summer ragamuffin.

i was a summer ragamuffin as a kid. 

The dog days were perpetually shaded with deep hues of recklessness and enchantment. 
It was riot time. Time for the beatnik ragamuffin and the flower child to kick off their shoes and make waves. 
They were fireflies in Wichita.
Slack-lines in Billings.
Fireworks like canons.
Drive-in movies in the sticks. 
And they were cold mornings tucked deep somewhere inside a warm sleeping bag. 

My family used to tent-camp most summers. 
Now we have a demon called a "fifth-wheel" - a summer killer.
Today "Family camp-outs" is a has-been that has been and will be one of my favorite memories. 

Ever since I was a kid, one of the most unpleasant sensations to me has been waking up in a tent. 
See, the fatal flaw of tent-camping is that you have about a 2-minute window 
in the morning from the time your sleeping bag is shielding you from what 
feels like the arctic tempest to the moment it becomes an absolute sweat-box. 
Amid the summer-tide and lazy days those cold mornings will really stunt your motivation. 
Curled up in your sleeping bag, hearing brave morning-dwellers beginning to cook breakfast outside,
you think to yourself, "surely in five minutes I'll muster up the courage to sit up and put a shirt on..."
ha. right.
 
45-minutes later and people are talking outside the tent, maybe even about you...
but even that isn't enough to get you up. 
They try and rouse you, but you pretend not to hear.
Now you're comfy... and unashamed... 
You just wanna sleep. It feels so good.
You even wish people weren't talking so loud trying to wake you up. 
 
Then it happens... Almost all at once.
The sun... hits your tent.
Your body begins to sweat.
Your bag begins to stick to your skin.
You still don't want to get up, but now you're miserable.

That's life in sin. 

I don't mean that as some hyperbolic quip.
I mean, figuratively of course, sin is like that.

Life lived in sin is comfortable... It feels fantastic... 
It shields you from the initial discomfort of faith. 
You tell yourself you'll wake up soon enough. 
Then you lose any sense of shame. 
You don't care when other's are trying to wake you... 
In fact, they annoy you... 
Maybe you believe they're judging you for sleeping in...
And then... when you couldn't be more comfortable. 
Sin makes a mess of you. It chews you up and spits you out. 
 ... and then leaves you feeling dirty. 

But oh, how the Son shines... 
And when He shines on sin, the sinner wakes up. 
Darkness illuminated. 

Let's wake up, friends. 
Rise and shine. 
Endure the initial blast of cold air and live in the light. 

This is why it is said: "Wake up, sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you."
- Ephesians 5:14

Weekend With King Jesus

Jesus and I spent a long weekend together.
Tent pounded into a little mountain-nook.
Fire crackling, creek murmuring, and my heart resuscitating as I opened up to the living words of the Living Word. 
Beloved with beloved, and the words came to mind: 

My beloved speaks and says to me:
"Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away,
for behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come,
and the cooing of the turtledove is heard in our land.
The fig tree ripens its figs, and the vines are in blossom;
they give forth fragrance.
Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away."
- Song of Songs 2:10-13

"vacation? with your family?" ... my co-worker sounded interested. 
 "nope, just me, the mountains, and Jesus..." I wasn't trying to hide my excitement. 
 "Oh, gonna go get your life figured out?" pshhhhhhhhh.... right...
 "No, I think I'll go and wipe the slate clean, throw my plans in the trash, ya know?" 
 "Hahaha, gotcha." They didn't get me.  

Sometimes my soul needs that kind of getaway... like Jesus did...
a few days (maybe 40, who knows) to meet with the Father in the wilderness. 
Precious time, not to make sense of the present or future, but to make sense of who I am.
Maybe it's backwards thinking but it's exactly what needs to happen... 

Life’s a bit like quicksand... the more you try and help yourself, the closer you get to drowning in your mess. So really, our time in this world is best spent throwing our hands and screaming, "Abba! Please!" When He sees me in my mess - kicking and making my situation into a bigger unholy monstrosity - He has always grabbed me and spoken to my soul something like "Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away..." And there I notice something deeper than the unanswered questions of all my petty to-do's - That I am loved, despite my unholy mess.  

Because, if I'm honest, unless I know that Jesus loves me... unless I am living in full-fledged knowledge of His
backwards, paradoxical, jealous love... then I won't live like Jesus is all that important to me. Jesus becomes the chore that I might get to after all my other chores are done... maybe. And then, after the day is done and I'm fainting, I slip under the covers and whisper "tomorrow Lord, yes, tomorrow." 

But if Jesus loves me (oh and He really does), then my attitude changes and the chores I have to do become
love songs... they are indeed themselves the "cooing of the turtledove" and behind them the voice of Jesus saying, "come away with me," and in doing them my response becomes, "yes Lord, I am on my way!"

"Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away."

nomad.

I want to beat a drum for Jesus… 
As loud and as hard as I can… 
I want to wake up sleepers… 
I want to upset the enemy… 
And I want to send the sound echoing up to the throne of God.

Somewhere deep in my arrogant, ignorant, smug heart there is a seed of desire that wants to see a toothy grin broaden across my Savior’s face every time someone mentions my name… as if He unapologetically interrupted whatever they were saying to insert the thought of “that kid makes me so happy” right into the middle of their sentence. Whatever I do for Jesus, whatever my contribution to the world is over my lifetime, whatever way He chooses to spend me… I hope it’s good, and I hope it’s big… Like, irreparably, irrevocably, recklessly, lavishly, prodigiously, earth-scarringly big. 

I want to reshape society by being so sold out to Jesus that I am used to effectively stunt and obstruct the growth of hell’s kingdom and forcefully advance - no, to catalyze the explosion of - The Kingdom of God.

People could forget my name… it’s as valuable as trash… I just want to be used by Jesus… I want to join Him on the calvary road - to follow at His heals… that’s enough… What I know is that there’s much work to be done and He is calling for laborers!

So much work but work under a light and easy yoke…

So much work but for the kindest and most powerful master… 
So much work but with the prospect of magnifying the the name of the Great Rescuer.