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REPOST from ED Gungor’s blog (General Overseer of CMI GLOBAL)

EdI woke up achy in my soul this morning—that sense of having no energy to be engaging, productive or generous. It’s usually followed by a sense of dread that today is going to be a day dominated by temptations to be “naughty.” My own history tells me that achy days are days where I’m more susceptible to eating badly, to buying something I don’t need, or to entertaining some salacious thought in my head that will feed impulses that are hard to manage.

In the past these were my “white-knuckle” godly days—the days where I tried to stay busy doing godly things. If I didn’t, the chances were high that the day would devolve into my giving way to the naughtiness—hoping my sin would not be too grave (maybe only ONE piece of pie).

Then a decade or so ago I discovered something.

The psalmist claimed that we live “in a dry and weary land where there is no water” (Psa. 63:1). I think he was simply pointing out that we humans need more than this world has to offer—that we all ache for something beyond this place, which means nothing on this planet can completely satisfy our hopes and expectations. This gives birth to what I am calling THE ACHE. The ache is that unsettling gloom we bump into deep within the dark corridors of our souls. It shows its anguished head whenever our souls are bruised with boredom, hunger, anger, loneliness, fatigue—or when we feel rejected or stressed out. It’s the thing we often call discontentment or being “out of sorts.”

I know there are a lot of Christian people who claim they never experience anything other than eternal bliss in their souls—that their faith is always an ecstatic, unwavering “glory” that bubbles inside their bosoms at all times—always clean; forever effervescent; never encroached upon with doubt. But I don’t think they are being honest. Truth is we all ache; we all have “off” days.

What’s critical is what we do with the ache once we sense it. We can try to distract ourselves from it by praying or reading the Bible more, by working harder, hunting for romance or more intense friendships, playing video games, watching too much TV, et cetera. Or we can try to anesthetize the ache with inappropriate destructive activity like roaming into fantasy and lust; eating whole cases of Twinkies; going on unnecessary shopping sprees; or participating in compulsive behaviors like drug or alcohol abuse.

Where do YOU run when you ache inside?

Make a control on your smoking and drinking habit These are viagra from india online two things we can’t live without, but excessive amount is bad. But, don’t completely rely on sex generic viagra usa for losing weight; do follow other weight loss exercises too. It consists cialis generika 20mg browse these guys of a fast acting formula that requires only few minutes and work for a longer time. get free levitra Booster Capsules: These are natural capsules with all-natural ingredients to provide effective treatment to ED. Here are four things I try to remember to do when I wake up achy. First, I think, “Well…here I go again.” In other words, I EXPECT the ache. I recognize that I live in a land where there is no water, so, I shouldn’t freak out if my thirst is poignant at times.

Secondly, I have come to know the directions my ache pushes me. I know my weaknesses. I think it’s important to “know thyself.”

Thirdly, I work to REINTERPRET/REDIRECT the ache. I focus on letting it remind me that people who live in a fallen world…ache. The ache also points to a repeating idea present all through Church history captured in Paul’s statement about the Christians who were said to “long for [Christ’s] appearing” (2 Tim 4:8). To “long” is to “ache.” In another place Paul penned, “But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await [ache?] a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ” (Phil. 3:20).

So, as a general rule, I stand up in my ache and declare: “Lord, I got the ache going on today. It hurts. But it reminds me I live in this fallen place—a citizen of another, and I’m suspicious that it also evidences my longing for your return—a “reminder” alarm that pops up on the screen of my soul that says: ‘Come quickly, Lord Jesus.’”

Fourthly, I purposely EMBRACE the ache; I try to enter the pain and angst with complete surrender. I accept it as a gift from God. By embracing the ache, I retrieve it from darkness and from being a motivation towards evil and flip it into a motivation towards the good. Instead of dreading the ache, I now want to protect and even cherish it! (How crazy is that??)

When I approach the ache in this way, what starts as a bummer day turns into a day of sweet pain (still pain!)—not unlike the ache of waiting at a train station for your lover to arrive—it may be a disorienting ache, but it is also filled with hope, joy, and anticipation.

Ed Gungor

THOUGHTS FOR A NEW YEAR (repost from Ed Gungor / CMI Global)

Ed“Thoughts For A New Year” by ED GUNGOR

We all have some things in our lives that we would like to see changed—maybe it’s taking off a few pounds, or breaking up some old habit. That’s why New Year’s resolutions are so popular. They hold the promise of change, but it turns out that New Year’s resolutions are pretty short lived. They start out strong, but like the squint after leaving an afternoon matinee, they wear off.

Why?

According to fourth century theologian St. Augustine humans can “will away” all we want, but it will not produce consistent change because sin has broken the effectiveness of our wills. For Augustine, this is the worm that has curled its way into the apple of the human condition. And it means that human will power alone doesn’t have the punch needed for real transformation. This is why Paul cries, “What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?” (Rom. 7:24). He was talking about the whole dilemma of wanting to do right but always ending up doing wrong, a concept we all get too well.

It turns out that transformation in the Christian sense (versus the kind of change some accomplish by sheer will power) is not accomplished as we redouble our effort, but is experienced as we embrace what the Spirit is doing in us. The New Testament claims that “goodness” is a fruit of the Holy Spirit that is communicated to us through simple faith. As we trust Christ and endeavor to pursue his active presence in our lives, we end up mysteriously participating in God’s goodness, which is his Divine nature. Just like you can pick up bad stuff from hanging with wrong friends, you can pick up good traits from chumming with God through stuff like prayer, silence, study, becoming part of a great church community, etc. When we do this, his graciousness to us makes us gracious to others; his kindness to us makes us kind; his comfort to us makes us comfort each other, and so on. The result is transformation.

This means that we need something other than a strong will to live rightly. The only successful therapy for the transformed life is divine grace. Grace is God’s favor or “help” for our lives. Grace is what makes change possible to us. Grace is the idea that God gets in the mix of the average person’s world and makes things different. That’s what grace does. It changes things. It changes people.

The task at hand is to figure out how a person with your unique personality and mind-set can best tap into grace. For me grace is most easily accessed as I sit in silence and pray written prayers (e.g. Book of Common Prayer). As I pray and meditate in silence, grace dawns inside me. My wife, Gail, taps into grace as she sings and worships. Others touch God’s grace most by getting together with other believers, by retreating into times of solitude, by taking hikes into nature, or by one of the other many spiritual practices modeled in scripture and church history—and there are a bunch of them: study, worship, celebration, service, prayer, fellowship, confession, submission, solitude, silence, fasting, sacrifice, and so on. Once you find the pathways that help you tap into grace, you can practice those in order to stay under its influence. The trick is to find the “spout” where grace comes out for you, and hang there.

When nerve involved in digestion viagra without prescriptions canada process is damaged, nausea, vomiting, constipation or diarrhea can occur. Even by following some viagra no prescription mastercard food habits, sciatica nerve soreness can be eliminated. It has click to read more order cheap viagra a place with a class of medications called phosphodiesterase (PDE) inhibitors. Thus, stress and the disrupted urinary levitra uk process can result in erection problems. A changed life is the real import of the gospel. The gospel was designed to rewrite a person’s life. The more our lives are rewritten, the greater our influence will be on others around us. Our connection with the person of God never just takes place in our hearts or personal space, it influences situations, community, family, friendships, civic work—everything. True faith is always pushed out from the domain of just thought. Our faith plunges us into real life with courage to face all the suffering and contradictions that occur there, while we remain steady in our devotion. It is this kind of living that causes us to influence the world.

Few things capture us like people-stories. We are fascinated by real life and ordinary people—perhaps because we recognize that each of our lives is jammed with similar struggles and ironies, and stories of transformation strike us; they give us hope. The hard truth is that people in our culture are not interested in what we believe; they are only interested in the beliefs that have actually changed us. They want to know if our beliefs actually alter the way in which we live. Do they modify our story?

This is how the typical mom with three kids still in diapers can influence the world. This is how the high-school student, who is still trying to discover who she is and where she fits in the world, can influence others for Jesus. This is how the retired person struggling with health issues or caring for an elderly parent changes the world.

The apostle Peter claimed that when we live our lives in a way that shows we have “set apart Christ as Lord” in our hearts, we will create a question in the minds of others. Peter contends that the role of the believer is to “always be prepared to give an answer” to the emerging questions from those who observe our lives. Somehow, as we intentionally “set apart Christ as Lord” in our hearts, we start looking different; our story changes. We become marked with “bright spots” (joy, peace, kindness, patience, hope, and so on). These bright spots create a question inside those who live in our proximity. When the question comes, Peter says we are to answer. I suggest that answering the question our lives create is the secret to changing the world around us.

Let me say this as clearly as I can: You can change. What IS does not have to stay that way.Things really can be different in 2014. An Old Testament prophet once told the people: “TheLORD has much more for you than this.” (2 Chron. 25:9)

What if that is true?

Ed Gungor

SMALL IS THE NEW BIG by ED GUNGOR

Ed GungorMy dog’s name is Frank. He is a little, white-haired  terrier of some kind. He may be small but he lives large in the Gungor family. He thinks he’s one of us and he has the job of “protector. If you came to my door right now and we were trying to talk, Frank would be a force to reckon with. He’d be freaking out that a “stranger” is at the door. And his bark is unnerving. He doesn’t have the highpitched “arf-arf-arf” of the tiny dogs—it’s more a midtoned “rarf, rarf, rarf.” And he would just keep on barking until I yelled, “QUIET! Go to your kennel!” at least a couple of times. Then he’d reluctantly shut it down and stroll towards his kennel, stopping every few feet to look back, grumbling under his breath. Frank leads an everyday, small dog’s life. He’s never been on TV; he’s never won “best of show;” and there

are only a few people in the world that could actually pick him out of a crowd or a photo. He gets up around the same time every day, runs outside to do his business, comes back in to get some chow and water, plays with a few of his squeaky toys and then settles in for his mid-morning nap. That’s about the best it gets on any given day. Oh…he has his moments of thrill—the occasional ride in the car with the window down, the surprise visit from a drop-by friend with their dog, but for the most part Frank’s life is predictable. But he’s cool with that. He seems very comfortable in his own fur. I, like Frank, have a pretty predictable, everyday life. Except for the occasional, “Hey, don’t I know you…”  from someone unfamiliar, there are only a few people who could actually pick me out in a photo. I got up this morning, had some time with God, paid my bills, answered emails, prayed with a friend who was rushing off his young son to the hospital (he was dehydrated from a really bad flu), ran a few errands and did some blogging. For the most part, my daily life is…well…daily. True, I have a bump or two of excitement and opportunity from time to time, but, all in all, my life (like Frank’s and most of the rest of us) is lived out in a zone called ordinary.

But I’m not nearly as settled about it as Frank. Truth is, I’ve always struggled with being everyday-ish—almost like it’s a sign that my life doesn’t really matter. I keep thinking if I mattered there should be more bing-batta-bing going on. And I want to matter. Otherwise, what’s the point? The billion-dollar question is how—how does one come to matter? And, then, if that question can be answered, how do we know when we do matter—how does one measure such things?

AMERICAN IDOLS
America is a hero culture. Prominence rules. Inconspicuous means insignificant. We tend to think only those who stick out are worthy of adulation. So, the stick-out beautiful, stick-out rich, stick-out talented, fairytale people are the only ones who matter—and they are our idols; our American idols. Somehow, these values tell us stick-out proves worth. If people don’t stick out; if they are average, ordinary;
they are cellophane. Nobody notices cellophane.“The obviously well kept secret of the ‘ordinary’ is that it is made to be a receptacle of the divine…” – Dallas Willard

We live in a world that insists one must be way beyond ordinary to matter. If that is the case, a lot of us are losers. But something in me doesn’t want to accept that. There’s something in me that finds the notion of insignificance as scary as suicide. I want to make a mark on this rock. I think God is the author of that longing. However, I think most of us are mixed up about this whole enterprise of “significance.” I think we struggle with the who-am-I-in-the-scheme-of-things question, plus, we misjudge whether or not we do
matter because consciously (or unconsciously) we have bought into the myth that prominence is the only sign of significance. So, if we are not “famous” or pastoring thousands, it breeds hopelessness in us.
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RADICAL ORDINARINESS
From the American point of view, being “ordinary” means we are just “another one of those,” which signifies we are nothing in particular—thus proving we have little value. But something in us silently screams with deadening agony at that notion. This is why each of us, from the smallest child to the oldest adult, wants to be different; outstanding in some way; unique, extraordinary. Even the fifteen minutes of fame that Andy Warhol said everyone would someday have in our modern media-world is a welcome commodity if it protects us from the status of being a “nobody.” But here’s a provocative thought: it appears that the beachhead for God’s life spilling into the world is through the dreaded ordinary. When you study the scripture and the lives of the saints throughout history, it is as if “ordinary” is the chosen habitation of the eternal. Consider Jesus. He was born in a manger (you can’t get more ordinary than that). He grew up in a small village with a bad reputation and grew up in the home of a carpenter. Jesus, it turned out, became a blue-collar worker. He did this to be with us, to be one of us—to bring the life of the eternal into the world through the ordinariness of life. The message Christ followers refer to as the “gospel” is to be more than a ticket to “make the cut” when we die. The gospel is a call to allow Jesus Christ to heal, empower, and inform the individual human experience. And in the interaction that occurs with the Savior, ordinary people encounter a life that is greater than just human life—it has the quality of eternity. Amazingly, God’s life does not destroy ordinary, everyday human life; it actually fulfills and empowers it. Dallas Willard writes, “The obviously well kept secret of the ‘ordinary’ is that it is made to be a receptacle of the divine, a place where the life of God flows.”

On this view, being basic, ordinary, and merely human (with human limitations, blind spots, and all the rest) is absolutely the best thing that could have ever happened to us. That’s because our unspectacular traits are the perfect springboards for the Divine. It
turns out that small is the new big.“It appears that the beachhead for God’s life spilling into the world is through the dreaded ordinary.”

For more information on Pastor Ed Gungor or CMI Global (which I am ordained through) click below.

Sanctuary Church

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