Ni de aquí, Ni de allá

So I have written and rewritten this blog over and over because I haven’t been too happy about how I have expressed my self. I guess though that with the recent events in the soccer world it becomes easier for me to describe it from this perspective.

I cheer for the USA and Mexico when it comes to national team soccer. My favorite soccer teams are Club America and the L.A. Galaxy.  Yet, when the USMNT plays Mexico, I will cheer for the US over Mexico!

I have been called many things because of this. Things like sell-out, traitor, “pocho”, and coconut, just to name a few. People get angry and frustrated when they see me walking around in my US soccer jersey and I guess it’s understandable. 

I born and raised in L.A. Grew up on Cantinflas, La India Maria, and el Chapulín Colorado as my entertainment. Rancheras, corridos and Luis Miguel were blasted from our radios. My favorite food is “Chiles Rellenos” and I love “pan dulce” with a passion (my father use to say my real dad was a baker).

My dad is from Tlalchapa, Guerrero and my mom is from La Constancia, Durango. I spent my summer vacations in my mom’s childhood home; Spanish was my first language but even then, like the India Maria once said “ni de aquí, ni de allá,” which means “neither from here or there.” My cousins never considered me Mexican and in school I was not American. Even so, you can tell I am as Mexican as they come.

The US has truly been a land of opportunity for parents and I. We obtained free education, health services, and a pretty decent standard of living. English eventually my first language, I like country music (don’t judge!), funnel cakes, hotdogs and the Beach Boys; hey, I am a Cali dude after all.

Yet, in a society where you MUST choose a side I have chosen to root for the US.

I have my reasons. For many, they seem illogical but they’re my reasons nevertheless. I am proud of my Mexican heritage, don’t get me wrong. The US though is the country where I was born, raised, and might die in.

In history, Mexicans born in the US have had to fight for they identity. They were considered outcasts by both their country birth and their country of heritage. In order to fill that void, the Chicano movement was born. They fought for the rights of Mexican-American in the US. One of the greatest leaders in the Chicano movement was Cesar Chavez.

It reminds me a lot of my place here in this earth. The bible says that we are not of this world. More specifically it says, “If you were of the world, the world would love you as its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you.” (John 15:19)

So many times we walk around in this world trying to fit in. We fight the battle of being both spiritual and social beings. The amazing thing about this is that our identity is not defined by the world. The bible time and time again identifies those who believe in Jesus and trust in him as friends (John 15:15), his workmanship (Ephesians 2:10), fellow citizens… and members of the household of God (Ephesians 2:19), children of God (John 1:12), and many more. While the world may reject us, God accepts us.

So I guess in the end it doesn’t matter whether I cheer for the US or Mexico. My identity far more than Mexican-American or Chicano is, above all things, a Son of God. We are all free to be proud of our heritage. I invite you to celebrate that heritage! It is beautiful to be part of such a diverse country where cultures can mix and we can have such things as Korean tacos, interracial marriages, Spanglish, Tex-Mex music and pizza with a side of Jarritos to wash it down. Remember, “You were bought with a price; do not become bondservants of men.” (1 Corinthians 7:23)

I am a son of two countries, but above all I am a son of the Almighty God, through Jesus, who gave His life for me.

"What else could we do? We don't want any other King. We're your people."

The Mice, from The Last Battle

-C.S. Lewis

The Why Of... part 1

...To be like Jesus

I guess it’s a choice that still continues to follow me today. I didn’t have to make it. I could have allowed for things to just go on as usual and maybe I wouldn’t be where I am at today. Yet, when I said those words, in a way I make an “unintentional” commitment for my life to take a different path.

She was sitting alone in a bench right outside of the administration building. It was late, people were slowly making themselves back into the dorms but she just sat there staring starry eyed into the dark, void night. As I picked up the pace to walk by her, something had me turn back.

I sat next to her and she gave me a weird look.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“What do you care?” she responded in a clearly annoyed toned.

There was silence. I wanted to leave so bad but I just couldn’t something held me glued to my seat. And in that moment of silence she put her had between her hands and began to cry.

In the midst of tears she spoke of heartbreak, loss, doubts, evil thoughts, anger, regret, frustrations and the end of it all. She spoke with rage of those who hurt her and was serious about the direction of her life and how to end it.

And as she ended she turned with tears in her eyes and asked, “Why do you care? Why did you turn and sit next to me when everyone else walked right on by?”

I wasn’t expecting that question. I was hoping to answer a much easier one or maybe take up a request for prayer. I guess that when someone is broken they want to know why others even care.

“I want to be like Jesus,” I responded hesitantly and with a bit of doubt.

Her eyes swelled up, tears fell down her cheeks and a peaceful laughter came from her now smiling face. “Well, you’re on the right path,” she said.

She stood up, thanked me and walked away.

We didn’t pray or hug or read the bible but in an unexplainable way God made himself present. It was that day that I can honestly say that I knew that I wanted to do something in which I could show the love of Jesus to every one I met. I didn’t plan to be a pastor; I had put that desire behind me and was now looking forward to a career as a teacher.

Today, I find myself in the seminary, a place that I now that I had intentionally avoided for many years. I’m far from being like Jesus. Every day it is a struggle to be connected to him and reflect his love. My go to verse has been Galatians 2:20 “I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me.”

In the end, for me it is about that commitment I made in Puerto Rico. A daily surrender of who I am to be more like Jesus.

I want to be like Jesus. Hold me accountable to it but forgive me if I fail to do so because as you may know, it is a daily fight against our natures.

The Love of God

1^st Corinthians 13 gives us one of the clearest descriptions of what real love is going through a list of characteristics that shame our limited attempts at demonstrating love to others.

Love is…

Patient

Kind

Does not envy

Does not boast

Not proud

Does not dishonor others

Not self-seeking

Not easily angered

Keeps no record of wrong

Does not delight in evil

Rejoices with the truth

Protects

Trusts

Always hopes

Always perseveres

Love never fails.

In our hearts there is this God-given desire to love. In spite of the pain and heartbrokenness that we may have experienced, we still desire to love and love deeply. There’s a desire to open up your heart and let a person come in and be vulnerable with them. I’m learning slowly but surely what God’s love is like through my life experience and I’ve gotten a glimpse of what His love means.

His love always hopes. Despite the rejection and apathy that we show towards the sacrifice of Jesus. Despite the constant walking away from Him, He continues to hope that we will open the door of our hearts and let Him in. He hopes that His still small voice with shake the innermost parts of our souls and would embrace His love.

His love always perseveres. It is a love that will not give up because it desires the best for us. A love that carries on loving us when we are at our weakest. A love that gently, continuously and persistently calls our name. A love that will not be defeated!

The love of God, a love that NEVER fails!

I may fall short of the mark. I may be the cause of pain or suffering or be the receiver of it but His love will never fail me. It’s a love not dependent on what I do. It's a love that call me to fight and never give up on the one you love. I personally hope that the love that I give may be a love that aims to be at the standard of God’s love for me.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable”

-C.S. Lewis

Story Telling

This Labor Day weekend I spent it catching up with old friends at Camp Blue Ridge. I was expecting to fill them in on my life and get caught up with theirs. Many I hadn’t seen in a really long time and others make it a point to keep tabs on me (they know me well to do so). Yet, the experiences that we had could not be scripted.

Saturday was such a blessing. Conversations and prayers lead to what was one of the most memorable moments of camp. 

Sharing with people my story and hearing theirs is one of the most impacting things that we can do. I wish I could share with you the things that were spoken but I do not have permission to share such intimate details of God working on people’s lives.

I learned that we are all broken in one way or another. I saw how difficult it is to look at our scars and relive the moments that hurt us the most. I saw tears pour out as the pain, even if it was long ago, was still very much present in our hearts. I witnessed the power of the comfort of God. I experienced the fulfillment of Jesus’ words “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” (John 14:27)

I learned that God is not done!

Each one of us is a supporting actor in the story of grace. Jesus is the lead actor. He is our knight in shinning armor. He is the hero that is always there to come to our rescue.

Jesus is the eloquent writer of the story of our lives. He is the novelist that infuses passion and dedication to his “Magnum Opus” that is our lives and the fulfillment of His infinite love.

God is not done! The story doesn’t end with pain, fear, suffering or death. Hebrews 12:2 states that Jesus is the “founder and perfecter of our faith,” meaning that he writes our story through His sacrifice, a story that always has the perfect ending; Jesus writes our “happily ever after.”

Your story does not have to end today. Jesus wants to take over the pen of your life and write a beautiful ending to it. You see, story writing is not our job, it’s God’s job. It may be hard to see where he is going in the course of the various chapters of our lives but he knows where he is going with it.

Spoiler Alert!

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more… He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” (Revelation 21:1, 4) 

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."

-Maya Angelou

THE OLD MAN ON THE BENCH

Writing is a way to make sense of everything that is around you. To give your thoughts a safe haven to assemble in a coherent, yet sometimes incoherent, order to express the deepest thoughts of your heart. 

Thoughts. They come many times in the middle of the night. You think of a hundred ways on how you could have done things different. 

Words. They escape you when they are most important. Oh, but they have a way of coming back when everything has been said and done. 

Emotions. That never seem to go away. They settle in your heart and grow stronger as they linger reminding you, as you sit and write.

Writing is my way of getting it all out. 

Of screaming through my fear.
Of pushing through the pain.
Of throwing dust to the wind.
And… 

I wrote a few times of an old man on a bench, a man that I visit often for advice and reflection. He is an old man full of wisdom that has been a guide in difficult times. 

I mused him with my problems and conundrums. He always had a way of making me fall into reason and never ignored my feelings; he acknowledged them and never laughed. This old man knows what it is to be me. 

He talked me through my break up and showed me that there is hope. He encouraged me as I spoke to him about chasing after the one I had so cowardly let go. He nodded his head in agreement when I spoke of my desire to love and looked intensely at me as I spoke to him about the paralyzing fear. 

I recounted to him every scar. He sat silently listening as I reminded him how each one of them was made. 

He smiled. 

“Son,” he said as he looked up to the clear blue sky “I bet every single one of them was worth it.”

“How can they be worth it?” I shot back at him, my eyes blurred in tears and my heart aching as I relived every single one of those painful moments.

His hand reached over. He held my hand in his calloused, trembling hands. “Look at yourself. You’re learning. You’re growing. You’re trusting God deeper and completely. You may not understand right now but one day you might be this old man in a bench, sitting next to a young and eager boy telling him that it’s all worth it. But don't let go son. Keep fighting, even when you feel that you've messed up greatly” and he smiled again. 

I stared into those deep brown eyes. The wrinkles on his eyes, forehead, and mouth each told a story of pain, tears, sorrow, loss that were overshadowed by the joy, happiness, fulfillment and assurance that can only come through experience and complete reliance on God. His eyes were not sad, they were full of peace of a life well lived, without regrets for he made every moment count even when they didn’t make sense. 

I pressed my hand harder on his. Stood up and kissed his cheek. “Thanks,” I whispered as I turned and walked away. 

I turned to say something else but I saw him walking away. His peppered hair swaying in the soft breeze of that cool summer evening. His age did not show as he walked upright, his head held high as if he was a victorious soldier returning home from war. And I smiled. 

I know that the next time I come to that bench he will be there. Sitting. Patiently waiting to hear, to listen to the musings of my heart. And he will smile, he always does, when I write.

“A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.” 

― Maya Angelou

MIRRORS

What do you see when you look in the mirror?

I’ll tell you what I see…

Brown skin made darker by the exposure to sun. I have a wicked farmers tan that has managed to stay on me for longer than I can remember. Today, as I looked into the mirror I saw a scruffy jet-black beard and cow-licked hair. Bloodshot, dazed brown eyes.

Oh, how could I forget my beauty mark? The one thing that I haven’t been able to escape as long as I’ve know, that thing that has cause questions and ridicule through out my life; the mole on the tip of my nose.

What I see is not beauty. I see imperfections, things that I wouldn’t think twice about changing. I wish a was a little bit taller, I wish I was a baller… ha ha. Seriously though, I look and many times I ask my self, what if I looked different?

And then, I keep staring. Looking deeper into my soul and I see scars, brokenness and all things horrible. I see a coward. My past is staring at me with the memories of stupid mistakes. Memories of self-indulgence and dirty works. I’m ugly!

Instead of the “warm fuzzies” that as a child gave away so freely I’ve been busy handing out “cold pricklies” because for the life of me it seems that I can give nothing more than that.

Mirrors aren’t supposed to lie. They are a reflection of your current and present state of being. Mirrors show you the imperfections and the not so imperfect. Mirrors always speak the truth. Yet, as I inspected the mirror closely I realized that mirrors get dirty, blurry, even broken and the show us a distorted image of who we are.

1 Corinthians 13 is commonly know as the Chapter of Love. It gives a very accurate and complete definition of what love is but in verse 12 talks about a mirror… “Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.”

I love how the NLT version puts it, “puzzling reflections in a mirror.”

Puzzling because in the inner most part of my soul I know that what I see is not what I was intended to be. Puzzling because I know that the ugliness, not just the exterior appearance but the inner ugliness in me is not what God created me to be.

Christine Caine tweeted, “How long will you continue to forsake your destiny because you are so fixated on your history? It’s time to move past your past.”

So, you see that right now we see ourselves imperfectly because we only see puzzling reflections of who we are because of our past. We are reminded daily of how ugly we are. Yet, our view of ourselves is not complete because we failed to see ourselves as God sees us.

The partial view of yourself in the mirror is not an absolute reality. Colossians 2:10, 13, 14 states that “you also are complete through your union with Christ… You were dead because of your sins and because your sinful nature was not yet cut away. Then God made you alive with Christ, for he forgave all our sins. He canceled the record of the charges against us and took it away by nailing it to the cross.”

Our completeness is found in Christ! God has made you alive! He cancelled the debt of our sins! God has made us complete! Don’t allow the dirty, broken, unreliable mirrors to dictate you perception of what God sees in you.

Mirrors only reflect the present imperfections but God’s love shows us the completeness of who we are because he knows us completely.

BTW… just in case you were wondering, that is me in the picture.

"There are far better things ahead than any we leave behind."

-C.S. Lewis-

Megaphone

Scars are scars even when they come from self-inflicted wounds. 

They power that many times they have upon us is amazing and sometimes indescribable. Every one of those scars carry a meaning, they carry a story, they carry with each of them pain. Each scar has the power to freeze you in your tracks. Each scar has the power to make you doubt and second-guess. But that power that scars have is all a memory of the pain once felt. We become conditioned to believe that risks and challenges we face will cause pain and hurt again.

It is that pain that scares us.

It is the pain that stops us in our tracks.

It is the pain that makes us doubt.

It is the pain that makes us think that we are nothing.

It is the pain that changes us.

There once was a very successful and powerful king. His kingdom flourished under his rule. One day, this king, instead of going to war decided to stay home and relax while his army fought in his name.

The king went out on a walk and as he was on the roof of his palace, he saw a beautiful woman bathing.

He saw her.

He desired her.

He made her his own.

He sinned.

She was pregnant.

He killed the woman’s husband, who also happened to be a close friend.

He tried to hide the wounds he had cause to others and himself.

A prophet then approached the king with a story;

“So the Lord sent Nathan the prophet to tell David this story: “There were two men in a certain town. One was rich, and one was poor. The rich man owned a great many sheep and cattle. The poor man owned nothing but one little lamb he had bought. He raised that little lamb, and it grew up with his children. It ate from the man’s own plate and drank from his cup. He cuddled it in his arms like a baby daughter. One day a guest arrived at the home of the rich man. But instead of killing an animal from his own flock or herd, he took the poor man’s lamb and killed it and prepared it for his guest.” 

(2 Samuel 12:1-4)

David was mad. Furious. Enraged.

Yet, as Nathan revealed that he was that rich man who took from the poor man his only lamb, David recognized his sin.

David was broken. Shattered.

Scarred by his own doing.

And in the midst of all that pain, David cried out to God. He understood his sin. He understood that now he was wounded and scarred. Yet, his cry reveals to us what we must do as we stare at our own wounds and scar.

“Create in me a clean heart, O God,

And renew a steadfast spirit within me.

Do not cast me away from Your presence,

And do not take Your Holy Spirit from me.

Restore to me the joy of Your salvation,

And uphold me by Your generous Spirit.”

(Psalm 51:10-12)

David understood that his wounded and scarred heart needed to be made anew. He understood that his brokenness was not an excuse to cry out to God. And in the midst of that pain he turned to God. His sought out his joy in the joy-Giver. He knew that his salvation did not depend on him but on the one that the sanctuary service pointed to.

Because of his sin, David lost a son. David wept for his lost son. Yet, after that pain and suffering he put his trust in God and went to Bathsheba, now his wife, and God gave them another child, Solomon.

Scars are very real. The wounds that caused them were very painful. The memory of that pain can feel all too real.

Scars are scars even when they come from self-inflicted wounds.

So the question I ask is, who is your megaphone?

Yes, you read right, megaphone.

A megaphone is an amplifier. It makes sound louder, it this case your voice.

So, who is your megaphone?

Who do you amplify when you are suffering? Who do you amplify when the scars are all too real? When you’re frozen in fear, who do you call?

Jesus himself suffered wounds. He was scarred. Yet it is those scars that give us freedom; freedom from our fear, pain, suffering, bad memories. "By his wounds we are healed." (Isaiah 53:5)

So, in the midst of everything, call on Christ as David did!

“For ‘Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.’” 

(Romans 10:13)

"Courage is about doing what you're afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you're scared"
-Eddie Rickenbacker-

Jesus and Trayvon

Now I understand that at this time this may be a touchy subject. I’m taking a huge risk in writing this and making it public and I must admit that when emotions run high it is dangerous to write something that attempts some balance.

I’ll tell you this much. All the rage, all the anger, all those emotions that we are all feeling are real. It is a innate desire for justice that God has put inside of us and every time it is broken we respond.

There is though, a question, something I have been pondering since the day of the verdict. As I read tweets and reports on the news the question kept nagging me and begged to be answered.

How would have Jesus responded?

There are many ways that Jesus could have responded.

In Matthew 21 Jesus responds with anger and indignation the great disrespect that was being done to the temple. He over-turned the tables of the moneychangers and demanded respect for the house of God.

Jesus was angry and demanded respect.

In John 8 Jesus is silent. Jesus hears and listens to accusations. He stands in the midst of those accusers, as a prostitute lays before him, ashamed, caught in the act. He is pressured to respond and act and pronounce a verdict, yet he remains silent. He kneels down and writes on the dust.

Jesus was silent.

In John 11 Jesus weeps. He cries because he feels the pain and suffering of his creation. He cries because the consequences of sin are very present. He cries because he know that soon this will be his reality and many of those present there would have turned on him. Jesus cries to the point that the people around them know that he loves Lazarus.

Jesus wept.

In John 17 Jesus prays. He prays for his disciples. He understands that very soon they will be on their own. He knows that they will suffer trials, persecution, and even death. He also prays for all believers. He prays for those who will come to know him and those that know him. He prayed for you and me!

Jesus prayed.

In Luke 23 Jesus died. He gave up his right. He gave up his comfort. He gave up his throne. He gave up his life. He became completely disconnected from the Father. He suffered the death that was meant for us. Nobody forced him to do it. He did it out of his won free will. And in the midst of death he prayed for forgiveness.

Jesus died.

Now, I am not saying to be idling and let things go by as if they aren’t important. On the contrary, we must strive for justice when there is injustice. Yet, above all things we must strive to be like Jesus.

Why Jesus and Trayvon? Because I believe that God is the ultimate judge. I know that Jesus would have probably marched along side all the protesters but in the midst of all of that he probably would have given his “Sermon in the Hood.” He would have reminded us what it means to be sons and daughters of God. He would have reminded us that there is hope. He would have spoken to us peace, a peace that the world cannot give. And as he walked away he would have reminded us of the words in Revelation 22:12 (NIV) “Look, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to each person according to what they have done.”

"I’m leaving you well and whole. That’s my parting gift to you. Peace. I don’t leave you the way you’re used to being left—feeling abandoned, bereft. So don’t be upset. Don’t be distraught."

John 14:27 (MSG)

You Are More

The second semester of my freshman year and first semester of my sophomore year in college I was head over heels for this one girl. Now you may think “Well that’s college. What’s the big deal? Everybody has a little crush here and there.”

There is one thing you have to understand about my college. It’s a small institution of higher learning hidden up top a mountain of a tropical forest. There were about four hundred students, total. Yup, that’s in the whole college! So you best bet that every one knew who you were the moment you stepped foot through those “pearly gates.”

Ok back to the head over heels part.

I really liked this girl. I pursued her for over a year. EVERYONE knew I liked her.

She didn’t like me back. She didn’t know what she was missing out on. (Ha ha ha, yes I’m being funny)

The first half of that first semester of my sophomore year things changed. One day my friends decided to go out to the beach. I don’t know why I didn’t go but in those days it was almost certain that a lonely Javier, meant a depressed Javier. So, I locked my self in my room, cranked up the Cypress Hill and went “insane in the membrane.” After listening to the music and getting pumped up I decided to leave the relatively safe compounds of my room and walk around campus, which was desolate like any other Sunday.

There I was. Sitting in front of an empty water fountain. Sulking in my depression.

Then a “bright” idea came to me, “Let’s walk around the fountain.”

Then another “genius” idea popped into my head, “Climb the fountain.”

It wasn’t weird that I wanted to climb the fountain. Many people before me had done it. Even up to three or four at a time.

So I climbed.

I felt like King Kong dangling from the Empire State Building. I even let out a scream and a few unmentionable words. And as I decided to climb down, I shifted my weight towards the lower lever of the fountain. I immediately felt not just my weight shift but also the weight of the fountain. In my desperation, I felt that I could hold back that pile of solid concrete coming my way, only to have to try and escape being crushed by it at the last moment.

I ended up in the hospital. No brain damage according to the doctors, although that’s debatable. I have a scar if you want to see it but the biggest scar was that to my reputation.

From that day on I was know as “Javier, the guys that broke the fountain.” It means that I was immature. I didn’t have control over my emotions. I was just a kid seeking attention. I wasn’t taken seriously. I was a joke. And even though my friends rallied around me, the rest of the four hundred students in that school believed everything they heard about me. The negative, the ugly, the shameful was what the vast majority believed. So, I decided to leave. I changed my major and flew back to California that December.

Recently, there is a song that I have been playing consistently. It’s by Tenth Avenue North called “You Are More.” Here is the chorus:

“You are more than the choices that you've made,

You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,

You are more than the problems you create,

You've been remade.”

I wish I had heard that song during those hard days where I didn’t feel I was much.

I have no idea why you are reading this today but I can assure you that the mistakes in your past do not dictate who you are or who you have to be. I certainly make mistakes as often and maybe as bad as anyone else but the Bible gives us this assurance “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

Take assurance that God can make you new.

If you feel like judging anyone, remember to give him or her the benefit of the doubt.

God has restored me. He continues to work on me everyday. Even though I may feel broken beyond repair, he still finds a way to make me whole.

'Cause this is not about what you've done, 

But what's been done for you. 

This is not about where you've been, 

But where your brokenness brings you to 

This is not about what you feel, 

But what He felt to forgive you, 

And what He felt to make you loved.

"You Are More" -Tenth Avenue North

If You were like Me

If you’re like me, well then, that’s a good thing to be.

Yeah that may sound presumptuous and arrogant but why wouldn’t you want to be like me?

I’m strong.

I’m firm.

I’m righteous.

I do no wrong.

I’m helpful.

I’m smart.

I pet puppies and kittens.

I’m exemplary.

Now tell me what’s wrong with that?

Nothing shakes me.

I’m unmovable.

Faithful and relentless.

Do you see what I’m getting at?

If you were like me you’d be awesome.

Extra… wait for it… ordinary!

The bombdigitty… (90’s reference)

You would never question. You would never doubt.

If you were like me, if only you were like me.

I read this story of a man named Job. He had everything, kind of like me. He couldn’t complain for God had gave him all. “There was a man in the land of Uz, whose namewas Job; and that man was perfect and upright, and one that feared God, andturned away from evil.” (Job 1:1)

You catch that? He was “perfect and upright.”

It seemed like nothing could go wrong. Then everything did go wrong. He lost all his money, his possessions were destroyed, he was covered in boils and his wife was of no support. His friends were only helpful while they were quiet, when they spoke they only made matters worse.

This “perfect and upright” man was at his breaking point. Actually, he broke.

“Then Job answered and said, Even today is my complaint rebellious: My stroke is heavier than my groaning. Oh that I knew where I might find him! That I might come even to his seat! I would set my cause in order before him, And fill my mouth with arguments… Behold, I go forward, but he is not there; And backward, but I cannot perceive him; On the left hand, when he doth work, but I cannot behold him; He hideth himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him.” (Job 23:1-4, 8-9)

Oh he was giving God a piece of his mind. He had the right arguments to speak to God and tell him how to do things.

And God listened.

He was quiet.

God let Job vent.

And that is kind of scary if you ask me.

After Job had his fill of complaints then God spoke.

He spoke out of a storm. Lightning, thunder, rain, winds, the whole enchilada! His voice roared over Job with the authority of the king and creator of this universe.

“Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind and said: ‘Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Dress for action like a man; I will question you,and you make it known to me.’” (Job 38:1-3)

That was it. God spoke and it was over.

You see if you were like me this would never happen. You would never doubt or question or deviate from truth or think highly of your self.

The problem is…

I’m not like me. I’m more like Job.

And in the end, that’s ok because I know that God will speak!