If I had a nickel for every commercial I’ve seen or heard about why I need to buy gold to prepare for some coming economic meltdown, I’d have a lot more money to lose in said meltdown.  If I wanted to sell a lot of books, all I’d have to do is call it something like “7 reasons why America is going to hell in the next 7 years” and it would sell faster than the nickels coming in from the meltdown infomercials.

Why?  One simple reason: fear sells.

If I can scare you, I can sell you whatever you think might save you.

Afraid of the coming zombie apocalypse?  Losing $349 might save you.

Don’t want gold but still want peace?  Buying foreign currency offers it (even though it’s a scam).

Why do we make the good news sound so much like bad news?

Not sure about eternity?  There’s always a guy with a sign trying to scare the hell out of you.

For whatever reason, we’ve bought into the lie that our country is headed for some black hole where patriotism and repentance won’t work, but today – on America’s 238th birthday – I can see the future clearly because I’m standing on the shoulders of those who have paid for it dearly.

Men and women who have fought bravely in far too many wars.  Soldiers who have endured countless nights away from their families so that I could sleep near mine.  Leaders who have made hard decisions that would have rendered most of us too paralyzed by fear to act.

Today, our country enjoys freedom fully because generations of patriots have stood for freedom courageously, and if those Americans could tell us one thing, they would say that they didn’t fight to make this country great.  They fought because IT IS GREAT.

Patriotism aside, this nation’s future is bright because of people like my mom, who is celebrating her 73rd birthday with Jesus even though I wish she was celebrating with me.  Like this country, she was a strong, independent woman who served her family and others tirelessly in order to make us better.  She didn’t do it because she had to, or because she hoped her service would help us.  She did it because she loved another Server, and He had given her the faith to believe that her service could be a piece of the puzzle that would ultimately complete the picture of redemption in our hearts.  I am the man I am today because of how she loved and served me when I least appreciated or deserved it.

It was typical to find mom at the sewing machine late at night.

Speaking of redemption, what part does the Redeemer play in how I see the future?  For so many of the fear peddlers, they see a God full of wrath just waiting on us to give Him an excuse to let us have it.  Like the red-faced father who has had his fill of a rebellious son, He glares at us and screams, “Just give me a reason!”  If we were to judge the church based on these messengers, we’d be convinced that the carriers of the GOOD NEWS are really hoping for the BAD NEWS instead.  Much like the prophet Jonah in the Old Testament, these people are more mad at God for not judging lost souls than they are thankful to God for saving their own.

But when I see the cross, I realize that God has already poured out His wrath, and today I stand on the shoulders of the One on whom he poured it.  He is not vengeful anymore, and while all the nay-sayers take pleasure in closing the doors of the ark on the “bad people” who deserve to die,

He is being patient for your sake. He does not want anyone to be destroyed, but wants everyone to repent. (2 Peter 3:9, NLT)

While preachers with bullhorns hold up really big signs with scary words and yell at us about how bad we are, God takes a different approach to show us how good He is.

Don’t you see how wonderfully kind, tolerant, and patient God is with you? Does this mean nothing to you? Can’t you see that his kindness is intended to turn you from your sin? (Romans 2:4, NLT)

This promise isn’t just for you and me as individuals, but for nations and people groups the world over!  Look what God said He would do for entire lands when we stop preaching the bad news and start pointing to the good news:

Then if my people who are called by my name will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sins and restore their land. (2 Chronicles 7:14, NLT)

Ultimately, if we can’t see a hope and a future for America, it’s because we don’t have a good view.  Like a kid missing the parade because all he can see are elbows and butts, our outlook is skewed because our perspective is limited.  And while no one would blame that kid for starting to hate parades, the better approach would be to do for that child what generations of soldiers, my mom and Jesus have done for me – lift him up and give him the best seat in the house.

And from where I stand – on the shoulders of so many who have given so much – the future looks amazing.

My kids and I have stumbled onto some sort of crazy tradition.  We didn’t plan on it and we didn’t prepare for it, and it all started one morning when all of us piled into the Taurus to head to school.

I made sure my iPhone was connected to the bluetooth adapter and then I handed my daughter the phone and said, “Here.  You’re the DJ.”

It being in the later months of the year, she played Christmas music because, well, we LOVE Christmas music.  We sang.  They danced.  Since I was driving, I made sure that I only danced on the straightaways so that I could drive with my knees.  At key moments of the songs – and ESPECIALLY when other drivers were near us – I’d sing into my thumb like it was a microphone.

I know what you’re thinking.

That’s more insanity than tradition, and I’d tend to agree with you except for the fact that EVERY TIME we play the DJ game, at some point Christmas music is played.  Even this morning on a day when the forecasted high is 90° F.

I’d say we’ve done a pretty good job raising our kids.

This morning it was just me and Sydney in the car, and by the time we’d gotten to a friend’s house to pick up her daughter for a ride to school, Sydney and I were pretty far gone into the sounds of a colder season, and when our passenger got in, I suddenly realized how funny it all must seem to everyone else.  How strange it must be to listen to Christmas music in the hot months and yet, how perfect it all was as a metaphor of what I’m doing living for a King who rules a kingdom that isn’t always seen as perfectly in this life as we’d wish.

You may be surprised by this, but you have to try really hard to find people who don’t like Christmas music.  Most people don’t want to listen to it 24/7/365, but I’ve watched, and even when it’s 90 degrees and the end of May, people may look at us funny, but if they’re around us long enough, I’ve seen their lips start to form the words and their feet start to move.

The reason is simple: Christmas music reminds us of a better time.  Of family.  Home.  Good food and good friends.  Peace.  Joy.  Even for people like me who have had life throw a vicious curve ball right in the middle of that season.  Sure, Christmas has become bittersweet for me now, but it’s still bitterSWEET.

But in May?  July?  The dog days of summer?  Christmas can seem so far away, can’t it?  It can seem like a place we all remember but can’t quite find our way back to, and unless you’re one of those fake smile “all tooth and no truth” church people, you recognize that this is starting to sound a lot like how we walk with Jesus.

As far as Kings go, Jesus is supreme.  The one hitch in the whole deal is that He rules a kingdom that – like He said when He was teaching His guys how to pray – is coming on earth as it is in heaven (Matthew 6:10).  That means, quite honestly, that we get glimpses of a fantastic kingdom at times, and at other times we can’t quite seem to get back to it.

I love how the Professor explained it in C.S. Lewis’ classic Narnia series when he was asked by Peter if they’d ever get to go back to Narnia:  “Yes, of course you’ll get back to Narnia again someday. Once a King in Narnia, always a King in Narnia. But don’t go trying to use the same route twice.  Indeed, don’t try to get there at all. It’ll happen when you’re not looking for it.”

And so we live in a fallen world, following the King of a better kingdom.

We live and breathe next to others who know nothing of the hope and peace and might and power and victory of our King.

But they want to.

Let me say that one more time.

The people who we’re convinced don’t want anything to do with Jesus and His kingdom are just like the people who silently mouth “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town” when it’s cranked in my car with the air conditioner on full blast in August.

They think I’m crazy, but they like it.

They would never dream of cranking it themselves, but they’re glad I did.  And they’re even happier that they’re along for the ride.

Christmas – and Christianity – are meant to be contagious.  More caught than taught.  More overcoming than overwhelming.  More foot tapping than Bible thumping.

So turn up the music of heaven and let the people around you hear the sounds of hope and peace and freedom and love blasting through your life.

Sure, you’ll get a few strange looks from the people who think that “Jesus stuff” only belongs in churches for an hour a week, but if you take the time to really see them, you may be surprised to find their toes moving up and down.

After all, everyone loves Christmas and everyone wants a kingdom of peace.

Most just need someone to have the courage to push play and point the way back.

My mom died in 2003, and with Mother’s Day only a couple of days away, it seems like a good time to share a few of the things that I would tell my mom if I could sit down this Sunday and have one more conversation with her.

1. I still wear clean underwear.

You probably didn’t need to hear that, mom, but I just thought I’d lead with the obvious.  You taught me a lot about being prepared and being responsible, and also about seeing the possibilities in every new day.  I know that when you told us to put on clean underwear it was probably more about the funky smells than a life lesson, but I tend to see it as letting go of yesterday and seeing today as a fresh start.  Starting each day with a clean pair, um, slate gives me confidence, and I know that no matter what I might face over that next 24 hour period…

2. I’m ok.

Don’t get me wrong.  I would so much rather have you here with me, calling me every day “just to check in” on me, but you need to know that all the time you invested in me to shape the man I would become paid off, and even though it hurts that you’re gone, your absence hasn’t left me unable to live, because you taught me that life is about so much more than how I feel or what I experience.  Life is about Jesus, and He’s been good to me.  Of course, it doesn’t hurt that…

3. She’s everything you prayed for.

It’s not like you never got to meet Wendy, because we’d been married 12 years before you died, so I’m sure you died at peace knowing that I was married to the woman YOU PRAYED INTO MY LIFE.  No, you didn’t pray specifically for Wendy, but I know you spent time on your knees asking God to give me the perfect blend of strength and grace, beauty and integrity.  She’s all of that and so much more.  The fact that she said yes and married me is only one example of how…

4. God heard you.

I’ll never forget the summers when you would send all of us kids off to youth camp.  I remember specifically the summer that you hugged me good-bye and told me that I would be a preacher some day, and I’m pretty sure I laughed.  In your face. But just like with Wendy, God heard you because God seems to have a special line of communication for praying moms, and here I am years later in my third decade of ministry.  I’m so thankful that you were able to see God’s answer to your prayers before your death, and I cherish the years that I got to serve on staff at your church.  I think of you often now as I preach at and lead The Gathering, and this Sunday you will be a big part of me, because…

5. You are not forgotten.

I don’t break down as much as I used to, but I think of you more now than ever before, and I’m more determined now to live my life in such a way that others don’t forget the woman who held me when my ear infections kept me up at night, or my mind blew up thinking about eternity, or a girl broke my heart.  I think of you when I see Wendy help our children with school work and every time our extended family gets together.  I look at my sisters, my daughter, my niece, and every now and then when they turn their head a certain way and laugh, I see you.  The thing is, I couldn’t forget you even if I wanted to, because you are in me.  Your DNA pulses through me, your values guide me, and your passion for pursuing Jesus awakens me to all the things you prayed for me.  For that, I can only say…

6. Thank you.

Thank you for everything.  Thank you for giving up your life to pour into mine.  For living in front of me the sacrificial love of Jesus by pouring yourself so fully into the care of my special needs brother.  Thank you for teaching me that every life matters, and that if I look hard enough, the lives that seem less valuable can actually teach me the most valuable lessons.  Thank you for showing me that no matter how many years you’ve lived, it’s never too late to try something new.  Thank you for your time, your patience, your unwavering faith, your consistency, your realness, your laugh and your love.  But most of all, thank you for so impacting my life with your character that every time I hear the word grace, I see your face.

Mom, if you were here with me right now, and I could have one last conversation with you, the last thing I’d say to you would be the first thing you heard when you saw Jesus…

7. Well done.