Upon Reflection...

Just This Once...

2012-01-18T04:52:00.000-08:00

I finally cracked (pardon the pun) a life-long habit of cracking my knuckles. For the past year or two I've basically never done it once.

That is, until a week or two ago.

In a moment of particular stress, my hand was against my cheek and my knuckles were in just the right position, and I thought to myself, "Just this once."

The great lie.

Just this once...

Since that day my habit has resumed in full force. Quantity-per-day may not have reached peak production, but the habit has taken on life again. It's alive.

So now I have to kill this bad habit again. But it's so much easier to keep dead things dead than to put to death something that wishes to live.

My bad habit was dead. But thanks to me, it's alive again. And it doesn't want to die.

Thank God the habit involved is just the cracking of knuckles. But what a reminder of the power of a vice, and the deceitfulness we practice on ourselves when we give ourselves a "one-time treat" to that vice and indulge it.

Just this once...

Ahead of Jesus

2012-01-08T21:12:00.000-08:00

John 11:1-19
Now a man named Lazarus was sick. ... So the sisters sent word to Jesus, “Lord, the one you love is sick.”... when he heard that Lazarus was sick, he stayed where he was two more days ... then he told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead, and for your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.”... On his arrival, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. Now Bethany was less than two miles from Jerusalem, and many Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them in the loss of their brother.

As I read and re-read this passage, I found myself playing around with notions possible only with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight. Nobody then knew what we know now: that Jesus had intentionally delayed his visit to Bethany.

By the time Jesus arrived, Lazarus had been dead for four days. The question I found myself puzzled by was this: What would I have done, knowing what I know today, if I had lived then as a close friend or relative of Lazarus? This is not entirely an idle question, because as verse 19 notes, many friends and relatives did the obvious thing to do. They went to Mary and Martha to comfort them. And they didn't wait four days to do it.

But they didn't know then what Jesus was up to. Today, I do. Armed with hindsight, I started to make the blithe assumption that I would not have been in a rush to get to Bethany "ahead" of Jesus. It is not wise, after all, to hurry off ahead of Jesus, generally speaking.

Or is it?

As soon as the thought entered my mind, it began to fester a bit. Not visit Mary and Martha? How could I... Why should I not visit May and Martha? Yes, I know that Jesus is eventually going to arrive. And I know what he's going to do when he gets there. Well and good enough. But my beloved Mary and Martha are grieving now.

All of a sudden, 20/20 hindsight or no, I'm not so sure I know what the right response would be to a situation like this. Jesus is delaying. What should I do?

And here is where the question loses its ivory tower academic irrelevance and begins to take on poignant significance. For who among us cannot think of someone they know who is waiting on God for something? I can think of many such people. In fact, I strongly suspect it would be easier to tally up the people I know who are not waiting on God for something. We're all waiting on God for something. Some of are waiting on God for a lot of things.

So how one handles the Lazarus question has ramifications for real life. Granted that the Jews around at the time had no idea what Jesus was up to then. And we, today, do not (or ought not claim to) know exactly what God is up to today. So in that sense we're on an even playing field. On God's plans for our own futures, we're pretty much in the dark.

Now let's ask the $64,000 question. How should those friends be reacting to the news of Lazarus' death? How should they speak to Mary and Martha? If I have a good answer to that, I might just have a good working protocol for how I should be reacting to events in my own life and in the lives of those around me.

I don't think I know the right answer to that question. But I have a few ideas.

First, I think a staggering amount of humility is in order. We ought not try to intepret too quickly the reasons behind what God does or allows to happen, especially since we are not privy even to that basic distinction (whether God did it or whether he allowed it) let alone aware of God's guiding motivations in the matter.

Imagine saying to Mary and Martha, "Jesus is holding off a bit. He doesn't want to arrive until Lazarus has been dead for, oh, about four days or so." To speak that way would be ridiculous for at least two reasons. First, because we don't have the mind of God, and we have not that level of knowledge. Second, because even supposing we did have such insight, to speak of it would interfere with the very goals Jesus had in mind to accomplish.

Jesus meant for a great number of people to walk through four days of death. We ought not interfere with the experiences Jesus intends for others to go through. Of course those are harsh words, when you think of it. But God never was quite the softy we often wish him to be. He loves us more than we can even comprehend, but a brief review of the Bible ought to free us from any notion that he's a pushover for a parent. Job and John make that much clear.

Second, we must bring the absolute assurance with us that God is for us. That God cares. That he loves us. Jesus has shown us this much, and I believe these words of encouragement are in place at all times and in all circumstances. Even when Lazarus has died.

Finally, I think a big takeaway notion is to hold on to, and to share with others, the great conviction and faith that Jesus is coming. He may delay, but he is coming. We may die before we see him, but he's coming.

Can we go on ahead of Jesus? Yes! In fact, we must. Jesus does not wander the earth with dusty feet anymore. We are the dusty hands and feet of Jesus. So go we must. But go with humility. We don't know if God is going ahead of us or behind us, and in either case God is often pleased to keep us in the dark as to his larger plans.

And when we get there? We are on safest ground when we offer loved ones those few assurances we know to be true. God loves you. Jesus is indeed coming. Suffering souls need these assurances.

As for our wild guesses about what God is doing and what he is up, they will almost assuredly prove much less useful, helpful, or welcome.

Reminder From A Hamster Bottle

2011-11-01T06:45:00.000-07:00

No, I didn't dream about a hamster last night, (as noted in a prior blog), though I have had that dream again since I last blogged about it.

This time it was an image. Sometimes images form in my head, and I find myself a bemused spectator. "I wonder what I was picturing?" I find myself asking, a second or two after the image took shape. I query my own brain for an answer to my own question. It's weird. We really do have subconscious minds. Sometimes I think it says a lot simply about what primordial thoughts are percolating below my conscious thoughts. Sometimes I think it's a nudge from God. Most of the time I cannot tell, and probably the true answer is that I never know.

Too much prologue. So there I was this morning, reflecting on some long, long, painful struggles I have been dealing with. And yet I am alive. Healthy. In a warm home. And yet... And yet... it's so human to turn to God for a solution to every problem – even when we have so much else to be thankful.

While I struggled with a few "Why" questions this image formed. Took shape. And I asked myself what I was looking at. It was the stopper on a hamster bottle. It's been 30 years now, but I'm pretty sure it was the way the bottle worked when I was a kid and had my own hamster. Rubber, with a tube running through it. Nowadays they screw on, but I digress.

So there it was. A hamster bottle stopper.

Why on earth? What brought that ancient artifact to my mind?

But as I reflected a bit, I had to smile. The hamster has to really work at it to get the water. There's a little ball at the end of the tube. That's what keeps the water from flowing out all at once. So the little feller has to push the ball bearing up to get each sip. It takes a little while. But it works.

If the hamster had a brain (a dubious proposition) he might wish for a faster delivery system. Why, oh God, he might ask, do I have to go through all this hassle. There's tons of water up there. I can see it.

But of course if it all came down at once, it would flood the cage and make it unsanitary. And I know from experience that an open dish of water likewise soon gets soiled with hamster poop, cage fluff and soggy hamster treats.

There is an upside to that delayed and slow delivery system. The water that comes is good, pure... and it sustains.

So maybe there is a lesson here for me. I am alive. The trials I have been through have not taken me out. God has provided. Drip-feed survival is not to be mocked. It may be a blessing. One day I will die anyway, but in the meantime perhaps a lesson from the hamster bottle. Someone who loves me has provided for me.

Even when it comes out slowly.

Catholics, Church and the Constitution

2011-10-15T07:02:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning and found myself musing over the recent revelations involving the Missouri bishop charged with failing to report to authorities what he knew: that one of the priests in his Diocese had, over a long period of time, engaged in habitual acts of child-abuse of a sexual nature.

Several things struck me as I lay there in the dark. First, it struck me with a sudden force that I was really, really angry. Angry at the bishop. Angry at the church. How strange. What about the priest? One might wonder why my ire was not directed in greater measure toward the wicked man who actually abused the innocent children. And so indeed I did begin to wonder.

What I came to realize is that I expect there to be wicked people in the world, and even in lower levels of church leadership. That certain men will, given the opportunity, use children for sexual pleasure surprises me none. It's part of the mix here on broken planet Earth.

What sets my blood boiling is the thought of people in higher (sometimes much higher) levels of church leadership failing to call others in the church to account -- or, in this case, even complying with good and just civil laws designed to protect children from dangerous sexual predators.

So I lay there in a sudden seizure of mental paralysis. Which is worse? And more fundamentally, is either deed really any worse than the other? To sexually abuse a child is an awful thing. To lay children down before the pagan altar of "protecting" the reputation of the church (I guess that one didn't work out so well) is no less awful.

I should hate both sins. And I need to love both sinners. And I should expect failures in church leadership to also be part of the mix here on broken planet Earth.

But I have not been feeling much love or compassion for the Missouri bishop. And I still cling to silly notions that here on broken planet Earth failures such as seen in this Missouri bishop should not happen.

Why?

Perhaps it's because of the abuse I have received at the hands of self-protecting church leaders that I have such a visceral (dare I say?) hatred for the church leaders. I've never been sexually abused by anyone in the church before. My gut reacts to sins I know well enough from the victim's perspective. I am a victim several times over of abuse by turf-protecting, reputation-protecting and self-protecting church leaders. An area of unforgiveness in me is revealed.

But then my thoughts moved on to the next puzzling thing. Yes, both sorts of sins are to be expected in the church. Sexual predators and organizational Machiavellis.

What happens when they collide?

I was struck by the thought that the writers of the Constitution knew something about this. They split the executive branch from the legislative branch. And they further split law-writers from the law enforcers. What have we, in the church, done to address this need? The writers of the constitution understood human nature well enough. Should not the church understand it even better?

Clearly the Missouri bishop had more than a little too much of the executive branch and the judicial branch wrapped into one under his hat. If in the church the executive and judicial branches were more distinct, we'd not (one would hope) have been so likely to see someone in the "executive wing" of the church so blatantly and awfully protected by such utter moral failure on the part of the "judicial wing" of the church.

But we don't. Not in the Catholic church. I see that in the news. And not in the Protestant church. I experienced that in person. In my Protestant church the break-down seems not to be in the ideal set-up, nor even in the legal set-up. In my experience the local executive branch (pastor/priest) was beholden in some way to the judicial branch (vestry/leadership committee). But only on paper. In practice I found, to my great distress and personal pain, that the priest rules and the vestry obeys. I guess some sort of similar process fails in the Catholic church too.

Lord Jesus, have mercy on us, your church. And have mercy on me. I am part of it, and I am obliged to remain in it. I am reminded of an old quote which seems sometimes to be attributed to Augustine and other times not...

"The church is a whore. But she is my mother."

Lessons From A Hamster

2011-10-01T05:58:00.000-07:00

At least twice in recent months I dreamed I was holding a struggling hamster in my hands. In both dreams I struggled to accomplish two rather incompatible goals. One the one hand, I didn't want to hurt the tiny creature I had in my strong hands. On the other, I didn't want the hamster to escape my grasp and fall to the floor.

Injury and/or death awaited the hamster if it fell from my hands, but the very same fate lay in store for the hamster if I held it too tightly. And the problem was this: the hamster, in both dreams, was in full panic mode.

We have two hamsters in our home, so I can attest to the fact that hamsters do panic – and when they do, the floor is the next stop if you're not watching them closely. They'll jump to their death, given the opportunity. When they've decided to panic, that is.

So... why the dream? I'm not sure, but I have some guesses. I tell guests in our home regularly that I love to think of the hamsters as reminders for humans of how God thinks about us. We're dumb as a box of rocks (with all the smart ones taken out) and yet he absolutely adores us. We cannot do one blasted useful thing for him, but he's just tickled pink to watch us just to see what we'll do next. He even delights in watching us sleep. Obviously the illustration should not be taken too far, but I still find it helpful.

But what does God do with us when we're panicking? Here I may be reaching too far to interact with a dream that has more to do with last night's pizza than with instruction from on high. But I had the dream twice, so it must have significance in my own thoughts, if not God's.

In the dream I found myself both times coming to the same conclusion. The safest place for the struggling hamster was a cage. I wanted to hold and caress the hamster, but it was squirming like a banshee and to keep it from escaping my hand (and falling to the floor) I had to squeeze it too hard. In the cage I would not have to hold the hamster. It'd be a restricted world for the hamster, but it'd be a safe one.

When in life I find myself feeling caged in, perhaps the time has come to reflect on whether I would be willing to rest (without struggling) in my Father's hands. The sense of imprisonment might just recede if I could.

99.9999999999999%

2011-09-05T07:33:00.000-07:00

I was struck by something yesterday morning as I sat in church. The universe is huge. (Stop the presses!) But seriously. Huge. Beyond our comprehension, huge. And largely lifeless. Which means that some 99.999999999999% of it is doing exactly what God designed it to do. Give or take a hundred 9's...

What struck me in that moment, as a programmer by trade, is that it makes all the sense in the world (pardon the pun) that God takes a keen interest in getting that last 0.0000000000000001% working right. We're the sticking point to an otherwise perfectly running program, as it were. My goodness, the lengths I will go to when I know that my program is perfect — except for one thing.

Of course I am usually wrong. I fix the one thing and later find out something else isn't perfect either. But God knows. He's not misinformed on the matter. He's got 99.99999999999999999999% of the universe working like a clock. It's just us.

And here is where love comes into play. Because as a programmer I might be inclined to kill the bugs that plague my otherwise perfectly running program. Most customers won't mind losing 0.00000000000001% functionality if the rest of the product works great. But God didn't take the easy way out. Not like that. He wants to restore what was lost. Not annihilate it and release a product with slightly fewer features.

But so many souls! Six billion? Seven? So many problems, and all bound up in the tiniest corner of his project. But then I remember that for every human soul on earth there are dozens of galaxies (if not more) and that in each galaxy there are a hundred billion stars... and God's got them all working just fine. It's suddenly not so amazing that God is able to pay attention to me. He's running the universe. And most of it is running just fine. It's just that last 0.00000000000000000% that needs help. A few billion souls in a tiny corner. No, for God the daunting part is not the count of the souls but rather the price to redeem them.

Infinite power, infinite wisdom, and infinitely tender love... and perhaps a touch of a programmer's perfectionism. He wants to get that last bit right. How wondrous to see the lengths God will go to in order to get our universe right. To give up himself, to become like us, to die for us... in order to perfect that last 0.0000000000001%

What a mighty God we serve!
What a mighty God we serve!
Angels bow before Him.
Heaven and Earth adore Him.
What a mighty God we serve!

Revenge Fantasies

2011-09-04T06:11:00.000-07:00

I just watched The Help with my wife. It was enjoyable. But that does not mean it was good.

Entertaining? Yes. Heart-warming? Frequently. The movie also shone a spotlight on hatred — mostly of the racial sort. To the extent it reminds us all of our common humanity, and of our need to steer our hearts clear of hating others (especially others who gain that distinction by means of skin color or such), so much the better. But when all is said and done, I left the movie feeling that I had been watching a female revenge fantasy.

Many years ago (whenever it was that Air Force One came out...) I made a mental commitment to avoid male revenge fantasies at the movie theater. Male revenge fantasies are typically violent. Extremely. The simple formula is, "You took something good from me. Now I will rip your limbs off, one by one. But I won't move too fast because I don't want you to die too quickly."

Needless to say, this is not the life God calls us to, and it scares me that so many of us have allowed ourselves the secret pleasure of watching someone else engage in violent revenge, and to ourselves vicariously savor the agony inflicted upon the original offender.

I'm reading a great book right now, titled What's So Amazing About Grace. Perhaps that has made me momentarily more sensitive on the topic. Perhaps it'd be best if my sensitivity became permanently. Grace is underrated. Grace is the forgotten word. To the point that many people in common society would struggle to define the word with any clarity.

But I digress. To our movie. The Help. It's a female revenge fantasy. By and large, the good characters are good. The bad characters are bad. Really bad. And the worst character of all? Well, by the end of the movie she gets what she deserves. A female revenge fantasy. Like sugar, it tastes sweet. And when consumed in a theater, it doesn't turn sour in your stomach. You leave the theater feeling great.

But it rots your soul.

I mean that. If we savor revenge fantasies, we'll live them out too — to the extent we can. For we, to greater or lesser extent, become what we worship. If we worship revenge in the theater, we'll appreciate it well enough in the home. And at work. And at church.

Most of what Hollywood produces includes a slice of revenge fantasy, which is to justice what pornography is to sex. But Hollywood does sometimes get it right. To see what revenge does in real life, I'd recommend Mystic River.

Most movies don't tell the true story of revenge. Revenge destroys the souls of those who engage in it. Its destructive power is guaranteed to backfire. Mystic River captures this subtle truth, though perhaps too subtly. I suspect many never see how revenge backfires so tragically in that story's telling.

It's because revenge destroys those who pursue it that God calls us to love our enemies. Ironically, this commandment from God is noted, word for word, in the movie The Help. Several times. The words are celebrated.

I was reminded of Gladiator, a horribly violent movie which, near the end of the movie, offered up Russell Crowe (with bloody hands) ask his own amphitheater audience when they would stop taking pleasure in violence. Wait! Isn't that what we Americans just did in this theater? Have we come so far since the Romans?

The Help engaged in this same sort of hypocrisy. Love your enemies. Wait! The high point of the movie was when pie (laced with fecal matter) got served up to the unsuspecting enemy! Her just desserts? Fine. But call it what it is. The bad woman ate shit in a pie that tasted great? How fitting, since anybody who left The Help with no misgivings probably did the same.

When Clean Words Don't Do Justice

2011-08-27T07:38:00.000-07:00

Occasionally my thoughts grow dark, and what I want to say to others or to God seems to lack communicative power... that is, unless I permit myself to salt my comments with a few choice words that wouldn't pass the family-friendly filter test. Add that extra word or two, and suddenly I feel like I have really said how I feel. Suddenly I feel I have been more truthful about how I am feeling.

At times like these, and I had one a day or two ago, I found myself reflecting on the usefulness of coarse words. Occasionally they seem almost the right word — le mot juste. Without them, I have failed to communicate what I am feeling.

But this morning as I returned to this reflection (yes, after having shared rather bluntly with the Lord how I felt about an injustice I am being subjected to) I realized (I think) that there is a better way to approach the matter.

When clean words don't suffice, I think it's wiser to conclude not that I need to salt up the language a bit, but rather to conclude that I have discovered a place in my heart where I desperately need healing.

In short, coarse words are not part of a healthy diet, but rather a thermometer. My sense of need for them provides an indicator of my spiritual condition. I'll know healing has occurred (in part or in full) when I can speak, and do justice to my thoughts, without feeling a need to use coarse language.

To stretch the analogy a bit further, my use of course language is going to be about as helpful to God and to others as a coughing fit in the presence of the healthy. They'll know how I feel... and if they are wise, they'll take a step or two back from the stuff coming out of my mouth.

Armed with this new insight... I now return to prayer. I obviously need some pretty serious healing in a few spots....

Amazing Un-Grace

2011-08-17T05:07:00.000-07:00

Amazing Grace Barack won't see,
Not from the likes of me.
Respect is taught by scriptures past
but I send the email blast.

Paul, Moses, David, (Cyrus too!)
all murderers through and through.
Grace came to them and me and you;
Obama, not so true.

God's purpose, shrouded mystery,
Guides those in authority.
My wisdom shines more brightly still;
Obama we must kill.

God's Son, God's Word, His Spirit in me;
I know I need them all.
But they stand aside while I explain
on Obama just where I fall.

-- This poem is dedicated to those to whom the words apply...

The Last Chapter

2011-07-30T18:03:00.000-07:00

Editorial comment: I hope I'll be able to get this thought down concisely... but don't bank on it.

I've been struck recently (from a number of angles) by the simultaneous arrogance and folly with which we interpret our lives and the times we live in. From the smallest details of our day-to-day living to the largest trends of global topics... we tend to think we understand "most of it" and can explain even more of it. And we are fooled by our own thoughts.

A book which was thrust upon me recently proved very rewarding... so first prize to author Nissam Nicholas Taleb. His book (Fooled By Randomness) proved more than a little thought-provoking. He focused mostly on how people interpret financial results. (For example, he analysed the dangers of assuming that "Since Warren Buffett has done so well over three decades, he must be a superior investor." Well, that is very possible. But it's also possible that he's the luckiest coin flipper among 40,000 starting contestants. After 15 flips you can expect at least one person to have demonstrated "a real knack for flipping only heads.")

Taleb's point is that we tend to look at what happened and then construct a story around why it had to happen. Why Harry Potter was destined to succeed. Well, it's often easy to explain why something had to happen, once you know that it did happen. How many other fabulous writers never become well-read? Quite a few. We only know about the ones who became big. And (after the fact, as always) gushing journalists explain why it's obvious the author earned the fame, deserved it... had written in such a way as to guarantee success.

It comes closer to home when we examine our own lives. I still remember to this day a lousy day back in 2nd grade. I was in a crowded room in a Christian camp-ish setting when the leader said that beneath a single chair was taped a candy bar. I reckoned I'd had a lousy day and was a good candidate to receive such bliss. I told God as much. And lo and behold... it worked out that I did (!) win that candy bar... it was under the seat of my very own chair. A 1-in-a-hundred winner... but if I had not won, I am sure I would not remember the incident today, 35 years later. I remember also vaguely that on other such days my views were not so honored by God's stamp of approval. Days on which the candy bar went to someone else, so to speak. I still wonder to this day about the distinction between "I won that candy bar by fluke" and "I won the candy bar because God decreed it."

Too often we use that latter definition, and it's sooo easy to do in hindsight. But the folly of it is that we cannot seem to predict God's sovereign decrees in advance nearly so well as we employ insights into his sovereign will after the fact. We construct so many stories, explaining what God is teaching us and providing illustrations of how God has been doing it...

And I am as guilty as the next person in this perilous adventure. Perhaps even more guilty. I am deeply confident that God is teaching me treasured lessons through a prolonged investment misadventure. Sure that God has my family through the financial debacle through gainful employment... but others will tell how God sustained their family through loss of their home... loss of every asset they own. We each weave our tales in order to explain the outcome we currently face.

It seems to me sometimes that agnostics, atheists and others are not quite so much prey to this folly. I remember the figurative slap in the face from 20 years ago. I commented that God had been kind to me, seeing as my leg in a full cast had been spared some discomfort by a very mild summer. The woman (not a believer) looked at me in awe and said, "Do you really think God gave the entire midwest a cool summer just for the sake of your leg??"

She had a point. I found myself stunned, not sure how to answer. How easy it is to make ourselves the center of the story, and to pretend we know how it ends and how it is proceeding.

What takes more bravery is to say, "I have no idea how this story ends. In fact, it's God's story. Not mine. And my story is only relevant insofar as it pertains to His story. And God has not revealed to me what role I have yet to play."

I mostly don't say that. I instead have a habit of thinking about today as if it's more or less a page in the final chapter of a book. I can explain so much about how God got me to this day. So much about where God is taking me. We know, of course, that today is (for most of us) not nearly the last chapter of our books. But we talk all too often with the confidence of someone who has read the whole book. When we haven't.

The story belongs to God. And I don't know what he's up to most of the time. And I take strong positions more often than I should.

So what inspired me to write this blog? A number of things. More than a few... Here's one...For example, note how many of us Christians alive today, when pressed on the matter, share a hunch that the Lord will return before we die. Hidden in there, I believe, is a commitment to the notion that we are integral to the story. How can it end after we're gone? Of course that sounds absurd when stated baldly. But count me among the guilty. Do I see signs that the end is near? Yes! But then so have past generations. A bit more humility here is due, both from me and the rest of the living saints. More than likely we'll join the ranks of the dead saints and God's story here on Earth will be still in full stride. The last chapter coming some time after my own death? Perish the thought.

But the most recent impetus (and by that I mean the last 120 minutes) was from a comment that theologian Mark Noll shared in a recent interview. He pointed out that neither Martin Luther nor John Calvin would have tolerated the notion that the earth revolves around the sun. But just two generations later, Noll notes, Lutherans, Calvinists and Catholics would together with one voice lend credence to that which is taken for granted by all educated people regardless of creed. Noll wryly (and astutely) proceeded to assure his interviewer that he (Noll) is not enough of a scientist to shed light on current topics of interest. (I can imagine one or two he might have had in mind...), But Noll felt very comfortable as a historian to say that in light of these historical episodes we Christians should not be too hasty in our assessment of God's truth where the latest hot scientific debate is concerned.

To use my own words, I think Noll would point out that the last chapter on many such matters is not yet written.

So let this rambling blog try to wrap up with this observation. Where one cannot predict the future, humility must be afforded the past.

God, grant me the humility to admit I have no clue what you're doing. You're God, and I'm not. It's enough to know you love me, and, where the future is concerned, to not presume too much beyond that.

Hidden Commitments

2011-07-02T06:48:00.000-07:00

I've been reflecting on the turbulence of life lately. How we find things so complicated and intractable. Poverty. Politics. Church problems. Family problems.

It seems that there is always a general idea that some Christian principle ought to apply, and yet that somehow it can't be used in this situation because of XYZ. And embedded in XYZ is a hidden commitment. XYZ is usually something that seems good. Or almost good. One thing is sure, however. If XYZ is keeping us from complete abandonment to Jesus and his ways, there's a hidden commitment in there somewhere. It has to go.

I've been struck frequently by the image of Jesus "slicing through" snarly problems, not unlike how he walked through that murderous crowd on one occasion. How is it that a host of threatening things does not prevent him from the straight path out?

Disciples of Christ find themselves at the juncture between subsonic flight and supersonic flight. We're drawn to the supersonic. We know it's smoother and faster. As we draw closer to the threshhold, however, the plane starts to shake and shudder. We're not comfortable. And we're not flying supersonic. And we're at risk of crashing the plane.

Then there is Jesus. Somehow he slices through. His road is not easy nor fun, but his way is smooth. Isaiah didn't have jet fighters in mind, but he did say pretty much the same thing. Make straight in the desert a highway...

Even Jesus had his Gethsemene moments, to be sure, but this is the broader picture of the gospel. A man who sliced through and seemed to glide through all our turbulence.

Why else does Jesus slide through? Said a different way, Why is it we cannot slice through as he does? These two words were added to my reflections this morning...

Hidden Commitments.

The answer is in our hidden commitments.

Supersonic flight requires a smooth aircraft. No clunky bricks attached to the wings. Our hidden commitments not only keep us from bursting through the sound barrier. They also make our flight extremely unpleasant. And the harder we strain to follow Jesus through the sound barrier, the worse and worse (and more painful) our hidden commitments become to us.

No wonder the rich man went away so sad. He could see where he wanted to go. His heart was basically there. Jesus was only a few feet away. But his hidden commitment to wealth prevented the last smooth step into supersonic flight. You can almost see the brick attached to his shaking wing as he veered off.

Hidden Commitments. As these word rattle in my brain this morning, they make a good fit much of my journey these past few years. I've been dropping commitments at a startling pace. I still have more commitments to drop, and some that I have dropped were dropped poorly. None perfectly.

But as I find myself clinging to Jesus more, and other things less, I find my life less turbulent in pleasant ways. Am I still buffetted by many winds? Absolutely. Do I feel less turbulence? Absolulely. And people sometimes turn away. But it is the way forward. I want to fly with Jesus.

Let me not be blind to my own hidden commitments, Lord. When my plane starts to shake, Lord... grant me courage to examine my wings and find the brick.

He Forgets Not His Own

2011-06-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

"He forgets not his own..."

I woke with the refrain running through my head, and now, several hours later, the refrain... will not refrain. It's on repeat mode, for the time being.

He forgets not his own.

He forgets not his own.

He forgets not his own.

What beautiful words. I suspect the hymn has been drawn forth at least in part by a beautiful Pixar movie (most of what Pixar does is beautiful, so this is not an exceptional movie in that regard) called Toy Story 3.

In Toy Story 3, which I watched with my kids last night, we see yet again the themes of fidelity in friendship, loyalty in love... time-honored themes. It was a touching movie.

I guess I have nothing earth-shattering to write here. I'm just setting down my thoughts as I reflect on God's fidelity to us, we who are so terribly unfaithful to him. How beautiful it is to know that God loves us so much.

He forgets not his own.

How beautiful to wake to those words.

He forgets not his own.

"Sticking" to Principles

2011-05-16T04:38:00.000-07:00

The Sabbath has preoccupied my thoughts greatly in recent months. The more I honor it, the more it becomes obvious to me that in doing so I am blessed, not burdened.

We do not consider it a burden to take time out for food each day.

We do not consider it a burden to take time out for sleep each night.

Why is it that so many people, even among the children of God, consider it too much a burden to obey the call to rest on the Sabbath?

There are a number of good ways to answer that question, and my (well-justified) fear here is that I won't do justice to any of them by attempting in a few words to address a topic that has, no doubt, filled entire books.

Suffice it to say that the American church does not realize
a) that the Sabbath is still one of our Ten Commandments, and that
b) as with all of God's commands, obedience in this matter ushers us more fully into the life God wants us to have.

Because the American church in large part does not recognize this, we are that much more the impoverished for it.

Do I indict the entire American church so quickly? Well...

Yes.

Of course amongst 300 million souls there are many churchgoers who have not forgotten the Sabbath commandment. No doubt this is so.

But consider this: my church, the church I attend now, just yesterday took part in a multi-church event yesterday. Probably about five to ten churches together engaged in an event called Carefest during which worship takes place together and then groups go out to... to... to work.

What kind of work? Landscaping. Yardwork. You name it. Work for various causes and needs.

Are we doing it for free? Yes.

Are we doing it to serve? Yes.

Are we doing it on Sunday? Yes.

Is this a good idea? No!

Here yours truly, a Pharisee in training, is on thin ice. I think it's a terrible idea, but what thin ice it is.

Jesus worked on the Sabbath. And he got really upset with the Pharisees who sought to limit his Sunday service. Am I on the wrong side of the debate?

So hard to say... Because here we are caught between the Scylla and the charybdis.

We're on the wrong side of Jesus if we prevent good works on Sunday.

But we're also on the wrong side of Jesus if we let our human scheduling preferences override the commandments of God.

Jesus got really upset with how the religious leaders of his day allowed the rules of men to supercede the rules of God. There is a difference between addressing needs as they hit you in the face, as Jesus did, and scheduling work for a Sabbath.

A dozen churches in this area of town, including my own, scheduled work for yesterday. They did it that way for one simple reason -- Thousands of busy suburban churchgoers have their Sundays set aside. What better a day to schedule a multi-church work day?

Except for the fact that God told us to rest on the Sabbath.

Scheduling a multi-church work day for Sunday is sooooooo not a good idea.

So our family took the day off from church.

And here is where this rambling post gets a bit interesting.

Among the many relaxing things I did yesterday was a quick jog with a soccer ball. Is jogging work? No... no I needed the exercise and it was wonderful to get out of the house. But I did ponder that thought. No, it's ok. A jog is a good thing.

My young son Luke joined me, so it was two boys with two soccer balls on a Sunday jaunt. On my way back from the park, I was still reflecting on what we were doing and why we were not "working" with the various churches. And feeling good about it. In good ways and bad ways I was feeling good about it.

On the way home, we picked up loose sticks on the ground to use for light our outdoor fire pit. I've been in the habit of doing that for a long time. All fun and easy....

Until a little voice in my head said, "Hey, Brian. Are you gathering firewood?"

Very funny, God. Very, very, funny.

Numbers 15:32-36
While the Israelites were in the wilderness, a man was found gathering wood on the Sabbath day. Those who found him gathering wood brought him to Moses and Aaron and the whole assembly, and they kept him in custody, because it was not clear what should be done to him. Then the LORD said to Moses, “The man must die. The whole assembly must stone him outside the camp.” 36 So the assembly took him outside the camp and stoned him to death, as the LORD commanded Moses.

Nice touch, God. Nice touch.

And so the thin ice gets thinner. And I am reminded that the definition of work can get awful complicated. No wonder that by the time Jesus arrived so many rules had sprung up around the notion of work. Absurd rules. The sort of rules that Jesus had a ball with. Oh yes, Jesus loved to point out the inconsistencies in all the Pharisees did and taught.

And here yours truly was caught in one of his own. Busy condemning the work others were doing, I was gathering firewood on the Sabbath. And dragging my son into the mess.

Of course this, for me, was not work. The fire pit is FUN! Ah, such thin ice.

Do I think the Sabbath is important? Yes!

Do I still think the American Church has lost sight of it? Yes!

Am I Sabbath Pharisee? Um...

Um...

Yes.

I need mercy, because I am at heart a Pharisee, and it shows up everywhere.

Jesus — Master of Disaster

2011-04-24T05:47:00.000-07:00

There are very few places in the gospels where Jesus appears to have lost control — where circumstances seem to guide Jesus rather than the other way around.

The last 24 hours of his life do invite us to entertain such notions, however. He is passed back and forth from one set of violent hands to another, and finally escorted by Roman soldiers to his own crucifixion.

Shall we assume that, in his final hours of life, Jesus was just a wee bit out of the driver's seat, so to speak?

I don't think so. Jesus was in control the whole time.

On one level, it's quite strange that we should think otherwise. During the weeks and months leading up to his death Jesus tried valiantly to clue his disciples in on what was to come — that he would be brutally murdered and yet rise again to life. His disciples didn't have ears to hear his words, but it's hardly the case that Jesus didn't know what he was doing or where he was going. Or what (or whom) was waiting for him in Jerusalem.

But it's one thing to say, "I'm going to throw myself into that swirling, flooded river and then I will drown." It's quite another thing altogether to say, "The currents will swirl me this way, then that way, then other way, and then you'll see a branch brushing by my head about 10 seconds before I go down for the last time."

Most of us don't attribute that much control to Jesus. And it is on this point that I think we sell Jesus just a bit short. We grant that Jesus threw himself into the river, so to speak. But I don't think we understand how much he knew about the river and how it would swirl.

He knew precisely.

Down to the last ripple.

A bit of backdrop first... A few examples of what I' driving at.

• Judas betrays Jesus... but Jesus knew it in advance and, in so many words, told Judas to hurry up and get on with it.

• When soldiers came to take Jesus away... he had already known they were coming.

• When Jesus' disciples desert him, they do so on cue... so much so that Jesus even informs Peter that he would deny association with Jesus three times before the rooster's morning song. (Even stupid roosters fall into line with the plan of God!)

• When Jesus was tried before the Sanhedrin... he was the only person in the room in control of his emotions. His words drove others wild with rage — but not the other way around.

• The Roman governor Pontius Pilate is revealed to be a coward and not much in control... But when he tries to tell Jesus that he (Pilate) is the master of Jesus' fate, Jesus calmly informs him in so many words that it is quite the other way around. (And given that Jesus had intended to die whereas Pontius had hoped to let him live, the fact that Pontius eventually hands Jesus over to death merely confirms who is indeed in control.)

• As Jesus carries his cross to Golgotha, women follow behind him, weeping uncontrollably... and yet like the director presiding over a play that he himself wrote, Jesus turns to his disconsolate audience and warns them that worse is yet to come before the final act concludes.

Yes, Jesus is being carried to his death by angry, powerful men — but on closer inspection it's more than a little obvious that Jesus has himself orchestrated the whole show, end to end.

Jesus was, quite literally, master over the entire disaster.

But this is all backdrop, and familiar stuff to anyone who has read the gospel accounts of Jesus' death.

Here's where things get interesting for me. Suppose I accept that Jesus was "that much" in control. Just suppose. And if he's that much in control... what about a few other things?

For me this line of thought picked up steam at a Good Friday service I attended two days ago. Some readings I received during the service reminded me that a crucified man dies, in the end, of asphyxiation.

On a cross it is easy to breathe air in. Very hard, however, to breathe it back out. One must "stand up" a bit in order to get air out of the lungs. It's not very fun to stand on feet which are bound or nailed to a cross, but a condemned man can do this, with great effort, for quite a while. Even days. (The Romans had truly perfected one of the most awful ways to die.) Eventually, however, the doomed man no longer has the strength to raise himself up enough to breathe out. Starved of new air, he dies for lack of oxygen.

I had heard this before, but a new thought entered my mind on reading this information... Answers to nagging questions I'd been noodling over for years.

The questions arise from these words from John....

John 19:28-30
Later, knowing that everything had now been finished, and so that Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips. When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

My two questions were as follows. First, how did Jesus know he was going to die? And second, why did he die so quickly?

And for the first time in my life, I think I have answers to those two questions.

Why did Jesus die so quickly? Because he chose to. Jesus didn't die when he could no longer live. He died when he wanted to. He was in control. He chose to stop lifting his torso and instead lowered his head. And gave up his spirit. That's why he died quickly and that's why he knew when it was going to happen.

These thoughts align well with the verses which follow.

John 19:31-37
Now it was the day of Preparation, and the next day was to be a special Sabbath. Because the Jewish leaders did not want the bodies left on the crosses during the Sabbath, they asked Pilate to have the legs broken and the bodies taken down. The soldiers therefore came and broke the legs of the first man who had been crucified with Jesus, and then those of the other. But when they came to Jesus and found that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. Instead, one of the soldiers pierced Jesus’ side with a spear, bringing a sudden flow of blood and water. The man who saw it has given testimony, and his testimony is true. He knows that he tells the truth, and he testifies so that you also may believe. These things happened so that the scripture would be fulfilled: “Not one of his bones will be broken,” and, as another scripture says, “They will look on the one they have pierced.”

Wow! The ancient scriptures God had inspired indicated that Jesus' legs would not be broken. Romans were on their way to break the legs of the convicted men. (Why? Because you can't raise yourself up to breathe if your legs are broken!) But because Jesus chose to die quickly, his legs were never broken.

Master over the disaster.

With these thoughts fresh in my mind, I revisited other assumptions.

"I am thirsty," Jesus had said.

The pleading words of a dying man? Was Jesus begging?

No!

There are four gospels to take into account, which makes things a bit complicated, but it's pretty clear that two drinks were involved in this crucifixion scene. John refers to the second drink, but Mark addresses both. Here's what Mark had to say about the first drink.

Mark 15:23
Then they offered him wine mixed with myrrh, but he did not take it.

My study Bible informs me that wine mixed with myrrh is essentially a sedative. So let's get this straight. Jesus refused a sedative in fluid form prior to saying he was thirsty.

This is not a beaten soul asking for mercy. His words seem to my eyes now much more like a final flourish, a finishing touch by the director of the play before the curtain falls (or rips in two?) at the end of Act III.

Master over the disaster.

Am I trying too hard to make Jesus a superhero? I don't think so. Even John's word choice invites this interpretation. According to John, Jesus didn't say he was thirsty because he was thirsty (though I'm sure he was). John explicitly notes that Jesus said he was thirsty "so that Scripture would be fulfilled."

So if only for argument's sake let's assume Jesus was this much in control...

Isn't there one last scene we should revisit?

Three gospels note that a man named Simon was made to carry Jesus' cross. In popular imagery it is assumed that Jesus was too exhausted to carry the cross all the way to the hill on which he would later die. I think Mel Gibson's Passion well captures the notion. After having received a bloody scourging and many blows, Jesus was a beaten man in every sense of the word.

Or was he?!?

This Jesus looms larger in my mind the more I reflect on this matter. He was in control everywhere. Refusing sedatives. Predicting the behavior of roosters and men. Was he unable to make it to the hill he would die on?

Perhaps.

But then again, the scriptures offer me a tantalizing second option, and the more I think about it, the more I like it. It fits. I think Jesus was gathering souls to himself. Even hours before his death.

What do I mean? Well note first that all three gospels inform us that it was Simon who carried Jesus' cross for him. Not "some stranger" but rather... Simon.

Simon of Cyrene.

We know where he's from? Yes. And that's not all.

Mark 15:21
A certain man from Cyrene, Simon, the father of Alexander and Rufus, was passing by on his way in from the country, and they forced him to carry the cross.

Simon. From Cyrene. Father of Alexander and Rufus??? Why do we know so much about this man Simon?? The answer is obvious. It's commonly assumed that Simon became a Christian, and his two sons were well-known in the early church.

This much I've heard before. But what strikes me today is that perhaps we should give Jesus a little more credit. Did Jesus really come up short on strength to get to Golgotha with his cross?

Or did Jesus, in perfect timing and perfect theatrics, arrange for a certain man named Simon to carry his cross. Not because Jesus needed Simon. But because Simon needed Jesus.

I am certain in my heart today that it is this latter explanation that makes the most sense. The scriptures don't tell us that Jesus fell flat under his cross. All they tell us is that Simon carried it. How fun (if that were the word for such a serious situation) it would be to see how Jesus pulled it off.

Jesus. Master of the entire disaster. Claiming disciples for his own at the very moment when he seemed finally to have lost his strength to carry on.

Jesus.

Master of the entire disaster.

Why should I be surprised that death had no hold on him either?

So today I raise a toast to the risen lord. Master over every disaster. Even mine.

A toast to Jesus, my King. Who has no less of a grip on my life than he did over his own.

And one more toast.

A toast to crosses thrust upon us. Sometimes horribly unpleasant burdens are well-disguised gifts from the Lord of the Universe.

I don't think Simon ever regretted the cross he bore on that fated day.

The True Mark

2011-03-07T03:30:00.000-08:00

Romans 8:38-39
For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

This is a banner verse for all believers, and rightly so. However today this verse came at me from a different angle.

The verse assures us of our place with God. Nothing we can do will ever separate us from his love. Yes, this is an encouraging reminder.

But it is also a sobering one -- for it is the true mark of Phariseeism to love others less even while claiming to love God more. This is impossible.

The key word in the verse above is love. There are many things we can do which will separate us from God. But nothing we can do will separate us from the love of God. In that little word lies the difference.

A timely reminder. Too often I feel God calling me to a different place. And I begin to scorn those who won't go there. But that is to remove not only my proximity to others but also my love and concern for them.

The loss of the former may be required. The loss of the latter is prohibited. I veer away not only from people but also from God if my love for others does anything but increase. Pity the soul who is separated not only from the world but also from God. Is there a more lonely place to be in this universe?

Which is why I write this reflection. Because my love has not been increasing. That is the true mark of one who is drawing nearer to God.

Lord, help me to return to you. To mark progress, among other things, by my love for others.

A Liturgy of Love

2011-02-21T21:08:00.000-08:00

Pieces and parchments
from mundane and above
phrase and fragments
a liturgy of love.

Moments and miracles
wandering amixed
sadness and longing
on his gaze I'm fixed.

Exuberant, exhausted
and all points in between
I turn from the past
for the future I've seen.

Shouted or whispered
it depends upon the day
hold me, dear Lord
guard my heart in this fray.

Tired and tangled
motives unclear
refine me, oh Lord
till I love thee most dear.

Beaten and broken
disappointments that wean
but taught at a cost
on whose bosom to lean.

Piercings and crushings
these wounds I know of
what keeps me alive
is a liturgy of love.

Shed The Cane

2011-02-05T06:55:00.000-08:00

I had a strange dream last night, and it left me troubled enough in spirit to want to noodle it over here.

There were "evil" people. Doing "evil" things. And they were recruiting people to help. And they really didn't want or need the recruits to really understand what was going on. Oh, the recruits really had plenty of cues that something bad was afoot. Strangers don't give you stuff for no reason. There is always a motive behind the gift.

I found myself having been recruited. Owning "stuff" that I wanted and liked well enough... but I could tell that I was being used.

And I was almost at peace with it, since I knew I wasn't the "mastermind" behind the plot. Just a lackey who had accepted some gifts of dubious provenance which might end up used for questionable purposes.

And then a light flashed in my head. I could go to jail for this. Caught at the wrong place at the wrong time... my excuses will be worthless.

And I have children who need me.

I started shedding the "stuff" like it was on fire. I emptied my pockets and person of that "stuff" like it was radioactive.

But the last thing I found I still had on my possession was an ornate cane. The dream ended with me still in possession of it, but no longer wanting it.

After I woke up I found myself puzzling over the cane. I've never owned nor wanted a cane in my life. But I know what they're for. More than anything, they are (or were, anyway) an indication of wealth.

Sure, old people use them. Because they need them.

But why do (or did) young folk use them in bygone eras? To tell the world a simple message: "I'm so rich, I can carry a pointless stick in my hands." Day laborers have burdens to bear. They carry what they must and not much else.

It was only the rich who could carry canes while young. Or umbrellas on a sunny day. Thus the lyric from the old song:

Come let's mix where Rockefellers walk with sticks
Or "um-ber-ellas" in their mitts
Puttin' on the Ritz!

So as I reflect on this odd dream, I am struck by one strong thought...

What is today's equivalent of a cane?

Whatever it is... I don't want it.

Deal-Making and Sacrifice

2011-02-03T05:02:00.000-08:00

Genesis 28:20-23 (abbreviated and bulletized)
Then Jacob made a vow, saying, “If God will
(a) be with me and will watch over me...
(b) and will give me food to eat and clothes to wear... so that
(c) I return safely to my father’s household...
then
(d) the LORD will be my God and
(e) this stone that I have set up as a pillar will be God’s house, and
(f) of all that you give me I will give you a tenth.

Two things leap out at me as I stare at this set of verses.

First off, it's very clear what Jacob stands to gain if God honors requests (a), (b), and (c). Not so clear what God ostensibly gains from (d), (e), and (f). Jacob is driving a pretty lopsided bargain. Par for the course, where Jacob the schemer is concerned.

Jacob gains a protective presence. A provider of all his needs. Safety. Wow! Powerful stuff!! Stuff any human would prize greatly!!

And God gains... ???? Jacob's acknowledgement. A stone for a house. And a tenth of Jacob's stuff. A tenth of what God gave to Jacob.

Stated another way, Jacob is promising God a negative ninety percent return on his investment of assets. This is not the sort of investment prospectus that will warm hearts in Wall Street! Invest in me, and I'll see to it that you lose 90% of the stuff you entrust to me. Deal?

But could Jacob have made a better offer? Therein lies the great mystery. No. Not really. What does Jacob have that God needs? What can Jacob offer in return? So while Jacob may be proposing a pretty uneven exchange, it's not like he's in a place to do better.

God doesn't need anything from us. Everything we have already belongs to him.

But let's examine that tenth more closely. Jacob promises to give God a tenth. A tenth of what? And to where? For what purpose?

There was no local charity near Jacob. He's a nomad in the desert. Red Cross doesn't exist yet. World Relief not yet formed.

There isn't a church, mosque or temple nearby. Not one of the three main religions behind these three words exists yet.

No charities... No churches... No NGOs! So exactly what does Jacob plan to do with the tenth? Well, it helps to remember what Jacob hopes to own: livestock.

Jacob likely (as I'm told by my reference materials) is speaking of animal sacrifice.

So what does God gain if Jacob sacrifices a pile of animals before him? Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but a pile of dead animals. Perhaps burned and crispy?

Our financial product is growing in clarity. So let's update that investment prospectus. We promise our investors regular losses of 90%. Ready to buy now? But wait! The 10% you don't lose, we promise to return to you in the form of a pile of dead animals. Excited to buy now? But wait!! Listen to this! That pile of dead animals? We'll burn them up for you at no extra cost.

Any takers in this new up-and-coming Wall Street livestock commodity fund?

What exactly does God do with a pile of dead animals? I think we all know the answer to that.

Nothing.

Again, a powerful conjunction of two realities. One, that we have little to offer. Two, that what we can offer... God doesn't need.

These two ideas help me to come to terms with a third powerful reality in my life — the fact that I have brought some pretty lousy sacrifices before the Lord over the years.

Gifts gone disastrous.

Money given "to the work of the Lord" that was never spent for anything better than the vainglory of man.

Time spent in an effort to "do something for God" that was, in hindsight, time invested into nothing more permanent nor more useful than the vainglory of man.

I might as well have spent the time digging holes in a field. And then refilling them.

I might as well have put piles of cash into one of those holes before refilling it.

Perhaps for emphasis I could have set fire to the cash first.

As crazy as that sounds, it's not far off from what Jacob would have done with his livestock offerings.

That's encouraging to me.

And sobering.

Encouraging? Because it reminds me that God knows my lowly state. My gifts to him, if given from a pure heart and for his glory, are a sweet aroma to his nostrils. God loves the lowly offerings of his little ones. Not because he needs them. But because he loves me. And he loves it when I try to love him back.

Sobering? Because I am so easily distressed about what happened to my gifts. Worked up because they were misused and/or misallocated by myself and/or the foolish people to whom I entrusted these precious resources.

If I truly knew how little God needed either my time or my money (My money? My time?) I wouldn't be so fixated on how they were misused down the line. But I am fixated. And it reveals a few things in my heart that need to change.

Imagine Jacob instructing one of his laborers to kill a certain cow and then to burn it. The laborer does so, but not according to instructions. Is God somehow short-changed in the final analysis? Is a properly slaughtered dead cow more useful than one done in by a (pardon the pun) hack job? How absurd!

Oh, sure, God may have something to say to the hired hand! Did the hired hand do his level best? Or did he discharge his duties carelessly?

But where Jacob is concerned, questions concerning the disposal of the cow are rather beside the point. God cares about Jacob's heart. If Jacob gave generously from a grateful heart, God is delighted. End of story.

And yet I don't have a lock on that truth. I fret over how well my sacrifices are presented to God. Because I think God needs my help. Because I think God needs my sacrifices. Does He?

He doesn't.

God, have mercy on me and free me of my slavery. I am slave to a notion that you need me and that you'll love me more if my sacrifices are "good" and "effective" — and I am wrong on both counts.

But I am slave to these notions. Free me to love you Lord. To love you as a clumsy child. Help me to not be afraid. You are not a perfectionistic parent. You love my clumsy gifts just as any doting parent would delight in their child's awkward pre-school craft creations.

Honoring The Nine Commandments

2011-01-17T07:16:00.000-08:00

There used to be ten commandments, but nowadays there seem only to be nine.

I say that because there are only nine commandments that go uncontested. Oh, sure, in some sense we all break various commandments from time to time.

Maybe not murder per se, but we harbor rage, and Jesus had a few things to say about that.

Maybe not adultery per se, but we harbor lust, and Jesus had a few things to say about that.

As for coveting and envy, I hardly need point out how often we fall prey to that forbidden sin.

And so it goes on down the line.

We may wiggle and squirm ("It was a holy anger" or "It was just a tiny second peek, in appreciation of that person's God-given beauty") but we at least affirm the principal. We should not murder. We should not commit adultery. We should not engage in idolatry. We should not covet.

The wiggling and squirming I understand. I've done it myself often enough. But with no other commandment have I witnessed such zeal in redefining the terms. With this commandment, I regularly observe committed Christians resorting to the nuclear option. "That was the Old Testament. Jesus changed all that. We don't have to do that anymore."

Which commandment am I talking about?

Honoring the Sabbath.

It's only the fourth commandment, after all. Just after the ones about idolatry and worshipping other gods. It's probably just coincidental that it got listed ahead of murder, adultery, false testimony.

Just the Sabbath. The optional commandment.

What is it about Holy Rest that we are so averse to? Could it be we are enslaved to something that requires our time during the Sabbath? God calls us to rest on the Sabbath. Whose call are we obeying when we do not?

Perhaps, when we ignore the fourth commandment, we demonstrate that we are also in violation of one that precedes it. We serve an extra god. Perhaps two of them? Busy ones.

Not to worry, however! There is an easy solution to this problem.

Perhaps eight commandments will suffice?

The Economics of Worry

2011-01-11T05:53:00.000-08:00

I've heard it said that one major approach to marketing involves two simple steps.

1) Give people something to fear.
2) Convince them that your product will make it go away.

There are other approaches, to be sure, but this one is certainly a common one -- and not least because it works.

In the spirit of fear and economics, here's another angle on a closely related topic — a proposition about fear that can be couched in economic terms.

We worry about things we can afford to worry about.

I came to this conclusion after reflecting on some fears that one of my children is facing. A trivial fear. One that should not cause any real distress at all. But the child sometimes has trouble sleeping at night all on account of this little matter. The whole exercise reminded me of how I, too, live.

I have a warm home. I have food. I have health care. In fact, these things are true of everyone in my family. None of us worry about those things.

So we worry about other things.

For me, family finances are OK for the moment... so I worry about unloading a financial tar baby (yeah, the old FTB) that is actually worth very real money.

My sleepless child? Schoolwork robs this little one of sleep. Ironically, the child is excelling in every class.

How silly are we? An excellent student losing sleep over school. A financially secure man worrying about a financial asset that most people would be delighted to receive as a gift. (Finding a buyer is another story, but I digress!)

Worry is not fun! So why is it that we always worry about something — even when there is nothing important to worry about? If the life of my child were hanging in the balance at a nearby hospital, it's a sure bet I wouldn't be worrying about my FTB!! But my kids are fine. So I worry about my next best options.

How stupid is that.

So a new approach is needed. The goal, I propose, is to remember what I can afford to not worry about. That list is a long one. Thanks be to God, who is my great reward! I can afford to not worry about anything. God is on my side. My eternal future is secure. And I am not alone now in anything I face.

How awesome is that?

Well, I've probably used a thousand words where a hundred would have sufficed, but hopefully in all this rambling I have cemented in an idea which will come back and poke me reproachfully at the appropriate time(s)...

Will I worry about what I can afford to worry about?

Or will I remember what I can afford to not worry about.

Precious Lord, let me do the latter. You paid a heavy price that it would be so.

What a waste to not now live in carefree abandonment to the God who bought my worries and has secured my future.

Take Your Pick

2011-01-03T19:43:00.000-08:00

Hebrews 11:13-16
All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country — a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

I don't watch TV (let alone the religious ones) enough to be certain, but if I were a betting man I'd stake a stack of pennies that this scripture passage from Hebrews does not feature frequently in those glitzy shows with pretty people flogging a health and wealth gospel.

- God wants you rich.
- God can help you be successful.
- God can let you die before he delivers on his promises to you.

Hmmmm.

Per Sesame Street, one of these claims is not like the others. The last one comes from the book of Hebrews. I cannot speak for the provenance of the first two.

Oh, people can (and do) throw out verses to defend the first two options. How about this one?

John 16:23b
Very truly I tell you, my Father will give you whatever you ask in my name.

I know that one gets good coverage on TV. So... I need only ask God for comforts and riches (all to be used in good ways, to be sure!) and God will not withhold from me these blessings? Sounds great! Sign me up.

Ah, the joys of verses taken out of context. Only a few verses later (in verse 33) Jesus notes, "In this world you will have trouble."

How is it that will we have troubles if we can have anything we ask for? What does Jesus mean?

A fair question.

I'm not a Bible scholar, and it's too late at night for any serious rookie scholarship work on Google. That said, I have the strong suspicion that there is a little fine print involved here. And the fine print says that Jesus has an opinion about those who belong to him. One salient characteristic is that they do not ask for what the world clamours for. Jesus knows that his own yearn for something else.

What?

Well, let's look again at the whole of verse 33.

John 16:33
“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

Peace.

What else? What else defines those who belong to Jesus?

A closer scrutiny of chapters 16 and 17 in John extend the list. Joy. Hope. Unity. Sanctification.

And a sense of Alienation — yes, Alienation with a capital A. Alienation from a world they no longer belong to.

John 17:16
They are not of the world, even as I am not of it.

I guess the rambling conclusion of this wandering reflection is this: We must take our pick.

Will we be Alienated from?

From Peace?

Or from the world and its desires?

I have had very little Peace today. I think I was pretty focused on worldly worries today. No fluke, that. Today I picked poorly.

But tomorrow, by God's grace, I can do better.

God, make me an alien in this world. A native in the Kingdom of God.

The Central Thread

2011-01-01T08:39:00.000-08:00

I was struck the other day by how very often I interpret my world as backdrop to my story. This event impacts me in this way. That impacts me in that way. People I work with are important because of their impact in my life. (And not the other way around...)

Bizarre as it may sound, I too often go to the scriptures looking to them for guidance in my life. Of course, in one sense that is a delightfully good and healthy habit. Except when I forget that the scriptures were not written only for me. Duh. As if that needed to be said. And yet the sneaky underlying assumption courses along as I scour scriptures for God's message for me.

The constant testimony of the Spirit of God and of the holy scriptures is that God is the author of a great Story. And we are invited to be in it.

But the central thread in our story is Jesus Christ.

Why is it I keep living, and thinking, as if I am the center of the tapestry?

The best way to screw up a beautiful tapestry is to try to weave every thread through the very middle of it. I suspect I am not the only one making God's weaving project a rather muddled affair.

Let me adorn your tapestry, O Lord, in the corner you have woven me into. It is enough to beautify the threads around me and, as you desire, with them to provide backdrop to the most beautiful thread of all.

Justice For Me And Thee... But Mostly For Me.

2010-12-22T05:25:00.000-08:00

Justice.

How we all long for it. Especially me. Especially for me.

As I watch my kids, I am struck by this same attitude. It reeks. It's putrid. The love of self which sees no other. It poisons their interactions. It breaks my heart.

I watch a child of mine who is deeply troubled by the loss of a few dollars spent toward meeting the needs of the homeless. Will it hinder the odds of getting that desired new video game for Christmas?

I see this sort of self-centered fixation played out over and over. All I have to do is watch my kids each day. And what troubles me most is that these behaviors are just less refined versions of things taking place in my own heart. And God is watching me.

I've been robbed of a few things in life. For a man whose wealth is not measured in millions, I've lost a surprising amount of money to unscrupulous men. I spend a lot of time working on forgiving them. A lot of time. I just cannot seem to let go of what they did to me. Will God bring justice? Will these men pay for their misdeeds?

But statistically speaking, I am one of the richest, most blessed, comfortable men in the world. The earthly injustices I have endured have yet to really deprive me of a single basic needs.

I eat healthy meals whenever I want. Exquisitely tasty.

I get health care when I am sick. The doctor is competent.

I sleep about 8 hours a night. In a warm bed.

I work no more than 10 hrs a day. Sitting relaxed in front of a computer screen, with soft fingers.

Others are not so lucky. Need I recite the litany of evils around the globe? No. But I cannot help but name a few anyway...

A life marked by malnutrition or death by starvation? Ethiopia.

A life marked by 16 hour days of exhausting work? South-East Asia. Africa.

A life of oppression? North Korea.

A life of sexual abuse? India. Thailand.

Jeremiah 21:12
This is what the LORD says to you, house of David:
“‘Administer justice every morning;
rescue from the hand of the oppressor
the one who has been robbed,
or my wrath will break out and burn like fire
because of the evil you have done—
burn with no one to quench it.

What evil would it be that God is referring to in the above verse?

For some, to be sure, the evil would be things they do to others.

For many others, however, the evil God will not forget is that we did nothing to stop it.

Justice? Yes, I want justice. But why is it my heart is not concerned for those who need it most?

Lord, grant me a heart that aches for justice. Justice for others.

A Taste Of Heaven

2010-12-10T06:26:00.000-08:00

"I'm getting a taste of heaven!" That's what I thought to myself last night.

I had returned to a place I'd once known. A place where a number of people loved me. A place also where certain people had scorned me and disliked me. Rejected me. Mistreated me.

It was extremely awkward to return to that place, but circumstances were such that it was the right thing to do. So I came.

Those who still harbored ill will? They were around. But they stayed away.

Those who loved me? They came as if like moths to the flame. They showered love on me, rejoiced that I had returned, and I in turn rejoiced to see them and exchange affection with them. it was a night full of delighted faces and warm hugs.

"I'm getting a taste of heaven!" It was a sudden realization that burst into my thoughts about 20 minutes into the experience. Then, a little bit before the evening was over, someone else said it to me, though I had not said the words out loud to anyone at all.

"It's like a taste of heaven!" she exclaimed.

You took the words out of my mouth, my friend. Indeed, you took them out of my head!

And what a taste it was. For those things and people that hurt us will not follow us into the Kingdom of God. But all that is good and right — those who love the Lord — we will rejoice together in his presence with a fullness of joy that cannot be imagined now.

But we can occasionally get a taste.

To Mock Is Divine

2010-12-01T21:10:00.000-08:00

To Mock Is Divine?

Well... here's what I mean. I just did a cursory search. The Bible is a big book, but the word "mock" isn't used in it terribly often. And even where this word does appear, it's rarely God who is doing the mocking.

God doesn't mock much. In fact, depending upon the translation used, God hardly mocks at all.

But God does mock certain individuals. What sorts of individuals?

Mockers.

Proverbs 3:34
He mocks proud mockers
but shows favor to the humble and oppressed.

Thus my tongue-in-cheek header: "To mock is divine." But humor aside, it's more clearly stated in the negative: "If you're not divine, don't mock." (Corollary: "But if you do, you can be sure God will return you the favor...") God can mock if he wants to. The rest of us are on awfully shaky ground when we presume to do the same.

So what got me on this topic? Watching my kids mock a movie series. They mocked its weakness every which way. Poor acting here. Poor acting there. Poor directing. It wasn't a pleasant thing to endure. But what made it most unpleasant of all was the inescapable fact that they had learned to mock these movies... from me. They mimicked my scorn. Copied my very words and mannerisms. I was watching a virtual instant replay of my own acts of mockery.

It was ugly. And I'm not just saying that. It turned my stomach to hear my own words come from a child's lips.

I want my kids to stop mocking. I do intend to speak with them about the matter. I want to reform their behavior. But before I do, I need to reform my own behavior.

God doesn't like it when I mock. Having watched my kids mimic my own words and attitudes, I can see why. It's ugly because scorn is heaped on the frailties and imperfections of others made in the image of God.

Somebody made those films. If they were in the room to watch my kids rip them up, I'd have wanted to crawl under the carpet. But God was in that room, and God loves the director of those films. God loves the actors who appear in them.

Do I have to call sweet all things that are sour? Absolutely not. But the option of silence is always there for me. How often I decline it.

Proverbs 3:34
He mocks proud mockers
but shows favor to the humble and oppressed.

It's hard to mock when you're silent. It's easy to be silent, however, when you're humble. No wonder silence and solitude are considered powerful disciplines among not only monks but among all who seek spiritual maturity! What better a cure for the habit of mocking than the practice of silence?

Psalm 1:1-3
Blessed is the one
who does not walk in step with the wicked
or stand in the way that sinners take
or sit in the company of mockers...
but whose delight is in the law of the LORD,
and who meditates on his law day and night.
That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither—
whatever they do prospers.

In Jesus' Name

2010-11-17T20:25:00.001-08:00

I goofed again a few days ago. Wrote an email I shouldn't have written.

A call was in order. Not the angry email I sent.

Thankfully, the person receiving my unvarnished thoughts is a very close and very good friend. He was gracious — and we worked things out quite well. All ended well.

During the conversation, however, he dropped a gem out that I know I won't soon forget.

"When I'm writing an email," he commented, "I imagine putting the words In Jesus' Name at the bottom. If I cannot or do not want to include those words at the bottom, it's probably an email I should never have written."

How simple is that? And how many unnnecessary (or worse) emails could I have spared the world from if I had followed this advice?

A simple thought for a simple blog.

And to these words I do not mind signing off...

In Jesus' name.

Gary's Corollary

2010-11-04T21:02:00.000-07:00

Gary's Corollary... It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

One of the few chapel messages I still remember from my college days was delivered by a man named Gary Ginter.

I think one of the reasons I reserved some space in my brain to remember that name was the fact that I wanted to "do what he does" when I got out of college. Somehow it's never hard to remember the name of the pretty girl you want to date or the name of the man you'd like to work for. I left college dateless and jobless, however, so my zeal in this regard reaped no short-term benefits.

Seeing as twenty years have now passed and seeing as I am now both happily married and gainfully employed, perhaps it is time to for me to forget Gary's name? Along with the name of a few loves lost? Have you ever tried hard to forget a name you've already committed to memory? Ah well. But I digress.

I took one thought away from Gary's chapel talk that day. In it he suggested a simple strategy for those crossroad moments when we are forced to choose between several equally good (or bad) options.

So you've prayed.

So you've pondered.

And you still don't know just what to do.

There are good reasons to go either way.

What to do?

Gary suggested this: Go with the alternative which requires more faith.

To my mind his suggestion immediately sounded just counter-intuitive to have that ring of authenticity and truth. Occasionally it has helped me to make a decision. Gary's Dictum has stayed with me.

I usually applied Gary's Dictum to decisions which largely impacted me alone. "What is God's will for my life?" kinds of questions. I don't recall whether Gary implied any such restrictions, but that's how worked out in my head in any case.

I am struck, as I write this, by an important aside. I know today (through painful hindsight) that many truly important decisions are best approached in community. Holy Spirit guidance can be a dangerous thing when in isolation I decide what He is saying. But that digression I'll resist for the purposes of this little blog, before it ceases to be little.

But back to Gary's Dictum. A week or two ago I suddenly stumbled upon a corollary to it. I was facing another one of those famous "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situations. As is typically the case, it involved someone else. Conflict. Interpersonal stuff. What to do...

I could respond in fashion A — and it would be good because of X... but bad because of Y.

Or I could respond with B — and that approach would be good because of P... but bad because of Q.

Usually for me, these conundrums have to do with the old Truth vs Love tug-of-war.

Do I speak Love? (And disregard Truth problems in their life?)

Or do I speak Truth? (And in doing so not seem to Love them much?)

What to do.

And in the midst of another one of those moments of indecision, Gary's Dictum rose up from the mist of my mind.

Or should I say Gary's Corollary?

It goes like this: When it's a toss-up... when in doubt... respond in a manner that requires more of the good character trait you possess less of.

That means (for me) that I have to Love them.

I know others who struggle not with Love, but with Truth. For them Gary's Corollary may require a bit of "tough love". Not so for me. In toss-up situations, I must opt for Love.

Thanks to Gary's Corollary, a decision I agonized over for weeks has suddenly become rather simple. Love and Grace must be extended to Snape. Easier said than done? In a Gary's Dictum sort of way, I consider that an encouraging sign.

As is often the case with good insights, once discovered they prove useful elsewhere too. I was in the city a few days ago and drove by a beggar looking for a handout. Did I give him some money? No... but by the time I drove by him, Gary's Corollary had hit me over the head like a two-by-four.

For several decades I have struggled with the beggar's dilemma.

Put money in the cup? (But they will likely drink it away! But...)

Don't put money in the cup? (But God calls us to remember the poor!)

Today I have my answer. For me, Gary's Corollary says I need to put money in the cup more often. And look the beggar in the eye.

Thank you, Gary.

Forgiving Snape

2010-11-02T05:57:00.001-07:00

I had a strange dream last night, and I know it can be attributed to my fertile thoughts. But I also believe God spoke to me last night through it.

It is a rare, rare, rare, rare day (night?) when I dream that I am, quite literally, someone else. That is what happened last night. And how fitting, how richly fitting, that I should dream that I was Harry Potter!

For those who know the books well enough, the irony is probably clear. Harry had a habit of dreaming he was someone else — Lord Voldemort. The other fifteen people in this world who haven't seen the movies or read the books will likely find this blog a waste of precious time. (Always a pretty high risk with my blog in any case...)

Dreams are funny things... I know that I was Harry Potter in my dream not because I thought to myself (during the dream), "I'm Harry Potter!" but rather because of who I interacted with and what happened.

I was interacting with Snape. And he hated me. And I hated him.

But what's moving to me about that dream is that something in me caused me to couch my woundedness (hatred is usually a response to hurt) in something less than scathing terms. My words betrayed a hint of weakness and brokenness.... And Snape heard them. He heard something in my tone of voice. And he, in his turn, responded with a hint of acknowledgement that he might have mistreated me. Chinks of light.

And peace was made.

Here's where things get funny again (or maybe just bizarre)... As rapproachment was made, it was made first by words, and then by touch. And after the touch was made with Snape on my left, I turned to the man on my right — who had bleach-blonde hair. Yes, it was Lucius Malfoy.

Ha! What a riot of a dream!

But in any case, I put my hand on his back in a friendly gesture and said, "See, I am not always harsh!" And instantly, the man who had, moments before, been Lucius Malfoy, as sure as the day is long... became a different man. (Potter fans, I must apologize... he didn't become anyone recognizable to me from the Harry Potter series... In fact, the man wasn't even someone I know from real life.)

But he was a gentle and kind man. Lucius Malfoy became a saint. Before my eyes. At the touch of my hand.

And then, as if touch had not already taken significance in this dream, Snape led me by the hand to another room where he gave me a gift of food. In a true-to-life way, there was a point where it was awkward to hold hands as he led me through a doorway. I held on. I didn't want to let go of his hand. I knew the connection was important.

Well, needless to say, this dream has moving implications for me. I won't claim it as a vision from God, but I will say this: I believe God has used it to remind me that it is my calling to dream of the impossible. Forgiving Snape.

There are some Snapes in my life. There are real reasons for this dream to have arrived in my subconscious mind on the night it did. I suspect we all have a Snape or two somewhere. Three? Will I forgive mine? The unwinding of hurts hangs in the balance.

What would the world be like if we were to, each and every one of us, forgive Snape? To touch the untouchable. To love the unlovable. We'll have to be vulnerable. That's the first step. Is it worth the risk?

We won't know exactly what would happen until we try. But I have pretty darned good idea it would be beautiful. I am reminded of Isaiah's vision of God's future kingdom...

Isaiah 11:6
The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion and the yearling together;
and a little child will lead them.

By hand, I suspect...

What's Mine Is Yours — And Thankfully So

2010-10-26T06:11:00.001-07:00

The worries of life were circling in for the kill this morning, so I went to read the 23rd Psalm for a bit of soul solace. The 23rd Psalm is at heart the joyful song of a person who knows that they are safe in the care of a perfect guardian. The Lord is my shepherd... Does life get better than this? I don't think so. These are comforting words for a troubled soul.

But as I finished reading Psalm 23, my eyes fell upon the opening verse of Psalm 24.

Psalm 24:1
The earth is the Lord's, and everything in it,
the world, and all who live in it...

The more I stared at this opening verse, the more it seemed to me that in order to live in the peace of the 23rd Psalm I must first make my peace with this first verse of the 24th Psalm.

The picture is clear enough when I consider my own home. My wife and I own both it and all the children who live in it — an echo of Psalm 24:1.

Our children are well cared for. Each child eats three meals a day and sleeps each night in a warm bed. We keep them healthy. We try to shower them with regular expressions of love — An echo of Psalm 23.

Do my kids feel like they're living a Psalm 23 existence? Mmmmm... Sometimes. Maybe. But on a regular basis the answer is No. My kids cannot help but worry and fret...

About stuff they want...
About stuff they broke...
About stuff a sibling took...
About stuff a sibling broke...
About what a sibling said...
About what a sibling did...

I occasionally point out to my fractious children that when push comes to shove — perhaps especially then! — everything in the house belongs to me and to Mom. "What's mine is mine," I remind them, "and what's yours is mine, too." They don't like to hear that. And they continue to fight over a pile of petty and cheap plastic that they do not, in the end, even own.

I repeatedly remind the kids that it's my job to worry about the shortcomings of their siblings. Parenting is hard enough without their "help", so I ask them to leave that job to me. They don't like to hear that. And they "help" me anyway.

But if only they would hear me. And take me at my word. Such freedom! A Psalm 23 existence awaits them! Yes, it's all so obvious to me when I think about my kids.

But then God speaks to me. "Pilgrim," he gently whispers, "you haven't been trusting me any more than your children trust you."

And, annoyingly, God is right.

Nothing I "own" adds up to anything. Not in God's economy. He created the universe. Why exactly do I worry about what few small things God does or does not entrust to my care? But I do.

God intimately knows, loves, and deals with seven billion people. He doesn't need my flawed and ham-fisted help. But I give it to him anyway. I have advice for God on how to fix a few people I happen to know. Sometimes, when it seems God is not moving fast enough, I try to fix them on his behalf.

Yes, I'm just like my kids. I think I can imagine what God is saying...

There's nothing you can do to put my house in jeopardy.
There's nothing anyone else can do to put my house in jeopardy.
There's nothing you have this not really mine.
There's nothing you have lost that is not still mine.

"Remain mine," God whispers, "and there's nothing and no one in the universe that can keep me from blessing you. I'll take care of you. Don't worry about stuff. Don't worry about the others. They are my concern."

I would wish that kind of peace for my children.

God wishes it for me.

Psalm 23 doesn't have a whole lot to say about stuff and people. It's almost entirely about God, our good shepherd, and the joys of simply living with Him. Its carefree attitude about "the world, and all who live in it" is precisely why the 23rd Psalm exudes such a pervasive attitude of peace and quiet joy.

The pastures of Psalm 23 await me. Am I willing to pass under the gates of Psalm 24:1 to enter in?

Psalm 24:1
The earth is the Lord's, and everything in it,
the world, and all who live in it...

Psalm 23:6
Surely goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
forever.

Peace In The Storm

2010-10-25T08:05:00.000-07:00

Luke 8:22-25
One day Jesus said to his disciples, "Let's go over to the other side of the lake." So they got into a boat and set out. As they sailed, he fell asleep. A squall came down on the lake, so that the boat was being swamped, and they were in great danger.

The disciples went and woke him, saying, "Master, Master, we're going to drown!"

He got up and rebuked the wind and the raging waters; the storm subsided, and all was calm. "Where is your faith?" he asked his disciples.

In fear and amazement they asked one another, "Who is this? He commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him."

You slept, Lord Jesus, in the middle of a storm that was enough to make seasoned sailors tremble.

Grant unto me, Oh Lord, two things: Peace to sleep in any storm, and wisdom to trust most of all in you to guide my boat to safety.

Even when the boat is sinking.

Thick-Headed Disciples

2010-10-16T05:40:00.000-07:00

Luke 9:43b-44
While everyone was marveling at all that Jesus did, he said to his disciples, "Listen carefully to what I am about to tell you: The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into the hands of men."

Why did Jesus beg them to listen carefully? Aren't the words pretty straight-forward? Well, Yes and No.

Yes, the meaning is obvious to us today. We know Jesus went on to die on a cross.

No, the meaning was not obvious to the disciples. And Jesus knew it, so he warned them to listen carefully. Not that it made a difference...

Luke 9:45
But they did not understand what this meant. It was hidden from them, so that they did not grasp it, and they were afraid to ask him about it.

The disciples didn't know a cross awaited Jesus. But it's more than that. At this point in the story, they didn't see how a cross even could await him. He was their long-awaited Messiah -- a conqueror. Their worldview didn't have room for a crucified Christ, so they were predisposed to ignore Jesus whenever he (regularly) tried to forewarn them of what lay ahead.

Luke 9:46
An argument started among the disciples as to which of them would be the greatest.

Unbelievable. Jesus is warning his disciples that dark and evil days lie in his near future — and their response is to jostle for position in anticipation of the day he takes over the world.

We mock the disciples for not listening to Jesus. Silly men! He told them that a cross awaited him. Silly men.

But before we get too carried away with our derision, let's return once more to Jesus and see his response.

Luke 9:47-48
Jesus, knowing their thoughts, took a little child and had him stand beside him. Then he said to them, "Whoever welcomes this little child in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. For he who is least among you all — he is the greatest."

Question. Have we listened to Jesus any better? Does our worldview have room for these words?

The fact is, in this and other passages Jesus clearly states that his followers will take up crosses of their own. We as Christians long ago made our peace with the cross of Christ. But have we made our peace with our crosses?

I know I haven't. Not really. Not entirely. I remember what Jesus said, but like the disciples what I do and say suggests that I never got the memo. Why is that?

Because, as was the case for the disciples, so it is for me. The truth of these words is still largely hidden from me. Not completely, to be sure, but enough so that it's hard to live as if I believe them.

But there's something else I share in common with those disciples. Along with them I am more than a little afraid to ask Jesus for clarification on the topic of crosses. I too am afraid of what he might say.

Thick-headed disciples.

Jesus had twelve of them 2,000 years ago.

And with me that makes thirteen.

Celebrating Deliverance Before It Happens

2010-10-14T05:13:00.001-07:00

Jonah 2:1
From inside the fish Jonah prayed to the LORD his God.

Thus began my scripture reading for yesterday, and as I reflected on it I was reminded again of the fact that Jonah's song of praise erupts from his lips before his deliverance is complete. His song of deliverance comes from within the belly of a fish.

It was a timely reminder, because later that afternoon my FTB came back with a vengeance. FTB stands for financial tar baby. It's the name I've given a financial asset I nearly cannot give away. I never meant to come into possession of it. Yesterday morning I had it swinging loosely off of one fingernail. One more shake and I'd be free of it forever... But no. Today my FTB is firmly attached to both my hands again... perhaps even my torso.

In the end, I am confident God is not terribly worked up about this financial woe of mine. But God does have a stake in the matter. I know he wants he wants me to do what I do for His glory... and to, like Jonah, praise him from the belly of a stinking fish. In short, God cares about me.

Parenthetically, it's fun to note that God's concern is not limited to people. Jonah 4:10-11 notes that God cares about animals and even, it might be argued, the fate of a single plant. But I digress.

Jonah had reason to praise God from within the fish's belly. Short of the fish that swallowed him, he'd have drowned. But Jonah also cause for concern. I can think of a few things to worry about from within the belly of a fish. How long will the air sustain me? How long before I get digested? How long before the fish retches me back into the ocean and I drown for the last time?

So Jonah has a choice. He can celebrate his deliverance from drowning... or lament his current state of affairs.

The entire book of Jonah is an ongoing story of God's mercy and love, almost all of which Jonah doesn't get one bit. Not one bit. Jonah is extremely thick and stupid where God's mercy is concerned. But for a brief moment in chapter 2, Jonah rejoices in a moment of clarity. He understands that God has been merciful to him.

From within the belly of the fish, Jonah praises God not merely because God saved him from drowning, but also in confidence that God would also resolve the other open issues. Like the fact that he's stuck in the putrid belly of a fish... in the middle of a big, deep ocean.

Lord, teach me to praise you in the midst of my own life's open issues. The ocean is big. But you're bigger.

Jonah 2:2-10
He said:
"In my distress I called to the LORD,
and he answered me.
From deep in the realm of the dead I called for help,
and you listened to my cry.
You hurled me into the deep,
into the very heart of the seas,
and the currents swirled about me;
all your waves and breakers
swept over me.

I said, 'I have been banished
from your sight;
yet I will look again
toward your holy temple.'

The engulfing waters threatened me,
the deep surrounded me;
seaweed was wrapped around my head.

To the roots of the mountains I sank down;
the earth beneath barred me in forever.
But you, LORD my God,
brought my life up from the pit.

"When my life was ebbing away,
I remembered you, LORD,
and my prayer rose to you,
to your holy temple.

"Those who cling to worthless idols
forfeit God's love for them.

But I, with shouts of grateful praise,
will sacrifice to you.
What I have vowed I will make good.
I will say, 'Salvation comes from the LORD.' "

And the LORD commanded the fish, and it vomited Jonah onto dry land.

Hiding What God Cannot Heal

2010-09-17T07:02:00.000-07:00

I was struck today by the interaction between Jesus and Martha recorded in the John 11.

Martha's brother Lazarus had died four days earlier. Jesus now arrives on the scene with a very good and wonderful plan. He's going to raise Lazarus from the dead.

First step?

Gotta get that stone away from the tomb entrance.

John 11:39
"Take away the stone," he said.
"But, Lord," said Martha, the sister of the dead man, "by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days."

By Martha's reasoning, the stone is a help and not a hindrance. Why? Because Martha assumes that this is a problem too big for Jesus. Jesus can do wonders, but Lazarus is dead. Even Jesus can't fix that. That being the case, why remove the stone? What's the point?

But Jesus surprised Martha. And I am pondering where I ought to let him surprise me.

What stones do I have over problems and sorrows that I think are too big for Jesus?

Am I afraid of letting the stench of my hidden wounds see the light of day?

Jesus, I lay before you my hidden sorrows. Take away the stones that hide them. Bring to life that which was dead. Bring your fragrance and life to that in me which stinks unto death.

And, as with Larazus, let your healing power displayed in my life be testimony to the world that Jesus conquers all.

Even death.

Symptoms Don't Kill You

2010-09-06T07:18:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning for some time to jot down a quick reflection on a recent article I read entitled Metabolic syndrome: A game of consequences?

The gist of the article, should the link grow cold, is simply the fascinating thesis that being fat is not bad for you.

What???

Yes. Being fat is not bad for you. Eating too much is the real culprit. The new thinking is that, when we eat too much, our bodies convert the stuff we eat into fat. So far so good. No surprises there.

But the next thought is that it is literally the food that is killing us, and not the fat. Fat, by this reasoning, is merely an indicator of the thing that's really killing us. The details get pretty scientific, but the short of it is that food itself (great in moderation) is toxic in bulk quantities.

That's a revolutionary restatement of the problem, and it has real-world implications in how we think about things. If it's true, for example, then liposuction is not helpful, nor even neutral, but rather harmful in that it not only hides the problem but also strips the body of a key tool in its arsenal to fight the toxic effects of food.

I was struck by this for reasons noted in the article and also for reasons not explored in the article. Chief among those thoughts that ran through my mind was the fact that a healthy habit of fasting regularly is, in light of this research, clearly an extremely healthy thing to do. Fasting is one of those spiritual disciplines widely practiced throughout church history up until a few hundred years ago.

A lot of good Christian habits have fallen by the wayside in recent centuries. Silence. Solitude. Hospitality. The roadside to modernity is littered with the corpses of good Christian disciplines. I know hardly a soul who practices fasting regularly.

But I digress.

On further reflection, I was also struck by other areas in Christian life where I have seen this sort of confusion in play. For example, I have learned in recent years to not lament the decline of a local church.

Christ's bride is alive and well. Where God is served, the Spirit is present. Where Christ is honored, his people will, as he promised, have life, and life abundant at that.

If a local congregation is dwindling... if a church closes... that's fat. An external indicator of a critical problem that lies elsewhere. The real problem? That Christ is no longer honored at that church. That is what we ought to lament.

Once this thinking is in place, we are all freed of the ritual hand-wringing when churches are run poorly or close up shop, etc. Let us focus rather on watching God and serving His church. The other stuff may come and go, but in the end are just symptoms of how well or poorly the Christians within them are living out God's calling.

God's calling, and His church... are quite safe. And I can rest in that peace.

So let's worry about honoring Christ. The churches we call "home" on Sunday morning will take care of themselves if we do that.

Just like fat doesn't gather on a body that eats in moderation and exercises regularly.

Why I Am Angry

2010-09-05T21:44:00.000-07:00

[Spoiler alert for the last fifteen westerners who have not yet viewed "Slum-Dog Millionaire"]

[And to you fifteen souls.... hurry up and watch it, for heaven's sake!]

I just watched "Slum-Dog Millionaire" tonight with my lovely bride.

At the pivotal moment (or one of them, anyway) I realized that Kumar, a man in a position of power, was lying to Jamal, the hero of the movie. It dawned on me slowly, but as the scene unfolding I began to realize that
(a) Kumar did not have Jamal's best interests in mind
(b) the answer (b) that Kumar had fed Jamal was incorrect, and that
(c) Jamal also saw through Kumar's motives and therefore knew that
(d) the alternative answer (d) was the one to go with.

I rooted for my slum-dog hero. Don't do it, Jamal! (b) is going to be the wrong answer. The dude is lying to you! Go with (d)!

Yay!

Slum-dog hero Jamal went with (d) and proved his lack of trust to be well-placed — and very, very well rewarded.

A few seconds after the scene had played out before my eyes, I felt a deep anger welling up from within me. Where was it coming from? And then the feelings rushed forth.

Whereas my protagonist had been through hell and back with some of the worst sorts of scum (and gained his mistrust by this route), I owed my jaded cynicism to experiences I had endured within the hallowed halls of churches I have attended in recent years.

Yes, I learned to smell liars out and watch for ulterior motives by watching men in power at church. That it was in church that I had to learn these survival skills makes me angry. Really, really angry.

And I know it makes Jesus angry too.

For The Children

2010-08-27T05:52:00.000-07:00

[Editorial note: there are no straw men in what I wrote below. All these arguments have proceeded from the lips of loved friends, family... and from myself. Sometimes from all three.]

Jesus calls us to a life of simplicity.

And generosity.

Luke 12:32-34
"Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will not be exhausted, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Over and over and over again the gospels reveal a Jesus who instructs us to travel light and give without thought of repayment.

And so we consider how life would look if we followed his instructions. A faint stirring rises in our souls. There is indeed something noble in the thought. Yes, we could do that...

But then we reconsider.

"For our children," we solemnly note, "we must save. We will need to provide them with a legacy."

Jesus calls us to live peacefully.

To not fight back.

Luke 9:22-23
"If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it.

In no fewer than five places across three different gospels Jesus repeats these words. We are to live as innocent people condemned to a violent death. That is exactly what a cross means.

And so we consider how life would look if we followed his instructions. A faint stirring rises in our souls. There is indeed something noble in the thought. Yes, we could do that...

But then we reconsider.

"For our children," we solemnly note, "we must be ready and prepared to protect. If the lives of our children are at stake, we might perhaps have to kill the attacker."

Jesus teaches us to love sinful people.

In close proximity.

Luke 7:36-50
Now one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him, so he went to the Pharisee's house and reclined at the table. When a woman who had lived a sinful life in that town learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee's house, she brought an alabaster jar of perfume, and as she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them.
When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner."

Jesus answered him, "Simon, I have something to tell you."
"Tell me, teacher," he said.

"Two men owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he canceled the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?"

Simon replied, "I suppose the one who had the bigger debt canceled."

"You have judged correctly," Jesus said.

Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little."

Then Jesus said to her, "Your sins are forgiven."

The other guests began to say among themselves, "Who is this who even forgives sins?"

Jesus said to the woman, "Your faith has saved you; go in peace."

The problem at this party is not the loose woman who crashed it, but the Pharisee who didn't want her in his home. Jesus makes this fact perfectly clear. He hung out with sinners and expected his followers to do the same.

And so we consider how life would look if we followed his instructions. A faint stirring rises in our souls. There is indeed something noble in the thought. Yes, we could do that...

But then we reconsider.

"For our children," we solemnly note, "we must avoid bad places and bad people. Our children might be harmed by what they see and hear."

And in this way...

...we condemn ourselves with our very own words.

For our children will indeed be formed by what they see and hear — and nowhere more so than when then watch us.

Jesus taught us to live simply, give generously, expect to be mistreated, plan to not retaliate, and to love the most unwholesome souls in uncomfortably close quarters.

But "for our children" we hoard money, prepare for violence and keep the really bad sorts of sinners at arms length (or further).

It's a terrible shame that we saddle our own children with the responsibility for all our disobedience. We really should ignore Jesus' teachings for ourselves. But let's be honest. Isn't that what we've been doing all along?

It isn't for our children that we live as we do. We just like to think it sounds better when we say it that way.

Not to worry, though, for our children watch us do it. And for their children they will do the same.

Asking The Right Question

2010-08-13T15:03:00.000-07:00

I once took an active interest in the topic of women's ordination. Should women be permitted to serve as ordained ministers? I felt it was an important question.

But that was when I still thought that church was where the important stuff in Christian living transpired. Churches were where you brought your friends so that they could be saved. Churches were where you grew spiritually. I might not have said these words that way... they look awful when written in black and white. But that attitude was lurking in dark corners of my heart.

I don't think that way about church anymore. A number of painful experiences and hard-learned lessons have brought me to the "heart" (as opposed to "head") understanding that church buildings and the people who run them are not to be confused with the Church universal nor with the true work of Christian ministry. These categories do, of course, intersect — and the more the better — but I believe without a doubt that most of God's finest ministers have never been technically ordained.

Thus a once-interesting topic now leaves me disengaged. Why get worked up over who can hold which titles within church buildings and organizations? Why would that question occupy my thoughts?

"If you don't care, Pilgrim, why then this blog entry?"

A fair question. The answer is this: the topic had been sifting around in my head lately because a woman visiting my church recently made it quite evident that her home church would need to be one in which the ordination of women is permitted and practiced. I left the service that day not only puzzled that she felt this topic was so important, but also bemused to note that the topic had left my radar unannounced. It was her words that brought to my attention the fact that I no longer really care about a topic that once captured my interest as well.

But once drawn to revisit the question, I am reminded of this verse:

Romans 15:20
It has always been my ambition to preach the gospel where Christ was not known, so that I would not be building on someone else's foundation.

This verse helpfully reminds us that Paul loved evangelism and preferred to practice it where there was no church at all. Needless to say, questions of ordination don't play a pivotal role in a land with no churches. So while people can (and do) argue over whether Paul felt women could lead churches, I think they spend their passions on secondary questions.

So much for St. Paul. The true inspiration for this blog, however, resides in this week's Book of Common Prayer readings. How did Jesus feel about women's ordination? Again, I seek to shift the question, and I noticed today for the first time that this passage from the gospel of John implicitly invites us to do the same.

John 4:1-8 (condensed)
Now Jesus... came to a town in Samaria... Jacob's well was there, and Jesus, tired as he was from the journey, sat down by the well. It was about noon.
When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, "Will you give me a drink?" (His disciples had gone into the town to buy food.)

A few simple questions... Where are the disciples? (In town!) What were they there for? (To get food.) So much for the disciples. Meanwhile, Jesus chats with a rather colorful "I've had five husbands and the dude I live with now is not one of them" woman. For brevity's sake, let's call her Lola.

The disciples return from town. Question. Did they bring anybody with them? No. They brought food. Jesus is not impressed with their efforts. Not interested in their food.

How about Lola? She came in search of water, just as the disciples went in search of food. But Jesus has challenged her to give up the game of hunting down ordinary water and to instead become herself a source of living water. Does Lola take the bait?

Yes. Full points to Lola, who on her seventh try gets it right. Five failed marriages and a sixth live-in arrangement are not enough to disqualify Lola from God's consideration. Jesus is the seventh man in her life, which is quite fitting, since seven is the number of God. She finally gets a good offer and does not refuse.

John 4:28-30
Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people, "Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?" They came out of the town and made their way toward him.

So the disciples went to town for ordinary food and came back with no people. Lola, on the other hand, left the ordinary water at the well and returned from town with people. Are we detecting a theme here, perhaps? A study in contrasts? In case there were any doubt, the rest of the story cements the point.

John 4:39-42
Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman's testimony, "He told me everything I ever did." So when the Samaritans came to him, they urged him to stay with them, and he stayed two days. And because of his words many more became believers.
They said to the woman, "We no longer believe just because of what you said; now we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this man really is the Savior of the world."

In the parable of the good Samaritan, Jesus turns the question of "Who is my neighbor?" into a better question: "What does a good neighbor do?" I seek here to do the same. Why ask "Who can be an ordained minister?" Let us rather ask this: "What does a good minister do?"

My simple answer to this rephrased question is that good ministers bring people into the presence of Christ. It's a bit of a figurative phrase, but it is nevertheless true that only God can truly heal souls. We can dispense knowledge, and it will heal no one. Make no one grow. But God grows us and heals us. Good ministers bring us to God. Call it an oversimplification but I'll stand by it.

So how might we apply these thoughts to this passage from the gospel of John? First off, we'd quickly note that none of the twelve "officially ordained" disciples did any ministry on that day. All they pulled off that day was a bit of shopping in the nearby town. How long have these men been with Jesus? Weeks? Months? A year? And they still don't have a clue. Small wonder Jesus berated them a bit while awaiting Lola's return.

John 4:35b
I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest.

Jesus is disappointed because his slow-to-learn appointed ministers are doing no ministry. His harvesters are bringing back the wrong harvest. While they focused their attention on food, Jesus focused his attention on people. Lola, to be specific.

No shock that Jesus gets it right. Where things get really interesting, however, is when we notice that
(a) Jesus offered Lola the right to minister as well, and
(b) she accepted his offer.

The offer, implicit in his assurances that she could herself become a source of living water, is made explicit when Jesus instructs Lola to go into town and bring back her man. Lola takes this offer and runs with it. Literally. In her hurry, she doesn't even remember her water jar! She returns with not one man, but rather a whole bevy of townsfolk. She brings them to the feet of Jesus. Which, as noted earlier, perfectly fits my definition of a good minister.

The message in this passage is not stated point-blank, but it is there, ready to hit us with a two-by-four. Twelve ordained men failed to minister to anyone on that day. Jesus even refused their ministrations of food. But Lola accepted Jesus' ministry of living water... And proceeded to minister to her whole town.

There is an old joke that goes like this: "A woman has to do twice as much as a man to be considered half as good. Fortunately, this is not very difficult."

This joke meets its match in Lola, who ups the ante by orders of magnitude. After all, on that day twelve men were sent to do what a single woman typically does ("the shopping") while one woman, Lola, meanwhile performed the job those same twelve men were called to do ("ministry") — and immediately did it far better than any one of them had yet come close to doing.

Lola was an awesome minister on that day. And if loose-lady Lola can be a minister, anyone can. Do we really need to pursue the matter any further? Not if we are focused on the right harvest. True harvesters will be recognized not by their official title by rather the harvest they bring in.

Jesus, Paul and Lola harvested people. And we, all of us, are invited to do the same.

Some will disagree with my simplistic logic. Be that as it may. Let the record show, however, that Jesus is far, far more interested in who brings him people than he is in who brings him food — which is a useful thing to remember before we get too worked up over the church politics of who gets to break the loaf of bread during a communion service.

1 Corinthians 1:27
But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.

I Am An H...

2010-08-11T03:44:00.000-07:00

I had a great idea the other day... to buy a set of books that I was sure my kids would love. I could read them aloud. Probably all four kids would be able to enjoy them! That's hard to pull off, given the span of ages!

I found the books listed on Amazon at a shockingly good price. A 5-book set of paperbacks for just $4.00! Too good to be true! Better still, by ordering a few other books at the same time (a few future birthday gifts for me!) I pulled this coup off with no shipping expenses. I completed the order and began my UPS vigil.

The awaited box arrived in due time, but disappointment soon spoiled my moment of glory. The order indicated a 5-book set. So did the receipt in the box. But the only thing in the box (for the kids) was one lonely paperback.

I was ticked.

I had been looking forward to reading the books to the kids!

So I began to fiddle around online, looking for a way to tell Amazon in so many words that they had screwed up. That they needed to make me right. That they needed to get me what I'd ordered... and soon! I deserved no less. Even if they had to buy the paperback set of books at a loss from someone else...

The online clicking eventually led to a phone call from an Amazon representative. As the conversation began, I was professional enough in my word choice, but I didn't sound like a close friend. I suppose I sounded at least a little bit like someone who had an axe to grind or like someone who had missed their morning coffee.

In order to figure out what part of my order had gone missing, the woman on the line began to recite the books that should have arrived in the box. This annoyed me a little bit, because the problem item was the last one listed on the packing slip. No matter. My chance to gripe was coming, so I bit my tongue while she recited off the other books on the list which I had ordered for myself.

What's So Amazing About Grace

As she finished the first title, something went Click! in my head.

The Jesus I Never Knew

By the time she'd finished reciting the second book title, my conscious thought had caught up with the frantic efforts of my sub-conscious mind.

Good grief! With books titles like those on my order, how could I proceed? Not only did my planned speech need to be re-thought, but my attitude as well.

Shame crept over me like a damp fog. Recollections of my most recent blog flooded my thoughts. Hadn't it been about being willing to not only die with Christ, but stay dead? And here I was about to get rude with an Amazon representative about a mislabeled book order.

I shifted gears quickly and proceeded to work out details with the woman politely. Arrangements were made for the return of the solitary paperback, but I didn't breathe a word about getting a replacement book set for no extra cost.

After I got off the phone, I went online again and ordered the same set of books again, but this time I paid some $20 plus shipping.

As I worked these details out, I found myself humming an old tune I haven't sung in a very, very long time.

It's a children's tune. The words are as follows....

I am a C!
I am a C-H!
I am a C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N!
And I've got C-H-R-I-S-T in my H-E-A-R-T and I will...

And so the song goes. Spelling out who we are. Most of us who went to Sunday School at some point will have heard this song.

But as I hummed, the version I was working on went like this....

I am an H!
I am an H-Y!
I am an H-Y-P-O-C-R-I-T-E!
Cuz I write one thing in my blogs and do another when logged off...

Thanks be to God that there is grace to be had for hypocrites.

1 Timothy 1:15
Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst.

To Die Convincingly

2010-08-04T05:22:00.000-07:00

I was struck the other day by one of the differences between the Nicene Creed and the Apostle's Creed. I generally prefer the Nicene Creed, which is rather more verbose and which covers more details. (This will come as no surprise to the sorry recipients of some of my more lengthy emails.)

But there's one little area where it seems to my eyes that the Apostle's Creed goes beyond what is covered in the Nicene Creed. The Nicene Creed says this of Jesus Christ:

...For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate;
he suffered death and was buried.
On the third day he rose again
in accordance with the Scriptures...

The Apostle's Creed covers the same ground with these words:

...He suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died, and was buried.
He descended to the dead.
On the third day he rose again...

I like that extra bit in the Apostle's creed about Jesus descending to the dead. I find it helpful.

Why? Because I need to be reminded that Jesus didn't spring up from the cross right away. I need to be reminded that Jesus didn't rise from the dead instantly, but rather descended to the dead convincingly.

I need to expect, even welcome, the same treatment.

The constant theme of the New Testament is that we are called to share in Christ's death. To glory in enduring insults for his name. To accept suffering alongside him as part of the package. I am (slowly) learning how better to do that.

So far, so good.

The problem is this: I'm not patient. I want to spring up from the cross. I don't want to wait in a cold, cold grave. I don't want to die, die. That would be taking this crucifixion thing a bit too far, wouldn't it?

Actually, it wouldn't, but these are rather figurative words. An example might help explain what I mean.

When someone slanders me, my natural reaction is to defend myself right away. And sometimes that's the right thing to do. But sometimes it's best to simply walk away. I have a hard time walking away, though I am (slowly) getting better at it.

Even when I do walk away, however, I find it harder still to truly leave the matter with God. To let it (and with it, my pride) die. I don't let go of the memory. I keep it alive and well in my thoughts. Sure as shootin'... I eventually find myself reliving the situation in the presence of a sympathetic ear. I engineer the resurrection of my wounded pride with the help of a family member or a close friend.

Why? Because I want to be vindicated, and I'd prefer that it happen now. Figuratively speaking, I can die for a few minutes. Even a few hours. But a few days? Weeks? My track record indicates a firm negative on that.

Waiting on God's timing is not to my liking. God's vindication might not come for years. It might even lie beyond the grave. That's too long.

So I spring from my cross instead.

And here is a point where I think both creeds fall a bit short, because both creeds indicate that Jesus rose from the dead on the third day. Which is, of course, true. But it was the Spirit of God that raised Jesus from the dead. Jesus did not rise by his own effort and volition. The creeds are a bit vague on this point.

Now I'm not looking to split hairs here on the nature of the trinity. There being only one God, it gets complicated quickly when we begin to discuss the three Persons therein.

But, that said, it's theologically and practically significant to me that it was not Jesus who raised himself from the dead, but the Spirit of God who did it. The testimony of scriptures is rather clear about this.

Acts 2:24
But God raised [Jesus Christ] from the dead...

1 Peter 3:18
[Jesus Christ] was put to death in the body but made alive by the Spirit...

Romans 8:11
And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit, who lives in you.

Fine. So why do I consider this a matter of practical importance? Because if I wait for the Spirit of God to raise me, I'll be on God's timeline. If I seek to do it myself, I'll be on my timeline.

No prizes for guessing which course of action is the better one.

No prizes for guessing which timeline is more hurried.

One salient characteristic of dead people is that they don't try to revive themselves. We don't seem to have picked up on this subtle point, but it wasn't lost on Jesus. He died convincingly and waited patiently. Most of his followers, sadly, do neither.

That, I suspect, is why Power of the sort spoken of in Romans 8:11 is notably absent in the lives of most Christians today, myself included. Because we refuse to die convincingly, we don't give the Spirt a chance to demonstrate his Power by raising us convincingly.

There is a solution, however, and it lies in our learning not only to die with Christ, but also to descend with him. When we do both, I am confident we'll be in a very good place for the Spirit to raise us up and do wonderful things through us, to the glory of the God we serve.

I thank the Apostle's Creed for this wonderful reminder.

Returning To Shechem

2010-07-26T06:46:00.000-07:00

One trip ought to have sufficed.

Genesis 12:6-7
Abram traveled through the land as far as the site of the great tree of Moreh at Shechem. At that time the Canaanites were in the land. The LORD appeared to Abram and said, "To your offspring I will give this land." So he built an altar there to the LORD, who had appeared to him.

The deal of a lifetime. Abram gets another piece of it at the great oak of Shechem. We already know from the preceding text that God has called Abram out of the world he knew and away from the gods he knew and on to a new adventure with God. The true God. Here at the great oak of Shechem God revisits Abram and reminds him again of his great plans for Abram.

But strangely, Abram's offspring have a hard time remaining true to this awesome and generous God. They have a strange penchant for "little g" gods. The kind you can cut out of hunk of wood or stone. The ones that cannot really help anyone. The false gods.

In due time, therefore, it becomes apparent that a return pass by the great oak tree of Shechem is in order. To ditch a few false gods. To get tight again with the great God of the universe. To hopefully renew the deal of a lifetime. But is God willing? Still interested?

Yes. He is not only great, but he is also merciful. In fact, he calls for and arranges the trip. One can see, however, just a hint of frustration and jealousy in the way that God provides his travellers with a not-too-subtle hint about which God does the helping when times get rough. (Jacob, who happens to be one smart cookie, catches the hint.)

Genesis 35:1-4
Then God said to Jacob, "Go up to Bethel and settle there, and build an altar there to God, who appeared to you when you were fleeing from your brother Esau." So Jacob said to his household and to all who were with him, "Get rid of the foreign gods you have with you, and purify yourselves and change your clothes. Then come, let us go up to Bethel, where I will build an altar to God, who answered me in the day of my distress and who has been with me wherever I have gone." So they gave Jacob all the foreign gods they had and the rings in their ears, and Jacob buried them under the oak at Shechem.

All right, then. That settles that! Glad to have that done. Move on? Yes.

But not for good. The cycle repeats. It seems those false gods have more staying power than they ought to, because a gazillion years later, Jacob's descendants, now a mighty nation, find themselves again at Shechem, and for good reason.

Time to renew the agreement. And ditch some false gods... Again.

Nearing the end of his life, Joshua (the man who led the conquest of the land God had promised Abram) exhorts the people:

Joshua 24:14-25 (condensed)
"Now fear the LORD and serve him with all faithfulness. Throw away the gods your ancestors worshiped beyond the Euphrates River and in Egypt, and serve the LORD. But if serving the LORD seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served beyond the Euphrates, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you are living."

Then the people answered, "Far be it from us to forsake the LORD to serve other gods!... We too will serve the LORD, because he is our God."
...
"Now then," said Joshua, "throw away the foreign gods that are among you and yield your hearts to the LORD, the God of Israel."
...
On that day Joshua made a covenant for the people, and there at Shechem he reaffirmed for them decrees and laws. And Joshua recorded these things in the Book of the Law of God. Then he took a large stone and set it up there under the oak near the holy place of the LORD.

Great! All done! Now the whole nation has recommitted themselves to the one God.

But not for long. In due time the Israelites were back at it with the false gods once again.

I'm tempting to mock the Israelites and scorn the thought that I could be as foolish as they were. 500 years have passed! And they are still tempted by the false gods Abram left behind when he crossed the Euphrates? Seriously?

But in my heart I know better than to smirk too quickly. It's serious business getting rid of false idols. Terribly hard to do. Hard to do permanently, anyway.

I know this because I too have my hard-to-lose idols. As the Israelites did then, I do now. I worship God. But not Him alone. Money, the opinions of others, prestige, honor, safety, security... You name it. I worship these things too from time to time.

I try to renounce those extra gods. Send them packing for good. But they are never gone for good. On this day I may renounce all idols, all competitors for the love, trust and affection I owe to God and to God alone — but without fail a tomorrow arrives when I discover they have returned and set up shop in my heart.

Why is it we all have to keep returning to Shechem?

I don't have a good answer for that question. What I do know is that I need to return to Shechem regularly to do some business. To bury a few things.

And I am unspeakably grateful, because the Lord God who waits for me under that beautiful oak tree is merciful and kind.

And He always has two shovels at the ready.

The Word That Isn't There

2010-07-25T06:21:00.000-07:00

Matthew 21:31
Jesus said to them, "Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you.

What radical words indeed.

Radical first because the Pharisees are not even in the kingdom yet.

These words have lost a lot of their original shock value. Back in the day... back when Jesus walked the earth... Samaritans were scum. And Pharisees were saints.

Thanks to Jesus, those two labels have swapped definitions. We forget that. Jesus had a way of changing the meaning of words, and we're living today in the 2,000 year old wake of his corrections.

The word Pharisee is nowadays so imbued with wickedness and harsh judgmentalism... we naturally don't blanch when Jesus says they do not belong to God. But at the time!

Radical words? Heck yeah. I think we too often forget just how radical they really are.

But there's more to it even than that, and this is where I think we are even more blind. Jesus' words were radical because of the missing word. If the word had been included, he would have been quoted as having said this: "Truly I tell you, the former tax collectors and the former prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you."

But that bit about former? Yeah. Not there.

Hidden in this missing word is a mystery which deserves our rapt attention.

What does it mean to say that an active prostitute is entering the kingdom of God? That an active tax collector is entering the kingdom of God?

I don't think the church today understands much of this mystery. A few simple questions. Stop me where I get off track.

If a practicing prostitute can enter the kingdom of God, can she enter my church? Is that OK with God?

If a practicing prostitute can enter the kingdom of God, can she take communion? Is that OK with God?

If a practicing prostitute can enter the kingdom of God, can she enter my home? Is that OK with God?

Can she play with my kids?

The general answer is Yes. But the church, more often than not, is living out a No.

What I see in the church and in Christian homes is not the bold advance of the powerful kingdom of God (into which prostitutes enter and – yes – eventually are indeed transformed by God's redeeming Spirit) but rather a great deal of fear about what the entrance of sinful people might do to our fragile edifices of effete holiness.

Fear and loathing.

We don't place our children in the arms of prostitutes. We only place them in the arms of former ones. We don't have room in the church and in our homes for tax collectors and prostitutes. We only have room for former ones.

But that's not what Jesus said. And it's not what he did.

But we ignore Jesus and worry more over protecting the purity of our surroundings than we do about welcoming prostitutes. And when we do so...

...we prove that Pharisees still walk the land.

The Price of Nothing

2010-06-30T04:00:00.000-07:00

Nothing doesn't cost much. You wouldn't think it did, anyway.

But it does.

I know this because I've paid the price for Nothing on more than one occasion, and among those Nothing moments are numbered some of the most costly sorrows I have ever bought.

What sorrows do I speak of? Evils that could have been halted. Could have been stopped.

If someone had said or done Something.

But they didn't. They chose to do Nothing.

And it was in the vacuum of their inaction that I suffered.

There are usually three people in such situations. There is the wrongdoer. There is the victim. And there is the person who chose to do and say Nothing.

Sometimes whole crowds of people do Nothing, of course. But at the end of the day God doesn't judge crowds. He judges souls one at a time.

Speaking for myself, I've noted the irony that the memory of the pains inflicted by the perpetrator fade faster than the stubborn knowledge that "good people" stood by and did nothing to help me in my hour of need.

Was I not worth the bother? Not worth the risk? Not even worth a few words?

Someone reading this might think I've been through some dark hellish experiences. Not by ordinary reckoning. No physical torture here. Mostly just wounds from words that were never spoken in my defence.

But what must it feel like to be victim of a rape committed in a crowded street? It happens.

To rot in a prison, knowing that if enough people complained you'd get released. It happens.

To starve in a distant country, fully aware that wealthy people elsewhere who know of my plight are throwing piles of food away every day? It happens.

Yet perhaps we sell our human dignity short when we grant physical evils, awful as they are, special status. Laws in America usually do a pretty good job of protecting our corporeal bodies, so no... most of us, myself included, are in good shape on that front.

Protecting the soul is a bit trickier. A lot trickier. There aren't many laws that do that. God's law does. But judging by how often I've seen "good Christian folk" stand by while I suffered various comparably small injustices, I'd have to say God's law loses out to Nothing quite often.

Nothing is not cheap, but if people will choose Nothing to spare themselves a minor inconvenience, God only knows what they'll do when bigger risks are on the line. In Nazi Germany we witnessed not the mystery of so many who did Nothing, but the sheer miracle that even a few did Something.

God, grant me grace to know my role. I cannot do Everything. But I can do Something. And yet mostly I too do Nothing. Being hard on myself? False humility? No. Compared to what I could do... I've done a lot of Nothing. I'm a comfortable American. Need I say anything further? I know what the world is like. I've done more than Nothing. But not a lot more.

I hear others say we're not responsible to fix the world. I beg to differ. I think the wording itself is off. We have the option to make a difference. If we choose to do little or (God forbid) Nothing, then thus our choice shall be. We'll have to defend that choice before God one day, however. I'd rather have jumped for more options to do Something, driven by the love of Christ.

I was drawn to these dark reflections while viewing a Jars of Clay video entitled, Oh, my God. It ends with this chilling quote...

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.
— Edmund Burke

These haunting words remind me of something Abraham Joshua Heschel once said. "Some are guilty. All are responsible." Heschel would know a thing or two about that, having lost a number of his relatives to Nazi gas chambers.

Dietrich Bonhoffer understood the price of Nothing. He was so grieved by it that he returned to Germany to die rather than leave others to pay it in his absense.

For every Dietrich Bonhoeffer, however, there were whole cities filled with "good Christian folk" who did nothing. Some of those cities were hardly a stone's throw away from a death camp. It took effort to not investigage the source of the stench, but most people were up to that task, as it worked out.

Would I have looked into matters more closely? Stood up for Jews being carted off? Been willing to die for them? Been a Dietrich?

Have mercy on us, oh my God.

Not all monsters are bad, but the ones who are good
Never do what they could, never do what they could.
— Jars of Clay

Seven Habits of Highly Humble Leaders

2010-06-29T04:08:00.000-07:00

Actually, most of these items aren't habits, and... well.... there aren't really seven of them, but rather two sets of seven.

But I'm told this treatise of mine won't see the light of day unless the title is catchy and reminiscent of other recently successful self-help books.

Act I

1. Be born to greatness.

Exodus 2:1-10 (greatly compressed) — When [Moses' mother] saw that he was a fine child, she took him to Pharaoh's daughter and he became her son.

2. Show initiative.

Exodus 2:11a — One day, after Moses had grown up, he went out to where his own people were and watched them at their hard labor.

3. Have compassion.

Exodus 2:11b — He saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, one of his own people.

4. Fail catastrophically.

Exodus 2:12 — Glancing this way and that and seeing no one, he killed the Egyptian and hid him in the sand.

5. Discover your failure is public knowledge.

Exodus 2:13-14 — The next day he went out and saw two Hebrews fighting. He asked the one in the wrong, "Why are you hitting your fellow Hebrew?"
The man said, "Who made you ruler and judge over us? Are you thinking of killing me as you killed the Egyptian?" Then Moses was afraid and thought, "What I did must have become known."

6. Run (literally) for the hills.

Exodus 2:15 — When Pharaoh heard of this, he tried to kill Moses, but Moses fled from Pharaoh and went to live in Midian...

7. Spend about 40 years in desert solitude reflecting upon your abject failure. Watch your best years roll by.

Intermission...

Act II

1. Get re-commissioned by God to the exact same job you screwed up 40 years ago.

Exodus 3:10

God: "So now, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt."

2. Explain to God why He is mistaken. (Don't take "Go" for an answer.)

Exodus 3:11 - 4:12 (compressed)

Moses: "Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?"

God: "I will be with you."

Moses: "O Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue."

God: "Now go; I will help you..."

3. Keep arguing with God until He gets pissed.

Exodus 4:13-14

But Moses said, "O Lord, please send someone else to do it."

Then the LORD's anger burned against Moses...

4. Accept the job.

Exodus 4:18 — Then Moses went...

5. Be unappreciated.

Exodus 5:20-21 — When [the leaders of Israel]... found Moses... they said, "May the LORD look on you and judge you! You have made us obnoxious to Pharaoh and his officials and have put a sword in their hand to kill us."

6. Love, serve and pray for those entrusted to your care.

(the ones who find fault with you, that is...)

Exodus 5:22-23 — Moses returned to the LORD and said, "Why, Lord, why have you brought trouble on this people? Is this why you sent me? Ever since I went to Pharaoh to speak in your name, he has brought trouble on this people, and you have not rescued your people at all."

7. Repeat steps 5 and 6 for approximately forty years.

(A small word of advice: You have lots of time, so... be creative. Try many variations on this theme.)

Exodus 15:24 — So the people grumbled against Moses, saying, "What are we to drink?"

Exodus 16:2 — In the desert the whole community grumbled against Moses...

Exodus 17:3 — But the people were thirsty for water there, and they grumbled against Moses.

Numbers 14:2 — All the Israelites grumbled against Moses...

Numbers 16:41 — The next day the whole Israelite community grumbled against Moses...

To repeat.... respond to all this endless whining, disobedience and grumbling in the following manner: love, serve, and tirelessly intercede for (especially) those miserable souls whom God has placed in your life.

Stand between God and the grumblers when God himself loses patience and decides to kill them all. Threaten to quit your job so as to stay God's hand. (Then when God relents from slaughtering them all wholesale and kills only a few... watch those grumblers who are — thanks to you — still alive turn and blame you for the few deaths that did occur.)

Let your own sister accuse you of being arrogant. Watch God strike her with leprosy for having done so. (Now intercede with God to have mercy on her all the same and heal her.)

It would take a long time to rehearse all that Moses endured. Suffice it to say...

Just follow these simple steps, my friends. Do this for about 40 years and humility, true humility, my friends, will be yours for the taking.

Numbers 12:3 — Now Moses was a very humble man, more humble than anyone else on the face of the earth.

Two Compliments Don't Unwind A Single Insult

2010-06-17T06:44:00.000-07:00

I guess the title says it all, but this phrase came to me as I reflected recently on hurts visited upon me.

Get slammed. Then get a compliment or two. All better?

No.

Slams hurt. There is an evil person in my life whose motto might be more closely aligned with "One compliment absolves me of my last ten vicious attacks." This person is not approachable in any manner, so I just have to take the eleven things said and pray for God's grace to bear up.

But I see this dynamic at work even in my interactions with certain souls who love me deeply. When they perceive that they have unkindly slammed me, the compliment factory kicks into gear. But no number of compliments can unwind an insult.

What, then, does unwind an insult? Confession. Both words start with "C" but they are different birds indeed.

Confessions require great humility and brokenness. We must be brought low in order to bring a true confession forth. We must, like a dog, roll over and exposes our belly. We give the other party an opportunity to forgive us... or to stab us in the gut.

It's much easier to toss out a compliment! Compliments can be given from a position of safety — even authority. They can be dispensed downward. That's why they are of no use when the order of the day is to unwind an insult. Compliments compound the problem, rather than rectify it.

It's not that I don't appreciate compliments — but after I have been insulted unkindly, a compliment is not the right antidote. On the heels of an insult, a compliment brings resentment, not healing. A package deal of insults and compliments reminds me that I'm being evaluated. Not loved. That's how it works out in practice for me, in any case.

Perhaps the situation is different for others, but I suspect not, and here's why: I play this game myself. I wish I could say that I don't. But I do. And the game doesn't work for me either. I have doled out compliments in lieu of confessions and have witnessed the same outcome.

For starters, the compliment sounds hollow and tinny coming from my lips. It doesn't even sound good to me. Furthermore, more often than not I can tell by the response I get (silent or otherwise) from the recipient of my verbal largesse that it didn't do much for them either.

Lord, grant me the wisdom to hold off on the insults in the first place. But failing that, grant me humility afterwards to confess and repent...

...and save my compliments for later.

A Good Proxy For Vigorous Exercise

2010-06-13T08:14:00.000-07:00

So on Saturday my son Andrew and I watched the US pull out a tie against England in the first round of the World Cup. (Yay!)

On a sober note, I watched a commercial in which sports were not so much hinted at as being a religious experience, but rather literally celebrated as such. We're talking the whole nine yards, up to and including a sunlit cathedral window with a glowing soccer ball in its center. Etc. etc. etc. Not exactly subtle.

But here's the thing that made me laugh.

After the game, I said to Andrew, "Hey, I'd like to do something athletic today with you so that we can get some exercise. I don't care what it is..." But before I could finish that sentence, Andrew quickly interjected with his thoughts on why this would not be necessary.

"But Dad," Andrew replied, "we watched a World Cup game today. Didn't you see how they were sweating?"

What the Words Messiah and Church Have In Common

2010-06-11T05:48:00.000-07:00

Answer #1

Both words show up in the below passage!

Matthew 16
When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, "Who do people say the Son of Man is?"

They replied, "Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets."

"But what about you?" he asked. "Who do you say I am?"

Simon Peter answered, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God."

Jesus replied, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of death will not overcome it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be loosed in heaven."

Then he ordered his disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.

Answer #2

Both words have been utterly and tragically misused and abused.

Jesus avoided the term Messiah like the plague. Practically everything that God had in mind for his Messiah was exactly not what the religious leaders and people of Jesus' day had in mind. And the Messiah they were waiting for was pretty much exactly not what God had in mind. Even the twelve disciples were utterly confused in their understanding. This is precisely why, after complimenting Peter for guessing correctly, Jesus proceeded to prohibit him from saying such things publicly.

The Messiah whose coming the Old Testament prophets foresaw was so wonderful that they found themselves literally grasping for words to convey the wonder of what they saw. By the time Jesus arrived, however, the word Messiah had been co-opted into a festering project of hatred and violence.

The Messiah, it was commonly believed, would overthrow the world order and restore Israel to the top of the heap. The Messiah, it was thought, would do some serious bloody and violent housecleaning. The Messiah, it was thought, hated Gentiles.

No wonder Jesus didn't want to be publicly associated with the word.

This, I submit, is the problem we face today with the word church. If Jesus were to conduct a follow-up interview with his disciples today, how might it go?

I imagine the following:

When Jesus came to the region of the Americas, he asked his disciples, "What do people here say the Church is?"

They replied, "Some say it's a place where sexual predators, money-grubbers and power-mongers find easy prey."

"Ouch." Jesus winced. "How do you feel about that?"

They answered, "We grieve that a people called to holiness, simple living and mutual submission should fail so greatly as to make such caricatures not only possible but in many cases well-justified."

"What else do you hear?" Jesus inquired.

They replied, "Others say the is church a minority group of people who want to write laws that will force all of society to live by their own standards of behavior."

"Do you agree?" Jesus asked.

They replied, "We don't think laws change people. It's your job to change hearts and transform lives."

"What else do people here say the Church is?" Jesus asked.

They replied, "Still others say that it is a bunch of people who hide from life and hate gays and other people they consider sinners."

"How do you feel about that?" Jesus asked.

They replied, "You spent most of your time with the people that religious leaders hated the most. We think we should do the same."

"What do people who go to church around here think the Church is?" Jesus asked.

They replied, "Many of them think it is a place where people gather socially on Sundays to listen to a sermon, sing a few inspiring songs, and get a lift that will carry them through the week. If it's a big church, they like to buy coffee at the Starbucks in the foyer."

"But what about you?" Jesus asked. "What do you say the Church is?"

They replied, "We are your people. We expect to suffer because we follow you. We encourage one another to bear up under suffering, support the cause of the orphans and widows, and take unpopular stands for those who cannot speak for themselves. We walk the way of the cross as you did, revealing to the entire world the secrets of God: that life is found in you, and nowhere else."

Jesus replied, "Blessed are you, my little ones, for this was not revealed to you by a sermon you heard on TV or in a mega-church. God himself revealed this to you, and I tell you that you are my church. The gates of death will not overcome you. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be loosed in heaven."

Yes, despite the way these terms have been dragged through the mud, both the Messiah and his Church will indeed prevail over the kingdom of Satan. But we have to be careful about how we refer to these two partners in victory.

As for Jesus, he was, as Peter said, "the Messiah, the Son of the living God." But because of the baggage that came with these legitimate titles, Jesus had to use code-words to refer to himself, the Son of Man being only one such example.

We face a similar dilemma today. We are indeed Christ's Church, but the original meaning of the word is now hidden beneath numerous layers of muck. For this reason we, like Jesus, must be cautious when using the term in public. In my imaginary dialog between Jesus and his disciples living today, I wonder if he might not have ended it on a similar note....

Then he ordered his disciples not to tell anyone that they were the church.

Jesus Sees Us

2010-06-09T05:49:00.000-07:00

I noted in my last blog that I like Mark's word choice in his gospel account of Jesus walking on the water.

Mark 6:45-52
Immediately Jesus made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd. After leaving them, he went up on a mountainside to pray.

When evening came, the boat was in the middle of the lake, and he was alone on land.

He saw the disciples straining at the oars, because the wind was against them. About the fourth watch of the night he went out to them, walking on the lake. He was about to pass by them, but when they saw him walking on the lake, they thought he was a ghost. They cried out, because they all saw him and were terrified.

Immediately he spoke to them and said, "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid." Then he climbed into the boat with them, and the wind died down. They were completely amazed, for they had not understood about the loaves; their hearts were hardened.

Everybody knows the bit about Jesus walking on the water, but what fixates me from this passage is not so much that miracle (though it is cool!), but ironically pretty much everything else in the passage. Each phrase is a glittering treasure.

When evening came, the boat was in the middle of the lake, and he was alone on land. This part is gorgeous because it sets the impossible prelude. It's dark. Where's Jesus? Up on a mountain. Where are the disciples? In the middle of the lake. The impossible question: can any mortal see that far in the dark? No. In the days before electricity, you'd be lucky to see more than a few hundred yards.

But we're talking about Jesus, and his giftings do not begin and end with the ability to walk on water. He saw the disciples straining at the oars, because the wind was against them. Jesus can also see in the dark. A long way.

In John's account of this event (chapter 6) he notes not only that it was dark, but that the disciples had rowed some 3.5 miles out into the middle of the lake. John pointedly notes also that "Jesus had not yet joined them." This is a none-too-subtle reminder that, while Jesus sees them, they do not see him.

About the fourth watch of the night he went out to them, walking on the lake. The disciples think they are fighting this storm alone. But they're not. Jesus has been watching them the whole time. Now Jesus is coming to them. Help is on the way. But they still don't even know he's aware of their problem, let alone that he is coming.

He was about to pass by them, but when they saw him walking on the lake, they thought he was a ghost. They cried out, because they all saw him and were terrified. The phrase "pass them by" hints at a divine revelation — God's majesty revealed to mere men. So what happens when God shows up? The disciples are stricken with panic.

So we are on the horns of a dilemma. We panic when we're alone. And we panic when God shows up. The irony is that we were never alone, and God's arrival is good news – not bad news.

Immediately he spoke to them and said, "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid." This refrain is everywhere in the Bible. God says it. Angels say it. Prophets say it. Jesus said it. Repeatedly. Why? Because we frail humans just have a hard time believing it.

Then he climbed into the boat with them, and the wind died down. In this story, there is a literal storm, and it literally dies down. In my life, the storms are usually less tangible. A situation. A problem. But when I let Jesus into my boat, the storm dies down. The problem might not go away quickly – it may not go away at all! But if the peace of Christ is with me, the storm in my heart dies down.

They were completely amazed, for they had not understood about the loaves; their hearts were hardened. When will we ever learn that God sees us... that he's not leaving us alone?

The God who created the universe can make bread multiply.

The God who can multiply the loaves of bread can also walk on water.

And He can see us in the dark.

Superior In Every Way: Part II (Service)

2010-06-06T06:13:00.000-07:00

OK, so this series of reflections is moving ahead slowly. I wrote Part I in March.

Be that as it may, I was reflecting on true service, and am reminded again of Jesus. Superior in every way.

There are so many ways to look at Jesus as a servant, and how he, God incarnate, was better at serving than those who owe their very existence to him, let alone their salvation. We live because of him... and yet cannot even serve him well. And yet he serves us.

The scriptures are full of examples of how Jesus served others, and I suppose the most famous passage would be the last supper, where he got down on his knees to wash the feet of the other disciples. He took the job his disciples were too proud to take. But today I am drawn to another passage: Matthew 14-15.

In Celebration of Discipline Richard Foster notes, "When we choose to serve, we are still in charge.... but when we choose to be a servant, we give up the right to be in charge. There is great freedom in this."

The other day I was with a good friend and saw a call come through on my cell phone. It was a needy soul, and I wasn't in the mood to break away. I let it go to voice mail and called the fellow back a day or two later. On my own time. By my schedule. When it was convenient for me.

Now a case can be made for such decisions. Nevertheless I found myself reflecting on whether the timing of our conversation was best for my friend... or just best for my calendar and my desires. I won't say it was entirely the latter, but it certainly wasn't entirely the former either. I didn't feel like answering the call. My service button was in the "off" mode.

For a sharp contrast, we need go no further than Matthew 14-15. Jesus' own cousin John the Baptist has just been beheaded by King Herod. The text then reads...

Matthew 14:12-14
John's disciples came and took his body and buried it. Then they went and told Jesus.

[His cousin just died. He's grieving. Does Jesus try to "take a break" from ministry? Yes.]

When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place.

[Do the needy people leave Jesus alone in this time of deep sorrow? No.]

Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns.

[Does Jesus tell them all to back off and leave him alone? No.]

When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick.

As noted in the verses which follow, Jesus continue all day to minister all day long to a vast crowd of needy people.

And it doesn't stop there. After a no-doubt emotionally draining day of service to a host of needy people, Jesus again tries to slip away again. Remember, his cousin just got beheaded. He's probably wanting just a wee bit of alone time.

[Here I switch over to the Gospel of Mark's rendition of the same day, simply because I love his word choice...]

Mark 6:45-51
Immediately Jesus made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd. After leaving them, he went up on a mountainside to pray.

When evening came, the boat was in the middle of the lake, and he was alone on land.

He saw the disciples straining at the oars, because the wind was against them. About the fourth watch of the night he went out to them, walking on the lake. He was about to pass by them, but when they saw him walking on the lake, they thought he was a ghost. They cried out, because they all saw him and were terrified.

Immediately he spoke to them and said, "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid."

On the one day he needs to escape, he instead continues to serve. And serve. And serve.

Superior in every way.

And Are We Really Doing Any Better??

2010-06-05T06:43:00.000-07:00

So it starts off well. The garden of Eden.

"This is gonna be great!" That could be the rallying cry.

But Adam and Eve snatch defeat from the clutches of victory. Tales of woe follow.

So God steps in an introduces his first great covenant with one man: Abraham. The covenant is "formalized" many years later at the foot of Mt. Sinai with one people: Israel, the descendants of Abraham. The God of the heavens will call this people his own.

"This is gonna be great!" That could be the rallying cry.

But the people of Israel snatch defeat from the clutches of victory. Tales of woe follow.

So God steps in an introduces his 2nd great covenant with all of mankind. (No one can fault God for not thinking big!) This new covenant is ratified with the death of Jesus Christ, God in human flesh. We have been set free from sin by the blood of Christ.

"This is gonna be great!" That could be the rallying cry.

But the church of Christ has, by and large, snatched defeat from the clutches of victory. Tales of woe follow.

Someone will perhaps at this point jump up and, rightly, point out that this is not the victorious message proclaimed by the writers of the New Testament. We are the church victorious! We are one step away from the great finale where God comes down at the end of the ages! And we, the church of Christ, will become the bride of Christ. Touché.

But on the other hand, the book of Genesis started out on a pretty good note too.

So did the Exodus story.

The problem is not with God. It's with us. And I really don't think we're doing a whole lot better than our forebears. We're largely just miffing another great offer.

Sure, I could spin things a bit. I could assume the church is healthier in other parts of the globe. But since I don't live elsewhere I'll just describe what I see here in America. What I see here is, by and large, more of the same. Idolatry. Covetousness. You name it.

Oh, sure! We like to mock the Old Testament Israelites. "They were so stupid," we sneer. "They worshipped idols made of stone!" Idiots.

Granted. And it's true that we, enlightened souls, have not bowed to idols made of wood and stone. No. We're not that dumb. We only worship idols made of plastic and glass. They glow in our living rooms. (How cool is that?)

And we worship sports teams.

And nowhere does our worship become more pronounced than when the sports teams we worship are presented on the glowing screens of the plastic-and-glass gods we worship. A 2-for-1. When that happens? Well! We get as excited as any prophet of Baal.

The Old Testament Israelites worshipped at the temple, to be sure. They put in time at the holy place of Yahweh. But.... then they'd slip out to the shrines on the hills too, where they prostrated themselves before false gods that they mistakenly thought would secure a good harvest and fertility in general. These false gods offered, so the Israelites thought, a secure and fertile future.

"How silly," we say. "How hypocritical! Why didn't they just trust God to take care of them? Fine and good. Except that we do the same.

Oh sure! We go to church on Sunday and talk about God providing for our every need. But then we slink home and tend to our 401K and IRA savings accounts just as anxiously as any Israelite approached their fertility god.

Because apparently a secure future is not within the means of God to provide. Wasn't then, and isn't now. We have to take care of that on the side. That bit of life is too important to trust to God.

I could go on and on. (I suppose I am going on and on!)

The New Testament Pharisees thought they had a lock on the God thing. They thought they could line up God and get what they wanted from him provided they followed certain laws carefully enough. They never realized God wanted their hearts.

"How hypocritical and blind," we note scornfully. Oh, yes! We love to watch Jesus tear into the Pharisees for their wickedness. Then we church folk proceed to live utterly unholy lives which are literally, statistically indistinguishable from the lives of those who do not attend church. Why? Because we too think we have a lock on God. We think we can get what we want from him provided we say the right thing carefully enough.

"So long as I claim Jesus as my savior," we foolishly think, "I can do what I want and I'll be forgiven of it all at the end." But God always wanted our hearts – and no one who thinks like that belongs to God. We are as stupid as the Pharisees.

The great irony is in how the cycle repeats. The Pharisees mocked the wicked Israelites who preceded them. We love to hear Jesus point it out.

Matthew 23:29-33
"Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You build tombs for the prophets and decorate the graves of the righteous. And you say, 'If we had lived in the days of our forefathers, we would not have taken part with them in shedding the blood of the prophets.' So you testify against yourselves that you are the descendants of those who murdered the prophets. Fill up, then, the measure of the sin of your forefathers! You snakes! You brood of vipers! How will you escape being condemned to hell?"

We've come full circle. We now mock the Pharisees. They were heading to hell, we note approvingly. But we have been invited into the kingdom of God! We are invited to the wedding feast. We are to become the bride of Christ!

But Jesus had a few words for us too. And like the Pharisees, we're too blind to realize he's talking about us.

What did Christ have to say for those invited to this great event?

Matthew 25:1-12
"At that time the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five were wise. The foolish ones took their lamps but did not take any oil with them. The wise, however, took oil in jars along with their lamps. The bridegroom was a long time in coming, and they all became drowsy and fell asleep.

"At midnight the cry rang out: 'Here's the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!'

"Then all the virgins woke up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish ones said to the wise, 'Give us some of your oil; our lamps are going out.'

" 'No,' they replied, 'there may not be enough for both us and you. Instead, go to those who sell oil and buy some for yourselves.'

"But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut.

"Later the others also came. 'Sir! Sir!' they said. 'Open the door for us!'

"But he replied, 'I tell you the truth, I don't know you.'

Those word are for us. But like the Pharisees, we're too blind to see it.

There were holy people in the Old Testament days. But what we remember today is how most of the people of Israel behaved. And it was nothing to be proud of.

There were holy Pharisees in the New Testament era. Some of them followed Jesus! But what we remember today is how most of the Pharisees behaved. And it was nothing to be proud of.

There were and are holy members of the church of Christ. Some people who self-identify as Christians actually follow Jesus! But from my limited vantage point, what I see in the American church is nothing to be proud of.

In his wedding parable, Jesus indicates that half of those invited never make it past the doors of the banquet hall. I think it's safe to say that all of God's people will celebrate that banquet. So what is Jesus saying? That his church is a failure?

No.

I think Jesus is pointing out that his church is not what people think it is. There are plenty of churches and tons of church folk in this great land of America. But the number of people who belong to Christ is quite small.

The rest are just a bunch of blind fools.

Dear God, don't let me be one of them.

You Go, Rahab!

2010-05-31T06:17:00.000-07:00

Talk about ending well.

She's a hooker. A prostitute. A whore.

Plain and simple. That's where she finds herself in life.

And she lives in Jericho, a city given over to wickedness.

And the holy people of God are coming... ...to destroy the city.

That doesn't sound like a very pretty package. Anyone signing up to be Rahab?

Well it turns out better than one might expect. Much better. But I didn't realize just how much better until today, when I did a quick perusal of where her name shows up in the Bible.

I knew her name was in the genealogy of Christ. That's something you can hang your hat on all by itself. The honor of having Jesus Christ as one of your descendants. No mean feat for a hooker living in a dark city about to be destroyed.

But it gets better. Yes, she's in Matthew's genealogy. But she shows up elsewhere in the New Testament, and the shocker for me this morning was to note that she shows up in two somewheres. Hebrews and James.

And the thing that tickles me pink, amongst all the back and forth of the great debate about faith and works (and which is the one which "saves" us), is that she is listed in both categories.

Hebrews 11:31
By faith the prostitute Rahab, because she welcomed the spies, was not killed with those who were disobedient.

OK, so the book of Hebrews points out that by her faith she was saved (literally).

But wait...

James 2:25
In the same way, was not even Rahab the prostitute considered righteous for what she did when she gave lodging to the spies and sent them off in a different direction? As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without deeds is dead.

So let the great debate continue. As a parenthetical comment, I really don't think Paul, James or the author of Hebrews had any disagreements on any of this. It's just us moderns who seem to struggle with the obvious unity of faith and works.

But regardless... whichever side one picks (if one indulges in this modernist debate at all) one thing is sure.

Rahab the prostitute is in the winning camp.

But why should we be surprised? She found herself in the winning camp a long time ago, when by all rights her life was finished. She found herself amongst the victorious Israelites. She alone, of the entire city of Jerico pulls off this amazing feat.

And then, as icing on this cake, she somehow ends up not simply bumping along bottom amongst her new people, but in the lineage at the top. As already noted, she found her way into the lineage of King David – and therefore also of Jesus Christ himself.

There is a bit of ambiguity on this point, however, but I'm pretty sure where to go with it. What do I mean? Well, Rahab didn't apparently have a husband in Jericho. She negotiates with the Israelite spies for her life and the life of her close family. Siblings, parents, etc... No mention of husband. Over the course of the story, this list of close relatives is repeated in two or three places. Never a mention of a husband.

Hookers don't easily acquire (or keep) husbands. So while the scriptures are rather quiet about the matter, I think the answer is somewhat obvious. She left Jericho sans husband. But she fixed that problem after joining the Israelites. That's how she ended up in the lineage of Christ. At least, that's how I suspect she did it.

In any case, to say Rahab found her way into the family of God gives new meaning to the words double entendre and understatement.

You go, Rahab!

Choking Fear

2010-05-27T04:58:00.000-07:00

Abby lay there choking and weeping. She was literally stuggling for breath. Oxygen tubes leading into her mouth delivered what she needed most, but in her fear and anguish she could barely get oxygen, the very thing she needed most.

I stood there over her, in my own anguish of soul. Could nothing more be done? Calm down, Abby. Calm down.

Thankfully, it was only a dream. Only a dream? I woke up this morning with that scene still before my eyes, in living color. The fear I felt in my dream was strong and fresh in my heart as I opened my eyes.

I don't take such dreams lightly, and this one I took seriously all the more because Abby is in a fight for her life. Her body is safe, but her soul is troubled, and we know it well.

I went over to her bed and prayed over her, that God would deliver her from the fears and sorrows that choke her. Then I began business of my own with God. I too struggle with choking fear.

Today I am due to have a conversation with a major client whose firm seems to have more people ready to take my work internal than people who want me to stick around. It's nothing personal – to them, anyway. But it sure is personal to me. And when I'm honest I've been in fear of this moment for a long time.

I picked up my book this morning and read where I left off yesterday. Abraham. Isaac. The long walk up a mountain. My mountain is smaller but it's been a long walk too. The transitioning process with this client is stretching on toward a year now.

If Abraham was counting on earthly things, he'd have been afraid. And maybe he was. I imagine he was. But He feared God more. And trusted God more. Maybe just barely, but enough.

If I counted on earthly things, I'd be afraid. I am afraid. So that answers that. But I fear God more. Maybe just barely, but enough.

Or do I? Do I fear God more? For if my life, from end to end, is marked more by trembling fear than by holy fear... that is not saying much. Trembling fear... that's what our new hamster has when my huge hands enter the cage. I keep delivering carrots, but she's still afraid of me. I'm not impressed by her fear. But I still love the little critter. Goofball. Doesn't she know I'll provide for her?

I'm as stupid as that hamster. Perhaps worse. She has no promises. But I do. The Bible, end to end, is a string of promises and words of affection. I will never leave you nor forsake you... Be strong and courageous... The Lord your God will be with you wherever you go...

I can be the recipient of these blessings... but only if I trust God.

So as I pray for my daughter Abby, I pray for myself too, and not least that by demonstrating trust myself, I will give her cause to do the same. If I cannot escape fear, what hope do I have to offer Abby? I tell her to let go. "Let go and open up those hands," I tell her. But my hands... why are they white and shaking? Why the sense of gloom in my heart today?

Hebrews 12:11-13
No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.

Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. "Make level paths for your feet," so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed.

God help me to pave this home with level paths, that Abby would be healed.

Hebrews 12:18-24
You have not come to... darkness, gloom and storm.... But you have come to ... thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly... You have come to God... to Jesus...

God free me from choking fear and fill me with joy. And may Abby be likewise delivered.

No Wonder Creation Groans

2010-05-25T04:22:00.000-07:00

Thanks to a book I'm reading, I just had an epiphany moment about the creation story in Genesis.

In the past, I'd always struggled a bit with what it means to be human – by way of comparison with animals. I'd taken from the first chapters of Genesis this notion that God made us humans special and different from the animals. Unlike all of them, we were given souls and, needless to say, a heaping amount of intelligence to keep the soul company. To make us God-like. Thus in this fashion we were created in God's image.

The problem was, and is, that we are getting more and more clear understanding that the animals are not entirely lacking in these things. We have a lot more in common with the animals than we like to admit.

The secular world includes many people who err on the other side, of course. Many enlightened souls (pun intended) think we're all animals at the end of the day. No wonder things are going downhill on planet Earth. Once it is accepted that we humans nothing more than rather smart animals, we begin to behave in approximately that fashion. Not a pretty scene. But I digress.

We have come to realize that animals with higher intelligence literally mourn death (duh... why did it take that long to figure that one out?), and, of particular note to me, know how to intentionally deceive. Even birds know how to do that, it turns out. Never mind the apes.

Knowing that some animals mourn death and know how to deceive, I begin to get uncomfortable with the great divide – the assumption that animals ain't really thinkin' and they ain't really got no soul. Maybe they have spirits too. Immortal ones? Perhaps. God never said they didn't. I love the verse where God rips into his prophet Jonah for wishing that God would hurry up and wipe out the ancient city of Ninevah.

Jonah 4:11
But Nineveh has more than 120,000 people living in spiritual darkness, not to mention all the animals. Shouldn’t I feel sorry for such a great city?

God cares ever so dearly about the animals too.

Which takes me back to that mystery. I'm not fool enough to think we're all just a bunch of animals. But I'm not happy with the line some Christians take either – the one that pretty much buckets all animals as another class of critters because... because... because they're critters. And we're not. So critters don't matter. Because they're critters.

Thus the epiphany moment as I read these words:

Just as powerful earthly kings, to indicate their claim to dominion, erect an image of themselves in the provinces of their empire where they do not personally appear, so man is placed upon earth in God’s image as God’s sovereign emblem. He is really only God’s representative, summoned to maintain and enforce God’s claim to dominion over the earth. The decisive thing about man's similarity to God, therefore, is his function in the nonhuman world.

Lightbulb moment.

It's not that "we think and have souls [and animals don't]... so we get to rule and are special to God." Rather, it's that God chose us to rule over all other animals [and of course equipped us to do so] – and for that reason we are special. As God rules over the entire universe, we rule (in a limited fashion) over a small corner of his creation. It's the fact that we rule at all (and that only by God's decree and decision) that makes us special.

This approach does not detract anything from the animals. They can still think (as they obviously do) and even have spirits (which the higher ones seem to have). We bear God's image because we rule over them. We were appointed for that task.

Which leads me to my final reflection. No wonder creation groans.

Romans 8:22
We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.

Creation has a right to groan. The appointed regents are lousy administrators. We are doing an awful job in our care over this corner of creation. And we know it too.

Romans 8:23
Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.

We are fallen humans leading fallen lives, ruling in a fallen way over a fallen world. No wonder creation groans. No wonder so many animals flee from the presence of their appointed rulers.

One day God will make all things right. Until then...

Creation groans.

Do Not Attempt This In Your Own Home

2010-05-24T04:17:00.000-07:00

Do Not Attempt This In Your Own Home. Those words are splayed along the bottom of commercials sometimes – usually when a stunt actor is doing something rather crazy. Try to replicate his feat and you might end up in the hospital.

I'm thinking those words ought to be underneath some of the behaviors that various New Testament writers condemn so often. Rage. Gossip. Malice. Scorn. I find myself often trying to draw some fuzzy line around home behaviors that permit me to stray into those behaviors "because the situation is different when I'm home."

It's hardly the case that I have no struggles with rage or scorn in the home, but at the moment I'm thinking about gossip. There are all kinds of nuances to the special marriage relationship, but when I cut through all the excuses, the fact is that I know I'm telling my wife things she doesn't need to hear. I gossip with my wife.

God's been convicting me about it. Specifically, a comment made by Richard Foster in Celebration of Discipline cut me like a knife. "Guarding the reputation of others is a deep and lasting service."

Too often I fall far short on this. And it's usually at home, at the end of the day. With Debby. When I read Foster's words, I immediately had a gut reaction which said, "There are a lot of reputations I don't guard when I'm alone with Debby."

But that's how my day went... She's my wife and has a right to know... I don't keep secrets from Debby...

Excuses, excuses. By and large a pile of cheap excuses. Excuses to allow me to unload gossip and hurtful words in the home that I often know better than to share when I'm elsewhere.

So I'm thinking to try another approach to this matter of gossip. It goes like this: If I can hold the line with Debby, I can hold it anywhere. If I fail to hold the line with Debby, I'll fail elsewhere too. This good habit needs to begin at home. Yes, I suppose there will be things that still need to be said. But an awful lot of things that spill from my mouth don't need to be said.

James 3:3-12

When we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we can turn the whole animal. Or take ships as an example. Although they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are steered by a very small rudder wherever the pilot wants to go. Likewise the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole person, sets the whole course of his life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.

All kinds of animals, birds, reptiles and creatures of the sea are being tamed and have been tamed by man, but no man can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.

With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God's likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers, this should not be. Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring? My brothers, can a fig tree bear olives, or a grapevine bear figs? Neither can a salt spring produce fresh water.

Man of Lawlessness

2010-05-20T05:48:00.000-07:00

Mikhail Gorbachev is the anti-Christ!

...Or maybe not.

When I was growing up, Russia was the great bug-a-bear. The end of the world was going to happen when Russia attacked and yada yada yada. By the time Mikhail Gorbachev rose to power, Russia's days as a super-power were numbered, though this wasn't obvious at the time. How ironic, then, that we saw the blotches on his forehead and shouted, "Aha! The mark of the beast!"

OK, so I didn't shout it, but goofballs discussed it occasionally, and I did take note. 30 years later, I laugh now at other people's certainties and even at the things I speculated about at the time.

It has always been thus. Humans have a gift for seeing patterns that are not there. ("I saw the face of Jesus on my toast this morning!") Christians are great at this. We have an enormous Bible which affords all sorts of opportunities to link extremely confusing and mystical prophecies to the latest world events. And I'm about to embark on that course right here.

With all that as prefatory disclaimer (!) I've been reflecting on what Paul was referring to when he spoke of the Man of Lawlessness.

To say I'm going out on a limb would suggest I think I am still on the tree. Perhaps I'm beyond the last limb and in fact now falling to the ground. But I am pondering what truths (if any) can be gleaned if I were to pretend for a moment that the Internet is what Paul was prophesying about.

The Internet Is The Man Of Lawlessness. There. I said it. That way I can be the first hit on Google (presuming this page gets indexed eventually) to match these words.

Do I know that the Internet is the Man of Lawlessness? No! Needless to say, I haven't got a clue. Paul himself probably only had a prophetic notion of what he was speaking about. His words were no doubt inspired by God, but that doesn't mean he himself knew quite what he was saying.

But suppose the Internet were the Man of Lawlessness. Just as a thought exercise. How does that match up with scriptures? Probably 9 theologians out of 10 would say, "Not at all." And I'd have to grant that they know more about the matter than I do.

So, that being the case, why am I playing with the notion? Because even if it's not true, it's certainly thought-provoking.

And theologians have been wrong before. Jewish theologians, for example, did not and do not accept that Isaiah's reference to a virgin with child had anything to do with a certain Jesus being born of Mary. And Isaiah himself would have been surprised to find that one out. But God knew.

A simpler question: Why am I blogging about this topic today?

Flash back – I blogged a few weeks ago back about why the Internet is so dangerous. Then my Book of Common Prayer readings just a day or two after that blog brought me up against 2 Thessalonians 2, which refers to this mystical Man of Lawlessness. I couldn't help but see the connection, but at the time just let the notion bounce around in my head.

Flash forward – Last night (against my better judgement, I might add...) I went to YouTube with two of my little ones to view a funny clip I knew was there. To find it, I searched for "dog" and, sure as the sun rises in the morning, up popped autocomplete options ranging up through and including bestiality. I'm upset not because I believe YouTube offers actual videos of such things up. Presumably the links went to nothing quite so graphic – though I made it a point not to check! What drives me bonkers is that such horrifyingly sick stuff is on my autocomplete list.

All I wanted to view was the clip of the dog running in his sleep. And I had two youngsters on my lap. So again I find myself bumping up against what this Internet is and what it means for humanity. If the Internet is not the Man of Lawlessness, it's certainly the Land of Lawlessness.

Bestiality? Sure. If you want to.

Lest I start to sound unhinged I'll bring this thought to a close quickly. Well, maybe not that quickly. I did a bit of research on the Man of Lawlessness – and I do mean just a bit. From this passage in 2 Thessalonians the notes in my study Bible sent me directly into Revelations. Oddly enough, I found myself viewing the famous Revelations passage in chapter 14 that indicates that, in the last days, the power to buy and sell being restricted to those who take the mark.

Hmmm. Not that the Internet has anything to do with buying and selling.

Now don't get me wrong. I do have most of my bills handled electronically. I don't even get receipts through the mail on most of them. So it's not that I am calling these things wicked. I love the ease of use, the reduced paper waste and all that. I wouldn't want to go back. But, that said, I'm just taking note of where things are going. Soon there will be only one way to pay for things. And if I get excluded from it for some reason... well, you can draw the dotted lines.

This may truly be the most conspiratorial blog I ever write, but I'll press on to make one last point. the next verses in that passage from Revelation have to do with 666. Yeah, good ole' 666. As I read the passage with the Internet hot in my head, I became suddenly curious if 666 had any link with www – the lovely prefix to web pages.

It does.

I got what I'm about to write from here and this author does not buy into this flight of fancy. But ironically he convinced me that there is a case for such a crazy notion. In short, the Hebrew numbering system assigns the value 6 to the letter vav which itself is the letter often used for the English W. vav-vav-vav... www... 666...

And vav, it turns out, also has the meaning hook in Hebrew. Is the Internet a hook?

Naw... I'm just seeing the face of Jesus in my toast. That's all.

Conspiracy theorist Brian signs off with this note... while searching around, (and again I swear it was all of 30 minutes work) I ran across someone's "sign-off" post.

Some people have poetry. Others have inspirational words. This sign-off quote was as follows:

"The Internet is the last light of truth and hope...it is truly of the people, by the people and for the people. We must not let it be subverted for any purpose other than the truth. And that truth shall spread to every man woman and child across the globe. No longer will those in power carry the sole means to decide for us, yet we now shall have the power to decide to tune them out."

My rejoinder to words like these would be this:

2 Thessalonians 2
The coming of the lawless one will be in accordance with the work of Satan displayed in all kinds of counterfeit miracles, signs and wonders, and in every sort of evil that deceives those who are perishing. They perish because they refused to love the truth and so be saved. For this reason God sends them a powerful delusion so that they will believe the lie and so that all will be condemned who have not believed the truth but have delighted in wickedness.

And, oh by the way, speaking of counterfeit miracles... Life itself is commonly acknowledged as a miracle. We just counterfeited it for the first time. I wonder if Paul had that in mind. The link I provide in this paragraph will no doubt go cold, but it points to an editorial on the dubious wisdom of creating synthetic life, which, as of last week, we can now do.

As the character Malcolm noted in the book Jurassic Park, we asked not whether playing with DNA should be done but simply if it could be done. Anybody who saw the movie should have walked away with a morality lesson on what happens when you do that...

Power

2010-05-18T06:47:00.000-07:00

Power. It's a strong word! But I was struck this morning by how Paul uses the word in his prayer for the church of Ephesus.

Ephesians 3:16-21

I pray that out of his glorious riches God may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

That's not the kind of power that gets much press these days. Hollywood-style power involves, inevitably, some combination of money, physical strength, and/or control over others. Furthermore, in Hollywood and in our popular imagination power is used to do things. Usually to beat up the bad guys.

Paul is clearly talking about something else. In this passage, power does not enable us to do anything at all. No baddies get wiped out. What kind of power is Paul talking about? Well, I'm not going to win any sleuthing awards here, but just from the text it is clear to see that through this power:

1. Christ dwells in our hearts, and
2. we can grasp how great Christ's love for us is

And... that's it. That's it. That's it for us, that is to say.

But we mustn't miss item #3. By this power which enables Christ to live in us and which enables us to know Christ's love.... by this power which is at work within us:

3. God is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine.

Now the action is beginning to kick in. Here comes the action? Well, not quite. God himself (not us!) is "doing the doing."

So this is a different sort of power. It's not Hollywood power, not military power, not physical prowess, not monetary power... but on the other hand, given how these resources have been squandered and how many evils have been wrought by these means – no wonder God prefers to still be in control of this kind of power. Because this power is his power. Only God can be trusted to wield the power of God.

And therein lies the mystery, because God has chosen to do great things through us. If our deeds and words accomplish more than can be explained in human terms, then indeed it can be said that the power of God was at work within us.

So we face two choices. We can either accomplish nothing of eternal significance, and have the pleasure of pulling off that feat on our own, or we can allow God to include us in on his plans to accomplish immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine.

As I write these words, I think of the scoffers of this world. Great empires, of course, have been built by godless souls. But these empires are destined for dust. God is building an eternal kingdom, and it is toward this end that all his power is being exerted. Paul's words here cannot be improved upon...

1 Corinthians 3:10-15
Because of God’s grace to me, I have laid the foundation like an expert builder. Now others are building on it. But whoever is building on this foundation must be very careful. For no one can lay any foundation other than the one we already have—Jesus Christ.
Anyone who builds on that foundation may use a variety of materials—gold, silver, jewels, wood, hay, or straw. But on the judgment day, fire will reveal what kind of work each builder has done. The fire will show if a person’s work has any value. If the work survives, that builder will receive a reward. But if the work is burned up, the builder will suffer great loss. The builder will be saved, but like someone barely escaping through a wall of flames.

God, let your power through me bring glory to yourself. May my work be empowered by you, that the fruits of my labor be deemed worthy of eternity.

Chasing Jesus

2010-05-15T05:31:00.000-07:00

Chasing Jesus.

Those two words roll around in my mind and on my tongue like honey.

As soon as I gather my thoughts around those two words, I can almost hear his rustling robes and smell the warm, dusty Mediterranean air. No wonder crowds followed him wherever he went. Life was with him and Life went forth from him. "Stay near that man!" my heart sings.

But then I get on with my preferred activity.

The other day I blogged about Chasing Pharisees. And the truth is, I do it an awful lot. In the blog I dealt mostly with the action of chasing Pharisees. I used to do that pretty regularly, but have wised up a bit on that score in recent years.

The problem is, I still do it in my head all the time. What I no longer indulge with my body and tongue I continue to nurture in my thoughts.

Words fail me as I contemplate how many hours and days of cumulative wasted time I have spent chasing Pharisees in my head. Winning arguments. Pointing out errors. Watching evildoers squirm. Conducting scathing interviews with people who aren't even part of my life anymore.

Chasing Pharisees.

It's a bitter game with a bitter taste – and my spirit becomes bitter within seconds when I indulge the poisonous thought pattern.

Chasing Jesus is so much better. So much better. When I place the two phrases side by side, it is nothing short of amazing that I waste my time entertaining the alternative. I might as well say that chasing death is preferable to chasing Life.

Or I might as well say that I prefer to look backward than to look forward. When I chase Jesus, I am running forward after the one who can give me Life... Life Abundant! When I chase Pharisees, I am returning back to those who by my reckoning have been taking life and poisoning hearts. As a dog returns to vomit... Why would I want to do that?

I don't know. But I do it in my head every day. Not a day goes by when I don't reminisce and re-live a painful experience with someone who hurt me. Once I enter that rabbit hole, it's usually several minutes before I come back out – and it is amazing how much life can get sucked out of me after so short a time. A few minutes of poison can leave me heart-sick for hours.

Chasing Jesus. It's equally amazing how much Life can seep into me when I spend those spare minutes in fellowship with the Lord of Life. I know this because every now and then I get it right – and rapturous joys are indeed available when we turn our eyes upon him and conduct real conversations with the Lover of our Souls and the Lord of our Life. Periodic conversations like that can redeem the whole day.

Chasing Jesus!

And the best thing is?

Unlike the Pharisees, Jesus like to be caught.

Chasing Pharisees

2010-05-11T16:44:00.001-07:00

Pharisees.

It's a great label for certain deserving folk... nice and strong.

I like to think I can smell a Pharisee from a long ways off, and I love to name one when I see one.

But... as they say... it takes one to know one. I'm not free of the charge myself. Legalistic? Well, not entirely. Judgemental? Oh, my. Yes, judgemental.

In fact, I'm so judgmental, I chase after Pharisees for the sole purpose of letting them know that they are Pharisees. Problem is, I cannot remember Jesus ever chasing down a Pharisee. They chased him down plenty! But he... I just cannot recall an incident where he went in search of one.

I suppose a few words of caution are in order here. First, it is indeed in the purview of prophets to bring God's (sometimes unpleasant) messages to (sometimes unrepentant) people. Prophets sometimes chase Pharisees.

So when I (or anyone else) play the game of chasing Pharisees, the big question is this: Am I redeeming God's name as a Prophet? Or am I redeeming my own name as a Pharisee?

Redeeming my own name? What do I mean by that? Well, when I'm a Pharisee, I chase people down for two main reasons:

1) To show them how awful they have been to me. If I can do this, my name rises as their name falls.

2) To show them how awful they are as people. If I can do this, my world-view rises as theirs falls.

In either case I'm redeeming something of myself. At their cost.

Now surely it is true that sometimes people have been awful. And sometimes their beliefs and lives are in a terrible state. Granted. But when I go after someone so as to redeem my name or my views, I'm on my business. Not God's. And it always becomes clear that this is so by the way I treat them.

That's not to say that prophets are nice by way of comparison. The difference is that Pharisees leave other people in no doubt of their own judgment. That can be ignored. Prophets leave people in no doubt of God's judgement. That can get you killed, as biblical accounts amply demonstrate.

Another observation on the difference between Prophets and Pharisees: the former risk their lives when they rebuke people, wherease the latter generally prefer to operate from a position of safety. Jesus was always quite safe when the Pharisees were feeling afraid. It is delightful to note, in sharp contrast, that Jesus did not feel (or act) afraid when the Pharisees were feeling safe.

All that to say... Our true motives in moments like these are revealed when something bigger is on the line. A candid personal observation: I note that my inclination to refrain from criticizing someone to their face is directly proportional to that person's ability to make my life miserable.

God, give me a heart to proclaim your name and your business when you call me to do so – whether it's safe or not.

And please grant me the wisdom to know better than to chase down Pharisees for reasons of my own.

One choice...

2010-05-10T06:26:00.000-07:00

I was playing H-O-R-S-E (the basketball game) with little Luke a few days ago. I am not even sure he was winning.

Perhaps he was.

In any case, he turned to me at one point and informed me of the following:

"Daddy, you have only one choice remaining: Losing... or Failure."

Basketball aside, I've often suspected that my options in life have been along those lines too.

Choose Your Party Carefully

2010-05-08T09:10:00.000-07:00

Ephesians 5:12
For it is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret.

Those words have been haunting my thoughts recently. In a recent blog I noted that both Google search toolbar and Google News offer up sexually charged and deviant material even when I've done nothing to ask for them. Why?

I think St. Paul understood perfectly well how both of these phenomena have come to pass, and his insight into the matter exposes exactly why our world is on a downward spiral into debauchery. We have forgotten that it is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret.

The Google folk who provide both services have their excuse ready, of course. "Don't shoot the messenger!" they cry. "We don't pick the stories or the phrases. An automated algorithm decides what to display based upon what stories people are reading and what people are searching for."

This is, of course, quite true. And sexual depravity, moreover, is hardly a recent invention. What I find disturbing, is our collective failure as a society to find an Internet answer to Paul's admonition. It is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret, but the Pied Pipers of the Internet — the ones leading the way — are the disobedient. The tail wags the dog.

A case in point: how did "average penile length" find its way the top of the list for those typing in the word "average" into google search? I am not certain, but I have a pretty good hunch. It goes like this...

Suppose you have a sample of 100 ordinary people. For argument's sake let's assume that 70 people in this group avoid depravity altogether. Of the remainder, 25 know they shouldn't go there, but can easily be tempted. The last 5 people are consuming sexual depravity on the Internet whenever the opportunity arises. Let's call this last group of people"The Fringe Five" — or TFF for short.

What happens when an Internet search engine tracks the behavior of all 100 people? Inevitably, some of the preferences of TFF will make it onto the bottom of the auto-complete suggestions list. Maybe just barely — the last option on a list of 20. But once those search terms hit the list, even if it's the bottom of the list, a certain respectability is imputed to the behavior of TFF.

Why do I say that? Well, the big shift is that the choices of TFF are no longer hidden and not really stigmatized. What society in the past had the wisdom to shun, the Internet exposes. What wider society used to shame the Internet now allows to be nurtured. Auto-complete lists are value-neutral. 95 other people can now see what TFF are doing on the Internet, and the habits of TFF are simply more options to choose from.

The coup de grâce lies in the fact that the actual lives that make up TFF are hidden from view. Nobody sees who these people are or, critically, how their lives are impacted by their sexual addictions and licentiousness. It's not a pretty sight! But we don't see it. We just see that their sexual interests are now on our auto-complete options when we start to type. And we start to suspect that we're missing out on the fun.

I'm reminded of what I'll call "The Mardis Gras Syndrome" — the fact that women who never lift their shirts elsewhere will perhaps do it in New Orleans during Mardis Gras. Somehow devant group behavior helps individuals abandon their principles, if only for a day. The problem is, of course, that the Internet is one endless Mardis Gras.

Returning to our sample of 100 people, what happens after TFF legitimize a bad search term even just a wee bit? It's safe to say that a few of the swayable 25 souls give in. Yesterday only five fringe people were curious about average penile lengths. Now ten are. The search term makes it higher up the list.

From there it is all downhill. Eventually a pretty boring topic (come on, we have to admit it is...) has become Hit Topic #1 for those looking for information on averages. What was once depraved and shunned gets legitimized first, and celebrated second. All this is accomplished via anonymous mouse-click democracy. One click at a time.

I don't think there is any happy ending to this story. This is a trend which I don't believe will ever be reversed. The evil genie is out of the bottle and I cannot imagine it going back in.

So... is it time to give up hope?

No! St. Paul saw the problem 2,000 years ago, but he also knew the cure. Those who want it can have it any time. You just have to switch party affiliations.

Ephesians 5:15-20
Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. ... Be filled with the Spirit. Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.

We as individuals do not have to join this Mardi Gras parade to the bottom. We can party with God. Needless to say, if we choose the latter, we'll be stigmatized, called prudes, ridiculed, and (worse still!) our search words will not impact the Internet.

Try this, for example... Type life with (and a space after the with) into google search. Derek, Liz and Louie are there. Christ didn't make the list. The Internet apparently is not much aware of the glories of life with Christ.

I have no idea who Derek, Liz and Louie are — and I don't need to.

My life is with Christ. I party with Him.

Is It Worth The Risk? Seriously? Part 3 of 3

2010-05-03T16:35:00.000-07:00

(This blog continues from Part 2...)

The Alternative

In Part 2 of this 3-part blog I shared my conviction that we easily fall victim to two Internet addictions which can simply be described as (1) porn entertainment that destroys our souls and (2) non-porn entertainment which threatens to deaden and bury our souls.

We churn through our hectic days (complaining about how busy we are) and then proceed to expend the last gasps of our free time either watching TV or on the Internet trolling through vast mounds of trivia that we never needed to know.

But a lot of us hit those news sites pretty fast and then get back to work. What do I really think we'd gain by not doing that? Is it really so bad to get a quick look at cnn.com?

The apostle Paul used his free moments to pray. I suggest that we use our free minutes to do the same. If you have time to check the latest news (this will only take a second, we reassure ourselves) then we have time to pray. Instead of reading one more pointless piece of news (or, dare I mention it... check in to Facebook to see what changed), why not pray for a friend or family member in need? Or just give God a cheerful hello. God would not be disappointed to hear from us more often. On that point I am pretty confident.

I say this: treat TV like the plague. And as for the Internet? Let us treat the Internet like the research section in a cold library. We go in to get our schoolwork done, but no kid would be caught dead in there on any other occasion. We do what must be done and then leave as fast as our legs can take us... Because we'd rather play (or pray!) in the sun.

My Personal Story: A 2-Step Program

Two years ago (during the great financial meltdown) I found myself refreshing web charts on the plummeting stock markets. As often as every few minutes! Sometimes every few seconds. As Lent of 2009 began to loom large before me, a faint realization dimly lit my fogged mind....

Perhaps an Internet fast would be good for me.

So for Lent I restricted my news intake to "after 3PM central time." This meant that markets would close before my feverish fingers found out what happened that day.

I faithfully abided by the commitment throughout that season of Lent, but it's a fact that I was generally watching the clock and, I kid you not, usually reading market results no more than a few seconds after 3PM. I was desperate to know.

The delerium tremens faded, however, as the weeks of Lent rolled along. By the end of Lent a curious transformation had taken place. I found that I wasn't so sure I wanted to return to my old habits — or, should I say, my old master. Easter came and went. And I continued to hold off on reading the news "until after 3PM."

A year passed... Lent of 2010 began to loom large. "Just for grins," I thought to myself, "I'll reduce myself this Lent to getting the news once a week." Maybe a few minutes of it on Friday or Saturday. And so I did.

I never dreamed that the cycle would repeat.

But it did.

As the weeks of Lent rolled along, I found myself wondering each Friday what exactly it was I wanted to know, now that my moment had come to read the news. And I didn't have a good answer.

Easter came and went, but the pattern held steady. I don't want to return to my old master. I do still use google quite a bit for work purposes, but the Internet is not my source of entertainment anymore. It's far too dangerous a thing to be used so flippantly.

I hope, going forward, to treat Internet news like junk food. Nobody ever said candy bars had anything to do with a healthy diet, but the occasional treat never killed anyone either. That said, when I'm tempted to check the news for no good reason, I ask this simple question: "Isn't now a good time to pray?"

The answer has never failed to be Yes.

Is It Worth The Risk? Seriously? Part 2 of 3

2010-05-03T16:33:00.000-07:00

(This blog continues from Part 1...)

Two Reasons Why We Need To Flee The Internet

[Note: by Internet I am referring chiefly to the not-so-humble but ever-so-ubiquitous web browser]

There are two reasons why, as a general rule, we should use the Internet only sparingly — when the Internet and the Internet alone can help us accomplish what would be much more difficult or expensive to accomplish by any other means.

#1 Reason To Flee...

(Surprise, surprise...) It's Sex. I know this is hardly news to anyone with a pulse, but even so I provide two examples from this past week.

Anecdote #1: (Average What?)

I recently blogged that the Average American now watches 37 hours or so of TV each week. I'm happy to report that I first ran across this piece of news on printed media — my weekly news magazine which for some odd reason is still interested in providing real news about real world events and trends. (This is getting more and more rare! Witness the decline of U.S. News, Time and Newsweek... But I digress...)

But the number was so amazing... Really? 35 hours a week? Five hours a day??? So I went to a google shortcut and typed exactly this much...

"average

And as soon as I typed a space key....

The first auto-complete options started to render...

Number one choice? "average penile length"

A curious child might end up in a very strange place if they had gone with that first hit. Not a few adults might end up there too. I was tempted to go myself. So... just out of curiosity... what is the answer?

But I don't need to know that!!! And it's not the question I had set out to answer!!!!

But now that you mention it... what is the answer? I think I know what the answer was! But the answer I have in mind is from years ago. Perhaps since then it has changed? Just one click to find out!

Anecdote #2: (Have You Heard The Latest On...?)

I spoke with a work acquaintance today. He lives in Franklin, TN. We chatted about the recent flooding in Nashville, and after we hung up I decided to hit Google News and check up on that Nashville flooding and the oil spill in the gulf. The news I sought was right there at the top. Nashville water and Gulf oil. Top two articles. Perfect!!

But, oh look! There is another option right next to them! Fox on Sex: The Allure of Vibrating Panties. A shimmering blue hyperlink, just waiting for me to click....

(Isn't it appropriate that hyperlinks often start out in crisp and bright blue but then turn to a much more murky and muddy color after you click on them? It's hard to get the blue back. Kinda like what happens to your soul. But I digress...)

In light of these two anecdotes, I ask this simple question: Is my weird little parable from Part 1 of this blog (the story about The Perfect Bookstore) really very far off from the world we live in now?

I submit this answer: Not at all. Not at all.

Would we send our children into The Perfect Bookstore to buy us the newspaper? NO!! Do I feel safe leaving my child alone with Google News? NO!!

But never mind the kids. What about us? We mock the folly of allowing young teens of the opposite sex to spend time alone together in remote places. Then while we're alone we hit the Internet, looking for something interesting to read. Is that any wiser?

Curiosity and a yearning for hidden knowledge is what got humanity into the mess we're in! And now a it's a national hobby to troll through web pages littered with links-of-knowledge carefully designed to tempt the curious.

So... some risks are worth taking. What is our reward for exposing ourselves to such a barrage of temptations? What is our reward for surfing the Internet? If we're lucky, our reward is nothing more than a generous dose of whacked out news that we didn't need to read in the first place.

Oh! Did I touch a soft spot? Was someone thinking the Internet posed no dangers to those who avoid the smut? Not at all. Not at all. As the old saying goes, "If the devil can't make you sin, he'll make you busy." The Internet can keep us busy for the rest of our lives. Facebook could do most of the job all by itself.

#2 Reason To Flee...

Reason #2 is Idle Entertainment. (And you thought IE stood for Internet Explorer!) We must flee this trap with no less urgency than we are to flee sexual temptation. And since Internet news and random surfing is a heck of a lot more respectable than porn, our growing addiction to it is widely undiagnosed. Internet news and Facebook, my friends, can be as addicting as sex. Well... close, anyway.

Think I'm exaggerating? Well then! Give them both up for two month and tell me about your experience when you're done. Not keen to try? (The psychiatrist on the sofa begins scribbling down notes furiously...)

(This blog continues with part 3...)

Is It Worth The Risk? Seriously? Part 1 of 3

2010-05-02T05:14:00.000-07:00

The Situation

Suppose you needed to buy a book. Suppose you could find it, with effort, after a few days of hard work. As in, 16 hours of work driving around looking for it in various libraries, and that only to borrow it... or perhaps find it already checked out. For whatever reason, this book simply cannot be found on the Internet. You have to get it in person. So you can drive and drive... or...

You can buy that book at The Perfect Bookstore. Where the Internet fails, this store comes through. They always have every book. You have never left that store disappointed. Never. Ever. And — get this! — it's just a few blocks from your house. And the prices are cheap!! Way cheap. Do you search somewhere else? Or do you get your book at The Perfect Bookstore?

Um... the latter, of course! That bookstore sounds awesome!

But wait.

Suppose you knew that this store didn't just have books. It also carried explosive devices. Loaded and lethal explosive devices.

[Yes, this story is getting a little weird, but just humor me and don't ask too many questions...]

Now these explosive devices that I speak of are only on display in certain aisles. So if you're really careful you can just get your book, get through checkout, and beat a hasty retreat from the store. Do you still get your book at The Perfect Bookstore?

Um.... I suppose.... but I won't bring the kids into the store with me!

But wait.

Suppose that this store places magnets in these aisles. You can literally get sucked into them if you enter the store with a lot of metallic stuff on your person. Do you still get your book at The Perfect Bookstore?

Um.... I guess.... but I won't bring the kids and I'll also be sure to empty my pockets and remove my watch before entering the store. I do need that book, after all! You said I really needed that book, right? With care I can accomplish in a couple of minutes what takes several days of work to do elsewhere!!!

But wait.

Suppose that this store requires that you put on a full metal suit at the door before you enter the store. Some sort of anti-theft mandate. Really weird... but those are the rules. But... this is a store with magnetized aisles full of deadly explosives! Do you still get your book at The Perfect Bookstore?

Um.... Maybe not. Not without suction cups attached to my feet. Can I anchor myself to the doors with rope? How important is this book, anyway?

Well I'll stop the silly story here and get to the point.

I hinted at the outset that this bookstore was even better than the Internet. In fact, ladies and gentlemen, The Perfect Bookstore IS the Internet. Those metal suits? Our fleshly bodies.

...And I don't think I need to explain to anyone what sorts of flesh-oriented-magnets can be found in the dangerous aisles of the Internet.

Happy shopping!

(This blog continues with Part 2)

Which Servant Am I?

2010-04-30T04:51:00.000-07:00

Matthew 25:14-30

Again, it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted his property to them. To one he gave five talents of money, to another two talents, and to another one talent, each according to his ability. Then he went on his journey. The man who had received the five talents went at once and put his money to work and gained five more. So also, the one with the two talents gained two more. But the man who had received the one talent went off, dug a hole in the ground and hid his master's money.

After a long time the master of those servants returned and settled accounts with them. The man who had received the five talents brought the other five. "Master," he said, "you entrusted me with five talents. See, I have gained five more."

His master replied, "Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!"

The man with the two talents also came. "Master," he said, "you entrusted me with two talents; see, I have gained two more."

His master replied, "Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!"

Then the man who had received the one talent came. "Master," he said, "I knew that you are a hard man, harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed. So I was afraid and went out and hid your talent in the ground. See, here is what belongs to you."

His master replied, "You wicked, lazy servant! So you knew that I harvest where I have not sown and gather where I have not scattered seed? Well then, you should have put my money on deposit with the bankers, so that when I returned I would have received it back with interest."

"Take the talent from him and give it to the one who has the ten talents. For everyone who has will be given more, and he will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what he has will be taken from him. And throw that worthless servant outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth."

This parable has been haunting my thoughts in recent days. How often do we read Jesus' parables and mentally place ourselves "in a good spot" in his stories. We are, of course, servants who are taking God's gifts and investing them, of course. Right? Reaping a good harvest with our talents...

Or are we?

I am struck of late by the haunting thought that I have perhaps more in common than I want to admit with the man who hid his one talent in the ground. This thought gravitates around these words...

I knew that you are a hard man.

It's a commonplace that most Christians are keen to not enter the field of full-time Christian missions. "Lord," we say, "I'll do anything... but please don't send me as a missionary." We often try to make it a bit of a joke (maybe it's nervous laughter?) when we share this sort of thing with each other. But at the heart of it all, are we not simply admitting that working for God full-time is a harder job than we care to contemplate? This has been the case for me more than I care to admit.

I knew that you are a hard man.

We don't simply avoid serving God full-time. We work full-time avoiding service to God. Our lives are, more often than not, a long story of taking care of ourselves and a pretty tight circle of family and friends. Count me guilty on this charge. I've only served one soup-kitchen for a few hours on one day — in the last ten years.

Matthew 10:42
And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward.

Mother Teresa has our respect. but somewhere in our hearts we must think she was a fool. Do we really believe that she is now being rewarded more so than the average bloke who died last week while vegging in front of the TV? I guess not. If we really did, we'd be lining up behind her for the same bargain.

Instead we line up in front of Walmart at 4AM on the Friday after Thanksgiving. And when we're not in that line, we're likely lined up on a sofa. Most of American Christendom is spending most of their free time in front of a flickering screen.

In fact, I just read a day or two ago that the average American spends about five hours per day watching TV. And since, sadly, the average nominal American Christian is indistinguishable from the rest of America, the same number is a pretty decent proxy for the average bloke in the pew. But I digress...

At the close of the parable, Jesus' final words indicate that the first servant still has all ten talents — and now one more besides! God is not a hard man. The problem is with his hard-hearted and wretched servants.

Revelation 3:17
You say, 'I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.' But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.

Help me, Lord! I don't want to be a wretched servant. Help me to invest into your kingdom the treasures you have given me.

Darwin Never Had A Chance

2010-04-17T06:08:00.000-07:00

It's an odd jumble of thoughts, but here goes nothing...

I am struck by the growing scientific evidence that our brains are shaped by how we think, whereas we usually think of it the other way around. Yes, we're born predisposed to all sorts of character traits and predispositions. No doubt about it. But we also by our choices and habits form our brain too. An example: it has been shown that the brains of London cab drivers are abnormally enlarged in the areas where memories of useful things like the street layout of London are stored.

But I digress... so it struck me that perhaps our choices are not only forming our brains to a certain extent but also forming, even more markedly, our very souls. That this race in life is to become spiritually fit in a very strange but real sense. We can see which earthly athletes have been training. I suspect it is just as obvious to the watching angels which earthly souls are in great spiritual health.

Some of us are dead. Some are pew potatoes. And some frail little lady praying in a cottage somewhere is the finest specimen of spiritual perfection an angel can lay eyes on. They gather to watch such gentle souls with more affection than any earthbound couch potato ever devotes to his favorite sports team. I wonder if the angels paint up their faces when she begins to pray.

On to another rambling thought. Jesus was the ultimate loser, by Darwin's reckoning. He had no physical offspring. L-O-S-E-R. Needless to say, he didn't have to die childless. But he chose to. Perhaps a blog on that one day...

But here's the strange thing. Strange thought. Jesus was indeed looking for offspring. He was playing Darwin's game, but a quantum level higher than Darwin's trifle. Jesus wanted his spiritual DNA to prosper. And ironically enough, to be the spiritually fittest it turns out to be the case that one has to play to lose the contest Darwin describes so well as it is played out in the physical realm. Everyone knows, for example, that it's the alpha male who gets the harem. But Jesus informs us that he would would be greatest must be servant to all. On and on and on and on it goes. Spiritual vitality depends upon us not playing by Darwin's rules. We have to be Darwin's loser in order to be God's winner.

The scriptures, in their own oblique fashion, give hints to this spiritual reality overlaying a more easily recognized physical one. Jesus wants us for his bride. When we agree to his indecent proposition (indecent because we don't deserve it) he forms us into his own image. What does it mean to become like Christ if not too, in so many words, take on his spiritual DNA?

Funnily enough I ran into this quote from Dallas Willard that plays into all these jumbled thoughts I've been putting to words. "You cannot be a pew potato and simultaneously engage in spiritual formation in Christ's likeness."

I know it's a bunch of jumbled thoughts. But I do like the way they play together. How ironic, that Jesus outshines Darwin at his own game and did so by seeking to lose it on Darwin's terms.

More fun with words and parallels...

The best a Darwinian devotee can do is to hope to pass half his DNA on to each physical child. The other person in the sexual union provides the other half. And each child is themselves mortal, so it's a game with no permanent winner! Closely examined, the entire enterprise begins very much to look like the myth of Sisyphus writ large. Pointless and hopeless. Is this the best Darwin can offer?

But Jesus is in it for a whole transformation, and he's playing for eternity. When Jesus achieves spiritual union with us... when Jesus gets what he wants... we are fully transformed into his image. And we don't get half his spiritual DNA. We get all of it. The results are immortal, eternal, and glorious. What's more, Jesus has achieved this union (to greater or lesser extent) with perhaps a billion people and counting.

How Isaiah could have nailed it so clearly some 700 years before Christ's birth and 2,500 years before the birth of Darwin? How Isaiah could have seen it all so clearly... is a mystery with no answers, bar this one: God revealed his secret plan to a listening ear. It is all there in Isaiah. Jesus died a loser in Darwin's game of physical propagation so as to win an even bigger contest of spiritual propagation.

Isaiah passed from the scene long before Jesus arrived. But he saw him clearly all the same.

Isaiah 53:8, 10
No one cared that he died without descendants,
that his life was cut short in midstream.
...
Yet when his life is made an offering for sin,
he will have many descendants.

Darwin, you set your sights too low, and your game was eclipsed thousands of years before you set it to paper. You described the shallow fleeting victories of the survivor of the physically fittest. But Jesus has demonstrated for eternity that he is the eternally glorious savior. The spiritually fittest.

Game, set, match.

Three Deadly Horsemen of Worry

2010-04-14T10:04:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I think there were four horsemen, but whatever...

I was reflecting upon my blog posted yesterday, and I think there are three basic sources of worry, and they are not all about "suffering" as I made them out to be in that blog. Jesus faced them all, and through it all he never ceased to exhibit a peace "that endurethed."

(I think the only time he showed any sign of lacking such peace was when he was alone with God on Gethsemane and knew a time was coming when God himself would reject him. No doubt that was a worthy moment to be troubled!)

But consider the rest of the life of Jesus as recorded in the gospels...

1) Jesus wasn't afraid to suffer.

That part I noted yesterday. Too often we worry because we're afraid we will suffer. How ironic is that? We signed up for suffering when we pledged ourselves as his! Never mind the fine print... didn't we read the big print?? Those not-so-subtle comments about having to take up our crosses and follow him?? But we worry nevertheless. Is a cross coming? When will this one be taken from me? When we expect crosses and are not surprised by them... when we bear them without complaint... I think most of our worries will become a thing of the past.

2) Jesus wasn't afraid he wouldn't get everything done.

The world always had more for Jesus to do than he had time to do as a single man. Why we think we can do better than he did I don't know. But we do. And usually the cure is to revel in our limitations and let God accomplish, through us, more than we can ask or imagine, to quote that scripture verse. When we expect to not get everything done, but trust instead that God will help us to do exactly what needs to be done (by us), a big chunk of our remaining worries will also become a thing of the past.

3) Jesus didn't fret about things not placed under his control.

He no doubt grieved over every poor choice he saw anyone make. Note his lament, for example, over Jerusalem. ("O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing.") But I don't think Jesus worried (strictly speaking) at all about Jerusalem and her wayward children. Worry of this sort involves a certain amount of unhealthy clinging... clinging to an unhealthy desire to exercise control over domains not meant to be under our control. Jesus never did that. If we cast aside worries of this sort, I do believe the last of our sources of worry would be conquered.

And if we did all that, I do believe indeed his peace would be given to us in abundance... a peace beyond understanding and of the sort the world can never offer us.

The Peace of Christ!

Give me more of it!

You're Kidding, Right Jesus?

2010-04-13T10:00:00.000-07:00

I was struck by a funny thought on Sunday night. I logged it away as a blog idea and quickly forgot about it, but was reminded of it again today when I read this morning's lectionary gospel reading, which includes this verse:

John 14:27
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

OK, so on the face of it, there's nothing particularly hilarious about this verse. It often comes to mind when I'm harried, troubled and/or tired. I desire peace. So.... what's so funny?

The thing I found so funny that night is the irony of the setting. The last verse of that same chapter has Jesus saying, "Come now; let us leave." Where is Jesus going? To the garden of Gethsemane. To do what? To be arrested, tried, beaten, whipped, mistreated, and then brutally executed. Jesus knows exactly where he's heading. And yet he instructs his disciples to not be afraid.

And he offers them his peace.

So Jesus is heading out to meet his death. But it's not like he was coming from Lake Placid, either! During his three years of ministry Jesus was relentlessly ridiculed, maligned, slandered, mistreated and hated by an awful lot of powerful people. He had to stay on the move just to avoid getting killed!

And yet Jesus tells us not to be afraid. And he offers us his peace.

OK, most of us are not at risk of being murdered, but we all know what it's like to be under pressure from family, friends, and sometimes strangers. Are we stressed by the pressures of ordinary life? Jesus knows about that too.

Jesus faced all we faced and more. His family thought he was insane. His friends just wanted to ride on his coat-tails to power. Crowds just wanted him to give them free meals. Sick people wanted him to heal them. He was a wanted man in every sense of the word — harried and pursued relentlessly. More so even than Hollywood actors and actresses.

And yet he offers us his peace.

Thus my surreal moment of hilarity. Jesus? Give me his peace? Offered peace like that, I might just prefer the alternatives! But Jesus was clear about it. So was the Apostle Paul. And Peter. And the author of Hebrews. If we opt for life with Jesus Christ, we'll indeed get his peace — and we'll also share in his sufferings. It's a package deal. I can't ask for his peace and decline his sufferings.

No wonder Jesus said his peace was not of the sort the world had to offer! And no wonder so few of us know the peace of Christ. We don't know the peace of Christ precisely because we're worried we might have to face the sufferings of Christ. But his peace is exactly revealed and made real when we willingly endure trials of all kinds.

But I preach to myself here as much as to anyone else. I frequently feel I lack the peace of Christ. Why? Why do we so often feel that we don't have peace when our lives are a whirlwind? I think it's because we mistake the peace Jesus offers with outer serenity.

Jesus never promised me outward serenity, but I guess I'm still in thrall to the notion that the good life includes (is defined by?) quiet afternoons in the sunshine with a good book. A brief review of the New Testament gospels and epistles reveals that neither Jesus nor Paul had any such life. Why do I want what they didn't seem to seek or have?

Do I want the peace Jesus offers? I think I do. But with Jesus as guide, I guess I need to let go of some notions about what it looks like to have it.

** Upon reflection (that is, after all, the title of my blog!) I think this blog deserves a bit of revision... but instead of fixing this one, I'll just throw up a few amendments in a new blog...)

An Interview With Jesus

2010-04-02T15:41:00.001-07:00

So I was sitting in bed a few days ago, gathering my thoughts together for the new day. Or was I perhaps winding down a day already drawing to a close? Whichever the case, there was a tall-backed office chair next to the desk by the bed and I imagined for a moment that Jesus was sitting there in it, looking at me.

It being an office chair, somehow Jesus turned into a bit of an executive in my mind's eye... a rather imposing CEO. I suddenly began to feel like a job applicant. Or perhaps a mail room clerk.

"What do you have to offer me?" Jesus asked.

I should have known better, but I found myself looking for things to offer him. Talents. Money. Faithfulness. But each thing I thought to throw before that chair suddenly turned as if to dust before I could get it to him. Nothing I had to offer seemed to be even worth offering. This man before me holds the universe in his hands. Even if I were to consider only his "human" resources, he'd still have men and women all over the world who surpass me in any way one could consider. And, let's be real about this... He's God.

I had nothing to offer Jesus. And we both knew it.

Things were not looking good. But my spirits rose. "Jesus," I said, "wherever I go, I would like you to have free rein to do what what you want to do through me. I'll do my best to honor this commitment."

It was my best offer, and we both knew it. He didn't press for more. In fact, I think I saw a twinkle in his eye. "Now you're talking," his small smile seemed to say.

But this odd little time with the Lord had one other interesting facet to it all. CEOs in black swivel chairs are usually of average height or taller. The more I looked at him, the more I realized that this Jesus sitting in front of me was short. Really short. He was only about five feet tall.

Now I'd never really given it much thought, but the logic was impeccable. (I do admit this was not a divine visitation. I was definitely constructing a vision in my mind's eye.) But my imagination had taken me to an odd nexus. I'd never really thought before about how short Jesus was when he walked the earth. But average heights have been rising for perhaps millenia. Just a few hundred years ago I think the average male European male was only about 5'-6". If Jesus were of average height 2,000 years ago, he'd surely have been a very short man by today's standards.

So there I was, looking at my short CEO. My five-foot Lord and God. For the first time in my life, I felt extremely biased and afflicted with heightism. What does it mean to serve a midget and call him your Lord? Perhaps those in the temple dealing with an 11-yr old Jesus were struggling with similar feelings. Who is this little fellow?

It was definitely a mind-bender, but Jesus grinned and his eyes now seemed to ask, "And do you still call me Lord?"

I did. But it was definitely a strange encounter. Food for thought. As if God indwelling a five-foot body could be any less (dare I say?) "belittling" than doing so in a six-foot one. The fact that I have to ask the question at all reveals how very little appreciation I have for the crushing humility of God's decision to take on human flesh. For me to quibble about the height of the body he indwelt is to miss the point entirely.

The more I reflect on it, the more I think I have not really learned in my heart the lessons on offer from the scriptures surrounding Samuel's selection of David to be Israel's second king. Saul, their first king, was tall. Very tall. And an utter failure — a wreck of a man. David, the man God chose to be Israel's second king, was "not so tall." But God had to talk some sense into Samuel who, like me, had some hidden and unhealthy reservoir of respect for height. Samuel was quite ready to anoint one of David's older (and taller) brothers as Israel's next king. God had other plans.

1 Samuel 16:7
But the LORD said to Samuel, "Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart."

So little David went on to be king of Israel. Perhaps some Israelites had to get used to having a less stately looking king. Now I realize that I must do the same.

Paean To A Woman's Intuition

2010-03-21T14:29:00.001-07:00

As I reflected on this topic, I was tempted to save the thought for Mother's Day... but... why wait? So here it is.

There is an old joke that goes like this... "A woman must do twice as much as a man in order to be considered half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult."

All laughs aside, this blog reflection is on a woman who saw, more or less, not what two men could not see, but rather what twelve men pretty much could not and/or would not see. This blog is about a woman worth, in this regard, more than twelve men.

Who was the woman? Mary, the sister of Lazarus, whom Jesus raised from the dead. And what did she see? That Jesus was going to die.

The scripture reading from the church lectionary for today is from John 12, where Mary anoints Jesus' feet with a terrifically expensive perfume. Apparently it was worth something approaching a year's wages. In today's terms, we're talking about something in the ballpark of $20,000 or perhaps $40,000 per bottle. She poured a whole bottle of this stuff on Jesus' feet.

For people like me, this incident is a great reminder that sometimes "it's not about the money." I tend to obsess about not wasting money, but it's good to remember that when Jesus is present nothing done on his behalf is too extravagant. Let that lesson overwhelm me like the scent of that perfume.

But moving on, the thing that hit me full force for the first time in my life is this: Mary got it. She knew Jesus was going to die soon. For all these years I have had this running assumption that Jesus re-interpreted her actions "for her" so that she unwittingly had given him a dying dignity. Not so. Jesus was clear about it, and I'm not sure why I never saw it before. Mary knew Jesus was going to die.

Then? Then there are the twelve disciples. Oh... there are few clues here and there that they understood that they were heading into danger. But no strong sense that they understood and accepted that Jesus was going to die. The only person who seemed truly to have not only made peace with this reality but also to have made preparation for this reality is Mary. A woman.

How did Mary know? Hard to say! Not a lot of detail to work with. But after the fact we can note that Jesus had not exactly made a secret about the matter. (See, for example, Matthew 16:21... and 16:22 for a classic case of a disciple in denial!) Maybe Mary was just the only person listening. Maybe a few other things tipped her off. The fact that he visited her and her siblings itself is a clue. Jesus knew time was short. Who did he visit? A few "best friends." Perhaps his face reflected his knowledge of what he was coming up against. Perhaps his words reflected his anticipation of sufferings not far off...

In any case, hats off to a woman's intuition. Where twelve men could not go a woman arrived in splendor. Jesus gave Mary a special (and well-earned) honor for her act of simple and extravagant adoration.

Mark 14:9
"I tell you the truth, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her."

This blog bears testimony to the fact that Jesus was right on that score.

No shock there.

Why They Call Them Mommies

2010-03-19T15:33:00.000-07:00

So there I was, sitting on the driveway, changing Luke's bike configuration...

Luke is the last of four kids to shed his training wheels! Judging by the progress on his first lap down the block (with me panting next to him engaged in a continual battle to keep both him and his bicycle upright) this transition from four wheels to two may prove not only the last one for the family but also the easiest one. Our other three children experienced emotions ranging from terror to catatonic shutdown on their first no-training-wheel outings. Luke, in contrast, was mostly just excited and elated!

But I digress... there I was, removing the training wheels, and Luke suddenly brought out a pearl of wisdom to share. Out of the blue. Without context. No explanation for how he arrived at this glorious insight.

"Daddy," he shared elatedly, "I know why they call them Mommies now!"

"Wow!" I thought, "I wonder what the answer to this mystery is going to be?"

"They call them Mommies," Luke explained, "because it rhymes with salamies."

So there you have it.

In case you ever wondered.

Free In My Depravity

2010-03-10T06:00:00.001-08:00

Celebrating My Depravity might have been a catchier title for this reflection, but that would have been going too far. That said, I am struck today by a wonderful thought, and it is freeing.

I have made peace this morning with something I cannot change. I am depraved. Needless to say I wish I were not. But since I am, and since I cannot change that.... there is a great freedom in recognizing and acknowledging the situation for what it is.

I am free in my depravity.

Free to do what? Free to abandon the hope that tomorrow I might become perfect, and free today to fall headlong before God and seek his mercy.

Why today? Isn't this a rather fundamentally obvious thing? Did I need to reach the age of forty before realizing this? Well, there's a difference sometime between what we say with our mouths, what we know in our brains.... and the deceptions we hold in our heart. The lies we are captive to.

I've been dealing with a delicate situation over the past twenty-four hours. As I have struggled to handle the situation in a way pleasing to God, I've been burdened by my inability to do everything perfectly — and by that I include not only my actions and words but also the attitudes and motives of my heart.

As if that were possible!!!!

But that is what I was burdened by. And somewhere lurking in my heart was a hope that on another day (perhaps in just a few years?) I might be able to sail through this situation perfectly.

Right.

But! There you have it. A lie exposed. And as is so often the case, once you put it on paper it becomes pathetic in the telling. Who'd believe this lie? Oh.... just me.

So I will never arrive at perfection on this side of heaven. The burden I carried yesterday was not one I need to carry today. The burden of my sin is a burden Christ bore for me. I can put it down.

Seek perfection? Yes. Seek holiness? Yes! Expect to arrive? No. Beat myself up for lack of perfection? NO!

I am free in my depravity. Now let God work his holiness into me, and indeed his righteousness too. And let God get the glory for whatever he accomplishes in this depraved soul.

The God Of Second Chances

2010-03-08T04:45:00.000-08:00

I've already written about Judah recently, and that was because I cheated and got a bit ahead of myself on the lectionary readings. But here I am today again on this moving passage in chapter 44 of Genesis, where Judah pleads for the life of his younger brother Benjamin.

The scriptures never cease to amaze me. I've been reading them for thirty years and the new discoveries keep rolling in. Once again my Study Bible drew my attention to a new facet to this story. New to me, anyway.

Joseph's brothers had despised him because he was "Daddy's favorite." So in their jealousy they sold him as a slave to the Egyptians. So what did Joseph do to his brothers when their paths crossed again? He tested them on this topic — to see if they had grown up any. For starters, he showed them that he knew the pecking order, which really threw them for a loop. How did he know?? Then he proceeded to exhibit tremendous favoritism toward the youngest and most favored son Benjamin.

Genesis 43:33-34
Joseph told each of his brothers where to sit, and to their amazement, he seated them according to age, from oldest to youngest. And Joseph filled their plates with food from his own table, giving Benjamin five times as much as he gave the others. So they feasted and drank freely with him.

The stage has been set. What does Joseph do next? He sets Benjamin up so that his brothers could quite easily "sell him to the Egyptians too." Would they take the bait? As I relayed this new insight to a good friend on Sunday, he laughed and said he was already well aware of it. "It's the first recorded sting operation in history," he noted.

Yes, the bait was there. But the brothers did not take it. Instead of throwing the second favored son Benjamin under a bus, they came to the firm conviction that God was still punishing them for their sins against the first favored son Joseph. The kicker, of course, is that Judah, the one who for his own benefit sold Joseph as a slave to the Egyptians, sought this time to buy Benjamin's freedom — and offered himself as a slave to seal the deal.

...Which leads me to my excited words of hope for today. God was not done with the brothers, and certainly not done with Judah. God is a God of second chances. It is deeply reassuring note also how in this story God accomplished his divine purposes by means of moral failures and acts of righteousness. Is there hope for me too?

Yes.

My mistakes are not going to screw up God's plans. That's an encouraging word there for screwballs like me who keep fouling things up and need seven (or perhaps seventy times seven) at-bats before I even connect with the ball.

Superior In Every Way: Part I (Suffering)

2010-03-07T06:23:00.000-08:00

Isaiah 53:3
He was despised and rejected — a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief.
We turned our backs on him and looked the other way.
He was despised, and we did not care.

These are fitting words to ponder during the season of lent. The whole of chapter 53 is worth memorizing. But here I focus on the first phrase in the verse — acquainted with deepest grief.

I started this blog some months ago with the intent of getting some thoughts about Jesus down on "paper" — and yet I find I have not gotten far on that project yet. This entry is meant to begin the process of rectifying the situation!

My intent was, and is, to reflect on the superiority of Jesus Christ. In particular, I have been pondering for years about how he overcame in his life what we succumb to in our own lives.

What does it mean to say that Jesus was acquainted with grief?

My hunch is that, in essence, Jesus faced all the basic kinds of pain and suffering anyone ever faces. And triumphed over them all. My thesis is that we have a Lord who knows every kind of suffering and was familiar with all of our griefs. There is no kind of evil we face that he did not face too — and frequently under circumstances worse than our own.

Truth be told, I don't know that this is true. It's indelicate to say the words, but did Jesus endure sexual molestation as a child? Probably not. But I do hope to eventually wander the full landscape of suffering and reflect on how Jesus may (or may not have) endured it. Perhaps in the final analysis the core woundings involved in sex abuse are wounds he did receive, even if perhaps not by that route.

For today, however, I begin with something simpler: the loss of loved ones. Simpler? Yes. Easy? Far from it.

My mother passed away when I was 24 years old, just a month after I got married. Losing a mother when you are "relatively" young is not something I'd wish upon anyone. I shudder to think of losing her when I was 14. Worse still at the age of 4.

Some time ago I became intrigued by the silence in the matter of Jesus' father Joseph. The last we hear of Joseph is that Joseph and Mary took Jesus to the temple when Jesus was eleven years old. After that? Silence.

Where scriptures are silent we must of course trod with care — but it has always seemed rather obvious to me that Joseph must have died some time after that. Perhaps he died while Jesus was quite young. Perhaps much later. But I think it is safe to assume that Joseph passed away some time prior to the beginning of Jesus' ministry. In my thoughts below I'm going to assume this was the case, though it is granted that we presumably can never be sure of it.

Losing a parent is a great and terrible loss. I still mourn that my natural mother never had the chance to see my children grow up. I grieve that here on Earth my children will never meet my mother. But I had no choice in the matter. Cancer took my mother, and I had no power to stop it.

Not so for Jesus. Jesus had a choice. When his father Joseph died, Jesus could have raised him from the dead. Supposing there was a period of illness involved — Jesus could have healed him at any time. Jesus could, in fact, have prevented the onset of illness. He knew it was coming.

But he didn't do any of these things. Why?

Well... I don't know. But my suspicion is this: Jesus came to live among us, and to share in our suffering. Watching a loved one die is one of the worst agonies we as humans ever face. If Jesus had bypassed this dark valley, he would not have not been familiar with our sorrows or grief. He'd have been a bit more of a celestial tourist than a fellow sojourner if he'd taken a pass on this experience.

So Jesus knew what it's like to lose a parent. In fact, he endured what I endured... and more. I had to watch my mother die. He had to let his father die. I had no options in the matter. He did.

Superior in every way.

Everything Is Going Against Me! This Is Wonderful!

2010-03-06T05:25:00.000-08:00

Genesis 42:36
Everything is going against me!

Yeah, the bit about it being wonderful is, unsurprisingly, not in the text. Jacob doesn't think it's wonderful at all. His favorite son Joseph is (so far as he knows) dead. His son Simeon is a prisoner in Egypt. And now he fears losing his son Benjamin too. And, oh by the way, the entire clan is facing death by starvation. Things don't look wonderful. They look grim.

But while Jacob can recite the reasons for his desperate frustration, the one thing he doesn't get at all is that it is, in fact, wonderful. Wonderful. God is protecting Jacob and his family from a terrible fate. Jacob's problem is that he doesn't know what he's being protected from.

And who can blame him? For the longest time I didn't see it either. I thought the whole episode basically revolved around surviving the regional famine. But thanks to some commentary in my helpful study Bible, I see that God was protecting his people not merely from starvation but also from assimilation.

Assimilation. It's what every nation wishes for its immigrants. If our immigrants would just become more like us! But God did not want the Israelites to become like their Canaanite hosts. In fact, God was willing to do whatever it took to prevent it from happening. The Canaanites worshipped many gods. They even sacrificed their children to some of them. No, God did not want Jacob and sons to become like their hosts. Something had to be done, and fast. Because the process of assimilation had already begun.

Genesis 38:1-6
About this time, Judah left home and moved to Adullam, where he stayed with a man named Hirah. There he saw a Canaanite woman, the daughter of Shua, and he married her. When he slept with her, she became pregnant and gave birth to a son, and he named the boy Er. Then she became pregnant again and gave birth to another son, and she named him Onan. And when she gave birth to a third son, she named him Shelah. At the time of Shelah’s birth, they were living at Kezib.
In the course of time, Judah arranged for his firstborn son, Er, to marry a young woman named Tamar.

This might seem like parenthetical information, but my Study Bible points out that these verses show "the beginnings of assimilation with the people of the land to help explain why God sent the family to Egypt. The Egyptians were strict separatists; the Israelites would retain their unique identity better in Egypt than in Canaan."

And here all this time I thought it was just about food. Well, on the face of it, it is! Joseph says as much to his brothers.

Genesis 45:7
God has sent me ahead of you to keep you and your families alive and to preserve many survivors.

But Joseph saw something else too. He seems to have understood that bodily survival was not the whole story. Survival of the clan identity was at stake too.

Genesis 46:33-34
Then he said, “When Pharaoh calls for you and asks you about your occupation, you must tell him, ‘We, your servants, have raised livestock all our lives, as our ancestors have always done.’ When you tell him this, he will let you live here in the region of Goshen, for the Egyptians despise shepherds.”

Genesis 43:32 also notes that "Egyptians despise Hebrews and refuse to eat with them." To sum it up, Egyptians despised Hebrews and they despised shepherds. So where does God take his Hebrew shepherds? To Egypt. How did they end up there? By a series of disasters. Would the clan have arrived there by any other means? No.

Disasters have a way of taking us where we would not willingly go. Which is exactly why God uses them in our lives, because sometimes exactly where we don't want to go is exactly where God wants us. For reasons which might not even be on our radar.

Hopefully I'll keep that thought in mind the next time my life derails.

I Want You... But I Don't Need You

2010-02-27T06:49:00.000-08:00

Actually, the words go like this....

I want you in my service, but I can do without you.

Who said them? God.

Who heard them? Oswald Chambers.

He'd spent the night praying alone on a hilltop overlooking Edinburgh, Scotland. He was desperate. Doors of opportunity were slamming in his face everywhere. He had felt called to use his gifts to build the kingdom of God, and yet nothing was panning out.

Chambers indicated in his account that the voice was clear and audible. Was he hallucinating up there on that cold hill? I think not. These words sound quite authentic to my ears. I never heard a voice, but this is a lesson God has been teaching me too, these past few years. God doesn't need me either.

God doesn't need my money. All I own is his anyway, and he has plenty besides. Oh, yes. God cares deeply how I spend my money. What I buy reveals who I am and where my heart is. But God can do without my money.

God doesn't need my talents. All I have is his anyway, and he has plenty of others more talented than me at his disposal. Oh, yes. God cares deeply about how I use my gifts. For my own glory? Or for his? How I use my abilities reveals who I am and where my heart is. But God can do without my talents.

God doesn't need my life. He gave it to me and can take it back at any time. Oh, yes. God cares deeply about my life. He loves me with a passion no human words can describe. But God can do without me.

Spare me the folly, Lord, of thinking I have something you need.

As for Oswald, I am reading a biography of the man who died in relative anonymity nearly 100 years ago. But 100 years later millions upon millions of Christians know his name well.

Most of us know him as the author of My Utmost for His Highest, a devotional. I've owned a copy of the book for decades. On the inside flap my now deceased mother wrote a love note which began with these words: "Brian, May your utmost ever be for His highest...."

So why do we know this Oswald today, and read his books? Well, that's a long story! But suffice it to note here that a certain gifted artist (whose stunningly beautiful portraits and sketches adorn this biography I am reading) came down from a hilltop that night and found in the mail the next morning an invitation to attend a divinity school. He never knew who sent it to him or why, but there it was in the mail. Sensing that this was the nudging of God, Oswald Chambers left the world of art and entered theological training.

And so it came to pass, after many a twist and turn, that an artist whose talents God could do without went on to be a writer whom God could also do without. But God saw fit to make the words of this quiet man echo from sea to sea a hundred years hence. As for Oswald's ability to draw stunning charcoal sketches of Beethoven and serene seascapes?

God did well enough without it.

You Think Your Dad Was Hard?

2010-02-22T07:11:00.000-08:00

A portion of today's gospel reading really caught my attention.

Mark 1:9-11
One day Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee, and John baptized him in the Jordan River. As Jesus came up out of the water, he saw the heavens splitting apart and the Holy Spirit descending on him like a dove. And a voice from heaven said, “You are my dearly loved Son, and you bring me great joy.”

Aw, shucks! Sounds great, doesn't it? What a loving Father Jesus had! Can we collectively feel the love? And is now a great time to remember that this same heavenly Father loves us too? Warm sighs all around and happy expectations.

But there's this little problem. It's called verses 12 and 13.

Mark 1:12-13
The Spirit then compelled Jesus to go into the wilderness, where he was tempted by Satan for forty days. He was out among the wild animals, and angels took care of him.

And if those words weren't bad enough, Luke reports in his gospel that Jesus ate nothing during those forty days in the desert. So... what happened to the warm fuzzies? On the face of it, one could be forgiven for questioning the benefits of an indwelling Holy Spirit! A Trojan dove! And if Jesus gets this kind of treatment after a baptism of the Holy Spirit, what kind of treatment might we expect?

Pentecostals usually seek the baptism of the Holy Spirit. Well and good — but how many of them are looking for that forty-day stint in the desert? Health-and-wealth gospel folk think a ticket with Jesus is a ticket to comfort. Perhaps they should take a closer look where this gravy train leads.

I have heard it said that our true character is most clearly revealed when we are in pain and/or tired. When our resources are stripped bare and we have no energy for pretense... that is when the real me goes on display for all to see. Forty days without food left Jesus stripped of all human energy — and yet his character changed not a bit. He decimated Satan's lies with scriptures and turned his back on the worst temptations Satan could throw at him. Luke records that a defeated Satan finally gave up and went away. And who did he leave behind? A triumphant Jesus.

Luke 4:14
Then Jesus returned to Galilee, filled with the Holy Spirit’s power.

The power of God. This is why a loving, doting God would send his Son into the wilderness. To grow him up and make him strong. The desert is the spiritual equivalent of bodily vitamins. It may not taste good, but it makes you strong. Eat up! Even Jesus needed his spiritual vitamins.

Hebrews 5:8
Even though Jesus was God’s Son, he learned obedience from the things he suffered.

So... health-and-wealth folk can seek prosperity. Those in it for the good feelings can pursue that next mountaintop high. St. Paul preached something else.

Philippians 3:10
I want to know Christ and experience the mighty power that raised him from the dead. I want to suffer with him, sharing in his death, so that one way or another I will experience the resurrection from the dead!

"Punish me that way!" Usually we joke in this manner when we want something nice that someone else got. Punish me with a winning lottery ticket. But this is different. To be completely honest, I find myself afraid God might take me up on it. Am I ready for what might come? I am finding it hard to utter these words with complete zeal. But I know I should. Can I mean it?

Punish me that way, God!

Never Mind Waldo. Where's Jesus?

2010-02-21T12:12:00.000-08:00

Where's Waldo was a cute concept, but one book out of that series was more than enough for me. The novelty factor on that distraction had a very limited time span. In the past year, however, I have discovered a new and better game. In stark contrast, this game is one I hope to play more and more of the time for the rest of my life. It's called, Where's Jesus?

I suppose there are quite a few variations on this game, and I'd count WWJD (What Would Jesus Do) in that mix. But the very wording of WWJD almost encourages us to believe that Jesus is gone. My Where's Jesus game is predicated by the assumption that he's very much here. The game is not my own invention, however. It is tied quite closely to the practices of Brother Lawrence and Frank Laubach, who are perhaps the two people in history best known for something called Practicing the Presence.

Those who "practice the presence" essentially commit their lives to a continual conversation with God. Simply put, what we're talking about ceaseless prayer during every waking moment. The notion may seem impossible, but these two men in particular are known for having done it with great success, if not perfectly.

Though both of these men are long dead, they are still well remembered today — despite their simple lives. Brother Lawrence, for example, was nothing more than a simple dishwasher who lived some four hundred years ago in a French monastery. This is not great starting material for a blockbuster movie, but God values things which carry little weight in Hollywood.

But I digress. How do I play Where's Jesus? It comes down to this: Brother Lawrence was adept at maintaining his ongoing conversation with God, but I am not. I want to do it, but I find it difficult. If I can picture Jesus in the room, however, I find it easier to remember he is there, and to keep that conversation with Jesus going. Furthermore, with Jesus situated in the room I find it also easier to speak andbehave as if he is in the room with me.

Needless to say, Jesus is not a little mannequin I can place where I like. He is God the Son. God the Son is omnipresent! No, this game is not tied very closely to reality in that it falls short of the truth. But I am so limited and frail that, strangely enough, reducing Jesus to a spot in the room actually helps me to remember he is there at all. And it helps me to keep my conversation with Him going.

Sometimes programmers (like myself) fix code with something called a hack. It's something that falls short of the perfect solution but which nevertheless gets the job done. "It's a hack," we confess, "but it works." Where's Jesus is a hack, but I bear testimony that it does work. If I can ever dispense with it, so much the better. Until then, I have made it my goal to find a spot wherever I go and remember that Jesus is there.

Jesus is standing in the corner as I write this blog. Earlier today, he was sitting on the sofa. During lunch I forgot to play the game. At church this morning, he was sitting in an empty chair at first, and later he was sitting under the wooden cross up front. I am sure he enjoyed the sermon.

Right now I think Jesus is motioning me to finish up the blog and focus on the conversation a bit more intently! Sounds good to me.

I Fought With God -- And I Won!

2010-02-17T06:10:00.000-08:00

I wasn't planning on posting anything today, but I laughed out loud while reading scriptures, and that was the turning point.

How preposterous an idea is that? Fighting with God and winning. Suggest to a stern Christian friend that you pulled this off and he'll likely think you won a ticket to hell for your insolence!

But it wasn't me who did it, and it was God Himself who conceded the match. The winner was Jacob, and God offers his concession speech in Genesis 32:28, where as a prize he offered Jacob his new name.

Genesis 32:24-31

This left Jacob all alone in the camp, and a man came and wrestled with him until the dawn began to break. When the man saw that he would not win the match, he touched Jacob’s hip and wrenched it out of its socket. Then the man said, “Let me go, for the dawn is breaking!”
But Jacob said, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”
“What is your name?” the man asked.
He replied, “Jacob.”
“Your name will no longer be Jacob,” the man told him. “From now on you will be called Israel, because you have fought with God and with men and have won.”
“Please tell me your name,” Jacob said.
“Why do you want to know my name?” the man replied. Then he blessed Jacob there.
Jacob named the place Peniel (which means “face of God”), for he said, “I have seen God face to face, yet my life has been spared.” The sun was rising as Jacob left Peniel, and he was limping because of the injury to his hip.

As I write this, I can hear my 7-yr old daughter Abby upstairs getting ready for school. If ever there was a Jacob in the form of a girl, it is Abby. She's going to steal her older sister Rachel's birthright before it's over, and she'll pave roads with the bodies of the people who got in the way of her dreams, one of which involves having Rachel's best friend Kelli become her best friend.

There is hope for you, little Abby. God loves the Jacobs of this world. He even wrestles with them. And in moments of graciousness, he might pretend you won. Which is awfully kind of him, since at any point he can simply touch your hip and incapacitate you.

But of course the secret for Abby, and for Jacob, is in learning that God can fight our battles for us. He wants to. Jacob learned this the hard way, which is the story told in chapters 29 through 32. Throughout Jacob's account we see that God was fighting for him. I wonder how many chapters Abby will have to endure before she learns this precious lesson.

What about me? Have I learned it? I think not. Whenever I feel my gut tighten, and I begin to compose my verbal onslaught for those who oppose me or wrong me... I have forgotten that God will fight for me. I do not have to worry.

But this is the meaning of Jacob's new name. Israel. It means "God fights." And, as a note to self, I think a good takeaway from this passage is this reminder: If I'd stop fighting with God, he'd have more hands free to fight for me.

The Judah Substitution

2010-02-14T14:27:00.001-08:00

While following a rabbit trail today I found myself reading Genesis 44. This passage takes place within the wider narrative of Joseph, of course, but here it is Judah who captivates me. He pleads with an Egyptian official to set his brother Benjamin free:

"Your servant my father said to us, '...If you take this one from me too and harm comes to him, you will bring my gray head down to the grave in misery.'
"So now, if the boy is not with us when I go back to your servant my father and if my father, whose life is closely bound up with the boy's life, sees that the boy isn't there, he will die. Your servants will bring the gray head of our father down to the grave in sorrow. Your servant guaranteed the boy's safety to my father. I said, 'If I do not bring him back to you, I will bear the blame before you, my father, all my life!'
"Now then, please let your servant remain here as my lord's slave in place of the boy, and let the boy return with his brothers. How can I go back to my father if the boy is not with me? No! Do not let me see the misery that would come upon my father."

The Egyptian official of course turns out to be Joseph in disguise, and Joseph again recaptures main stage in the verses which follow. Out of fifty chapters in Genesis, nearly ten of them are devoted to the story of Joseph. By way of comparison, Judah has up to this point gotten very little coverage.

What do we know about Judah so far? Well, let's see. We know that Judah came up with the bright idea of selling his own brother Joseph as a slave to some traders heading to Egypt (Genesis 37:26-27). Very nice. What else? We also know that that Judah first rudely neglected, and then passionately impregnated, his own daughter-in-law (Genesis 38). But here Judah did have a very good excuse for having gotten her pregnant — he had mistakenly believed her to be a local prostitute. So that's all fine.

Reality TV cannot beat this kind of sludge, though not for lack of trying. But we obviously have not seen the whole of Judah yet, and here is a reminder for people like me who too easily judge a man's life by two massive moral failures. In this passage, Judah rises above his past. Are we ready to let him?

And what a rise it is. Because he cannot bear the thought of what the loss of Benjamin would mean to their father Israel, Judah offers his own life as a substitute. In doing so Judah shows true colors forged in a furnace we know nothing about. Judah's father Israel does know of Judah's true character, however, and he speaks to it when prophesying blessings and curses on each of his sons.

Genesis 49:8-12
“Judah, your brothers will praise you.
You will grasp your enemies by the neck.
All your relatives will bow before you.
Judah, my son, is a young lion
that has finished eating its prey.
Like a lion he crouches and lies down;
like a lioness—who dares to rouse him?
The scepter will not depart from Judah,
nor the ruler’s staff from his descendants,
until the coming of the one to whom it belongs,
the one whom all nations will honor.
He ties his foal to a grapevine,
the colt of his donkey to a choice vine.
He washes his clothes in wine,
his robes in the blood of grapes.
His eyes are darker than wine,
and his teeth are whiter than milk."

A few verses later Israel declares Joseph to be a prince among his brothers — but it is Judah whom Israel names king. This prophecy is fulfilled partially when Judah's descendant David assumes the throne of Israel. The final and perfect fulfillment, however, is in Jesus Christ, a descendant of both David and Judah. It is Jesus who rules forever and it is Jesus who will forever be honored by all nations.

The fact that Jesus completes the kingly line of Judah is no secret. The authors of Hebrews and Revelation make this connection clear. Substitutionary theology is likewise anything but new. What is new for me is this substitutionary link between Jesus and his ancestor Judah.

I recently reflected on how God's testing of Abraham (with the sacrifice of Isaac) richly foreshadowed the sacrifice of Jesus, God's own son, for all of humanity. Isaac walked free, but Jesus, God's son, was indeed sacrificed. I see here a similar parallel here with the story of Judah and Benjamin. Judah also walked free, but the substitutionary offer Jesus made was accepted. Jesus completed the unfinished sacrifice of his ancestor Isaac and the unfinished substitution of his ancestor Judah.

The more I stare at Old Testament stories like these, the more I see (along with the author of Hebrews) that they were dim previews of good things to come.

Hebrews 10
The old system under the law of Moses was only a shadow, a dim preview of the good things to come, not the good things themselves. The sacrifices under that system were repeated again and again, year after year, but they were never able to provide perfect cleansing for those who came to worship....

...For it is not possible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins. That is why, when Christ came into the world, he said to God,

“You did not want animal sacrifices or sin offerings.
But you have given me a body to offer.
You were not pleased with burnt offerings
or other offerings for sin.
Then I said, ‘Look, I have come to do your will, O God —
as is written about me in the Scriptures.’”

Hospitality: It Doesn't Means What We Think It Means

2010-02-11T04:31:00.000-08:00

That word... I do not think it means what you think it means.

Aficionados of the movie The Princess Bride will of course recognize this turn of phrase. In the movie, a man repeatedly exclaims, "Inconceivable!" It's his response to each new, unlikely, undesired and conceivable event which takes place. After hearing the word shouted out for maybe the fifth time, another character in the film throws out the aforementioned reflection...

That word... I do not think it means what you think it means.

The same goes for us Christians when we use the word hospitality. We know the word, but we have utterly forgotten its meaning. I am reading a great book right now (titled Making Room) which makes this point rather convincingly.

The book cannot be done justice in a short blog, but the author begins with a close review of a pivotal scene from the Old Testament: Genesis 18. In this passage Abraham entertains three strangers, only to discover that he is providing hospitality to God himself, along with two angels.

To reduce a 200-page book to a few sentences, the author proceeds to show convincingly that hospitality is tucked aware at the core of both Hebrew and Christian scriptures. Caring for the aliens and outsiders is core to the nature of who we are.

Or who we should be, anyway.

Romans 12:13
When God’s people are in need, be ready to help them. Always be eager to practice hospitality.

Hebrews 13:2
Don’t forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it!

Hospitality does not exclude extending care to people we know. But as the passage from Hebrews reminds us, hospitality reaches its fullest expression when we extend it to people we don't know. Strangers.

Hospitality... this word.... it does not mean what we think it means.

We don't know anything about true hospitality. When we think about hospitality, about 99.99% of the time we are thinking about opening our home to friends and family. How many Christians in America have opened their homes to strangers any time in the last year? Ten years? Ever? The concept is so novel and freakishly bizarre, people gather to watch movies about it when it happens. (I have not seen The Blind Side but I hear it's great... a rare recorded moment of true hospitality in America.)

OK, it's really awkward to say this, but count me in that mix of people who have perhaps never done the real deal where hospitality is concerned. Our home is more open than most, but I cannot think of a single stranger we have housed for the night.

I noted earlier that in Genesis 18, Abraham extended hospitality to three utter strangers. Two of Abraham's guests move on to visit another city. Genesis 19 picks up the story...

Genesis 19
That evening the two angels came to the entrance of the city of Sodom. Lot was sitting there, and when he saw them, he stood up to meet them. Then he welcomed them and bowed with his face to the ground. “My lords,” he said, “come to my home to wash your feet, and be my guests for the night. You may then get up early in the morning and be on your way again.”
“Oh no,” they replied. “We’ll just spend the night out here in the city square.”
But Lot insisted, so at last they went home with him.

In case we didn't get it the first time around, both Lot and Abraham opened their homes to utter strangers. And this was perfectly normal back then. We don't like to think about it, but it's supposed to be perfectly normal now too. Christians have always been called to this outward posture toward the world.

Ah, but times have changed. We have a thousand reasons (or were they excuses) for our failure to practice true hospitality. When examined, however, these excuses boil down to nothing more than our basic desire for comfort and safety.

Comfort and safety: two of the great idols of our age. Idols? Yes, idols. It's always easy to mock the idols of another era or culture. How could anyone be so stupid as to worship a wood or stone figurine? But their idols made sense to them.

And our idols make sense to us. It's always been that way with idols. People may or may not be blind to the fact that they do worship idols but they are always blind to the fact that they shouldn't worship idols. We are never more blind than when confronted with our own idols. It always seems normal and good.

"Well then," we say, "The world isn't as safe as it used to be! I guess hospitality is just not practically possible anymore in America!"

But all we have proven is that we are not willing to sacrifice comfort and safety in order to entertain strangers. Instead, we sacrifice the care of strangers in order to worship comfort and safety.

In fact, most of us don't even live near unsafe people. In our search for comfort and safety, we move into rich ghettos so as to avoid living anywhere near really poor and needy people. Those kinds of people can be dangerous.

"Well then," we say, "None of my neighbors needs much help! So I guess hospitality is just not practically possible anymore in America!"

But all we have proven is that we have removed ourselves from any physical proximity to people in real need. There is no better place to worship comfort and safety than in a safe and comfortable place.

Hospitality is one of the first victims we sacrifice in the fire before the two great American idols of comfort and safety.

Count me guilty too.

God Told Me To Kill My Son

2010-02-06T06:37:00.000-08:00

Well, actually, he didn't.

If I meant what I said, however, the police, mental health officials, and a host of media hounds would converge on my house — hopefully before I accomplished the deed.

And yet this is our account from Abraham, the father of three faiths. Genesis 22 records the whole incident. God told Abraham to kill his son.

Those inclined to treat such scriptures as proof that they are not holy... well, they can do and say as they like. I, however, must grapple with why a holy God would put any man to a test like this, because I take these scriptures as holy.

One of the reasons I put so much trust in the Bible as God's story revealed among men is that the men are revealed so clearly to be.... men. Broken, ordinary humans. With rare exceptions, most everyone in the Bible is shown to be weak and frail, burdened with sin. Abraham. Isaac. Noah. Jacob. The twelve disciples. King David. Solomon. These are no whitewashed stories! These people screw up big time! David kills a man so as to cover up his adultery with the man's wife. The author of our Psalms?? Yes.

As for Abraham? He lies. He throws his wife under a bus. Serially. He abdicates responsibility. He is called the father of faith, but some of the accounts in Genesis show him very much lacking in faith. He doubts God repeatedly, as revealed in both words and deeds. But Abraham shows trust beyond measure at the moment of true reckoning. When God tells him to kill Isaac, he obeys.

Why did God ask him to do that? If the story had only to do with Abraham, I think the answer would be incomplete. By more than half. I'm out on my own limb here, with only my gut to justify this claim, but I think this incident has far more to do with Jesus than it has to do with either Abraham or Isaac. God was using this story to foreshadow the most glorious event in human history: the moment God did not withhold his son as a sacrifice for us.

God makes the foreshadowing painfully obvious. For starters, note this telling phrase, from the moment the boy Isaac and his father Abraham head up the mountain...

So Abraham placed the wood for the burnt offering on Isaac’s shoulders...

Jesus carried his wooden cross on his own shoulders too, and possibly up the same exact mountain. The two stories take place in close physical proximity. A few thousand years separate these stories, but not a whole lot of distance.

Returning to this Genesis account, we note that Isaac of course gets a bit perplexed.

“We have the fire and the wood,” the boy said, “but where is the sheep for the burnt offering?”

Abraham answers with perhaps the most heart-wrenching words a man can force from his mouth...

“God will provide a sheep for the burnt offering, my son,” Abraham answered. And they both walked on together.

I have tears in my eyes as I read that second sentence. I think of my own son Andrew and imagine such a walk with him. That would be the darkest day of my life. Times ten.

The walk comes to an end however, and Abraham takes his son Isaac and ties him up. He raises the knife...

And God steps in.

“Don’t lay a hand on the boy!” the angel said. “Do not hurt him in any way, for now I know that you truly fear God. You have not withheld from me even your son, your only son.”
Then Abraham looked up and saw a ram caught by its horns in a thicket. So he took the ram and sacrificed it as a burnt offering in place of his son. Abraham named the place Yahweh-Yireh (which means “the Lord will provide”). To this day, people still use that name as a proverb: “On the mountain of the Lord it will be provided.”

And yes, on the mountain God provided a sheep indeed. A ram for Abraham, and Jesus for us. As we wander back and forth between the two mountains, the two sons carrying wood, the two sacrifices... it seems quite clear that God was, through Abraham, giving the entire world a sneak preview of the most glorious event in human history which was yet to come.

As much as we feel for Abraham, let's stop for a moment and think about what his experience tells us about God and his sacrifice.

We grieve with Abraham that he should have to think for only a few days that his son would be taken from him. But God knew from eternity past that his son, Jesus, would be taken from him, brutalized, and killed.

We grieve for Isaac that he lay, panic stricken, bound on an altar, waiting for the knife to fall. But Jesus, the perfect son, went willingly. And Jesus knew the knife would not be held back, because (unlike Isaac) Jesus knew all along that he was the sheep. John the Baptist knew it too.

John 1:29
The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Look! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!

Jesus knew all along that he was to be the lamb. And he went through with it.

The atheist sneers that only a sick religion would tell such stories. A simple google search of the words Dawkins Abraham and Isaac will show this to be true.

That brings us to the rub. Either God is not here, and our suffering is meaningless.... or God is here, and we are allowed to suffer for reasons which will eventually make sense. Richard Dawkins can have the former. I choose the latter.

Abraham surely never had a really good idea why God put him to such a test. In the glorious afterglow of Jesus' death and resurrection, I have a much better idea. But we'll all know better one day when the whole story of God is revealed.

Until then, I trust God with my rough days, my seemingly meaningless and pointless sorrows. All will make sense one day. God's story always makes sense, but as with every good book, some chapters end on a rough note.

1 Corinthians 13:12
Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

Marital Arrangements: A Brief Biblical Tour

2010-01-31T05:52:00.000-08:00

As I was reading Genesis 16 the other day, it struck me that verses 1-6 were virtually a once-over review on what works (or does not work) with various models of marriage. I lay them out here briefly. It's rather tongue-in-cheek, of course, despite the seriousness of the situation.

The Case For Bigamy

Now Sarai, Abram’s wife, had not been able to bear children for him. But she had an Egyptian servant named Hagar. So Sarai said to Abram, “The Lord has prevented me from having children. Go and sleep with my servant. Perhaps I can have children through her.” And Abram agreed with Sarai’s proposal. So Sarai, Abram’s wife, took Hagar the Egyptian servant and gave her to Abram as a wife. So Abram had sexual relations with Hagar...

Whether Abram thought this was a good idea or a bad idea, we'll never know, but he did comply with his wife's demands. Bigamy enters Abram's story. The fruits of this new marital arrangement (literal and figurative) were quite predictable, however...

The Case For Monogamy

...and she [Hagar] became pregnant. But when Hagar knew she was pregnant, she began to treat her mistress, Sarai, with contempt.

Things are heading south quickly. If Abram didn't get it before, this is perhaps the point at which he began to see potential flaws in the new family structure. Watching these two women grow in mutual hatred and scorn must have been a gut-wrenchingly unpleasant experience.

Monogamy, I humbly suggest, must at this point in the story have been starting to regain its allure for our friend Abram.

The Case For Celibacy

Then Sarai said to Abram, “This is all your fault! I put my servant into your arms, but now that she’s pregnant she treats me with contempt. The Lord will show who’s wrong—you or me!”

At this point, I can just hear Abraham muttering to himself, "And this is my fault because.... ??? ??? ???" The famous Jewish refrain suffices well here. "Why ME?"

Right about now, neither bigamy nor monogamy are necessarily looking like great options. I'm wondering if at this point Abram was beginning to wistfully remember the charms of celibacy. Ah yes, those glorious days of freedom before the browbeatings began.

But Abram was a man of integrity, so his options were limited. This leads us to another option, the last reserve for those committed to continue in marriage for the long haul, be it bigamous or monogamous...

The Case For Resignation

Abram replied, “Look, she is your servant, so deal with her as you see fit.”

The famous male response. I'm out of here. Do what you want. I'm going to go check on the camels. I'd lay high odds that after Abram uttered these words he quickly headed for the ancient near-east equivalent of the modern man's garage. Abram, of course, is a tremendously important biblical figure — the father, as they say, of three faiths. Here, however, he is just another guy who failed to protect a vulnerable woman.

God, in contrast, has always been the One who sees us, loves us, and protects us —which is what hapless Hagar discovers after Sarai lets loose all her fury upon her defenseless maidservant. It's wonderful to see how God never loses sight of anyone, least of all the underdogs in life, be they barren women, scorned maidservants, or wandering Jews in search of a home.

God comes out looking good in this messy story, even if nobody else does.

Run, Don't Walk...

2010-01-28T02:44:00.000-08:00

I think I first heard this humorous turn of phrase while chatting with a divorced woman a few months ago. Her former husband had been a terribly, terribly abusive man. A good friend, upon perceiving the true state of the marriage, gave her this advice:

Run, don't walk, to the nearest divorce lawyer.

Divorce is ugly business — but the phrase, it must be said, was catchy and memorable.

A week ago a good friend of mine landed a very promising new job. His current employer tried to counter. Knowing just how dysfunctional his current workplace situation is, my advice to him was this:

Run, don't walk, to that new job.

This morning I had to get up early. Way early. As my befuddled mind tried to start the day aright, with greetings to my Lord, the attempt was rather meandering. As my thoughts wandered, I found myself thinking of that friend of mine who got a new job. A moment later I heard, as if from a distance, a voice saying...

Run, don't walk, to Jesus.

The voice of God? My imagination continuing to run its course? I suppose a bit of both. After all, God breaks into our own thoughts through our own minds! If you think about it, it's a tautological truth.

Divine promptings and mundane machinations — our thoughts are the playground of God and man. And, for completeness, I must sadly note that our thoughts are also the playground of the devil himself. Lord, help us to know the difference!

As for this particular thought, I'm inclined to treat it with a bit of reverence. I was befuddled and groggy! Eminently sane and sagacious advice arriving at that hour deserves the honor. So as the fog of sleep began to clear, I began to meditate on the words I'd heard.

Run, don't walk, to Jesus.

The more I think about it, the more I am struck by how insulting it is to God when I walk, don't run, to him. It implies... no... it indicates that I don't have a clue just how desperate my situation, nor how badly I need Jesus. God's advice to us is this:

Run, don't walk, to Jesus.

So each morning, dearest Lord, let me run, not walk, to you. And stay with you all day.

Labels Should Have a Shelf Life

2010-01-27T06:18:00.000-08:00

I still cringe a bit inside when I remember the taunting I endured as a child, and a name I was given. A name I did not want. There are few things worse than being given an ugly name you don't want.

Yesterday I blogged that I no longer consider myself a Protestant, but rather a man who belongs to Christ. The earthquate in Haiti has been occasion for me to quickly move to the next step of discarding yet another label which is no longer a welcome name to wear: Evangelical.

Like food, religious labels tend to go bad with the passage of time. Meaning upon meaning gets heaped onto them, and as the layers get thicker, the whole thing can start to exude telltale fumes. Sometimes people's unsavory words and deeds get layered in too, adding toxic potency to the coctail.

That's what happened for me today with the word Evangelical. I noted yesterday that a personal friend of mine drew a dotted (or solid) line between the earthquake in Haiti and (dubious history) a purported pact with the devil made some 200 years ago by slaves living there under French rule. Both Pat Robertson and this friend of mine would consider themselves evangelical Christians. This equally dubious dotted (or solid) line which I am hinting at here is not my own invention. Yesterday evening I read these words from a Chicago Tribune article focusing on the spiritual ramifications of the earthquake: "Evangelical Christians blame Voodoo for bringing on this ruin."

Really? If that is what evangelical Christians believe, then I must not be one, because I don't know why God allowed the earthquake to happen. And it sickens me to be lumped in with people who presume they do.

So....

Another birthday! Birthdays everywhere! If the 24th of January was the first day of my post-Protestant life, then January 25th was the first day of my post-Evangelical life.

This is not to say, I must re-iterate, that I have ceased to hold things in common with Protestant Evangelicals. Far from it! But I don't have to be an Evangelical. There's no law that says I do. Given the things people now associate with that name, I don't want to be one anymore. I'd rather explain those beliefs I hold in common with Evangelicals than have to explain why I am one.

But if beyond all these things I must still have a label, I would like it to be this: I am a follower of Jesus Christ. Whatever name he wants to give me I will keep.

Revelation 2:17, 3:12

...I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it.

...Him who overcomes I will make a pillar in the temple of my God. I will write on him the name of my God and the name of the city of my God, the new Jerusalem, which is coming down out of heaven from my God; and I will also write on him my new name.

Haiti And Siloam

2010-01-26T05:13:00.000-08:00

A few days ago a friend of mine informed me of the "fact" that Haitian slaves had made a deal with the devil (so as to escape slavery) some 200 years ago. The devil apparently agreed to the deal and has ruled over that land ever since.

Somehow, my friend insinuated, the earthquake was a direct consequence of this pact with the devil.

Needless to say, my heart grieves when friends speak this way. Some may wonder at the company I keep! But ignorance of this sort is not new. Jesus dealt with the same kind of blind depravity in his own disciples.

John 9:1-7
As [Jesus] went along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?"
"Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life. As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world."
Having said this, he spit on the ground, made some mud with the saliva, and put it on the man's eyes. "Go," he told him, "wash in the Pool of Siloam" (this word means Sent). So the man went and washed, and came home seeing.

Jesus' response is instructive. He didn't abandon his disciples, but he did firmly correct them without hatred or nastiness. Then he proceeded to do the true work of God, which has a lot more to do with healing the world than in condemning it. (Witness John 3:17....)

In this passage, there is only one person who sees clearly in every sense of the word. Jesus. Not by coincidence, I think, does John note that Jesus saw the man. As for the disciples, they were grievously blind in that they mistook an opportunity for grace as an opportunity for blame.

Jesus frequently called the Pharisees blind fools, but sadly all too often his disciples (then and now) are similarly stricken. The original disciples needed more time to understand Jesus and his radical message. What excuse do we as Christians have today for failing to understand?

Ironically, the reference to Siloam in this passage from John brings another passage to my mind. It is from Luke, and it is equally applicable, if not more so, to recent events in Haiti.

Luke 13:1-5
Now there were some present at that time who told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mixed with their sacrifices. Jesus answered, "Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans because they suffered this way? I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish. Or those eighteen who died when the tower in Siloam fell on them—do you think they were more guilty than all the others living in Jerusalem? I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish."

My friend got his dubious Haitian history from Pat Robertson, a spiritually blind televangelist. People interested in God's perspective on the situation in Haiti would do better to spend less time entertaining undocumented legends and more time studying these two passages from scripture which clearly show that Jesus took a dim view of our human tendency to draw dotted (or solid) lines between sin and people's suffering. Many towers fell in Haiti — are we so sure that those who died there were more guilty than we who live elsewhere? Jesus emphatically (can you hear his anger?) says the answer is No!

I don't know why God allowed so many Haitian people to die in one horrible minute. All I know with certainty is that God is sovereign and good — and that my job as a follower of Christ is to help alleviate the suffering that the earthquake left behind. If all followers of Christ step up to this task, the work of a sovereign and good God will indeed be displayed in our lives.

A Modern Parable

2010-01-25T06:12:00.000-08:00

There once were two men who disagreed over how best to keep a car running.

One man said that the key is gas. Gas alone will keep that engine running, he swore up and down. Everything else is trivial in comparison. Just pour gas in, and the running engine will clean itself.

Nonsense, the other replied. The engine cannot run for long without oil changes, regular system flushing, clean radiator fluid and the like. Don't worry about the gas, he assured the first man, as it is a natural by-product of a well-maintained engine. Provided the engine is kept running smoothly, gas will fill the tank as a matter of course.

Each man felt that the other was intolerably stupid and arrogant. Sadly, both men enjoyed debating. Publicly. So it came to pass that on most days these two souls could be found exchanging heated words outside the only cafe in town.

An abandoned car parked nearby proved the foil for most of their arguments. Year in and year out it sat there, unused except as a case in point for each man's claim. Each man swore he could go to the ends of the earth in it, but neither ever tried to actually drive it. As a result, their theories about car maintenance were never much put to the test. And the car they kept gesturing at continued to gather dust.

Then one day word came that a calamitous storm was heading in the direction of their town. Hoping for the best, both men chose to wait at the cafe and hopefully ride it out or watch it pass the town by. As luck would have it, however, the storm bore down on the town dead on, and grew in ferocity as it approached.

Leaving unprepared and in a hurry, the two men found themselves fleeing calamity, strangely, in the very same abandoned car they had been pointing at for so many years. Sitting down in it for the first time, they discovered keys in the ignition, a bit of gas in the tank, and an engine which ran — albeit a bit roughly. Miracles never cease. They drove off in a cloud of dust.

The storm pursued them. As if by design. Day after day they found themselves, yet again, on the move. Despite their best efforts, neither person could escape either the other or the storm. That car proved their only hope for escape, and each morning they found themselves together again in it, fleeing the wrath of God.

The car performed well, as things worked out, but the trip was intolerably unpleasant for quite a long time. In the early stages of travel each man did what he thought was most important, and spent no small amount of driving time ridiculing the habits of the other where car-care was concerned. "Pointless and unnecessary" were the most commonly uttered words for the first half of the trip, and they proceeded from both mouths. Sometimes simultaneously! On account of the rancor, they couldn't even enjoy music together, though they had common tastes in this regard.

As time passed, however, each man began, reluctantly, to share the performing of tasks the other felt important, if only to make pit-stops shorter in duration. Over time, however, a lurking question arose in the hearts of both men: If the other had not been in the car, would the trip have ended in disaster?

Days stretched into weeks, and weeks into months. Over the course of many years and countless miles of driving, the nature of their journey together changed. It was hard to say when exactly it happened, but the two men became inseparable friends. They still didn't agree on car maintenance, but their differences in opinion were now matters over which they shared laughter. And at some point along the way, they discovered that singing together with the radio was a great way to drown out the sounds of the weather.

Then one day, the unexpected happened. The road that day took them out of the storm to a mountain of such great height that both men were sure no storm could ever touch them again. At the top of the mountain they found a city of beauty beyond compare, safe and delightful in every way. Both men agreed it would be wonderful to get out of the car, stretch their legs, and look for a cafe whether they could perhaps relax a while.

They pulled the car into the parking lot of a nearby cafe, parked, and prepared to get out. The car had barely come to rest before a man ran up to speak with them. As it turned out, he was the master architect of the design and production of the very car the two travellers had been driving in for all those years.

The master designer was keen to hear details about their trip, and glad (though not surprised) to hear that the car had held up so well. He was very saddened, however, to hear about how disputes over the care of his car had proved a source of such great friction for the first portion of the long journey, to say nothing of the years prior to the arrival of the great storm.

Pulling the owner's manual from the glove compartment, he pointed out to both travellers that their understanding of car-care was pathetic. Woefully inadequate. How came it to be this way? Had they read the manual selectively? Or had they given full attention to the entire booklet?

Neither of the two travellers had good answers to these questions, but thankfully the conversation moved on quickly from there. On one point all three agreed. The calamitous storm, in all of its awfulness, was the best thing that ever happened in either traveller's life. Having settled that point in hearty agreement, the three wandered off to a local cafe to enjoy drinks in company.

On foot.

The end.

Neither Protestant Nor Catholic

2010-01-24T12:03:00.000-08:00

Today is a birthday of sorts for me! I have committed this day, January 24th, 2010 to memory. (1-2-4 ought to prove easy to remember!)

What's the occasion? It's this: I realized today for the first time that I am neither Catholic nor Protestant. I belong to Christ. The freedom that comes with that realization is nothing short of exhilaration.

Labels bring baggage. Several years ago I realized that I was neither a Democrat nor a Republican. Neither label sat well with me anymore, and letting go of all political associations was greatly freeing. I no longer had to defend the rogues in either party.

Shedding religious labels (save my identification with Christ and his global church) likewise releases me from an awful lot of baggage. Barges of it. I want to be free of labels and baggage alike. Thanks be to God, shedding labels (most of them, anyway) is a God-sanctioned activity.

Galatians 3:28
There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, Republican nor Democratic, Catholic nor Protestant for you are all one in Christ Jesus.

I have, of course, taken a few liberties with the words of St. Paul. The more modern labels are insertions of my own. But seriously, could those additions do anything to make the verse more radical than it was to begin with? Keeping in mind the world Paul lived in, I'd say the answer to that is an emphatic No!

Leaving aside the books that could be written about the distinctions between Jews and Gentiles, and between slave and master, would anyone care to assert that their allegiance to a particular political party or wing of Christendom is stronger than their own sexual identity? Strong as the distinctions between male and female are today, they were even sharper 2000 years ago.

So.... why today? Why is today truly the first day of my post-Protestant life? The answer is this: in church today we had a guest speaker for Sunday School who discussed interactions between Protestants and Catholics. Suffice it to say that by the time this visiting speaker had finished his talk about the differences between Catholics and Protestants, I was in the grips of a new realization that I am neither one.

I belong to Christ. And neither Protestants nor Catholics have a lock on what that looks like.

I Read The Scriptures. Then The Scriptures Read Me.

2010-01-21T06:48:00.000-08:00

Yes, I read the words. I knew the passage already, and nothing new was popping out. I prepared to move on to other things. Other readings, other prayers.

And suddenly I was struck with a yearning to really commune with God, and to allow that passage to speak to me... if only God would intervene.

"Lord," I prayed, "give me eyes to read these words and hear you. If you have something to say."

I then returned to the same dusty passage, and Awe filled me.

Suffice it to say the lesson would be proven unlearned if I disclosed what scripture verses I am referring to. But the passage could not have been more clear. And it could not have been more applicable. And I had never seen before in my life that this (frankly) bizarre little episode from the Old Testament spoke volumes into my life, revealing a depravity. A behavior of heart and tongue which I needed to be forgiven of (for the past) and to stop engaging in (for the future).

Is this the same passage I read only a few minutes earlier? Yes, but this time the scriptures read me. I was revealed.

Thanks be to God, who hears our prayers and yearns to bring us to a better place. Thanks be to God, for the scriptures which he uses to accomplish this purpose. Thanks be to God, who forgives us our sins if we will confess them and repent of them. Thanks be to God, the revealer of all things.

Perhaps I Must Be The First To Change

2010-01-19T10:11:00.001-08:00

I have observed in my life that I gladly take note of certain "signs" (real or imagined) that God is indeed in agreement with my recent thoughts, concerns or actions. These signs arrive frequently in the form of scripture verses that come my way unrequested, comments in books I am reading, sermons that speak to the same topic... situations that arise over the course of the day... you name it.

We're all looking for signs that we're not alone on our quest. I suspect I'm not terribly unusual in this regard. That said, I must admit that these sorts of sightings are always at risk of sliding toward something akin to Christian astrology. But I digress.

Anyway... I noticed yesterday that I was ignoring some "signs" that were quite obvious. If I had been looking for them, they would have bowled me over. But since the little confirming messages were in utter opposition to my chosen course.... I didn't like them. So I tried to pretend I had not seen them. God was talking, but I wasn't listening. Didn't want to.

But God didn't let me off the hook, and a little voice in my head pointed out the hypocrisy in what I was doing (I hate that...) and forced me to return to what God was saying to me through the books I was reading that morning.

The message was quite clear. Don't focus so much on when and how that other person is going to change. I want YOU to change.

The situation with the other person need not be described in any detail. Suffice it to say that, in my great spiritual wisdom, I felt that someone in my life needed to change. Nothing extraordinarily serious, but serious differences in opinion nevertheless. I wanted that person to come to share my viewpoint, but I wasn't thinking about how to woo them in this regard. No. I wanted to hold the high moral ground and wait for this individual to ascend to my heights. Preferably on hands and knees. (These are exagerrated words, to be sure, but perhaps not so exaggerated as I'd wish them to be.)

God apparently had a different take on the matter, and he shared those thoughts with me via two back-to-back readings from two separate books.

First, the passage from Douglas Steere:

“You may pray for the release of some area of life in a friend and find that you are called upon to set right something in your own life that has acted as a stumbling block to him. ... In intercessory prayer one seldom ends where one begins.”

Food for thought. For another day. I put the book down and picked up The Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis next. My hands were fast, but God was faster still. Resuming my reading at the point of the bookmark, I found this:

Everyone, it is true, wishes to do as he pleases and is attracted to those who agree with him. But if God be among us, we must at times give up our opinions for the blessings of peace. Furthermore, who is so wise that he can have full knowledge of everything? Do not trust too much in your own opinions, but be willing to listen to those of others. If, though your own be good, you accept another's opinion for love of God, you will gain much more merit; for I have often heard that it is safer to listen to advice and take it than to give it. It may happen, too, that while one's own opinion may be good, refusal to agree with others when reason and occasion demand it, is a sign of pride and obstinacy.

So I put that book down too. But God wasn't having it. With both sets of words hammering at me, I reluctantly began to consider how they might be applied to my day. A novel thought. Practical application!

I really don't know what exactly what needs to happen next between that person and me in order to resolve our impasse. I suppose I'll have to trust that one to the Lord. But this much I do know now, thanks to God's gentle sledgehammer: my heart was in the wrong place, and the first person who needs to change is me.

Sufficient unto the day is this task alone.