale in comparison to the "don'ts" in Ephesians 4:30:

Don’t grieve God. Don’t break his heart. His Holy Spirit, moving and breathing in you, is the most intimate part of your life, making you fit for himself. Don’t take such a gift for granted. (MSG)

Wow, maybe you should read that again . . .

God is not a cosmic killjoy, He is joy. Jesus came to give us life—His life—moving, breathing and living in us. We were made to have the Spirit of God filling and empowering our lives, and anything less simply breaks the heart of God.

The “don’ts” of Ephesians 4 aren’t there to keep us in line, they are there to keep us in Him. His Holy Spirit is a precious gift.

So, as we walk into another day full of challenges, trials and temptations, and we are faced with the choice to dabble in or do something that will be detrimental to the most intimate part of our life, let’s all take Paul's advice—don’t.

Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. (Acts. 2:2, NIV)

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 . . .

Jesus, give me your holiness.
I open up to You my eyes, my ears, my mind,
my soul.
Come in and have Your way.
Make my heart Your home.
Blow through my life and fill it completely.
Every room belongs to You.

Christ, as the Son, is in charge of God’s entire house. And we are God’s house, if we keep our courage and remain confident in our hope in Christ. (Hebrews 3:6, NLT)

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 . . .

I am weary, O God;
I am weary and worn out, O God.
I am too stupid to be human,
and I lack common sense.
I have not mastered human wisdom,
nor do I know the Holy One. (Proverbs 30:1-3, NLT)

Have you read Proverbs 30 lately? It was written by a guy named Agur and it is full of ramblings and reflections about snakes, adulterers, leeches, lizards, ants, kings, fools and bloody noses. It’s perfectly random—but I like his honesty.

In the first three verses of his contribution to the most famous book of wisdom literature in the world, Agur doesn’t try to impress with profundity, but rather, he’s real. He says he’s “weary and worn out,” and with that, . . . he has my attention. Because ALL of us are exhausted these days as we navigate this pre/post/current pandemic world.

Then he says, “he lacks common sense,” and is “too stupid to be human.” Although that seems a bit harsh, it’s not too far from how I feel just about every day, especially today, as I try to figure out how to flush the hard water deposits out of my water heater. Life is hard—in the most humbling ways—and so is my self-talk.

And finally, Agur gets painfully honest and says, “nor do I know the Holy One.” 𝑶𝒖𝒄𝒉. In the midst of the mess of this world and the messiness of my heart, I too at times feel far from God—because I am.

So, where does all this honesty and self-deprecation leave Agur, me, (and you)? Surprisingly, it leaves us in the perfect place to find God, for Agur’s list perfectly describes the qualifications and credentials of those who can come to Jesus.

Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30, NLT)

Jesus doesn’t want perfection, He just wants us to come to Him.

As you come to [Jesus], the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him— you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house. (1 Peter 2:3-5, NIV)

As I read today about being a “living stone,” built into a spiritual house for God’s glory, my boyhood mind went in another direction.

I began thinking about the perfect “skipping” stone. It is flat, smooth, and an ideal fit for the hand that is doing the throwing. And when it is thrown correctly, it glides along, just above the surface of the water, inciting ripples of ever-widening beauty everywhere it touches.
And I found myself praying:

Jesus, I want to be a living, “skipping” stone, for You.
Find me, make me, empower me and use me for your Glory.
Get ahold of me and fling me furiously.
May I alight gently and joyously upon the surface of the world,
and bless others with the kindness, goodness and beauty You instill.
May my life give you delight, and may the places where I "skip" today
ripple outward with your love, mercy and amazing grace.
Amen

Though he was God,
[Jesus] did not think of equality with God
as something to cling to.
Instead, he gave up his divine privileges;
he took the humble position of a slave
and was born as a human being.
When he appeared in human form,
he humbled himself in obedience to God
and died a criminal’s death on a cross. (Philippians 2:6-8, NLT)

I have two daughters and during their growing up years I was a lot of things: a teacher, a minister, an adjunct professor, an assistant principal and a principal, and within those various contexts people referred to me as pastor, leader, supervisor, professor, administrator and boss. Each role I served and title I held were an aspect of who I was and what I did professionally, and they were the means by which I was able to provide for my family.

But all that meant nothing to my little girls. When I came home to them at the end of the day I was one thing—their Daddy, who cared for them and loved them—and that was all that mattered.

God is love, and Jesus was and is God, and over the eons He has been many things: omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, the Alpha and the Omega, and the Creator of the universe (to name a few), and His titles include—Son of God, the Word, King of Kings, Immanuel, Prince of Peace, Lord of Lords, the Way, the Truth and the Life.

But all that meant nothing to Him when He saw his little children—you and me—in need of rescue. Jesus left his home, humbled himself, came as a baby, became a servant, and died a criminal’s death on a cruel Roman cross to save us from our sins. Out of kindness and care for you and me, Jesus abandoned all titles and positions except for one—Love—and that was all that mattered.

The other day I unexpectedly ran into a friend I hadn’t seen for a long time and we only had about five minutes to chat. We talked briefly about work and family and then the topic of faith came up. My friend said that his relationship with God had become a bit cold and distant of late and he seemed forlorn and disheartened about it.

I felt bad for him. I’ve been there. That is a tough and discouraging place to be. You feel like a failure, and the way back to God seems too complex and too costly.

I wanted to help my friend, and my mind immediately went to James 4:8,
𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒘 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝑮𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑯𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒘 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖. (ESV)

I shared the verse with him and he paused a moment and then asked, “Is it really that simple?”

And suddenly our five minutes were up.

If there had been more time I would have shared with him about the loving Father that eagerly stands on the road waiting and watching for the prodigal’s return. (Luke 15) I would have reminded him that God is faithful, even when we aren’t. (2 Tim. 2:13) And I would have assured him that Jesus doesn’t ever give up on us—He is ever knocking at our heart’s door. (Rev. 3:20)

As we parted, I told my friend that I would be praying for him and I encouraged him to read his Bible and call upon the Lord in prayer. I said, “Start there—draw near to God and He will draw near to you.”

Thanks to Jesus, it really is that simple.

“𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒊𝒓 𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓: 𝑨 𝒑𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒅, 𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝑵𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑫𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑩𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒃𝒂.”

The above superscription is found at the outset of Psalm 51. It doesn’t even merit a verse number, but it sure packs a punch. It’s the “back story” for David’s prayer recorded in the psalm. Anyone who has read the whole story in 2 Samuel 12 knows that this pithy introduction to Psalm 51 is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to David’s offenses—teeming with lust, adultery, deception, manipulation and murder.

However, as I point the finger at David, I can’t help but notice three more fingers pointing back at me. I don’t know about you, but an honest superscription of my life, although different from David’s, would be just as tarnished. The Apostle Paul sums it up well, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” (Rom. 3:23)

Sin may have the first word in this psalm of David, but sin didn’t have the last word in David’s story—and sin doesn’t have the final word in my life either.
Jesus does.
He paid the price for my sins upon the cross and God doesn’t want a blood sacrifice from me. But He does want something—my heart.

Take a look at David’s words near the end of Psalm 51:

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒕.
𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒂 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝑶 𝑮𝒐𝒅. (vs. 17, NLT)

(Wow, now that merits a verse number!!)

Give God your heart. Let Jesus be the first and last word in your life.

The hours of our lives—they are a precious commodity.
We don’t want to lose a single one.
So we say to ourselves and to others:
don’t smoke,
stay away from fried foods,
exercise regularly,
cut the sugar,
manage your stress,
get regular check ups,
avoid the lines at the DMV,
and, . . . be careful!
We all want to live. We want every hour of life we can get.
Why? So we can watch more Netflix? Football? and Fixer Upper?
Maybe, but too much cotton candy leaves us sick and unsatisfied.
Time flies as the hours congeal into days.
Is it time spent or invested?
Do our minutes have meaning?
We give great attention to the hours of our life;
but what about the life in our hours?

Oh! Teach us to live well! Teach us to live wisely and well! … And let the loveliness of our Lord, our God, rest on us, confirming the work that we do. Oh, yes. Affirm the work that we do! (Psalm 90:12, 17 MSG)