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Do you keep photos of your childhood life and hometown?
The location of our physical birthplace can have a major effect in shaping the course of our life. I was born in Hollywood, California. To this day, I still love beaches, entertainment and the concept of 78 degrees on Christmas Day coupled with the convenience of a nearby golf course.
From my Inglewood neighborhood, I watched countless planes land at Los Angeles International Airport, nearly as many freight trains roar up and down Aviation Boulevard, not to mention construction of the San Diego Freeway (405) . . . all within 5 minutes of my front door. To this day I love planes, trains and automobiles and the technology it takes to build and service them.
My parents housed many missionaries who traveled around the globe to share the love of Christ and His message of forgiveness and life. By God’s grace, I love sharing the same message!
In a sense, Jesus invites us to bust out the photo album of our Spiritual Birthplace. Take a thorough look . . . you won’t find any photos of powerful religious leaders nor religious political action groups lined up with their favorite elected official. You will only find a cross . . . and a Savior torn to shreds . . . for you and for me . . . asking the Father to forgive us.
Why a cross? Because only the ultimate act of service would cancel the condemnation over our evil hearts. From Mark 10 we read Jesus’ words,
“You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them . . . not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”
This is David “JB” Miller reminding you that if we keep that photo album close by . . . and absorb it’s images . . . then and only then will we begin to be agents of mercy, hope and life who don’t so much have the “right” theology, but live it . . . because . . . in the Jesus-kind-of-way . . . we will be . . .
. . . all crossed up.