Jesus Culture Encounter 2011

For the next two days, beginning January 7, Bethel Church will be streaming the main sessions of of Jesus Culture Encounter 2011 live (and FREE of charge).

If you are not familiar with Bethel or Jesus Culture, I encourage you to click the below link and check them out.

Bethel is home (among other things) to some of the most engaging, creative, and gifted worship leaders around.  From Chris Quilala to Kim Walker to Jake Hamilton, Jesus Culture kicks the passion for God into high gear with worship and praise.

Here is the schedule beginning the 7th at 6:55 PM Pacific:

  • January 7 – Jesus Culture Band (worship) and Speaker Russell Evans @ 6:55 PM PST (9:55 EST)
  • January 8 – Jesus Culture Band (worship) and Speaker Russell Evans @ 9:30 AM PST (12:30 EST)
  • January 8 – Kristene Mueller DiMarco (worship) and Speaker Jake Hamilton @ 2:00 PM PST (5:00 EST)
  • January 8 – Jake Hamilton (worship) and Speaker Banning Liebscher @ 7:00 PM PST (10:00 EST)

Join them live during one or all of these times!  Click here to watch live stream now

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Spirit Of Adoption

I read the coolest blog post the other day by UPB’s Nathan Fray.  The post resonated deep, as it reminded me of a constant theme that has been taking place in the church body.

So much hurt and feelings of abondanmonet, both spiritually and physically, have been a constant spirit that has plagued many people, especially in the past year.

Fray proceeded to blog about a personal experience he had through witnessing the love of a father with his newly adopted child.  It was a heartfelt, simple, and honest look into the heart of our Heavenly Father and how He can (and does) operate through the love of people like you and I to convey the strongest message to each and everyone one of us — love.

Enjoy.  I love you, guys!


“What does the Kingdom look like?”

This has been that type of nagging thought that you can’t seem to shake, and lately has turned into a simple prayer of mine. “God, show me what your Kingdom looks like in my daily life.” I almost said “normal life”, but everything I read in the gospels is anything but normal. In my daily life, I want to see how the Spirit is moving, how the Kingdom is expanding. I say “see”, because its easy to be blind to how the Kingdom grows, especially when it is “as small as a mustard seed.”

Anyways, last Tuesday night during our weekly worship gathering, something profound happened. Another expression of what this Kingdom looks like exploded in front of my eyes.

It was as simple as a father holding his son asleep in his arms. But not just any son: a newly adopted son. A son recently abandoned by his parents, left to fend for himself at age 4. A son who never before experienced unconditional love, never known a house a peace, never before eaten a home-cooked meal. This father was holding his new son with every once of love in him. It was there I could see Romans 8:15 come alive: “For you did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out ABBA FATHER.”

The Spirit of adoption saturated our living room that night. It permeated everything. The word became flesh that night to me, exploding in front me in the simplicity of a hug that didn’t let go. During worship, I heard the son ask his dad, “Who is Jesus?”
This question wrecked me, because I knew he would soon find out. Jesus is in the great rescuer. And He wants to use us.  He is using my friend to be the Father this son never had. I watched the son fall asleep on his father’s chest. I watched the father silently weep over his new son. Tears of hope. Tears of joy. God’s glory filled the house. I cried. We all cried. We all felt our Father’s embrace that night, the peace and safety of being sons and daughters, heirs to the King and Kingdom.

This father and mother didn’t just adopt one child, but three. And these children aren’t even totally adoptable yet, because there is still one parent somewhere in the distance, strung out on drugs. This is foster care for a season, with adoption the goal. But that’s not stopping my friends. They are giving everything to these children. The love of God in that house is breathtaking.

They are sowing into the Spirit in a beautiful way. The flesh would say, “I’ll take my comfortable life with our one daughter thank you.” The Spirit says, “Let me love the broken. Let me love who the world says is unlovable. “

“For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, these are sons of God.”

I saw the Kingdom clearly in a father’s safe embrace that night. It’s still with me. I want to sow into the spirit, not the flesh. I want to see all things made new, to be “a touchable answer to peoples pain and brokenness.” The Kingdom is seeing the Spirit of Adoption literally save lives. This Spirit fights for the lost and broken. This Spirit doesn’t let go. This is the Kingdom I know is crashing into this world.

Let’s be people that tell testimonies of God’s goodness and love. It’s because in these stories, we see and hear what God’s Kingdom is all about. This changes us. This changes others. Stories tell us what’s possible, and that it can happen again.

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So I Kneel Before You God…

So felt the need to share this video with you guys.  Jesus Culture’s new album “Come Away” just came out a few weeks ago and it’s just down right epic.  It’ll rock you, wreck you, and then rock you all over again.

Every time I listen to this song, I find myself getting a knock on my wall from the neighbors.  I crank it, singing to my heart’s content, and letting the tears simply flow.

Enjoy!  I love you guys!

Kim Walker and Jesus Culture’s Official Video “Rooftops”


(Note: Jesus Culture’s Official Youtube Channel uses Vevo Player.  You may have to view via the YouTube link as WordPress may not yet be compatible)

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I had THE worst migraine I’ve had in a very long time.  It took me by complete and utter surprise.  One minute, fine.  Next minute, BAM, it was there!  I struggled leaving work, I struggled driving home, and even struggled getting into bed.  By the time I did, I was in so much pain as tears flowed freely down my face, I FINALLY cried out “God, please, You have to take this away NOW!”  I couldn’t handle it anymore.  I was ready to call someone up and ask them to take me to an emergency room.  An almost instant bit of relief came upon me, and I laid there still crying, a bit in shock and still that bit of remnant of tears from the growing intense amount of pain I had been feeling for the last several hours.

I began thanking God, and found myself about an hour or so later, for the first time since getting home, turning on my phone and reading a bit of scripture and eventually going to some of the blogs I like to frequent.  One blog I had only visited one other time before had popped into my mind to view.

The post was on August 10 and it was by Eileen Fisher.  I clicked on the link because of the title alone.  The title read: Prayer of Surrender.  I begun to read, and I found myself releasing stuff that I wanted, desired, and yearned to release for a good few months now, and yet, I just couldn’t seem to grab hold of really letting go of how I felt about some things that have taken place in recent months.  There had been offenses, stress, estate issues, family issues, grieving issues, etc etc – the list goes on and on.  There was a strong, strong attack by the enemy and he had used everything in the book to hinder and emotionally cripple me.  It wasn’t enough to be going through the family issues and the (what I realize now) ongoing grieving issues, and the anniversary of my mother’s death.  The enemy used an already emotional state rocked with stress, and pounded me with other things that were coming from the north, south, east, and west!  I was rocked and have been rocked, and God has been spending a lot of time speaking to me and loving on me and just revealing what HIS heart was and HIS desires were and are for me.

When the damage was done by the enemy… when it was all said and done there was doubt placed in my heart about a lot of things that hadn’t been there in years before rededicating my life.  And I found myself realizing that I was struggling with something that wasn’t MINE to struggle with, and God was desperately trying to spare me from taking on burden(s) that I had inadvertently brought on myself by the offenses and the stress (etc), and those put on by others.  The way of releasing that kind of junk and garbage is by surrendering, and we all know the word, and it’s almost like you can grab hold like it’s a physical, 3 dimensional object, and yet the grip just isn’t firm enough a lot of times for us.

Anyway…. this post hit home, and maybe it will for others, I don’t know, but I can say, that it’s some good stuff!

Here is the blog post in its entirety:


Prayer of Surrender

Whatever you need to lay on the altar, just lay it down. Whatever stress, disappointment, fear—just lay it down on the altar, just surrender. I heard the Lord say, “Make it a living sacrifice.” For some of you it’s family, for some of you it’s visions and dreams, ministries—just lay it on the altar. Because I heard the Lord say, “Give it to me that I can give it back. Give it to me that I can give it back.”

Father, we do surrender. And, Father, help us where we can’t surrender. Father, we surrender things known and unknown. Father, we give you every hindrance, every fear, every disappointment. Father, we surrender. Father, we let go. Father, we let go of anything and everyone that is trying to hold onto us. Father, those that are trying to block what you would have us do; and those, Father God, who are in the way; and Father, those who have injured, offended, hurt or restricted us. Father, we let them go because we want to be free. Free to follow your Holy Spirit. Free to follow the bidding of your Spirit.

So, Father, we have surrendered. Father, we ask that you would take our bodies as a living sacrifice: our minds to be renewed, our hearts to be healed, our wills to be established, our strength to be renewed. Father, every part of our full being that you alone be glorified.

Father, we give you all, all, all—the past, the now and the future. And we thank you. We thank you.


That, my friends, is a prayer we can all live with, and a prayer we can die to the flesh with.  Love you, guys.

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Almost Only Counts in Horseshoes and Hand Grenades

If you’ve never heard of that phrase in the title of this blog, let me take a moment to shed a little light.  “Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades” simply means that you came close to something.  The phrase suggests that almost only counts with horseshoes and hand grenades, because they are the only things that can hit their target without actually hitting the mark.

Disciple’s new album “Horseshoes and Hand Grenades” it’s insanely good. It’s by far the best music I’ve heard in a LONG time from the genre, let alone the band.

My first peek at the new album came with Air 1 airing the song “Dear X (You Don’t Own Me).” A triumphant song comparison (in character narration) to that used in the book Hinds’ Feet On High Places. The “sin,” the “issue,” the “problem child” is addressed head on, bluntly and passionately. Pain, Shame, Anger, Hate… it’s all addressed in a Dear John style type letter.

The “Dear X” song is poignant.  You understand from the very beginning it’s a breakup, and the comfortable and “beautiful lies” of the singer’s companion has come to an end.  The realization of the detrimental “relationship” between the singer and sin, has awakened a boldness that unfolds in the song.  By the time the chorus hits, the singer is triumphantly roaring, “You don’t own me!”

Other spectacular songs, is “Worth the Pain,” “Invisible,” and “The Ballad of St. Augustine.”

Disciple is considered “Christcore” or “Christian metal,” and I know that usually turns a few people off.  But there has only been two Christian metal/rock bands in my life where I could bypass the occasional ummm “hardness” of the music, and truly focus on the lyrics and be completely torn apart by them.  One was the former band Travail, and this one… Disciple.

Support them, grab a copy, or at least check out their lyrics.  You won’t be dissapointed.

Remember… “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

I love you guys!

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Kind and Generous

Every morning I wake up asking God for supernatural encounters. I never knew how they would come, and it would be a lie to say that I always have one. In fact, as of late, I’ve had far fewer than what I would attest to have been almost a several times a week kind of deal in the past. This isn’t to say they weren’t occuring, but there is something to say about how one can blind themselves to the things around them. In other words… I most likely wasn’t seeing them.

Today is one of the most oddest, genuine, and simple encounters I’ve had lately. It might sound a bit strange to you, but track me on this. It’s part vent, part testimony, part prayer request.

Today was a rough, rough day. Doctor’s visit, work, and a flood of memories that smacked me square in the face when I least expected it. Nothing good really was happening today… at least that is how I was seeing it. I had a crappy health report given to me this morning, and I find myself frustrated, as I left the doctor’s office and drove to work. Two things were hitting me on the drive… I have a bad rep for pretty much back peddling on the advice of doctors. If I feel good enough to do it… well, I’m going to do it. Not always good, but sometimes not bad either. Depends on how you look at it. Part stupidity, part faith… isn’t necessarily the best combination, but it’s how I roll from time to time.

The thing is… lately, I had been doing exactly what the doctor asked of me. Only to return weeks later, and be given a bad report anyway. That was a frustrating beginning to the day. The report didn’t really dismay me, as I knew something was up, and I was feeling worse than when I was originally diagnosed with the condition months ago; but the thought that I had truly worked hard at watching my sugar levels, eating the right things, etc etc only to hear it isn’t doing any good was just… not cool.

Anyways, today was simply… frustrating, and emotional, and well, the two combined just made it all crappy. When I left the doc’s office, my first thought was to call my mom. Hence, the emotions and fuel to the flames in the frustration department. My mom past away last year and from time to time I found myself still picking up the phone and dialing her number without thinking. We had our problems, our tiffs, our battles of wills; but she was my mom. And no other, besides my best friend, has ever been there for me like her. When things would get tough, she was the one I would first call. We would pray together, laugh together, and sometimes cry together. The solution may not immediately come, but I knew it would. No matter the difficult times between us… I KNEW I could rely on her love, her input, and her prayers for me.

Driving down the road, dialing her number, and suddenly realizing no one was going to pick up that line… just about killed me. My heart sank and the tears began to flow. My heart was physically hurting. I was blinded to the point where I had to pull over, just sit, and let it all out. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to hear her voice reassure me, “It’s going to be okay.”

Floods of memories and emotions were hitting me like a monsoon. The past and the present were intermixed in such a way that it was just pretty much unbearable and a blur. I wanted to tell her all that had happened. Ask her how to get through it. How to find the strength to deal with such crap that had hit me in the past month or two. But I couldn’t, and all the prayer and the worship in the world seemingly wasn’t helping me. I wanted that physicaly, earthly connection, of my best friend, my mom, to comfort and help me.

Sure, I could wake up in the morning… tell myself, “God is with you. Get it together.” And, I would indeed, go to work, go to church, worship at home, worship in the car, ending the day with some play time with the pup, a bit of reading, prayer, and devotions, and a good night’s sleep. But where my tears should be of joy, it was almost constantly of heartache. The heartache of having to worship just to push through the pain and hurt, to only feel it come back again later. That’s no way to live and walk in your spiritual life. You shouldn’t be worshiping JUST to get through pain. Worship is part of a reverence found in praise, and there have been times when it has been BEYOND easy, but most times it was just simply to FEEL something… anything.

I have a tendency to bottle up my emotions, and for the past several weeks I’ve been doing just that. Fearful of where my mind could take me, and the fact that the hurt may just end up breaking me… I didn’t want any of my feelings to surface. I’m not a big crier, and even less on confrontation. Even when I flat out knew something was done wrong against me — I have a tendency to bottle up, close up, and let no one inside to the point where I wouldn’t even speak up in my own defense — taking on the “let God and let God” approach. A lot of guilt has been shouldered lately by me for this exact reason. My silenece was taken as confirmation of accusations made against me and my family, yes my family — a whole other story, whole other post, and definitely a whole other venting session that probably will never surface here.

I’ve remained silent before… many times…. and it’s gotten me into trouble before. My mom would first love on me, then scold me for not speaking up and defending myself, and then end up praying with me for “holy boldness” to speak in the face of adversity, etc. My silence, this time, brought more hurt than the satisfaction that I had kept myself in check — and my mouth closed — against others in the face of accusations that had both hurt me and had ended up being used to verbally attack my family and directly dishonor my mother’s memory.

Questions on why I didn’t stand up for myself was completely replaced with why I did not stand up for my mom. I was willing to take the abuse on myself, but why accept the enemy to destroy and taint the memory of my mother because of things NO ONE understood or knew, and had only wrongly assumed, guessed, and perceived because of MY past and then attempting to extrapolate and draw a conclusion from it. She hadn’t been gone a year and the anniversary of her death was literally just around the corner when all of this had occured. Somehow such a guilt-ridden question was used by the enemy to absolutely riddle me with arrows, so to speak. I was, like I said before, flooded with feelings of guilt and anger and hurt; and it effectively helped fuel old wounds and past hurts done both by myself and against me. Trust is a BIG issue for me, and has been ever since I was a child. The phrase, “Love all. Trust few. Do wrong to none,” was a common practice in my life by the time I was a young adult. But it now seemed all so… unpractical. Worthless. Useless. Regret for my own silence helped spur and open the door to attacks from the enemy. Essentially, I felt and in a way (I discovered today) still feel that I had helped deliver the final blow.

If I were to say that I have not been depressed, I would be lying. If I were to say that worship for me was the key to filling and replacing the hurt and pain with joy (like it has ALWAYS done in the past)… I would be lying. There was, and essentially is, still so much hurt that worship for me has become nothing more than a salve for my wounded heart.

So I think it odd tonight, that when I woke up this morning and asked for a divine and spiritual encounter, it came in the way of a simple song by a secular artist. Actually it begun long before that, earlier in the day. It was probably the reason why I had realized it was God’s way of communicating to me through a form that always gains my attention… music. It’s a universal language… physically and spiritually. No matter what I’m feeling, how down I might get, music has always been this little pathway in my physical and spiritual ears that just never could close off.

So here I was… an hour, maybe more, on the side of the road after leaving the doctor’s office, just pouring my heart and crying out to God — which was a heck of a lot more like venting to God — and just really feeling plain pity for myself and all the crap going on — when I had finally tried to convince myself to suck it up and head to work.

I work one job in two different places. Off Post and on. One is taking orders and the other is engraving for much of the orders I took earlier in the week. I went to the first — building my little shadowboxes, engraving plaques and medals, and listening to good old Air 1. It stays on 24/7 at my tech bench, regardless if I’m there or not. Five minutes into sitting at my desk, I had realized, the station wasn’t on. When I turned it on, I heard a rough voice sing the words, “Wherever you are now, Whatever evil has found you, Bring all your troubles, and come lay ’em down.” It took 2.5 seconds for me to have to get up, close my door, and cry. I was pouring out my heart once again, proclaiming my struggles and the fact that I was just plain, utterly tired — physically, emotionally, and especially mentally and spiritually. I believe we all have such spiritual fatigue from time to time, usually in some minute way I suspect, but for me…. it was more than minute… it was tremendous, ungodly, and detremental. It was the kind of “fatigue” that I was not used to, nor do I believe I have ever encountered before. It was the kind of fatigue that was causing serious conflict in my body, mind, and spirit… and was bringing me down, and bringing me down fast.

I had allowed the enemy to battle with me, and I had lost the battle and allowed myself to be trampled in the natural and the spiritual. I was believing that I was ready for a spiritual battle (something I suspected and was warned about months ago, just not suspected in the manner the enemy undertook) that I was no more equipped to take on than an infant taking its first steps desperately reaching out in a feeble attempt to grab a hold of something. Because of my own inadequacy and past failures, the enemy was able to take past hurts and sins and use them against me in the present, and I had ignorantly and pridefully allowed him to do it.

“Whereever you are, whatever evil has found you, bring all your troubles…” Wow, it hit me, and hit me hard. God knew EXACTLY where I was. I had and have been on the brink for days, emotionally. He knew that this day would come where all the crap bottled up inside was goign to spew. And He was ready to take hold of me and simply just love on me. I searched for the entire song, and it rung true like a bell in a tower. It was right on, and in good timing. The feeling that God WAS there, that He understood, and that He was reaching out to me was becoming clear. Deadlines were approaching, and I tried hard to concentrate and finish my work. The song sat on repeat for hours, and I continuously was awe-struck by the beginning of the song:

Come down to the river, come and let yourself in
Make good on a promise, to never hurt again…

A promise was made to God, and Him to me, many many years ago, that surfaced like a fish out of water. I won’t discuss that promise here, but let’s just say…. the words sung above by the artist was right on with part of the promise made. The word “promise” kept coming back to me again and again. I felt God specifically wanted to bring this to my memory. What He had promised, and vice versa. It was important, I felt, that I remembered it verbatim. And I found myself spending several minutes writing out the words verbatim as I could recall them on a tiny yellow post-it. When I finished, my newly purchased song was now blaring in my truck as I made my way to my second job.

The environment on base is far different. I don’t have a lot of control of what I play, due to the fact that “music of a religious nature” may be deemed offensive to some of the soldiers that come into the shop, and therefore no longer allowed to be played in ear shot, which for me and others in the shop, means it can’t be played at all. So when I’m in the front, I find myself having to listen to whatever secular station is on. After a trying and busy three hours of pure non-stop ordering of plaques and medals and shadowboxes, for the first time in three hours a lull had begun and I could breathe. It was only minutes when people stopped coming in and it was practically simply dead silent in the shop minus the tiny hint of a radio playing in the background, Merchant’s “Kind and Generous” came on.

I’m very familiar with the song, and yes, I like it! I turned it up, did some paperwork, and listened. I found myself humming the song, and eventually I begun singing along. Essentially… it’s a praise song, she’s just praising someone else. But, as I heard her sing the words, it’s as if it might as well should have been my own words.

“You’ve been so kind and generous…. I don’t know why you keep on giving. For your kindness, I am in debt to you. And I never could have gone this far without you. For everything you’ve done, you know I’m bound to thank you for it.”

The song is full of “thank yous” and admirations full of love, kindness and generousity being poured out. Her song became my own, and I found myself singing it long after the song had ended. As I sung the tune, sitting there working on paperwork, with tears in my eyes… the goodness, kindness, and generosity of God was overwhelming, and memories of God’s faithfulness began to overtake the memories of a troublesome and hurtful past that has been used as a source of condemnation in my present.

Through two simple little songs, God had shown me His immeasurable love for me, and that my joy IS there, only that I have to fight just a little longer to maintain, keep it, and share it with others. It is a struggle, I’ll admit. My heart is full of pain, hurt, remorse, regrets, etc…. but I’m amazed… always… at how God uses ANYTHING to connect with me personally. To get His point across and to show His love for me.

Keep me in prayer, as I do you. I love you, guys… and on a more personal note… thank you for bearing with me in the process of my sudden need to vent and the spilling of my guts!
“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

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A Footnote in History

Last night, I started reading Chronicles 1 & 2 (part of my daily Bible reading plan), and in the three hours of sleep I got, I tossed and turned, until I finally just got back up and had my devotional.  My prayer last night had, in all honesty, begun to bug me and had bled into my morning devotional.

After reading the select scriptures, I found myself attracted to the footnote-like additions that would appear by a name.  E.g. Nimrod; Timnah; the mentioning of Tamar (a heroing, fascinating account (Genesis 38) of total utter boldness… it is by far my favorite account of a stepping stone in both the lineage of David and Jesus through this obscure woman in the Old Testament, and one I obsessed over and studied for years!); Uri of Bezalel — the list goes on and on.

Each of the people mentioned in both books of Chronicles is obviously important.  It was the heritage and lineage of the Israeliets.  Exiled and relocated to foreign lands, it was important that the people REMEMBERED their heritage.  REMEMBERED where they came from, and who their God was.  Think about it… it wouldn’t have taken long for the culture to be lost while not only living but expected to be fully, culturally integrated into their conquerer’s culture (religions and customs).

In a nutshell, the only thing that was going to hold them together (after full tribes and families were being divided and displaced – many never to see one another again), was the re-accounting of the family tree, written down — documented, so that the people of Israel would NEVER forget where they came from; and in return, would remember the promises and convenant God made with their ancestors.

So why the obscure mentionings of a select few in the family tree?  Little side notes that would periodically appear by a certain name?  Some good, and some… not so good.  Take Nimrod for example.  Several dozen names are mentioned, when suddenly an addition is made to describing one of Cush’s sons – Nimrod.  The Word says that he had begun to be a mighty warrior upon the Earth.

Not much is mentioned about Nimrod after this, or really before this and yet he is indeed mentioned in prior scriptures, Genesis 10 primarily.  All that we know is that he ruled many lands, was powerful, a conquerer, and a mighty warrior and hunter before God. The Bible and outsides texts paints different pictures of our little known Nimrod.  Perhaps the reason why he has made it outside of the Bible, is because of what other people noticed, as well.  An obscure mentioning about Nimrod in the Word of God, where everyone else around him was just simply noted in the family tree.

None of this is to say that less importance should be made to those that didn’t have that little asterisk beside their name, so to speak.  It just simply means that the scribe wanted to bring to attnetion that there was something exceptional that needed to be said about particular individuals.

Last night as I finished reading, I was praying, and I suddenly asked at the end of my prayer, “Father, will there be a footnote by my name?”  Something in me screamed, shouted.  Like I got slapped on the back of the head suddenly.  I was thrown back, said “Amen,” had gone to bed.  But as I said, that didn’t last long.

This morning as I was having my devotional, it continued to bug me on what I had asked.  I started meditating on my words, and the answer soon came.  Why a footnote?  The question to myself stunned me.  Yea…. why did I say footnote?

I was suddenly reminded of this song called “Legacy,” and the chorus always rung true with me:

I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love? Did I point to You enough to make a mark on things?
I want to leave an offering; a child of mercy and grace
Who blessed Your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy

Catchy chorus.  Good song.  Never really thought too much on the chorus until this morning though.  I started to hear the Lord say to me, “Why a footnote?  Is that all that you think you are?  A footnote?”

I began to cry, as God reitterated His love, His faith, and His hope for me.  We are all more than a footnote.  We are children of the Most High.  We are LIVING legacies that will continue on well past we are gone.  It takes the call to love, and the action to walk in that love, and all that falls in place because of it.

Footnotes can be nice, but I don’t want to be a footnote, folks.  I don’t want a simple statement on my grave marker to be all that’s left of me.  I want to leave a legacy that surpasses something on a marker.  A legacy exists with the ones you leave behind and remember the effect you had on their lives.  A legacy exists because you TOUCHED someone in a way that cannot be forgotten.  A legacy exists when you’ve changed the circumstances around you, and effectively the lives of those around you as well.  A legacy exists when you have the boldness and conviction to stand by your beliefs and your faithfulness in those beliefs and those around you are witnessed to that.  A legacy is more than a footnote.  I don’t want to be a footnote in the history books — a footnote among my brothers and sisters in Christ.  I want to be legacy where when it is all said and done… the Lord looks down on the lives of those I touched in His name, for His kingdom, for His glory, and I simply hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Think about it.

I love you, guys!
“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
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