Welp. Life is full of firsts, innit?

There we were, my wife and I, sitting enjoying what had been a lovely dinner at our local steakhouse the other night. We had laughed, chatted, had a couple poignant moments around deeper life situations, and were now being presented with the bill for the meal. The innocent-looking server stood inches away from us when she dropped this question: “Was there are military or AARP y’all wanted to use?”

In stunned anguish, I looked over at my wife like I imagine I would look at her if I ever found myself in quicksand; pained, denying the reality, helpless, shocked, and yet now fully aware of the situation we were in. Or perhaps the look I imagine I’d have after just being shot in the gut. Did she just say “AARP” in our presence? Yes. Yes she did. And the damage was done.

I don’t mean to accomplish much with this blog, but if I can use my now-AARP place in life to share what I’ve learned then great. Here are a few things I’ve learned about life. This isn’t exhaustive, but it was at times exhaustING to learn. I offer it to you for what it’s worth. Fair warning: that might not be much.

1. The more I learn about anything the less I know about everything.

That goes double, no triple, no quadruple, no infinitely true when we’re talking about God. I know Him. I know things about His immutable character. I know who He is. I know what He wants. I know how loved I am by Him. But honestly, beyond that it’s much ado about mystery. I don’t even know what I mean by that, but if you know anything about God and you’re a humble(d) person, you know what I mean.

I love to learn things. I’ve been a teacher for 16 years now. I love the process of learning. I love to try and instill that love into my students. I tell every class I teach the same thing: my goal here isn’t to stuff you with answers, its to stuff you with wonder. Educationally speaking, I value questions far, FAR more than I value answers.

Here’s the thing about wonder: many of us Christians don’t seem to have much of it anymore. We often normalize the spiritual realities we walk in and in doing so reduce them to rote routine. There’s a reason for that and here’s my take on it. Distance grows when intimacy fades. My prayers grow colder the further apart they get from each other. The more conversation I’m having with God, the warmer that intimacy is. When we let the moss grow between our authentic interactions with the Almighty, the natural outcome is loss of intimacy. You know this. You live it daily. You’re closest to the ones you’re intentionally talking with most.

But there’s another layer of this knowing and not knowing thing. The closer I get to Jesus, the more in love I fall with Him, the more enamored I am with what HE desires for my life, the more head scratching happens. But not in a fretful way. No. In a wondrous, exhilarating way like the clicking of the massive chain that’s pulling this roller coaster up the first hill. What if you set your alarm tomorrow and the next day and for the next week to be the sound of that chain clicking? What if each day started with the heart-pounding acknowledgment that the God we’re in love with is best known by what we don’t know about Him?

2. There are 2 paths, then 2 more.

The gospel writer Matthew recorded Jesus’ words when he said, “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. ¹⁴ But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.” (Matthew 7:13-14)

Have you heard these words before? I won’t assume anything about you, and especially not your views on Jesus or the validity of his words. But let’s agree that IF Jesus is more than just a historical figure on par with Genghis Khan or Abraham Lincoln, and if the things that so many people (in scripture as well as outside scripture) recorded actually happened, then we’ve got to wrestle with the things Jesus said. And if what He’s saying is true…dude…we have to, HAVE TO do something about it. You can’t give Jesus the label of “more than a man” and yet dismiss the very clear teaching that there are two paths every human walks on. To do so would be not only disrespectful but disastrous. I can tell when I’m fully engaged and passionate about what I’m saying; my keystrokes get stronger and as I’m typing this, my fingers are just about pounding through this keyboard to the lovely coffee shop table it’s on. Please PLEASE readers, get this. Stop here. Assess what path you’re on right now.

I’m not a huge Zeppelin fan, but I agree with at least one line from what is perhaps they’re most well-known song, “Stairway to Heaven” when they penned… “Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run there’s still time to change the road you’re on…” So if you find yourself honestly convicted that you’re on the wide path that nearly every person on the planet is on, there’s still time to change the road you’re on. Stop here. Turn your face to Jesus the undisputed Savior of the world. He came with one mission: “To seek and save the lost.” (Luke 19:10) And friend, you might know and confess what path you’re on but if it’s the wide path then you are lost. I know that’s a very uncomfortable and even offensive thing for me to say. I know that perhaps you just stumbled onto this blog post. Maybe you were Googling a different Jerry and found me, or maybe a friend who loves you shared this with you, or maybe you might even entertain the idea that the God who loves you has orchestrated that you might hear these words at this point in your story: You are loved, you are forgiven by the death and resurrection of Jesus, you are being offered full grace for free; simply for the taking. Confess your heart to Jesus and receive the forgiveness that only He is qualified to offer all of humanity. And don’t give me “Yeah, but…” as in “Yeah, but Jerry you don’t know me. You don’t know my beliefs. You don’t know my story; the hurt I’ve endured or caused. You don’t know how far I’ve run. You don’t know what I stand to lose.” And you’re right about that. I don’t know. But I do know this: I was blind and now I can see. I was lost and now I’ve been found.

Okay, I’ve let my fingers cool off after that frenzied typing session. Now let me turn my attention to those who at some point beyond 2 minutes ago had already placed their faith in Christ. You know who you are. I’m not calling you Christians unless we’re talking about the diffused, ill-defined, nondescript, milk toast, weak kneed church-goers that many people consider “Christians”. No, I’ve released my use of the term “Christian” in our day and age because to the average person in our culture Christians are better known for what they’re against than what (or who) they’re for. Christians have been made synonymous with political parties and candidates. They’re known for their piety, their irrelevance, their and their hypocrisy. So I want to talk to those who have or have ever connected with the term “Christian”. I’ve found that as a Christian, there are two paths of Christianity we seem to walk on. One is legitimate and one is fabricated. The legitimate path can be summed up again by the words of Jesus, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” (Matthew 16:24) Jesus said much much more about the life of following Him, but that verse sums it up really well.

Yet we Christians have concocted another, safer, easier, more manageable path we try and walk on and still call it faithful followership. It’s a path devoid of the passionate conversation I spoke of earlier. It’s a path that carries out religious activity until something better, more interesting, lazier, or more convenient is available. It’s a path that downplays spiritual community and idolizes personal preferences. It’s a path marked with checkboxes we check off and thereby convince ourselves we’re doing “Christianity” right. It’s not merely shallow, it’s hollow. Those on this path are those that Jesus referred to as “white washed tombs”. (Matthew 23:27)

So follower of Jesus, how do you know you’re not in fact on the counterfeit, illegitimate path of appearing to follow Jesus? To assess, ask these questions: Am I in close contact with Jesus? Am I listened for His voice? Am I sensitive to His leading? Am I aware of the opportunities to wash the feet of the least of these and am I willing to? Do I desire what He desires? Do I offer my life to Him to do with as He pleases? Beyond all that (because I don’t believe we can reduce it to a set of questions or a formulaic faith), does God’s own Holy Spirit testify to you that you are His? “The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children.” (Romans 8:16) Do you have an unshakable peace in your heart and mind that you belong to God? I want this for you more than anything else.

3. Pastors are prone to operate in threes.

Okay, okay. This one’s weird. But have you ever noticed that most sermons have 3 main points? And how often do they start with the same letter? What is it with pastors and alliteration, anyway? Weirdos, all of them. You can freely file this under “Jerry’s loco” and I’ll gladly accept that. During this sabbatical season I’m in, I’ve thought more about how I minister to students and young adults. One thing that I want to change is, in simplest terms, ONE thing. I want my life, my interactions, and yes even my sermons to focus on one thing. One truth. One point. One takeaway. Pray for me about that. I’m prone to seek to cram my sermons with content and practicality. So I’m downshifting to one thing. Just ONE.

But I’m not even talking about sermons. I can’t bear the thought of distilling my life’s work to 30-40 minute chunks of me blabbering on, regardless of what I’m talking about. Don’t get confused here. I know (I think I do, anyway) that God has given me a passion to communicate biblical truth to God’s people. I believe I’m called to pastoral ministry and the particular act of “preaching” is one that I find compelling, important, and something I have learned I’m gifted at. And believe me I say that with full humility. I use the analogy of a neck tie, back when I was in the church setting where I’d wear a tie every Sunday. When someone compliments my tie I would say “thank you” but honestly what did I do but tie it around my neck? I had nothing to do with its creation. I’m just the doofus who’s neck its around. I view my preaching much like I view my neck tie. God has been pleased to hang it around my neck and if there’s anything good that comes from it as I seek to handle it/tie it faithfully, then bless Him not me. Look at Him, not me. Praise Him, not me. “Fr, fr” as the kids say.

As I have on the past couple of blog posts, I want to thank you if you’ve made it this for. You’re the real MVP. In terms of sabbatical accountability, I’ve been doing lots of walking and staying active but the pounds I’ve wanted to lose are fighting to stay put. I’m trying to finish the book I’m on. School work reading definitely takes my reading energy (I’ve finished one class and started the next one) so that’s slow going. I’ve been able to stay consistent in blogging weekly, as you can see. Overall, I’m gauging my level of antsiness to get back to “normal” life. To put it bluntly, I’m pretty uninterested to return to doing things as I did.

If this blog post has triggered any questions, I’d love it if you’d ask them. You can leave a comment for me to address, you can email me, or you can text me at (804) 304-4669. If there’s anything I can do for you, just say so. And as always, feel free to share this blog post with a friend. Thanks for reading.