Modus Operandi

Have you ever taken umbrage?

Umbrage??

No, I’m not asking whether you ever stole something from the produce department at Wegman’s (although it does sound like something brought in from the garden). Or whether you cheated on a table game or slipped some foreign coins into your pocket… To take umbrage means to take offense to something. To become resentful, hurt, angered by someone’s words or by what they did – or didn’t – do.

“Umbrage” comes from the Latin umbra – a shade, shadow. It gives us our word “umbrella” – a shade from the sun. Umbrage, however, is a darker kind of shade, a shadow that blocks the light of joy and freedom and communion with people and with God.

You’ve seen umbrage in the resentful glower of a child who has been reprimanded. You’ve heard it in the cold silence of a friend. You’ve tasted it in your caustic response to a perceived insult… A shadow that can be seen and heard and tasted is a powerful thing, isn’t it?

Pastor Mearl Bradley, a wise and godly man, once commented on his pro-active approach to umbrage: “I have made a vow to the Lord – I refuse to be offended.” Regardless of what somebody said or did, he had determined that umbrage was not an option for him.

Pastor Mearl wasn’t naïve enough to believe that he could humanly meet every offense with a gracious spirit. But he believed that he could make a decision. He could establish a modus operandi, a pre-determined method of operating. And he could do it before the wrong was done and the pain had pierced and the hurt had risen… before he ended up sitting in the dark, shaded by resentment, struggling with his response.

I don’t mean to downplay the challenges of such a vow, and he didn’t, either. It can only be kept by the grace of God, and sometimes only after long struggle and dogged perseverance. But maybe if Mearl’s formal vow is more than we feel able to commit to, we might consider this prayer:

“Lord, by Your grace, no matter what You allow to come my way, I intend to forgive. I do not intend to replay the offense, nor give it any of my time and energy, but instead refer it to You and continue walking in step with the Spirit.

“I cannot do this, but I can choose it – and trust You to make me able to do it by Your grace. When I struggle, may Calvary be my example. And when I fail, rescue me from the shadow and bring me into Your light again, in the strong name of Jesus.

“Amen.”

Praying Man

I heard a new southern gospel song this week. The tune of Ronnie Hinson’s “Praying Man” was catchy, the beat was lively, but it was this line that really got my attention:

“Never throw a hungry lion in a den with a praying man.”

We know what happens when you throw a praying man in a den with hungry lions! In Daniel 6:22, the prophet Daniel reported (after a night in close quarters with the king of beasts): “My God sent His angel, and he shut the mouths of the lions. They have not hurt me, because I was found innocent in his sight!”

But if you stand back and look at the whole story, the real lions were the jealous governors who roared and prowled and plotted to devour the despised Daniel. The real den was Rock to which Daniel had fled through prayer. And when Daniel was finally “lifted from the den, no wound was found on him, because he had trusted in his God.” But “the men who had falsely accused Daniel were brought in and thrown into the lion’s den…and before they reached the floor of the den, the lions overpowered them and crushed all their bones” (vv.23-24). So much for the enemies of God.

The stories of the Bible are told as examples to us. And the lesson I learn from Daniel’s deliverance is this: Satan still goes about as an envious governor, blind with jealousy, a prowling lion looking for someone to devour (1 Peter 5:8)…yet I don’t have to cower in fear. No, I don’t mean to downplay our spiritual enemy. I am no match for Satan and his forces. You, too, are unbelievably defenseless, incredibly vulnerable – but Jesus has invited, “Abide in me.” Jesus offers to be our den of safety.

The enemy may intimidate, the situation might go from bad to worse, the hands of others who wish they could help may be tied, the night might be long and dark and unsettling… but ultimately, the enemy can’t survive on God’s turf, nor devour the godly man or woman who, through Jesus’ name, calls and counts on Him.

Satan just can’t survive in the den of a praying man.

In Whose Shoes?

Pittsburgh Steelers fans are hardcore. I knew that, but I really realized it after my son moved to Pittsburgh. People would come into the Lowe’s store where he worked, sporting permanent tattoos of a favorite Steelers player. Jamie noticed the #7 emblazoned on the arm of one diehard fan. “What will you do if Roethlisberger gets traded?” Jamie asked curiously. I guess it would then become a piece of memorabilia.

More recently, into the Firestone at which Jamie now works rolled a unique car... half of it was painted gold, and the other half was painted black. On one side was painted the word “Steelers,” on the other, “Pirates,” and on the roof, “Penguins.” The interior sported black and gold seatcovers and floormats. Somebody’s passion for Pittsburgh sports had surely become a moving landmark around the city, and created somewhat of an identity for its owner.

People get their identities from other areas besides sports. We find our identities in actors and actresses, music idols, the wealthy, the successful, the famous, the beautiful. We watch their movies, buy their CD’s, wear their T-shirts, read their books, support their causes, defend their lifestyles and excesses, and too often adopt their viewpoints. What’s with this hunger we have to live in somebody else’s shoes?

I think it’s because we know, instinctively, that ours don’t make big enough footprints. But it takes awhile to realize that nobody else’s does, either. The only person really worth identifying with, in the end, is Jesus Christ.

The apostle Paul discovered this, and wrote, “I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus, for whose sake I have lost all things...I want to know Christ, and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death...” In fact, Paul went so far as to say that, “For to me, to live is Christ.”

Now that’s identifying – and with someone who won’t ever have a losing season or be traded to another franchise. Someone Who won’t let us down, set a bad example, disappoint, embarrass, or reject His “fans.” In fact, He invites us to follow Him. To be like Him.

And the curious thing is, we are never more uniquely ourselves than when we identify with the right Person.

Got Splanch?

Turning points.

If you’ve been alive very long, you’ve had a few. Maybe you’ve even participated in helping someone else experience a turning point. Perhaps you led them to the Lord, assisted them during a financial setback, launched them on a new career, prayed for their physical healing, or counseled them through a rough spot in their marriage.

Do you know where turning points often come from? From splanchnizomai. Really.

The Jericho Road traveler, who was beaten, robbed, and left half-dead, experienced (thankfully) a turning point. It didn’t come about through those who preached compassion. It didn’t come from those who administered the purse-strings of public charity. It didn’t come from a victim’s advocacy group or local law enforcement, as helpful as these all can be. It came from splanchnizomai, the Greek word for pity and compassion. Splanch, if I may.

Splanch is that gut-wrenching emotion, that pity so strong that it moves one to action. The Good Samaritan was so moved by splanch that he would have had a difficult time not responding. And what a Christ-like reaction! Jesus had an identical response to the leper who begged Him for healing (Mark 1:40-42), and to the crowds who milled about Him like sheep without a shepherd (Mt. 9:33-38). He wove it into His parables – into the heart of the king who canceled his servant’s unpayable debt, and the father who welcomed the prodigal home. All had splanch.

The neat thing about splanch is that, as The Expository Dictionary of Bible Words points out, it often brings about a turning point in someone’s life. Think about it. The half-dead man, rescued. The leper, healed. The prodigal, welcomed with celebration. The servant’s debt cancelled. And Jesus’ response to the helpless crowds? He immediately gave His disciples authority to heal and drive out evil spirits, and sent them on their first “missionary journey.” The Dictionary notes, “The loving compassion of one person literally changed the life of another, for the person who cared was moved to act and so set the needy person on a new course in life.”

I’ve been the recipient of splanch, too. And I’m eternally grateful that somebody was moved to reach out to me in a way that set me on a new course in life. I’d love to be God’s channel for bringing turning points into the lives of others... but I think I’m a bit shallow in the compassion department. If I’m going to love my neighbor as myself, I need to allow God to make me like Jesus. To open my eyes to that neighbor. To break my heart for their condition. To send me into action that can, by His power, bring them to a turning point in their life.

How about you? Got splanch?

Professional Listeners

In his Saturday afternoon workshop on spiritual warfare, speaker Dave Butts shared what is, in his opinion, the greatest deception in the church: hearing instead of doing the Word of God.

When we sit under an inspiring speaker, Dave said, we want to hear them again. When we read a powerful book, we want to go out and buy more that the author has written. Too often, that’s as far as it goes. Instead of being moved to action, we want to hear more. As a result, we become Professional Listeners.

“To suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear,” writes Paul in 2 Tim. 4:3. Yes, he’s speaking of those who enjoy a watered-down version of the truth, one that sounds soothing and requires no response. But am I much better when I thrill to a challenging Sunday morning sermon or a stimulating Community Life discussion... and walk out having already filed it away as a great experience, looking forward to the next time that my itching ears will be scratched once again?

James 1:22-25 challenges me:

“Do not merely listen to the word and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in the mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it – he will be blessed in what he does” (NIV).

We need to spend time with truth we’ve heard. To begin a habit of studying Sunday morning’s sermon notes (perhaps on a quiet Sunday afternoon) and Bible study insights, asking the Spirit to show us practical steps to applying it to our lives.

For instance, we were challenged Sunday morning to boldness in prayer. To paying attention to Who we’re talking to when we pray, and to our surroundings in the throneroom of heaven. We were encouraged to pray the Word, using the avenue of prayer to discover and request what God wants, not what we selfishly desire. We were challenged to pray big prayers, prayers that will impact eternity, instead of little ones that have to do only with our protection, our health, our earthly life.

I was offered a glimpse of myself during that sermon... and I don’t want to forget what I saw in that mirror. Rather than looking forward to the next great spiritual truth that comes my way, I need to spend some time with what I heard. I need to let God make some permanent changes in the way I pray, and in why I pray. I need to follow the example of the crowd who listened to the Apostle Peter’s powerful post-Pentecost message: “They were cut to the heart and said to Peter and the other apostles, ‘Brothers, what shall we do?” ((Acts 2:37 NIV).

We’ve been given some powerful truth regarding boldness in prayer.

What shall we do?