Exceptional in the Most Ordinary Way

There is something deep within me that wants to do or be something exceptional. I often couch this thought in the phrase "for the Lord," but I have to wonder if it really is for the Lord or for me. This seems like a noble impulse, and it may be common to us all at some level, but it lacks some essential discernment. I can’t imagine a time when anything I could do in my strength would truly be exceptional for the Lord. How can you wow the one who with the flick of His wrist spun galaxies into order?

Still, it seems He longs for us to be exceptional in the mundane things—to be exceptional in the face of selfishness, rude clerks, ignorant words and other drivers. Maybe these are the things that best prepare us for the rare glimpses of His glory. When we learn to expect his presence in every area of daily living, then we’re not surprised when we see Him in a big way.

This kind of “exceptional” is God's way. We respond in exceptional ways when we do so with grace. We make exceptional choices when we trust Him. We act exceptionally when we draw on His grace and not our own power to live this life. I don’t deny that there are brief glimpses of glorious exception that seem to wrap life in gold and seal it with amazement. But such moments are rare indeed. What God has given us all in abundance are mundane routines that we trudge through daily, and He certainly means for us to be exceptional in these. It’s here that we see His glory—when our eyes are open and trained to spot Him moving in them.

This is where Jesus lived each day. This is why in the crowd He could spot one hurting woman who needed His touch. This is why He refused to shoo adoring and inquisitive children away. This is why He wouldn’t pass people by or treat them as blurry memories as he laid his head down to rest at night. Jesus showed us it is God's will to be exceptional in the uninspired moments and see the glory of God revealed. Living this way packed a lot of living into thirty three exceptional years.

Lord, help me bring glory to your name in the mundane moments of my life today. Help me be exceptional in the most ordinary way.

Ed Litton

The Bride

As a pastor, I have been a joyful witness to hundreds of ceremonies that have as their centerpiece the presentation of a bride. In the moments prior to the wedding march, I always stand at the altar with an eager groom and congregation, recalling a significant moment in Scripture. There will be a revelation of the Bride of Christ one day, and it will be glorious. Revelation 19:7 records it this way: “Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory! For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready.”

When the doors fly open and the bride is revealed, my heart lifts with joy. I can’t help thinking of the day when the church will be revealed to all the world as the glorious bride of Christ. Revelation 21:2 describes the scene: “I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband.” She begins her march down the aisle as cameras flash, women wipe tears from their eyes, and paying fathers calculate what all this cost (often with tears of their own). With a smile on my face, I wonder if anyone else in the crowd recognizes the spiritual significance of this moment.

I’ve repeated this little mental exercise in personal worship for years—until last week, when I once again found myself standing at a marriage altar. But this time I wasn’t the officiating pastor. I was the groom. When the doors opened, I saw a vision of glory. Yes, the same spiritual significance I’ve rehearsed over the years crossed my mind, but it was drowned out by a louder thought.

This was my bride—radiant, glorious, and beyond description in her beauty. Her dress sang like a thousand voice choir. Her dignity transformed the aisle into a promenade. Her smile enraptured me.

I then had another insight. In that brief and powerful moment, I knew what my Lord Jesus Christ will know. The joy of seeing His bride prepared and ready, eager to be with Him. In that moment a world of sorrows will fall silent. In that moment the grave ceases to claim another prize. In that moment it will be worth it all when the groom sees the bride.

It must have been for this joy set before Him that He endured the passion. The cost was beyond calculation, but this moment proves that it is worth it all. His patient love and enduring grace crowns that moment with unspeakable delight.

And I know in a moment what He will enjoy for all eternity. You cannot forget a moment like that.

Ed Litton

He Carried Me

When you suffer loss it tends to leave you feeling helpless and powerless. We don’t get to choose the events of our lives, and we don’t control the outcomes of our choices. We can’t change the sovereign will of God or stop Him from moving. This doesn’t mean, however, that we have no responsibility. Though we’re powerless to effect much real change, we have utter control over how we see our circumstances.

I stand at the threshold of the second anniversary of Tammy's death. Tears are never far away. Like well soaked ground my heart seems to be an unending source of tears that wash over me when sorrow squeezes my heart.

Yet in this moment I’m filled with an inexpressible joy in my Lord Jesus Christ. I choose to look not just at what I’ve lost, but I choose to look at what I’ve gained. I’ve gained a more intimate knowledge of the faithfulness of Jesus Christ. He is my shepherd who leads me in the valley of deep dark shadows. He has been faithful to walk with me, carry me, hold me—and yet He refuses to let me become an emotional cripple. He is awesome God, a loving Papa, and He is my help. I have learned to trust in Him. He is worthy of my "yes" first, then I await His command.

This is a reasonable act of worship.

I wouldn’t want to go back to what I was two years ago. I can say that knowing His faithfulness is worth everything. I love you, Lord Jesus! Your tenderest mercy entices me to look for you everywhere. Thank you for being my loving father and never once forsaking your holiness. I draw near to you, knowing that you are a consuming fire and you are the tender Father. You alone are worthy of my highest praise!

Ed Litton

Clouds

Majestic. Enormous. Foreboding. Floating in space, clouds swaddle the earth and cover our lives in uncertainty. They also bring beauty, framing our life pictures. But more significantly, they remind us of God. In the Bible, clouds are always associated with God's greatness.

Paradoxically, even as they remind us of God's awesome power, they overwhelm us—and we forget the greater goodness of God. In confused moments we often say we feel like we’re "in a cloud." They bring storms that ignite our deepest fears. They also bring shade to relieve us from the greatest exhaustion. And clouds move on, proving that storms may come—but God doesn’t allow them to stay.

Sorrow and suffering may come like a dark, lightning-filled cloud—and God’s presence with it. He comes in the clear blue but more often in the dark mid-day storm clouds of sorrow and suffering. It was by a cloud that God led his stunned and confused people on a wilderness journey. God told Moses that he would come in a dense cloud. When Israel was on the verge of revival the prophet saw a cloud the size of a man's hand become a formation that filled all the seeable heavens. I look at clouds billowing up and outward and I think of how swiftly our God moves from seemingly nothing to fill the entire heavens with His glory.

God mysteriously moves in clouds, it seems the darker the better. It’s not so important that you can tell the difference between cirrus or nimbostratus. It’s only important to remember that clouds are a sign that God is there. In dark clouds the glory of God filled the temple, reminding us that our greatest worship is in our darkest hour.

Cloud formations are forever changing. One moment they may look like your third grade teacher and the next resemble an elephant in a parade. Our immutable God never changes his essence or his character—but his ways, oh, his ways can be quite unpredictable. Like the clouds, we cannot manipulate Him. The seeding of clouds to produce rain has never really worked, neither does baiting God to move in the direction of your will.

Clouds are so daily, just like the grace of God. Each day has trouble of its own, Jesus told us. The skies can be clear in the morning and overrun by a mid-day traffic jam of storms. Yet even in this unpredictable, daily nature of clouds we see the faithful hand of God to rain upon the just as well as the unrighteous. And in the clouds God speaks through the multi-colored arch of the rainbow, a reminder of His promise of holiness, faithfulness and goodness.

At times I look into a cloud and wonder about the great cloud of witnesses watching us run this race of life. I wonder what it will be like when He returns in the clouds. My favorite cloud formation without doubt is when the sun shines through and the shadows form shafts of light that touch the earth—reminding me not only of his return, but also of his daily grace that covers me in radiant light until that day.

There is something about clouds that makes me stop my anxious thinking, my busy moving and my relentless struggling. Looking up, lifting my chin heavenward, I see the clouds and remember that God is the Lord of those massive, majestic, foreboding things, and he is the Lord of me. Because of the dark clouds I can look sunward without being blinded. On a bright day I can remember that there is more than this life. I can stop looking down, lift my head, and hope and dream as I remember that my redemption draws nearer with every breath.

I praise the Lord for clouds.

Ed Litton

Do They Observe Birthdays In Heaven?

Today is Tammy Jayne Hull Litton's birthday. July 15, 1960, was a day that I can’t possibly remember because I was just two days from celebrating my own first birthday. I now know that this day was one of the most blessed days in my life.

Tammy was born into a very stressful situation. Her birth mother lived in a small Oklahoma town and pretended that this child was her husband’s—but in fact this child was the responsibility of another man. In our fragile human state, powerful secrets require extraordinary effort to maintain. So while her husband was away, the doctor induced labor and Tammy was born.

At this same moment, God knew that another woman named Betty Hull was longing for a little girl. He connected her to a doctor who understood how important secrets can be. Some secrets are bad, but the ones that make sure little girls get born are necessary. Within hours of Tammy’s birth, Betty picked her up with trembling hands and a delight filled heart and beheld an amazing miracle for the very first time.

Within those tiny dimpled hands rested the genius of an accomplished oboist. Within those ears was the makings of perfect pitch. Within those big brown eyes was the vision a tender mother and wife. Her thick dark hair and olive skin was beautiful. In that moment in time, Betty had no way of knowing that the baby would be fun-loving, highly organized and full of joy, with a keen wit and a great mind. She had no idea that this little girl in whom God had placed such desire for Himself would believe His word and touch lives and fulfill the dreams and hopes of others so perfectly.

Betty couldn’t possibly grasp that God would use her to shape the life of one who would shape so many other lives. Only God knew, because He keeps some secrets really well. Until, that is, it’s His time to shout it from the roof tops. Until His genius plan becomes clearer to much slower mortals.

Birthdays are very important days. Days to remember that only God fully knows all things. We can trust him to keep the secrets that need to be kept. We can also trust Him to celebrate the things that really matter.

I conclude that there must be birthdays in heaven. On a day like this, there must be a gathering to celebrate God's creative genius. (What must it be like to live in such a state of perpetual awe?) There must be a daily expression of His unique creativity in the life of one little girl. There must be a moment, if not much longer, likely on July 15th, in which the Lord beckons Tammy to His side and says to the host of grateful souls and amazed angelic throng, "My ways are higher than your ways"—and this is my precious daughter, who often felt disconnected and undone in her birth but now knows the glory of my purposes.

With warm tears bathing my face, I offer blind praise to my God and King for His genius love and great grace marked in time on July 15th. I’ll be forever grateful for this day. Bells must be ringing, joyous music must be played in heaven because God, the author of life, has given life, redeemed life and gloriously granted eternal life to one precious child, Tammy.

Ed Litton

I Saw The Lord

Sometimes you read or hear a statement or a short sentence that strikes hard at your soul. Recently I was reading a sermon by Andy Stanley on the difference between confessing being a "sinner" and a "mistaker." What a powerful point that most, if not all of us, are willing to confess our mistakes and missteps but not our sin. Churches are now full of people who will not openly confess sin because we are "mistakers" not "sinners." A mistake does not require anything more than a better opportunity to take another stab at whatever "it" might be. A "sinner," on the other hand, needs something more profound and painful. A sinner needs a savior.

Confessing sin is one thing, but dealing with our sin is another. The prophet Isaiah had an amazing encounter with God that we often hold up as a model of great worship. It was great worship, but it was first a great encounter with Holy God and his grace to deal with sin. If you will allow me to give you a play by play runthrough, there might be some beneficial things for us to acknowledge about God, sin and ourselves.

First, there was crisis.

(vv.1-4) In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord seated on a throne, high and exalted, and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were seraphs, each with six wings: With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another: "Holy, holy, holy is the LORD Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory." At the sound of their voices the doorposts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke.

Our sin infected nature never wants to run to the Lord unless it is being chased. We all seek many things in life, but not the Lord unless or until we’re in obvious need. This was true for the prophet, and it is true for us all. Whatever the impact of the crisis of the death of King Uzziah, it made Isaiah seek the Lord. How often I have been in the place of prayer only to realize that I was praying like a card dealer in a casino. I toss prayers to the Lord like a card and then step aside for another dealer. Crisis has proven to be a devastatingly powerful tool in my life, causing me to fall upon the carpet in utter, helpless abandon before the Lord. I tend to crave comfort at such moments. I tend to fill his ear with my pleas, and I know his faithful presence.

Second, there is confession.

(v.5) "Woe to me!" I cried. "I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the LORD Almighty."

In the presence of holiness, we can see our sins in high definition contrast. If Isaiah was devastated by the loss of one king, he finds his true King in God's presence. In crisis, things appear clearer than we normally see them, and in fact we wonder how we could’ve been in such a fog.

Isaiah instantly becomes convicted that his sin is centered in one place. I dare not suggest that sin only impacts one place, but I will confess that my sin experience, which is vast, is that there is often a Beaver Dam of sins at one place. That dam didn’t suddenly appear. It took a while, and it took effort for a few things to dam up the flow. For Isaiah it was at the point of his lips. God's Spirit strives with us to help us see our sin "bunched up" in some area of our lives. We become keenly aware of our sin first and then how others have so blindly lived in sin.

Third, there is cleansing and cure.

(vv.6-7) Then one of the seraphs flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth and said, "See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for."

We all long for cleansing and freedom. We often desire cleansing first and foremost and sometimes alone. However, freedom from a particular sin is significant to the Lord. He not only wants to forgive our sins by His grace, He wants us to go from this place and sin no more. I take it from Isaiah's encounter with the living God that this is exactly what took place. The burning of conviction, the stinging of the holy fire of God touched the very point of his sin and changed the makeup of that part of Isaiah's life.

I’m not suggesting that Isaiah never struggled with the temptation to say things that are sinful. There was now a lingering reminder of the power of God's grace. Oh that we should ask the Lord to remove our sin and to place within us a holy hatred for our sin—not rendering our lips incapable of sin but incapable of forgetting the burning price of sin. There are certain very hot things I won’t touch, like the red coil of a stove. Why? Experience that left a lasting forty-year memory of pain, so dramatic I don’t want to experience it again.

What if our sins were so graphically burned into our memories? It’s a work of grace to help us know the burning and cleansing power of the atonement of Christ. Seldom do "mistakers" find such burning memories.

Fourth, there is the call.

(v.8) Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" And I said, "Here am I. Send me!"

Prayer can begin in a self-focused motivation, but an encounter with the living God always leads us to selflessly go to others to tell of the truth and grace of God.

Maybe we’re seeing few who go because there are fewer still who draw near to the Lord and seek His face. Crisis doesn’t automatically lead us into His presence. Being in His presence doesn’t automatically give us His perspective; however, when we choose to seek Him, allow His conviction into our lives, refuse to rationalize our sin but confess clearly, we’ll know the forgiving and delivering grace of God. Then we will see with clarity that we’re not alone in our sin, and others need His liberating grace also.

Ed Litton

Where Jesus Dwells

Andrew was a curious sort—a seeker in the truest sense of the word. His search for spiritual reality beyond the religion offered in his day led him out to the wilderness to hear the fiery prophet John the Baptist. It was there that John pointed him to Jesus, putting him face to face with the one for whom he was seeking.

The only question that comes from Andrew's somewhat tongue-tied lips is a seemingly insignificant piece of trivia. “Teacher, where do you live?” What makes us ask questions like this? Could it possibly matter?

I suspect I would ask it because I couldn’t think of a more significant question to ask. Yet this is a very important question. Like Andrew, I want to know more about this amazing person that John the Baptist declared in no uncertain terms was the long awaited Messiah.

Jesus said, "Come and see." We don’t know if Jesus inhabited a prophet’s chamber in the home of a gracious couple. He may have had a lean-to in the desert. Maybe he kept a place in the city. Wherever it was, Jesus took these two future disciples with him there, and they spent the day together.

There is something tantalizing about Jesus that makes us want to spend time with him. But often, unfortunately, it is only in short spurts at his place. We may invite him to visit our place, but seldom do we surrender it completely to him. He remains something of a friendly stranger to most.

In another part of scripture, a teacher of the law actually pledges to follow Jesus wherever he goes. Jesus replies, "Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." Besides the obvious—laying out the requirements for following him—Jesus also enlightens us about his dwelling place. Maybe the answer is not a location as much as it is a way of living. Wherever I am, I am with him. He dwells in pain, suffering and loss, as well as joy unspeakable. Whatever your circumstances, he is there. Living in consciousness of his presence is far better than living in a place.

We find great security in our dwelling, our position, our placement. Jesus is all about the moment. What Andrew had no way of realizing on that day, in the full flush of excitement in meeting the Messiah, was that Jesus would take him to some very uncomfortable places. He would sleep with greater insecurity and a lot less personal comfort.

Where does Jesus live? David knew the answer: "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty" (Psalm 91:1).
So Jesus does have a place. The answer to Andrew's question isn’t found in a lean-to or small apartment in the city but in God's eternal home in heaven. He has promised those who follow him that they will have a place there too. Jesus said in John 14:1-2, "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going."

Come to Jesus, make no conditions, come and abide with him. He’ll lead you through this nomadic life with all its complexity and take you to a place built just for you. Don’t be overly impressed with and don’t over-invest in the places of this world. Jesus dwells with us.

Ed Litton