Dear Reader: Grow Up.

Dear Reader,

Lately I've been thinking a lot about what it means to grow up in Christ. Various scriptures have come to mind through this little journey. You can read them here and here and here.

Through this  pondering what it means to grow up in Christ, here are a couple of conclusions I've reached:

Growing up in Christ means:
-...taking responsibility, for yourself and for the people around you.
-....saying, "This isn't mine, but I will take care of it. I will own this, even if it's difficult.
-...showing up, being vulnerable and honest and faithful.
-...bringing your whole self to the table to give, because grown people are life-givers, not takers.
-...owning the inheritance that your Father gives you and living in the footsteps of your older brother, Jesus.

And you know what? I've come to realize that growing up is always more about the people and the world around me than about just this self of mine. Yes, this self matters, but mostly, this life is meant to be about the ones the Father loves.

And that changes the way life is lived. It just does.

Imagine, Dear Reader, that the Father was saying to you today, "The world depends on you showing up for your life and growing up in Christ."

You were meant to receive the full inheritance bought for you on the cross, Dear Reader. You were meant, not just for heaven someday, but for bringing heaven to earth right now. You were meant to love in ways that astound you. You were meant to forgive and to breathe life into broken relationships. You were meant to live a life of supernatural proportions, to be supernaturally natural and naturally supernatural. You were meant to take spiritual dominion over places that are currently being inhabited by an enemy who stands defeated. Kick him out by the full power of the Spirit that lives in you, Dear Reader. The world depends on you showing up for your life.

The Father is on a mission to get his family back, and you're invited to join Him. You don't have to; Papa never forces you into your inheritance.  But he does offer it [Him]. If you choose in, life will be more painful and beautiful than you thought possible.

This morning, a friend texted me to tell me that someone she knew had been shot and killed in a break-in at his home. Senseless violence. A 26 year old man's life ended in his own home. The spirit of violence taking the life of one of God's kids.

And you know what?

I believe, ever so strongly, that a part of the reason I'm in this city is because the Father is not okay with this. His heart is to put an end to this destruction.  Before I knew about this young man's death, while I was still waking up this morning, the Spirit was whispering to my sleepy-heart, "I've established a Covenant of Peace on earth to destroy the spirit of violence."

I turned my Bible to some sections that talk about peace this morning, and this is what I read,

"Let me hear what the LORD God will speak, for he will speak peace to his people, to his saints; but let them not turn back to folly. Surely his salvation is near to those who fear him, that glory may dwell in the land....steadfast love and faithfulness meet; righteousness and peace kiss each other. Faithfulness springs up from the ground and righteousness looks down from the sky. Yes, the Lord will give what is good, and the land will yield its increase. Righteousness will go before him, and make his footsteps a way." [Psalm 85]

"For unto us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this." [Isaiah 9]

We have a Father who spoke peace to us through the violent death of His son. We have a God who has made a Covenant of Peace with us through his own son's blood. His peace, His kingdom, His glory in all the earth will increase and be upheld continually. How, Dear Reader?

Look in the mirror. That's how. The fullness of Christ in you--the hope of glory dwelling on the earth in the hearts of those who choose to receive and live in their identity as Sons and Daughters of God Himself.

Your choice.

Show up for your life, Christian. The world depends upon it.

You live where you live with whom you live for a time such as this, for a time when His kingdom and His Covenant of Peace are reigning and increasing, carried forth through His Spirit living in you and moving through you powerfully. Your fully-alive self has the power to influence the spiritual environment around you.

Your life has more meaning and more purpose than you thought possible. The inheritance you can choose to receive by growing up in Christ is greater than you ever dreamed. And it means carrying Kingdom into the world around you. It means living with a heart set on seeing heaven invade the dark places--in your own heart and in the neighborhood around you.

Dear Reader: Grow Up. Become Christ with skin on, not just the nice Christian who fills a pew on Sunday, not the righteous argue-er of politics on Facebook (no matter which side of the political spectrum you live in). There's nothing wrong or evil about being that person, but there's so much more life to be had and so much more fullness to live in. Choose in, Dear Reader. Live assured of your identity as a Son or a Daughter and take some ground, take authority, spread the Kingdom you were welcomed into in the first place.

Brown Bread.

Dear Reader,

I don't known about you, but I have a number of childhood memories that are inexplicably tied to food: the smell of it, the texture of it, the taste of it.

I remember getting into the car with my mom and and my baby sister for a trip into town for groceries. We'd stop at the little grocery store in my small hometown, and then we'd go across the street to the bakery.

The bakery was very much like all of the other storefronts in town, older, with linoleum floors and a big glass front door. When we pushed open the door, a wave of conversation and fresh-bread smell would rush past our faces. The bakery was also a little cafe, and in the morning-times, the booths were filled with older folks, sipping their coffee and taking big bites of scrambled eggs and donuts.

We'd walk over to the counter, my sister and I, and gaze at the sugary treats behind the glass. If we were lucky (which happened most every week), Mom would let us pick out a donut. In those days, I usually chose a giant glazed one or one filled with raspberry filling.

The real reason for the weekly trip to the bakery, though, was the brown bread. In hindsight, it was probably called something like "Rye," but to my sister and I, and, by extension, to my parents, those tall, chewy loaves were known as Brown Bread. They were, afterall, much darker than the white bread from the store.

The Brown Bread was always wrapped in a plastic bread bag, twisted up with a twist-tie, and, since we usually bought two loaves at a time, they were placed, side-by-side in a rectangular cardboard flat.

Our little bakery always had fresh, beautiful loaves of bread, and that car ride home was filled with the most wonderful smell in the world: absolutely fresh, possibly-still-warm bread. When we got home, Mom would cut us a slice. My favorite was always the slice at the end of the loaf with mostly crust.

For the last couple of months, I've been making a version of that Brown Bread. It's been a wonderful way to know that the bread I'm eating is something very real, and the process of making it is a bi-weekly, end-of-the-week relaxation technique. A nice, slow process that brings the weekly rush to a grinding halt and gives me a few hours to alternately knead and wait until the loaves finally fill the house with a familiar smell.

Life rhythms like this have become much more important lately. Regular life has been a whirlwind, and I find myself needing these moments of routine and simplicity. Dear Reader, please take a moment to breathe this week. Knead some bread dough, walk around the block (if you're in the warm Mid-South like me), sit down with a book for half and hour, or ask those dear ones you live your life with a meaningful question or two. Take several deep breaths and really notice your life for a little while. The everyday, simple things hold so much beauty and promise.