Fearless

The first time I ever met Max Lucado he was sitting in my office.

To be honest, I was caught completely off guard. I had grown up reading his books, the man who had taught me the power of words was now sitting in my chair from Staples. So I introduced myself and then he commented on my office library. He told me he liked my books.

Now I have quite a few books, but in that moment I realized that I only had 2 of his on my shelf. So I panicked, and said the first thing that popped into my mind. I said, “I have a lot more of your books at my house.”

Impressive, I know. This guys sold over 65 million books and I’m trying to assure him that I was a part of that revenue.

Lucado’s newest book “Fearless” was recently released and I just read it on our vacation in Arizona. Typical Lucado, it was great.

He has always had a poetic way with words, but this book seemed different. Maybe it was the fact that he recently had heart surgery (which he mentioned several times) or maybe it was just the more fearful culture that we live in since 9/11, or maybe it was because death has recently claimed his brother, whatever it is, you get the feeling that he’s doing more than just pumping out a quota for publishers.

On the first page, Lucado tells about his brother’s final night. He had drank for years before finally kicking the habit. But the liver doesn’t forgive easy. And so when the ambulance came Dee Lucado told his wife and son he’d meet them at the hospital.

He died on the way.

But when they went in to identify the body, they noticed something. Dee’s hand was folded into the universal sign for “I love you.” And here is Max’s own words to describe this:

“I’ve tried to envision the final moments of my brother’s earthly life: racing down a Texas highway in an ambulance through an inky night, paramedics bussing around him, his heart weakening within him. Struggling for each breath, at some point he realized only a few remained. But rather than panic, he quarried some courage.”

Told you it was a good book.

In college and most of grad school I traded Lucado’s books in for Brueggemann and Bell. Maybe that’s why only two were on my office book shelf that day. Harding and ACU have taught me well how to love God with my mind. But reading this book reminded me why I wanted to get in ministry in the first place. When I was a kid the first book I read on my own was “He Still Moves Stones.” And I will always be thankful for that book.

See I hadn’t heard too much about how good God was. And in a very real sense the Jesus I still see in the gospels today was shaped by reading those books early on.

That’s not to say that Lucado’s new book doesn’t have depth. In fact, that was one of the surprises for me. He quotes Brueggemann and N.T. Wright repeatedly, not to mention C.S. Lewis, Fredrich Buechner and Yann Martel. Not just anybody can take deep theology and make it as accessible as Lucado.

Tony Campolo once said that when he was in college he finally understood the gospel. He was angry with his home-town preacher for never having preached it before. He was so upset that he went back to his home congregation to confront him. But then he listened to his preacher again, and realized that he had been preaching the Gospel the whole time.

That’s kind of my experience with this book. Reading this book felt both new and nostalgic. He writes in a way that feeds both me head and my heart.

I have a lot to be afraid of. I could be the next victim of terrorism, in the past month I was in an almost serious car accident, I have a great daughter and wife. In other words, I have a lot lose. And I bet you do too. But above all the uncertainty and worry is a God who knows and cares about the hairs on our heads.

And we call that Gospel.