the tindog coffeehouse

I’ve been angry and bitter all week. Disgusted, really. As the Supreme Court heard arguments in a couple of highly controversial cases involving same-sex marriage, people all over the country showed their support for gay marriage on Facebook, Twitter, and other social media sites. But it wasn’t just non-Christians turning their profile pics red, it was many Christians as well. And that’s what pissed me off.

I know that we Christians aren’t always going to agree on everything, but the fact that so many Christians not only support same-sex marriage but endorse it just doesn’t make sense to me. How on earth can you read the Bible, claim that you believe what it says, and yet not find anything reprehensible about homosexuality, particularly when the Bible is extraordinarily clear in its opposition to it?

So I’ve spent the week fuming at my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, angry that they’ve chosen political correctness over biblical truth, and despondant over what that means for the future of the Church. If we choose to no longer identify sin as sin, then the gospel means nothing.

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At the beginning of the year, I kicked off a 70-day plan to read through the four gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John) chronologically. I called it the Gospel Project, and today, Good Friday, is the final day of it.

So what did I learn along the way? Not what I expected to.

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But very early on Sunday morning the women went to the tomb, taking the spices they had prepared. They found that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance. So they went in, but they didn’t find the body of the Lord Jesus. As they stood there puzzled, two men suddenly appeared to them, clothed in dazzling robes.

The women were terrified and bowed with their faces to the ground. Then the men asked, “Why are you looking among the dead for someone who is alive? He isn’t here! He is risen from the dead! Remember what he told you back in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be betrayed into the hands of sinful men and be crucified, and that he would rise again on the third day.”

– Luke 24:1-7

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He walked the dirty streets, famous for nothing
He said, “Come follow me,” and they came
A face like all the rest, but something was different
The Son of God would lead the way
And soon they all would say

There He goes, a hero, a Savior to the world
Here He stands with scars in His hands
With love He gave His life so we could be free
The Savior of the world

He spoke with clarity
Walked across the sea
A single word would calm the storm
His touch could heal the sick
But He was called a hypocrite
But laid behind the stone, His death was shortly mourned
He left the curtain torn

There He goes, a hero, a Savior to the world
Here He stands with scars in His hands
With love He gave His life so we could be free
The Savior of the world

He chose to take the cross
Shed tears for the lost, the broken, and the needy
Forgiving those who were and will be

The angel made it clear
He told them, “Have no fear
He’s not here, He’s not here”

There He goes, a hero, a Savior to the world
Here He stands with scars in His hands
With love He gave His life so we could be free
The Savior of the world

– Abandon, “Hero”

Happy Easter!

Previously:
It was all because of love
In the beginning…
‘His purpose in life was to go straight to the cross’
¡Viva La Revolución!

I spent this past weekend stuck in a hotel room in suburban Milwaukee. Exciting, right? I know, you’re jealous. But trust me, it wasn’t as interesting as it sounds. For one, it was raining and snowing (yes, snowing!) the whole time I was there. Second, it was Milwaukee. Unless you just have an unnatural fondness for Miller Lite or Laverne and Shirley, there’s really no reason to ever go there. I did, however, discover cheese curds, which I’m told are amazing, but to me they just tasted like, well, cheese. Which we have in Texas. Except we call it queso and dip our tortilla chips in it.

Anyway, I had gone up there to move one of our offices, which had to be done over a weekend. I finished up by mid-afternoon on Saturday, but my flight home didn’t leave till Sunday afternoon. So what do you do for 24 hours in suburban Milwaukee while it’s raining and snowing? You sit around in your hotel room trying to figure out how in the world you took such a wrong turn in life. That, and watch movies.

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The last four months have just been weird. Ever since I broke my leg in July, things have been off-kilter. Including this blog, I guess. I haven’t been as regular with my blog posts as I’d like to be, but I’m totally fine with that. I don’t need to post something every day or even every week. If you’re really that concerned about my day-to-day happenings, you can follow me on Twitter. Or marry me. Except I’m already married, so that’s probably not an option for most people.

Anyway, I didn’t really have anything in particular to blog about, so I thought I’d throw a bunch of random things into one big post and let you pick out the stuff you’re mildly interested in.

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I was 17 at the time. It was maybe around ten o’clock at night, I don’t remember. But I was sitting in my bed, reading the Bible and praying. As I closed my eyes, I suddenly had a vision, a crystal-clear image that I’ve never forgotten.  But it wasn’t just a picture, I felt it, too. It was so real, so powerful, so intense, that I immediately fell to the floor on my knees and began sobbing.

I had crucified Jesus.

In my vision, He was hanging on the cross, bloody, beaten, wincing in agony. And I stood at the base of it, still holding the mallet used to drive the nails into His wrists and feet.

The vision lasted only a split second, but it absolutely destroyed me. I had done this. I had tortured Him, struck Him, then nailed Him to a Roman crucifix to suffer a slow and excruciating death. It was all my fault.

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