A few years ago I was sitting at a Cracker Barrel with some friends planning a youth camp. We had papers out on the table, being loud and obnoxious, laughing, having a good time. On a side note, I was always the old youth guy. Anyway. I had shaved my head for the first time to support my son who had recently joined the Marines.

This lady walks up with her son, he must have been 12 or so, and stood there. She smiled and politely said “excuse me, could you please sign this?” Looking up, I noticed she was holding a CD case. As she handed it to me, I grinned really big as I noticed it was a Mercy Me CD. She really thought I was Bart Millard. It happened a lot that year.

Truth is, most bald fat guys with goatees look alike.

I imagine what Jesus must have thought when Luke describes his temptation. The setting of being in the wilderness, having been led there by the Holy Spirit for this exact encounter, stirs up something we seldom realize. As the devil appeared and Jesus looks at him, it was not their first meeting. After all, Jesus created him. He was familiar. They knew each other from the very beginning.

We know the story. And we’ve heard the theological implications and ramifications of the 4 temptations of Jesus. And we could spend a lot of time here discussing those. But what I want you to understand about temptation is this… It is familiar. We know it, we’ve seen it, we know when it is heading our way, and we often put ourselves in situations just so we can see it. Why? Cause we like it.

James reminds us of the origin or temptation. “But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire.” James 1:14

Here is the deal. I was tempted by rage for many years. Not because it snuck up on me, but when I went looking for situations that put me in that frame of mind. We struggle so much with porn because we refuse to take ourselves out of the places we will see it. We do not trust because we fail to use our faith to grow. We are tempted by that which we like, or really really enjoy.

Temptations is familiar. So sin, when temptation has become fully mature and we act on it, comes from what could be described as the darkest place we know. The depth of our own heart.

Jesus tells us how to deal with it. Kill it. But we often like to dance with it because of our emotional connection with it. “if it’s your hand or foot, cut it off. If it’s your eye, then gouge it out.” This is how serious this is. Kill it, cut it off. Do what ever it takes to deal with it.

As me of God we must have this attitude in the issues that would separate us. What ever it takes.

You know what it is. Look around. You’re prolly thinking about it now. Kill it.

Kill it.

“Through these fields of destruction
Baptism of fire
I’ve watched all your suffering
As the battles raged higher
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms” Mark Knopfler

Refining is a difficult process. There is often no sweet emotion of His presence, prayer can feel like a chore, and darkness surrounds. I’ve referred to the process many times, as the “dark night of the soul.” Not everyone deals with it. But to my joy, I have had the pleasure and pain of this difficult time.

Coming out the other side of this long difficult, arduous journey, I pause to look back at what has been ripped from my flesh, what I have had to lay down and crucify, and the trail of blood leading to where I stand.

There are things in my life I have had the courage to crucify, others have been ripped from me. Both have resulted in a certain death. I would like to say pride was the issue I had the courage to kill. But my swagger was ripped from me by a swift judgment of the loving hand of the Holy Spirit.

But this is not about what I lost. This is about what I have had all along. While faith in the midst of darkness can be very difficult, the landscape is literally littered with brothers who have encouraged me, pushed me, prayed for me, and walked with me.

It can seem like when we walk through the valley that we are alone. Jesus felt it on the cross. Complete separation from His father, alone, and screaming for the connection he had all his life. While many scholars feel like God actually turned his back on his son, I can’t say that. plus, I’m not a scholar. He felt alone. With the weight of the world on him, he felt alone.

The love and encouragement of friends and family IS like a balm to the tenderness of torn flesh. Comforting, even in the midst of pain. Having stood on the other side and looked back, and seeing the many standing with a hand of mercy and help, I am reminded of the importance of simple words. “I got your back.”

Thank you. Thank you to all who have carried me, helped me, prayed for me, and challenged me. Faithful is He. For in the dark night of the soul, it was neither He who left, nor my dear friends. Both were there the whole time.

We are right in the middle of a change. What was is no more. The question for me is “what shall be?” while that question seems to be on the lips of millions of people, especially in the wake of earthquakes, tsunami’s, bird flue, job loss, and economic melt down.

How can we survive? Where will we live? When will things get better? Will we ever return to normal? Will things ever be the same?

The whole name it, and claim it gospel holds little water in the face of such suffering. The “God wants you to prosper financially” thought seems to have let us down. Bad things happen. To everyone. Everywhere, all the time.

I’m faced with choices as of late. Which path to take. One choice would seemingly lead to security. Seemingly. The other would require being away from my family. Both are honorable opportunities, although one is more of a desire than an opportunity.

How does the choice to serve filter through to action?

Some would say the choice rests in my passion. Which am I more passionate about? Can it be as simple as that? Which would I prefer? Others would say where are your gifts? What are you good at?

I’ve been faced with situations like this a few times over the years. Mostly, what made my decision was money. Show me the money. Disguised it as Gods will for me at the time, after all, I had to take care of my family. Really regret one of those.

Now, here is the big question. “How will God receive glory, and how will God be seen more?” How will God show himself more powerful, more loving, more graceful, more… himself?

Sought hard after the pretty life. It never really worked out. I learned that I don’t fit in there. I have problems, I have doubts, get anxious, can be a hypocrite. I like tattoos, don’t like to shave, enjoy a really good cigar, ride a Harley, and passionately in love with my wife of 30 years. Life ain’t always pretty.

As I write this, I’m sittin in a cigar bar (a biker bar that sells cigars really). Guys and gals sittin over at the bar drinkin (and have been since 11) askin me questions about what I’m doin on my computer. Words like interesting, and awesome are what they say after I tell them. This is a “lowbrow” place according to the owner. “You can relax in here.” “it ain’t pretty, but we like it.”

Life ain’t pretty. But faith is. Jesus is. Hope is. Love is. Acceptance is. People are. All of them.

Times of great distress and pain call for even greater words. Poetic and powerful words that can stir the soul and calm the heart in the midst of news of complete devastation. Words that can heal and comfort when the numbers of the dead reach well above 10,000.

It’s true. In my life I cling to a grace that makes no sense, and has no boundaries. A need really. Knowing who I was demands such a grace. For without said mercy, death would have swallowed me up long ago.

And while my passion puts me in situations when such words can offer hope to a law breaker and criminal, addict and loner, I find in my own heart, they come up short in these turbulent days.

There is a deep hurt in our world. Religion against religion, view against view, father against son. And sadly, the most we can come up with during such hurt is blame. Blame for wrong beliefs, blame for political situations, blame for victim, blame. Blame.

“I believe. Help my unbelief.”

This tension is where I live. Understanding that it is Christ who can give life, change situations, rescue, heal, set free, and understand. I really believe that. But the death of 10k people has me in mourning. No different than Uzzah. I mean I get the holiness deal. I get the world is broken, I get you are salvation.

“Help my unbelief.”

My needs seems so petty in light of such suffering. My life, problems and all, is the result of decisions and choices. Yet it is all I can see. Help me not to turn away. Strengthen my heart to look and see where you would lead. Here am I. Send me. Grand mercy to those in need of food and water and shelter. Grant mercy to those who need hope. Grant it Lord.

“I believe.”

In it right now. Full blown economic meltdown, fear, worry, doubt, concern. It feels like a wet, heavy blanket. Like I’m smothering, sinking, trying with one last grasp just to hold on to something. But my grip is slipping. My hands are losing hold. I’m falling. What seems to be deeper and deeper each passing day.

Faith is not a theory in these times. It’s not a cool little saying or a slogan to make it sound like I got it under control. Faith is difficult here. For every breath I take I fight the darkness. For every step I take I take a shot to the ribs. For every prayer I give, an arrow makes it through, piercing flesh and drawing blood.

Faith is not for the faint of heart.

When all is well, faith is often placed on a shelf like a flashlight that is not needed until the power goes out. Howling wind and driving rain make the lack of power seem worse. In the dark of night, a simple flashlight can keep us from the unknown, the fear, the dark. Monsters live in the dark, away from the light and safety of day. They lurk and sneak around, they disguise themselves as simple.

I guess it would be better to blame someone. That is popular today. But there is no blame. It just is. And we are just one family of millions who are suffering through it. Blame brings no peace, no satisfaction, no rest. Blame brings bitterness and anger. Blame reminds us…over, and over, and over again.

The hole seems deep. And, honestly, it is dark. And honestly, thoughts of the future are not happy thoughts right now. The unknown thwarts plans, and kicks at my sure footing, often causing me to stumble.

Even so I will not give in to it sweet calls to complain and sulk. Even so, in the midst of failure and fear I will not turn my ear to the whispers of the defeated. Even so. Even now.

It is by mercy and mercy alone that I stand. Fists clenched and determination to continue. Calling down hope and grace like rain and thunder to fall on me for strength. Reaching upward clenching for every fistful of dirt that I can grab as I climb out. Dust and rock fall in my face beckoning me to give in and stay down. This hole is real. But, so is my faith. And my faith is not swayed by a situation or a circumstance of difficulty.

Awake O’Sleeper from Brandon McCormick on Vimeo.

I get it. I mean it’s kinda scary.

“The people are huge, not to mention being bad ass. They have chariots. Big ones. The places where they live are like castles. Walled up, brick, fortified. No way we’re getting in there. Even if we did, we’d get our butts handed to us. God knows what these giants would do if they knew we were coming.”

“I know the land is good, the food is awesome, and it’s beautiful. But lets be real. No way I’m going to be part of this. It’s a complete pipe dream. I say no.”

It’s easy to judge these guys. 10 out of 12 were freaked out. These were not men of lower character. They were sent by their tribes because they were trustworthy, had good standing. They carried sway.

10 out of 12 said no. 12 out of 12 were scared, and realized the danger was great. But majority rules. When the majority speaks, even now, we tend to listen. It makes sense. Where a single person may be wrong, the group tends to be right. Sometimes.

Think about it. The land was theirs. All they had to do was possess it. Go in and take it. From giants. From warriors. Out manned. Out skilled. No problem.

I get this picture of fear. Not from the 12, but from the giants. Looking out over the land, watching them come across the plains. Who are these people? Didn’t you hear? Literally millions of people. The same people that had just crippled Egypt. The same people who had crossed the Red Sea…on dry land. Word, it seems, travels pretty fast.

While I am certain that the folks from Canaan saw the advancement of Israel, and were aware of the hand of power that gave them guidance, I’m not sure the folks here can see us coming, or care.

I struggle with the way I approach kingdom advancement. The folks I go after see things a bit different. Our reputation as a faith is not good. It means there has to be a time of proving. Earning my way in to develop a relationship. Being who I say I am. All the while, if I blow it, it could get nasty for me, and my club. Being held to your own standard.

Who are you? Just another? Just another Christian who is about politics? Just another believer who puts down others? Just another emergent who has disdain for conservatives? Just another church person goin on a mission trip? Just another talking head with no life change? Just another ministry that couldn’t get along with the other? Just another Christian with no power?

“Yea, I heard about them. They’re just another________________________________________ “

I am a product of my environment.

While some may disagree with that statement, it is never truer than now. Having grown up in a typical Southern home, practicing a typical Southern understanding of religion, at 48, a significant rip in the fabric of my thinking has emerged. It changes everything.

There have been a few times that the very presence of God has brought me to my knees in a corporate worship gathering, actually leaving me unable to speak. Moments like these were always the purpose of my worship. To enjoy God for being God, as Piper would say.

Striving to experience such a connection, for the pleasure of the connection, has been difficult at best. I found that these moments came when the awesome majesty and wonder of God was proclaimed in song and Word. His power to save, heal and set free. Moments like these are addicting. Absolute God. Absolute wonder. It left me absolutely breathless.

Most of my striving for these God-man moments was hindered by words that would attract my intellect. After all, to think a certain way, clears the way to act a certain way. But somewhere along the line, all I heard were men trying to help me convince myself that the “supernatural” was not needed anymore. We don’t do that. If it happens, great. But for the most part, believe right, act right, give, tell others to do the same, and things those other folks believe will turn out to be wrong. You’ll see.

God is a God of order. Should he choose to show up in magnificent ways, so be it. He’s got an hour.

It seems like a over simplification I know. And it may be. But the one thing that has been remiss from my journey has been the power. Now listen. I have seen the power of God change lives. Drastically. But with most, after the change, the power that changed them was tamed into something unrecognizable. Not doing something anymore is not residue of power. It is the absence of action.

I’ve often wondered why fringe people are the hardest to reach and keep interested in American faith. I mean we send people to where they live, we go to events, hold rally’s for them, have their kind of music, dress like they do, make them comfortable. Yet, they seem to want to remain on the fringe. Away from the comfort of a good solid, well dressed, well attended church.

Is there now no need for the prophetic word, simply because there are those who claim such and do not deliver? Is there now no need for raising folks from the dead, simply because it has not been done? Is there no need for miracles, simply because we are skeptical?

This weekend, I spent time with folks who had amazing stories. Stories of abuse, addiction, suicide contemplation, prison, death, brokenness, healing and faith, flowed like a river. All these stories ended with the same question….”why would God use me?”

Unable to fit in to the typical gathering places, these folks were forced to conform, or start something that would face the very issue that compelled them to come to Jesus in the first place. Power. If the reality is, in fact, that we tell folks that we need not change anything before we come to Christ, how is it we expect them to change after they know Jesus. Clean up, dress right, believe right, act right.

I talked to a guy Sat that had MS. He was being fitted for a wheelchair. After believing God healed him, his doctors told him he had been misdiagnosed. To tell this man not to believe in faith healing simply because it is misused diminishes the power that healed in him and deters him from praying over others in the same fashion.

People fail to stay in the comfort of religion is not because of music. Has nothing to do with the drive, folks drive for hours to get to church. They don’t stay because of the lack of power that comes from the church. So they often set up camp on the fringe. Doing and saying what changed them to the same types of people they were. It’s in their eyes. God healed me, changed me, forgave me, I want others to know.

The days of the safety of the faith and building will soon be at an end. Mobility will soon become key to faith being spread. America is heading to a place she is unfamiliar with. The roots of Faith are from the underground. Those who live on the fringe are familiar with the residents, and the layout. It is there we must fight to get to. And the ones who know how to do that live there. On the fringe, with the wild ones.

If the future is dealing with navigating through the underground like outlaws, be dang sure better get a foothold in that community. When Christianity becomes outlawed, only Christians will be outlaws.

Thinking a certain way does nothing to persuade people to come to faith in Christ. He does that. But thinking that the Church will be held in the same high esteem it was through the years is over. The days where people care what we say are coming to an end. What they see is queer haters and racism.

No more visits. No more wannabes. We must move out and set up tents.

Most folks eek through life trying to keep a lid on the hidden, broken things, that are mere moments from bursting forth with unbelievable force.  We try to keep a lid on hurt, pain, fear, abandonment, loneliness and  doubt. Trying to keep them just below the surface, so as to seem in control. Although the so called control is apt to be lost at any moment, caused by almost any issue.

People are broken. Some more than others, but broken. Entire TV networks are built on the human condition. Shows like “Hoarders”, “Intervention”, deal with the raw emotion of brokenness, while others show the willingness of family to alienate and turn their backs on each other.

We watch in awe as people try to dance and sing their way into fame and fortune, but not making the connection between the brokenness and entertainment.

I’ve been hiding the broke in my life for quite sometime. It happened a few years ago. Some folks turned on me in typical “church member” fashion (meaning that conversations were held in private about me with out me), all for the good of the church and advancement of the kingdom.

I was sitting in my office once Sunday morning after an awkward conversation I had overheard. My chest began to hurt, face was flush, could barely breathe. My first thought was I was having a heart attack. 2 hours in the ER revealed no heart issues, but was told I was suffering from panic attacks.

Trying to keep a lid on anxiety disorder and depression while taking medication and being a youth pastor is no easy feat. It takes skill. It takes determination. It takes denial.

The biker needs to know Jesus loves him. The hoarder needs to know Jesus loves them. The addict, the adulterer, the homosexual, the racist, the liar, the drunk, the overeater, the self loather, the cutter. The mom, dad, the football player, the cheerleader, the soccer player. The normal, and abnormal.

Kingdom building is not about getting folks to come over to your way of thinking. Kingdom building revolves around the King. The King who delivers, renews, provides, saves, and encourages, and loves. Loves deeply.

The Gospel is not for the self-sufficient; the Gospel is for the helpless, the hopeless, the hurting, the powerless, and the broken.

We serve as warriors in an army that builds a kingdom with slaves and prisoners.  We share love with the broken. We love the unlovable.

Why? What’s the point? For the King. The King who stepped into the human condition. Our condition.