Pass the Salt

Another day started with sadness. My own life was just fine, actually. But it took less than an hour to become aware of yet another group of people for whom today, and many days to come, is a day of mourning. 

Another shooting. States away from me, sure. But in my country, happening to two people just out doing their jobs as news reporters. Another senseless act. More tears. More heads shaking in bewilderment. More eyes lifted up asking God, or just the skies, "Why my loved one??"

This life can have such a bitter taste. Sometimes I get so tired of feeling like the good is just being drowned out by the noise of the bad. I can even lose my joy for living in the now when I stop and think long enough on all the things we have done to mess up this world so terribly. 

After checking out news on the shooting in Virginia today, that claimed the life of a 24 year old female reporter and a 27 year old cameraman, I sat on my couch looking dismally at the floor. Then I sent the following message to my friend in China via WeChat:

"Can you imagine what it'll be like when we're with [God], and we get to like, Day 5 of no bad news, no crying, no fights, no pain, no anger over someone doing something?"

I answered my own question to myself silently for a moment as I awaited his reply. I really couldn't. I really could not imagine for myself what that will feel like to have gone days, then weeks, then months, then YEARS without those things that bring sadness in this life. See, I tend to focus less on the visuals and stuff like whether our pets will be with us in heaven. I meditate more on the way it'll feel to my human soul, to be forever removed from this existence, and instead alongside Jesus in a place of perfection. I want so badly to know what heaven is like, and I want even worse to be there now. Especially when the news is bad. And it so often is. 

Then my friend on WeChat broke the gloom of my despairing thoughts and yearning for what isn't, with this reply:

"Until that time, we must be that taste of what's to come. I believe that's part of what was meant by being salt."

Of course!! I realized I couldn't agree more. This had to at least one nuance of what Jesus meant when he talked about salt. 

For those of you unfamiliar with this, in the book of Matthew Jesus was recorded as saying,

"You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men" (Matthew 5:13).

Jesus said this during a famous sermon he preached while a large group of people was gathered around him on a mountainside. He'd just talked about how we who believe in him and follow God's ways will be persecuted and unpopular in this world because of it, but that we are meant to stand out, and meant to be different, and we'll be blessed because of it. Here he is telling those who get sick and tired of this world, like I often feel, that we are meant to be a flavoring that changes how life tastes to others. 

Many people don't know God but they long for hope. Even those of us who know God and love him can lose our hopefulness too, while living in the deep shadow of the fallen ways of mankind, in a world that seems like it's growing darker by the day. While on earth, heaven can certainly feel far away. 

But every Christian like me has a mission. We can change this bitter taste into something more flavorful, more savory. 

All it takes is a pinch of salt. 

With every kind act we perform to someone around us, or every seized opportunity to love those in our lives with a kindness and selflessness that Christ exhibited on a daily basis, we give a foretaste of heaven. 

There will be nothing that our hearts or brains can experience or contrive during this lifetime to truly capture the beauty, the relief, and the elation of what heaven will feel like to enjoy. 

But that doesn't mean we need to live as though it's a far off reality that nobody can know of until they get there. The life of a Christian is one that has countless opportunities to add the flavor of good news that, no matter how dark this world is, Jesus overcame the world's darkness, and defeated death and violence and malice and all the other sad headlines. He overcame all that by his death on the cross, and his resurrection to eternal life. He has promised to allow me to inherit all that because he loves me so much. He wants me to pass that deliciously salty flavor to the drab and boring and hopeless plates that sit at everyone else's tables. 

Those of us who follow Jesus will get to taste heaven someday, when our time here is up, because of God's undeserved and incredible love. 

And in the meanwhile, we can share something that's different with everyone else. Something that's new, and fresh. Something that isn't sad, depressing, or painful like so much else in life. Something that's reason for hope and peace because it speaks of never-ending tomorrows in a real paradise that will make us forget this place. Something that drowns out all the noise of the bad with the goosebump-inducing symphony of the good and beautiful - God's love.

We can pass that salt, and let everyone taste heaven now, through us.

Selective Amnesia

A Facebook meme crossed my timeline today that asked the question, "What would you tell me if I lost my memory?" In other words, what would you want me to know?

I don't know how many of you are like me, but my first thought was about how nice it would be to lose all memory of the evils I have committed in my thoughts, the words from my mouth, and my deeds. Not all of my sins of the past are at the forefront of my mind, but don't we all have some (or a lot) that are only a subtle trigger or a quiet, pensive moment away from recall? 

Part of that curse of living with past sins is that Satan loves to remind us of how we've messed up or done evil. Even though Satan, whose other common name is the Devil, knows that God forgives all sin equally and irrevocably, his devious scheme is to drive doubt into our hearts that it can be so, and the more he gets us to remember our sins, the easier it can become to doubt God's forgiveness. 

We can live lives of "quiet desperation" (to quote Thoreau), where that desperation is rendered from a feeling that, despite the Gospel message, we still stand in shame, accused. In fact, that's what "the devil" means. Its Greek word διάβολος  (pronounced "dee-AH-bo-los" - think "diablo" or "diabolical") means "the accuser." That's his baddest trick. Accusing God's forgiven people and fooling them into forgetting grace by overwhelming them with the ghosts of their sins. 

In that first moment of reading the question of the Facebook meme, I almost felt a little stutter of the heart, signalling a hopeful "What if?" My inmost self actually instinctively wanted the prospect of my memory slate being wiped clean. It wasn't until my second moment of reaction that I realized all the beautiful things from my life - all gifts from God, made possible only because he has grace for me, because Jesus died to erase my sins - would be lost memories too. Imagine that: holding in one hand all your bloody, lustful, greedy, arrogant iniquities, and in your other, holding your proverbial photo album/video archive of every dear moment in your life....and actually considering letting go of the latter just to be rid of the former!

What would you choose, if you could? That's where I was...but thankfully, only for a moment. Then that moment was ended by truth coming back to my mind, to blow away the yearning for memory loss like a soothing southern wind on a chilly day in March. In swept words that I've known, but that, if Satan had his way, would be forgotten:

" 'This is the covenant I will make with

them...' says the Lord. ' I will put my

laws in their hearts, and I will write 

them on their minds.'

Then he adds:

'Their sins and lawless acts I will

remember no more.' "

(Hebrews 10:17)

That's what the symbol of the cross stands for. That my sin and yours has been acquitted, and dismissed from our record. God could be a harsh judge and hold it against us, as we do to ourselves. But he can't. He is a holy God who is bound by his own ideal that he will honor the sacrifice of Jesus. As part of his covenant of love (unconditional, undeserved) for people who follow him, God has to forget our sins. He "will remember them no more." He chooses, rather he selects, amnesia of our sinfulness. It's gone. Poof. Erased forever at the cross. 

Sometimes this prospect of forgiving myself as God already has seems impossible. Does it ever weigh you down too? Does it ever hold you back from things in life? Does it maybe just linger, like a pesky, haunting little spook that hangs out in the back of your mind, eroding your true joy in daily living? 

It's not impossible to let it go. It's not impossible to forget. It wouldn't require some all-or-nothing mind wipe either. We wouldn't have to be strapped into a lab gurney with electrodes and a metal crown of probes from some sci-fi film that would zap all memory out of us, just to rid us of the guilt. 

With Jesus, it can be left behind. Satan's accusing voice can be shut up. To quote a song from the Christian band Sanctus Real, "just hold onto the promises."

Youtube video of Sanctus Real music video "Promises"

Hold on to the promise that Christ made through his act of laying down his life on the cross, for you and me. Hold on to the promise he made by rising again from his grave to defeat even death. Hold on to the promise he made when, as he left Earth for Heaven, he told his disciples watching him rise into the clouds, "Surely I am with you always, even to the end of time" (Matthew 28:20). Hold on to the promise he made when he said, earlier in his lifetime, "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" (John 14:3). 

Hold on to the promises of God. He will remember our sins no more. He selects forgetting them. He chooses to lose those memories. So can we. It is possible!

And we can keep the beautiful memories at the same time.

The Number of Completion

It was a sharply cold night in early March of 2008. I was not myself. I was spiritually lost. I felt like a shell. I strongly disliked my life.

I had wandered the city streets near my apartment complex in Eagan, MN, with a beer in my hand, and even though my light mock army jacket wasn't keeping me at all warm, I endured the bitter cold a bit longer while sitting on a swing in a dark municipal playground, shuffling the shallow snow with my shoes. 

Looking up, breathing out frosty breath, gripping the icy chains, I peered to the overcast sky and asked aloud, "WHY, GOD?"

"WHY is it impossible to get anyone to stay?"

It was a swing of a playground where I'd hung out months earlier with a woman now vanished from my life. That day we'd passed through was one of those quintessential days of dating when two grown people, very seemingly in love, had lightheartedly played on children's play equipment. It was the scene of a memory that, for me, signified happiness I thought I would share for years to come. 

But she was gone. And I couldn't understand it all. Even though I was familiar with the grief of letting go of someone I wanted badly to share my life with, I never got used to the scenario. This time it was kind of the nail in the coffin. I was ready to give up hope. 

In hindsight this seems overly dramatic, and even silly. But when you're a young man (or a man of any age, some would say) who's grown accustomed to giving his heart away with deep fervent ambition, and who's grown to believe that love is always meant to be a movie-like battle, then there's only so many deathblows you'll take before hope runs out. 

If you're someone who's given up on anything before, I hope this story speaks to you. Have you given up on love? Have you given up on finding a gratifying calling in life? Have you given up on God? 

What is your impossibility?

I want to tell you about grace. God gives us things many times when we least deserve it. That's what he did when he sent Jesus Christ into the world a couple thousand years ago. Humanity didn't deserve God's love anymore at that time than they do today. Yet people like me and you are saved, in spite of ourselves, through faith in what Jesus accomplished for us. 

Grace, folks, is when God steps into your life and, in spite of the things you've been doing in ignorance, in violence, in selfishness, and self-pity, or with an ugly chip on your shoulder, he places a gift before you that is so beautiful and right. 

That, for me, was a woman named Jennifer Krueger. To this day I still call her my "Second Grace." First, 2,000+ years ago, Christ died on the cross to save me, spiritually, from my sins. Then, in 2008, he arranged the intersection of Jeff Ulrich and Jen Krueger to save me from myself and give me someone I couldn't possibly deserve. 

When we met I was unprepared, skeptical, wounded, and undeserving....but I knew what was good for me and did not let her get away. Three months later we were engaged, and by August 10th we were standing before God, a small group of family, and a minister, and declared our vows and love publicly and became husband and wife. First there was that small, somewhat private ceremony (below):

Then, in December of that year, we held a more formal and full-scaled "public declaration of vows" with all friends and family in attendance, to make it more official (below):

(Don't mind the weird facial reaction - the kiss marks were from all the females in the wedding party - I was VERY sure I wanted to be there!)

Today marks seven years since that beautiful day that we began our official journey together. 

It's commonly agreed on by Biblical scholars that the use of the number 7 in Scripture points to an idea of completion, or completeness, of something. If there were 7 years of something, that's how long God wanted that thing to go on until his purpose for it was complete (Jacob waiting and working to earn the hand of a bride, the length of a drought/famine, etc.). If there were 7 of something else, like the 7 seals in Revelation, that represented everything of that which the symbol represented being accounted for. In Genesis, God is reported to have used just 7 days to create the whole cosmos, down to every droplet in the oceans, every blade of wild grass, and every tuft of fur or hair on Adam and Eve's heads. The seventh day of that first week of human history, since his creative work was done and complete, he put his stamp of approval on everything by resting. 

I like to loosely make use of this analogy now. Not to say that my ability to love my wife and family won't grow or mature further (because it sure better!), and not to say that we've been through everything there is to endure in a marriage (because that would be silly to presume, and I just know we haven't)...but when I look back on the storyline of my life with the woman who married me, and the family we've made together, with two sons, Daniel (6) and Braden (just about 4), it's at this point that I feel some completeness embossing the print of this chapter heading. 

In seven years we've lived at more addresses than we'd care to, have held more unwanted, dead-end, part-time, temporary, or plain ol' annoying jobs than we'd care to, have lost grandparents to death, have had a sibling go through cancer, have spent thousands of hard-earned dollars on car repairs or buying new clunkers, have seen friendships end, and have dealt with the turbulence of a struggling economy. We've cleaned up the messes of many a poor decision, many a victimization at the hands of a rude or dishonest folks, and many a random crapshoot of this unpredictable life. 

In seven years, we've learned many lessons relationally, spiritually, financially, physically, and parentally. We've ridden the roller coaster of raising two children over 6 years (if you're a middle aged adult who's maybe even gotten to the empty-nester stage, yes, I know that sounds like nothing compared to your fuller spectrum of experience....but, as you assuredly recall, those first several years were very foundational to your parenting). We've lived in two different states, both near to and far from each side of our combined families, and have experimented to the greatest extent that we'd prefer with rental housing (both in management and in residence). 

In seven years, we've had joyful times, angry and bitter, battlesome times, worried and anxious times, placid and serene times, depressed and sorrowful times, and elated times. We've seen the mountain highs of being "in love" in the giddy ways that accompany dating, engagement, and being newlywed, and we've fought our way through the dark valley times when love was harder to find because of sin and self-centeredness. 

But most of all, in seven years we've seen every opportunity to learn again and again what the love of a marriage is supposed to truly be. We've seen time after time, in example after shameful example around us in society, what it's NOT meant to be, and have agreed continually to not let that be us. We have made up (eventually, though sometimes more quickly than others) after every fight. We have apologized for as many wrongs to each other as we could think of or see. We have worked through the differences in preference, the pet peeves, the differences in personality and temperament, and even the really difficult topics, like how to maintain a healthy balance between fantasy football and family time during the NFL season. :) 

Thanks to countless great examples in our community or family or among friends, and thanks to great sermons at our church in Oconomowoc (somehow, these have been the best of our lives), we've learned over and over to remember that our marriage is a sermon itself. We've worked through tears and tragedies and selfish pride and hurt and anger to always arrive together once more at a place that recalls how much Jesus loved us, that he died for us, and forgave every wrongdoing. We wake up each day committed to demonstrating that marriage is for showing the world what Jesus' love looks like in everyday life. 

Through the experiences, the humbling lessons of life, the ebbs and flows of good times and bad, the memories, the joys of being parents to two active, sweet and rascally little sons, and the adventurous path of always learning about each other, we have been made complete. Seven years of completion....and we know we're right where we're meant to be, doing all the things we're meant to be doing, and loving the ones we were made to love. 

It all began when two mid-twenty-somethings who liked to call themselves "cool, but in the nerdy way" were nudged together by external forces, snapped out of their self-absorbed heartbreak comas, and began following God's path of learning to love the way he drew it up long ago. 

Sacrificially....

Passionately and tirelessly....

Unconditionally....

With a complete and peace-filled recognition that no cause is ever lost, nothing is ever hopeless, and, with God....ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE!

*Happy 7th anniversary, Jen, my sweetheart! I love you forever and always, and I'm even more overwhelmed at your devotion and the certainty of your love than I was when I first laid eyes on your lovely face. Thank you for being the better half of genes in these crazy, smart, fun little boys of ours. Thank you for never ceasing to forgive me when I fail to serve you correctly. Thank you for being reckless and generous with your heart, with me. Thank you for letting me be the one who gets to hold you close, and kiss you goodnight, for the rest of my days.
- Love, Jeff*