Stuck?

When our oldest son was a curious toddler, he occasionally wedged his chubby body into spaces that were a few sizes too small. I can still see him with his upper torso protruding from the opening between the seat and the back of a dining room chair.

“Stuck!” he would call. “Stuck!” There were no flailing limbs. No body contortions. Just a holler or two, and a passive wait for rescue. Freed, he scampered away to play.

Can you identify? Sometimes our spirits become wedged between the past and the future. Life marches on, but we can’t seem to move with it. A loved one dies, a move uproots us, a project ends, change happens, and it’s hard to change with it. Or a bad choice is made, a heart is scarred, a life is derailed. Guilt and regret press in. Discouragement and sadness weigh heavy. We’re going nowhere. Stuck.

As we learned Sunday, we have to let go of the past in order to move toward the future. That means letting go of not only the bad things others have done, but our own bad decisions with their long-term effects on ourselves and those around us. And while stacks of books have been written about the difficulties of dealing with regret and guilt, of letting go, forgiving, forgetting, and all that goes with it, there’s one thing that shortens and sweetens the whole process:

Trust. In God.

Specifically, trust that He is the incurable Redeemer of everything that is put in His hands. That no matter how damaged and worthless our past, He can do something wonderful with it. He is always “making lemonade out of lemons,” and we have only to trust that He is everlastingly at it, with a glad and willing heart.

If we really believe that, we won’t be ashamed to look Him in the face and tell Him how desperately stuck we are and how much we need His help. We’ll quiet down and calm down and wait expectantly for Him to come and release us from the past and set us free to scamper off into the future.

We'll forget what is behind and strain toward what is ahead, pressing on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called us heavenward in Christ Jesus.

Jesus’ Family Tree

Matthew 1:1. Not a footnote or side note or appendix, but Matthew 1:1.

You’d think that God would be a bit reluctant to publish His Son’s pedigree right there in the opening lines of the New Testament. And that He would at least have dressed it up to make it sound as classy as possible. But He intentionally went out of His way, used extra ink to expose what we wouldn’t think God would be very proud of… more than a few black sheep in the family lineage.

But we are talking about the God Who gets more excited over recovering a wandering sheep than over ninety-nine who give Him no trouble at all. Who spent far more time on the sinful and the lost than on proud Pharisees with noble bloodlines and papers to prove it. Who later inspired Paul to list the flawed but faith-filled patriarchs and proclaim, “Therefore God was not ashamed to be called their God”… (Heb. 11:16 NIV).

Do you sometimes feel like He must be ashamed to be called your God? Perhaps you can’t imagine Him being proud to list your name as one of His own, as a spiritual descendant of Abraham and an heir to all that His Son owns. Your past disqualifies you. I love what W. Tozer has to say:

“Now, on the basis of grace as taught in the Word of God, when God forgives a man, He trusts him as though he had never sinned. God did not have mental reservations about any of us when we became His children by faith. When God forgives a man, He doesn't think, 'I will have to watch this fellow because he has a bad record.' No, He starts with him again as though he had just been created and as if there had been no past at all! That is the basis of our Christian assurance--and God wants us to be happy in it.”

It’s all a part of the “good news of great joy which shall be to all people.” Nobody’s disqualified by their past. Everyone has the opportunity to be made a new creature, to start with a clean record, to find forgiveness for every relapse, to cooperate with the Spirit in forging a faith that makes God proud to be called our God.

The Christmas Story

I have a little book on my shelves, cardboard-bound and covered front and back with fabric. Its content is typed; the art is hand-drawn; the author is my son Greg. The occasion was a grade-school assignment and the title is “If I Were in Charge of the World.”

All I can say is, thank heaven he isn’t! In the space of twenty pages Greg canceled homework, nixed the idea of cleaning one’s room, and eliminated his brothers, cats, and sickness (okay, Ill give him that one). He also pronounced sugar a vegetable and went on to callously obliterate the entire Steelers football team (sorry, Ben). He ended by covering all his bases:

“And a person who forgot to do his homework
and sometimes forgot to clean his room
would still be allowed to be in charge of the world.”

I wonder what he’d have written if the assignment were “If I Were in Charge of the First Christmas”? I wonder what you or I would have written? Pastor Ben mentioned Sunday that “in my story, the glory of God would have lasted all night.” I think we all would tend to minimize the hard parts and the puzzling or painful places, and major on the joy and glory and good news.

Written by us, we’d have a Jesus who enjoyed a life of privilege that few could identify with. Jesus would have been born in a pristine setting in Nazareth, with grandmas and grandpas close at hand. And everyone would have welcomed Him. But part of the glory of the Christmas story is in those hard places. In the long, difficult journey. The separation from kin. The birth in a stable. Being hated and hunted by Herod.

Yet God could be trusted with that story, couldn’t He? He knew what He was doing – fulfilling prophecy, identifying with the poorest and most insignificant, becoming nothing for us.

He can be trusted with your story, and mine, too. It’s foolish to try to grab the pen from His hand and write “If I Were in Charge of My Life.” We’d eliminate the very things that God meant to use for glory. Better to gaze in wonder at the manger scene this Christmas, and reaffirm to our Creator, “Lord, You are in charge of my story. Write what You want. I trust You with all of my heart.”

Christmas, condensed

Christmas, we were reminded at the musical this past weekend, can be condensed into four words:

God is with us.

I think we’re more accustomed to the diluted versions. Those versions that start with the basic observation of Christmas, then water it down with a lot of tradition and required atmosphere and general hyperactive hoopla.

But there’s something simple and powerful about a condensed Christmas. Really, it’s a version that should blow our minds, if you think about it. It should nearly short-circuit our mental wiring to realize the truth of Christmas: Emmanuel, God with us.

Why is the condensed version so wonderful? Because now there need be no separation between us and the God who made us. No no-man’s land. In fact, there are no alone places in our lives. We never have to experience anything on our own. We’re never left to our own devices. In no situation are we powerless. He softens bad news with the reassurance that it is not the final word, that someday He will make all things new. He’s there to confront the nagging past, to calm future worries, and to liven the dull present… because how dull can a moment be when infinity and omnipotence and irrepressible hope and joy are right there with us?

But I think most of us live our lives in a sort of a brown-out. We need the truth of God-with-us to surge through in its full-strength reality, and overload a few systems: The system of doubt and suspicion with which we regard God. The system of weight and worry through which we process our lives. The system of cynicism and despair with which we face our futures. The system of self-protection behind which we live our days.

God-with-us races along the old, decrepit wiring of those false systems, and POP! FLASH! – they’re left smoldering… until somehow the connection with worry is broken. Self-protection has been bypassed. We’re unable to contact despair. Something – Someone – has taken over the power grid, and the lines are humming with hope and we feel more alive than we ever have before.

Alive with the indescribable wonder of Emmanuel, God with us.

Waiting Well

What do people do while they wait for something?

I’ve seen the weary traveler dozing in the busy airport terminal, and heard the impatient customer complain loudly about “getting another register opened up!” I once saw a driver shaving at the stoplight on Peach and Kuntz (the efficiency experts would approve). And I heard of a husband who claimed to have, over the years, read an entire set of encyclopedias while waiting for his wife to get ready to go out!

What will we do while we wait this year for Christmas?

We generally experience Advent by trying to re-create the Christmas scenario. By putting ourselves in Mary’s sandals or the shepherd’s bare feet or even the donkey’s hooves – trying to feel what they felt and experience what it all meant to them. We dress up like them, we sing "O Come O Come Emmanuel," and we wonder what it really would have felt like to be on the waiting side of Jesus’ coming.

But we are on the waiting side of Jesus’ coming - again. Ronald Klug wrote:

“I am an Advent Christian… Advent Christians believe Christ came, but we still sing, ‘Oh, Come, Oh, Come, Emmanuel.’ We believe that in Christ the kingdom of God has dawned, but we still eagerly pray ‘thy kingdom come’ because we long for a world that is still to come. Exile, longing, watchfulness and waiting resonate with us…” The cry of Advent is still, as Klug writes, “Wake up! Be alert! Watch for his coming.’”

Watch for the One Who “will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trumpet call of God” (1 Thess. 4:16 NIV). Watch for the One called Faithful and True, with eyes like blazing fire, on Whose head are many crowns, and on His robe and thigh is written this name: King of Kings and Lord of Lords (Rev. 19). Wait eagerly; look and long for His appearing.

He may not come on our watch. But no matter, the charge remains: Wait well. Don’t fill the intervening days and years with busy work just to look productive; don’t reach for mindless diversions; don’t sink into lethargy like the foolish virgins of Jesus’ parable. Don’t grow impatient or discouraged and adopt the mindset of the skeptical world: “Where is this ‘coming’ he promised? (2 Peter 3:4 NIV).

Instead, “live holy and godly lives as you look forward to the day of God and speed its coming… Make every effort to be found spotless, blameless and at peace with him… looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, the home of righteousness” (2 Peter 3:11-13 NIV).

Do Something!

It’s like one of those dreams where your child is about to be run over by a truck and you desperately want to reach her in time… but your feet are leaden and you seem to run in place. Where the car is careening toward the cliff and you cannot find the brake. Where your spouse is entering mortal danger, oblivious, and you scream out a warning… but no sound issues forth.

Anguished – but powerless to respond. Isn’t that how many of us feel when we think about situations like Haiti? We are grieved for that country, frustrated by the many hindrances to aid, and perplexed by Haiti’s history of victimization and betrayal and self-inflicted injury.

It’s often the same, on a smaller scale, with the poor among us - the poor who “will always be with us,” as Jesus said. We’re paralyzed by our inability to effectively fix things for them and the knowledge that poverty is, in general, here to stay. It’s tempting to turn to situations we can solve. To endeavors that look productive, that will really shine before men and elicit an enthusiastic “Well done!” when we stand before Christ. For if we can’t heal a nation or even wipe out poverty in our local community – if the Lord Himself promises the poor are here to stay – why spend our energies and prayers and money on them?

Because God cares about individuals. When Jesus lived on this earth, He personally touched a relatively small number of people. There were certainly famines and weather-related tragedies and struggling countries beyond the realm of His circuit. But He ministered to His neighbor and did what God directed Him to do on a day-by-day basis, and made a difference where He was.

That’s what we need to do.

The story is told of a man who was standing on the beach amid hundreds of starfish that had washed ashore. He was throwing them back in the water one by one. Someone approached and asked “Why bother? What does it matter? There are so many.” The man looked at the starfish in his hand. Just before he tossed it back he replied, “It matters a lot to this one!”

And it matters a lot to God. So look prayerfully around for someone in need and do something… today.

The Real Thing

It was a feast for the eyes and the taste buds, too. I just couldn’t hurry past without pausing for a second glance. Bins of luscious fruits – peaches, apples, bananas, pears, and many more… and not an unripe piece in the bunch. The peaches blushed, the apples shone, the grapes fairly burst their skins, and even the closest inspection couldn’t turn up one bruise or scab or worm hole. This was fruit-lover’s heaven!

If looks were edible, that is. For this was Michael’s, the arts and crafts store, and these bins were piled high with inviting imitation. While there was nothing here that could wither or rot, there was also no scent, no sweetness, and no nourishment, not one drop.

Give me a succulent peach fresh-picked from a North East orchard, fuzzy and aromatic and yielding slightly to the pressure of my finger. Or give me one of their McIntosh apples (what is it about North East and fruit?), with a smell that says autumn and a flavor that can only be improved by a bit of caramel dip…

Give me something real, that delights the taste buds and satisfies the stomach. Hold off on the hollow stuff, the plastic stuff, the look-but-don’t-sample substitutes. I don’t want those imposters rolling around on my plate – and I don’t want to serve them to others, either.

Dr. Aderholt challenged us Sunday to be real with people. To stop offering plastic smiles (shark-smiles, I think he would have called them) and quick fixes and surface attraction, and to become Christians of substance, filled with the juice of humble servanthood and the sweetness of compassion and the freshness of joy and the firmness of perseverance.

The Michael’s variety… the North East variety… if you were an unbeliever, which peach would you reach for?

Across My Path

There was once a man who heard a mini-sermon on compassion: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” He felt a little uncomfortable with that statement and he wanted to get rid of those pesky little barbs of conscience. So he asked the Preacher, “Who is my neighbor?” And the Preacher replied with the story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:30-35).

By definition, a “neighbor” is one who is near. The man who lay helpless along the Jericho road, robbed and beaten, became the Samaritan’s neighbor when their paths “crossed” and the Samaritan’s ears heard his moan and his eyes fell on him and saw his need.

Maybe the story of the Good Samaritan teaches, among other things, that first and foremost the people we need to love as our own selves and empathize with and reach out to and give to and sacrifice for are the people that personally cross our paths on our daily walk. These are, in the strictest sense, our neighbors. They’re our responsibility, as God leads us.

Why is it so tempting to mimic the Levite’s response and cross to the other side of the road – to get far enough away that they are no longer my neighbor? Three reasons come to mind:

I’m desensitized. I don’t feel their pain. I’ve watched enough pain on TV, I’ve said “No” enough times to my conscience, I’ve got priorities more pressing than compassion, I’m distracted by other concerns, I’m too focused on the past or the future to pay attention to who’s laying alongside my road.

I’m selfish. I don’t want to feel their pain. I’ve already felt enough of my own. I don’t want to feel any more myself, and I don’t want to share anyone else’s.

I’m passive. I don’t want to do anything about their pain. If you twist my arm or wring my conscience, I will act. Otherwise, I’m for doing what I’ve always done on this trip to Jericho – staying to the time schedule, sticking to the MO as usual, not getting involved in messy and open-ended situations.

I don’t mean to say that every need that crosses our path is a call to action. We must be Spirit-directed. Spirit-sensitized. Spirit-quickened. (I also don’t mean to say that we shouldn’t get involved in global needs – we should.) But if we begin each day with a declaration of love for and commitment to God and our neighbor, we’ll be more sensitized to both of them. And as we walk through the territory God has mapped out for us that day, the priest and the Levite and the man in the ditch will all know that we are Christians… by our love.

Election Benediction

As I head out the door in a few minutes and make my way to the Summit Township Municipal Building to vote, I’m keeping in mind the principles from Sunday morning’s sermon. I’m not voting my pocketbook or my party or my personal preferences; I’m voting, prayerfully and as best I understand, after God’s heart – after the things that matter most to Him.

But after I exit the polling place, I want to turn from the sermon to the brief but weighty benediction offered by Pastor Dave following the first service:

“In God we trust. Amen.”

How hard that sometimes is! Especially in these days when the economy is unraveling and the stock market is ricocheting about and the scaffolding we have erected for the future begins to wobble, until the economy has become the biggest issue in this presidential election. In truth, it’s likely to remain a major issue for some time. That’s why Sunday’s benediction will remain so relevant to our situation, and so vital to remember.

Thankfully, our wise forefathers had “In God We Trust” inscribed on our country’s pennies and nickels and dimes and quarters and bills. Maybe they realized we would need it on the currency in which we instinctively place so much of our hope and sense of well-being. Silently, unceasingly, our coins and greenbacks proclaim that wonderful benediction… we just need to listen to it a little more closely. To agree with it a bit more frequently. To accept the reminder and let it increase our faith.

Perhaps it would help us to inwardly repeat those words when paying the parking lot attendant at the hospital ramp, or swiping our card at the supermarket, or putting money into the church offering. Maybe we should have those words imprinted on our checks and posted prominently at the desk where we pay our bills and balance our checkbooks.

However we do it, let’s not forget. In matters of elections and economics and all things earthly, our God is sovereign and all-powerful and He watches over His own. And should you ever waver in your trust, take out a penny and once more receive the benediction:

“In God We Trust. Amen.”

Celebrate!

Have you ever bounced around on a trampoline?

I remember those long-ago days in gym class, when everyone had to take their turn. Like me, you probably tested the springy surface rather gingerly at first. How high would it bounce you? How hard would you land? What if you got too near the edge? How easy was it to stop and get off?

But after some successful pogo-like hops, you gathered courage and force, and before your turn was ended, you had actually put some heart into it, gained some height, and enjoyed it at least a little.

I think spiritual celebration is a bit like the trampoline experience. We climb onto the challenging experiences of our lives with a lot of questions in our mind. What am I doing here? Why do I have to do this? What if I fall off the edge or lose control or my turn never ends and I’m on it forever? And do I have to actually jump around and celebrate this scary place… can’t I just sit down and play it safe? Am I really supposed to have joy here?

But after some exploratory jumps, some testing of the surface beneath, we relax a little. For “underneath are the everlasting arms” (Deut. 33:27). We grow less nervous about falling off the edge into great harm, because “as the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds his people both now and forevermore” (Ps. 125:1 NIV). We realize there’s got to be some purpose here that will make it all worth while, because in all things God works for the good of His people (Rom. 8:28). And because He is “the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,” He won’t leave us here a nano-second longer than is best, and in the meantime we couldn’t have a more empathetic and encouraging Guardian alongside.

So no matter what the challenge we’ve been hoisted up onto, celebration is in order. Maybe not at first, and certainly not 24/7, but there’s just got to be some bounce in our walk. Some joy in our step. And the longer we’re there, the more confident we can become that He hasn’t left, He hasn’t once looked away, He’s monitoring every detail, calling out instructions, applauding, and cheering us on as we gain confidence and momentum.

So bounce a little higher this week. Grin a bit while you’re doing it. You couldn’t be safer, couldn’t be in better hands, couldn’t find another place in this world with more potential for joy, than right where the Father has put you.

Catch some air and shout “Alleluia!” and celebrate!

An Appetite for God

Life has its basic requirements: air, water, food, sunlight, shelter (and, some hold, chocolate).

Fasting is making God a basic necessity. It’s saying “I’m skipping the food. For this length of time, I put You ahead of what I need for survival. I count You more important than life itself is to me. I want You more than my daily bread. I make You my food. I make You my energy source. I make You my satisfaction. I feed on you in my heart by faith, and find spiritual nourishment for my soul.”

I may fast for devotional reasons – to get closer to God, to become re-aligned with Him. I may fast out of the anguish of my heart, bringing my personal concerns to Him. I may fast out of the need for His guidance, seeking wisdom for a decision or direction for action that must be taken. I may fast under a burden for a person or situation that needs divine intervention. I may do it simply because I want to lessen my hunger for things I can see and taste and smell and touch, and increase my appetite for God.

Whatever the reason, do you think God will ignore someone like that? Someone who wants to be with Him that much? Someone who values His instruction, who seeks His help, who is counting on His listening ear and helping hand? No, He won’t ignore anyone like that. He’s the one who promises the far-off follower, “Come near to God and he will come near to you” (James 4:8). He’s the one who promises the soul-starved, “Open wide your mouth and I will fill it.” He assures those who prefer Him, “You would be fed with the finest of wheat; with honey from the rock I would satisfy you” (that’s comfort food from Ps. 81!).

Fasting is making God, temporarily, a basic physical necessity. And it helps me realize that He is my one spiritual necessity – and He gives Himself to me gladly and freely and abundantly. That’s cause for celebration!

…but that’s next Sunday’s sermon : )

The Prayer Closet

A blog reader emailed me after Pastor Ben’s sermon on solitude and silence – and what she had to say was perfectly sandwiched between that topic, and this past Sunday’s sermon on prayer…

She used to have a prayer closet, she said. A literal one, with blankets , books, a Walkman with praise CD’s, and a fluffy pillow. She described it as a “spiritual bubble bath” and declared that once she’d shut off the phone, put on the headphones, and entered her prayer closet to “soak,” the house could have burned down and she’d never have known!

She recalled it all a little wistfully and added, “I sure could use one of those spiritual bubble baths.”

Her email delighted me because I have long toyed with the idea of a prayer room or “closet” in my house… someplace set apart, without a computer or a television or a desk or any reminder of other pursuits… and here was someone who had actually done it! She inspires me to hang onto the dream as I wait for space to clear in my house. Maybe she inspires you to consider something similar as well.

It’s well worth considering. Because what goes on in that prayer closet isn’t just about intercession and praying through prayer lists and fulfilling a promise to pray for a certain amount of time each day. It’s about enjoying God (don’t you think He cherishes that?) and Who He is and how near He is. It’s about building fresh trust as we consider His faithfulness in the past and His power for the present needs. It’s about laying down the heavy loads we’ve shouldered and realizing anew that “His yoke is easy and His burden is light.”

The same blog reader emailed me again… the idea of a spiritual bubble bath is sounding more and more inviting. She’s thinking about emptying out that space, resurrecting that prayer closet, soaking leisurely in His presence in a way she hasn’t for a long time.

Maybe some of the rest of us could follow her example.

A Little S & S

While listening to Pastor Ben’s sermon yesterday on silence and solitude, one question he asked stood out to me… “What is coming up in my life that if I don’t stop now and take an extended time to prepare myself, I could make a huge mistake?”

Stop? Why stop? Why can’t I catch His voice on the fly? Well, for one thing, because God isn’t a screamer. If my life is relentlessly loud, how will I hear the still small voice of His Spirit, my Teacher and Guide? And God is a leader. If I'm forging ahead, throttle wide open, how will I obey that most basic command of discipleship: “Follow Me”?

I think we all struggle with how to stop and build a listening stillness into our lives. Let me share one way: when you spend time in prayer, however much it is – 5 minutes, fifteen, whatever – try dividing it in half.

Half the time, talk to God. Praise Him. Tell Him how you feel about Him. Tell Him what is bothering you. Tell Him what you need. Do just what Phil. 4: 6 (LB) urges us: “Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything; tell God your needs and don’t forget to thank him for his answers” (You can read another verse or two to find out the fantastic benefit of this simple kind of prayer).

The other half, listen. Tell the Lord, “Okay, Lord, I’ve laid it all out before you. For the next – minutes I’m just going to listen. Speak to me about these things, and about anything else you want to bring to my mind. I intend, by Your Spirit, to believe You and trust You and obey You.” And stick to your commitment to listen. If your mind wanders (and it will), recall your thoughts as soon as you recognize it.

You’ll find, I think, that silence and solitude is not a lonely vacuum. God draws very near, and speaks very clearly – not always, but often. Once we make that discovery, it’s easier to return to S & S again… and again. Not just when there’s a monumental decision to be made or a crisis that needs divine intervention or the possibility of making a huge mistake if we don’t, but also when life is dull and daily and we want to hear that Voice and sense that Presence and know that we are not alone, and we are on the right track.

On Sabbath Rest

This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says:
“In repentance and rest is your salvation,
In quietness and trust is your strength,
But you would have none of it.
You said, ‘No, we will flee on horses.’
Therefore you will flee!
You said, ‘We will ride off on swift horses.’
Therefore your pursuers will be swift!
A thousand will flee at the threat of one;
At the threat of five you will all flee away,
Till you are left like a flagstaff on a mountaintop,
Like a banner on a hill.”

Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you…
- Isaiah 30:15-18 NIV

Repentance, rest, quietness, trust… How many times throughout the Scriptures does God offer them? How many different ways does He call us to them? They are our avenues to salvation and strength, He says, but so many of us refuse to go there.

As good as His offer looks on the parchment pages of our Bible, at our gut-level we still believe that the battle is to the swift and the relentless. So we imagine we’re speeding aggressively toward our goals… but I think that if we pull up and listen, in reality we’re being pursued by fears, fleeing before the cries of the enemy: Faster! Faster! There’s no telling what might happen if you stop!

Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to us. To give us soul-rest and quietness of mind, to firm up our trust in Him, to reconnect us with Himself. And “Sabbath” is one way to get there from here.

Do you have a Day Set Apart, something built into your week that takes you out of the stampede? If not, I challenge you to get out pen and paper, and list – honestly – the reason(s) why not.

How does it look on paper? Talk to God about it. Don’t be defensive – He’s only offering to ease your burden. Don’t be suspicious– it’s impossible for Him to take anything from you and replace it with something inferior. Don’t be afraid. He’s far more powerful than the pursuers in your life.

And He knows that repentance and rest and quietness and trust will make you strong, and allow you to stand victoriously… even while others are beating a hasty retreat on swift horses.

*find excellent practical help in Discipleship Journal's archives - go to: http://www.navpress.com/magazines/archives/search.aspx (copy into browser) and type "sabbath" into the search box.

Can We Get There From Here?

“You can’t get there from here,” is the saying. What a discouraging word! I think it’s the message that Satan and his forces are lobbing at many of us, day in and day out, along with messages like:

“You can’t become a spiritual giant.”
“You’re an extreme case… far harder than the ordinary person”
“You’ll never overcome that stronghold.”
“You don’t have the strength [or perseverance or commitment or spiritual maturity] required.”
“The promises in the Bible weren’t meant for your situation.”
“You can’t expect victory yet – you haven’t suffered or struggled long enough.”
“Besides, victory won’t last – remember your other failures?”
“Is all the effort worth it? Look what it’s costing you.”

Rest assured, the enemy of our souls would love to badger us throughout FAC’s upcoming Sunday morning sermon series, Roots, with its focus on Sabbath keeping, solitude & silence, prayer, fasting, and celebration. And we’ll help Satan out if we bring an unteachable, suspicious, or defensive spirit - anything to harden the topsoil of our hearts and make it easy for him to snatch truth away before it can take root.

For he knows that these “spiritual disciplines” do make a way for us to get there from here. To become like Christ. To gain victory over habits that disgust us and harm our relationships and our testimony. To climb the mountaintop and look down on the things that once towered over us.

So why should we accept one discouraging word from the father of lies? On our way from here to there, it would be far more helpful to listen to the Author of Truth:

"You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free."
"I have come that you might have life and have it more abundantly."
"Take My yoke upon you and learn of me, and you shall find rest… for My yoke is easy and my burden is light."
"All things are possible to him that believes."

In other words, we can do it! We can get there from here. We can experience victory where defeat had so often reigned, and freedom where we had been bound, and rest where we had worked so hard in our own strength. The spiritual disciplines will be like friendly guides to show us the way.

So over these next weeks, bring to morning worship a humble, teachable spirit, a willingness to change, and a commitment to obey whatever He says. Bring an expectant faith in His encouraging words… and let the adventure begin!

Holy Awe

“Everyone was filled with awe” (Acts 2:43).

Poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote,
“Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes –
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.”

We were challenged this past Sunday to be a team, a team devoted, like the early church in Acts, to instruction, fellowship, the breaking of bread, and prayer. Devotion is a concept that gets my attention, because the life verse the Lord gave me some years ago comes from Jeremiah 30:21: “Who is he who will devote himself to be close to me?”

So I’ve been trying to learn more and more about this thing called devotion – what it is and what it looks like in practice. And I’ve gotten at least this far: It’s much easier to be devoted to something that fills you with awe. That’s bigger than you, bigger than anything else on the horizon of your life.

The bigger I see God to be, the easier it is to be devoted to Him. The early church was filled with awe (or “reverential fear,” as the Amplified puts it); Am I? Are we? The best description I’ve read of that awe was written by A.W. Tozer in Worship: The Missing Jewel of the Evangelical Church. He writes that real worship is made up of :

Boundless confidence. You cannot worship a Being you cannot trust.
Admiration. Appreciation of the excellency of God… to the point of wonder and delight.
Fascination. Entranced with who God is, and struck with astonished wonder at the inconceivable elevation and magnitude and splendor of Almighty God.
Adoration. To love God with all the power within us… with fear and wonder and yearning and awe.

Do you see how often he mentions wonder? But to make it an ingredient of our worship, we desperately need eyes to see God for Who He really is. We need those eyes opened by His Spirit; we need to turn them away from everything else and focus them on God. As individuals, and as a team.

When that happens, you can be sure that we’ll set our blackberry pails aside, the shoes will come off, and we will worship God together in holy awe.

Tumblin’ Tumbleweeds

“Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be men of courage; be strong.” (1 Cor. 16:13 NIV)

I’m not sure if Pastor Rick mentioned the word “tumbleweed” when he got to this verse on Sunday, or if it just popped into my head as he spoke, but suddenly I was whisked back to the old Sons of the Pioneer hit song by Bob Nolan, a cowboy tune that I listened to years ago (and it was years ago!), “Tumbling Tumbleweeds.”

See them tumbling down
Pledging their love to the ground
Lonely but free I'll be found
Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds.

A rather romanticized look at the unattached, solitary, drifting tumbleweed, to be sure. A more realistic picture is given by Judy Henning at http://phoenix.about.com/od/desertplantsandflowers/a/tumbleweed.htm

“The tumbleweed is often thought of as the symbol of the American West. Actually, it isn't native to North America at all, but was brought to this country (unintentionally) by Ukrainian farmers. The tumbleweed really is a weed, and its real name is the Russian thistle. Tumbleweeds aren't considered as having any redeeming value except for the fact that they are interesting to watch as they tumble about… [It] is a round, bushy, plant that grows to about 3 feet. At maturity it breaks off at the base and because it is rounded, it tumbles in the wind. There is a natural purpose to this tumbling--the tumbleweed can produce up to 250,000 seeds, and the tumbling serves to spread those seed wherever it tumbles, guaranteeing that there will be more tumbleweeds in the future… Don't try to catch a tumbling tumbleweed. Ouch!!”

According to Judy and other experts, the tumbleweed is truly that – a weed, and a thistly, unfriendly one at that. A curiosity that’s of little real use. And it likes to make more of its own kind!

I think Paul is warning us against becoming (or remaining) tumbleweeds, with our only redeeming value being that we’re interesting to watch as we tumble about. It’s so easy to tumble from church to church, relationship to relationship, job to job. We even tumble from spiritual highs to spiritual lows and back again, constantly, like spiritual boomerangs. Sometimes these changes are good, or at least unavoidable… but not always. And not as a pattern. Often they’re the product of our restlessness, rootlessness, carnality and selfishness. Ouch!

Rather, Paul urges us to “Stand firm. Let God dig that tumbleweed disposition out of you. Root yourselves in the Word and soak up something valuable that God can use to nourish those around you. Bloom exactly where you are planted.”

Then when the high winds come, we’ll remain where God put us, doing what He called us to do. And instead of tumbling about and making more tumbleweeds like ourselves, we’ll be encouraging others to stand firm, too – more like that steadfast believer described in Ps. 1:3…

“He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither” (NIV). That’s no romanticized ideal. It’s really possible for tumbleweeds today.

When a Seed Dies

I know a lot of people are spooked by cemeteries; they avoid visiting them whenever possible. Myself, I’ve always kinda liked them. Especially the old ones with unique tombstone shapes and meaningful – or at least interesting - epitaphs.

I used to stay each summer at a church camp in Pleasantville, and take regular strolls through the nearby cemetery. One tombstone was shaped like a large dog (that guy sure must have loved his pet), a second was heart-shaped, and many others were unique and eye-catching. Under the shade of towering pines, hundreds of graves lay peaceful and quiet (except for the chattering of squirrels and the thump-thump of pine cones falling to the ground).

But some of you are shuddering at the suggestion of finding peace and quiet in such a place. So…maybe it would help if we thought of a cemetery as a garden. That’s what it is, isn’t it? Row upon row of many seeds, planted and awaiting germination.

Edward Markquart, a Lutheran pastor on the West coast, once consulted Dr. Gibbe, a professor with a Ph.D. in plant physiology. Pastor Markquart informed the prof that he was planning a sermon on John 12:24, and asked him, “Can you tell me what happens when a seed dies?.” In a sermon entitled "When a Seed Dies," the pastor shares what he found out:

“He told me that inside every seed is an embryo, and in that embryo is a root which goes down into the ground; and a shoot that goes up into the sky. Every embryo has a root and a shoot; and inside that little embryo, (and this is really a miracle), there is an ‘on’ and ‘off’ switch. I didn’t know that. I didn’t know that seeds have ‘on’ and ‘off’ switches. But they do…

“And when you plant a seed into the ground at 40 degrees for 40 days, that mechanism goes on, but if the temperature is at 20 degrees, the mechanism stays off… Now there is also a thin coat around that seed which protects the oxygen from coming in prematurely. And then when this dormant seed is planted into the ground, for 40 days at 40 degrees, the switch goes "on" and the seed takes in water, and it miraculously begins to expand, and the seed coat is broken, and it begins to mature and produces sugar and protein; and then out comes the little roots and the little shoots, and the shoots produce more seeds which produce more fruit. ‘And that’s what happens when a seed dies,’ said the professor. ‘It's a miracle.’”

What will come forth from that broken, dead seed-coat? The garden gives a hint. Those pink-coated corn kernels my dad and I used to bury in the soil were given new “bodies” – towering, tassled, and ear-laden. Tan seeds, large and flat, came up as golden butternuts squash. And the zuchinni seeds… well, need I say more? It’s all much more, much better, much grander, than what was originally planted.

Which makes the grave of each who have died in the Lord a mystery-filled place, bursting with eternal potential, just waiting for the switch to go “on”… and a split-second germination process to be fulfilled.

Almost makes you want to take a walk in a cemetery, doesn’t it?

See You Later!

When our children were very young, our family prepared for a big move. We were leaving the only home and environment the children had known, packing up and relocating to Erie, Pa. To help make the transition, a friend gave them a book titled “Little Duck’s Moving Day.”

Little Duck was moving, too. He was putting his familiar toys and books and precious possessions into a box, and as he did, he told each one of them goodbye. Overhearing him, his wise mother said, “Little Duck, you will be seeing those things again when we get to our new home. So instead of saying goodbye, why not say, “See you later”?

Or to put it another way…

C. S. Lewis and his friend Sheldon Vanauken often met for lunch at Oxford’s Eastgate Hotel. Vanauken relates that after their last meeting at the Eastgate, “when Lewis had said his farewells and crossed High Street to the Magdalen side, he looked back at ‘Van’ with a big grin and roared across the noise of the traffic, “Besides, Christians never say goodbye!”

They never need to. There will always be another meeting – if not here, then there. That is the direct result of the resurrection of Christ. Because He lives, we shall, too. Eternally. Together. It’s cause to celebrate the risen Christ - and it’s incentive to be praying and witnessing to those who don’t yet know Him.

There are still some big moves ahead for all of us. Some major relocation and separation and transition. But let us not grieve as those who have no hope. Let’s not be putting precious things in a box and telling them a final goodbye – not if they know the Christ we know.

Let’s muster a grin, and shout across the noise of pain and sorrow and temporary separation, “Christians never say goodbye!”

“See you later!”

The Big Picture

I once quizzed a group of teens on Bible history, a quiz similar to the American history questions Pastor Rick referred to in Sunday’s sermon. Questions like… Did the Flood occur in the Old or New Testament? Did the apostle Paul live before or after Christ? Who was the most famous writer of the Psalms? The results were eye-opening and discouraging.

Discouraging, because this was not a group of kids off the street. These were, for the most part, children of devout parents, moms and dads who had brought them to church – and Sunday School - all their lives. These kids had heard all the stories – Moses at the Red Sea, David and Goliath, the Christmas story, the Easter story, Paul and Silas in jail… I scratched my head over their apparent ignorance. Had they been so poorly taught all those years? Or hadn’t they been listening?

And then I remembered that to me, also, these once were piecemeal stories. Accounts I knew very well… but I didn’t know how they fit together. I was probably well into my teens – or beyond – when I saw that the Bible reveals, in orderly progression, God reaching closer and closer to mankind, with a purposeful plan that will culminate in the final closing of the gap between Him and us, forever. The whole thing made a lot more sense when I saw it that way. And, if I might say it, God did, too.

Have you discovered the big picture yet? If not, here are a few suggestions…

Get a Bible timeline. Our local Christian bookstores likely have charts available. Or go to http://www.sundayschoolresources.com/timeline.htm to view one online. It’ll help place biblical people and events in sequence and perspective.

Read the Bible through. Yes, clear through. You can do it. Get an easy-to-understand version, pick it up in your spare time instead of the latest Christian novel, and take it in beginning to end. Or, if this is too daunting…

Find a good, chronological children’s Bible story book, and read it cover to cover. Don’t be embarrassed to read on their level – it might be a lot more fun and informative than you imagined. And you might as well get one with good illustrations!

Why go to all the trouble? Why make the extra effort to know when God did what He did, and how it all fits together? Well, if you’ve been struggling to trust God’s faithfulness, or hungering to know His heart, or wrestling with doubts about His love for you, or feeling insignificant in the overall scheme of things, it can help a lot to see what He’s been up to over the last several thousand years. How much you have been on His mind and in His heart.

Because He did it all to get close to you. It’s right there in the Bible. Read it for yourself – all of it.

The Call to Order

The very word “order” connotes somebody in charge. Somebody with a plan. Somebody with the power to make it happen.

“God is not a God of confusion and disorder but of peace and order (1 Cor. 14:33 Amp).” And He’s always been that way – just look at the creation of the world. He made something out of nothing. Brought order out of chaos. Meaning out of randomness and confusion.

If He’s really that kind of God at heart, that tells me a few things:

1. He doesn’t just want order in our church services. He wants it in our lives, our ministries, our homes, our relationships.
2. Where you and I are concerned, He’s very intentional. He knows where He’s going with each of our lives, if we’ll give Him permission to carry it out. And why shouldn’t we? One look at creation tells us He can be trusted to pull off something better than we could have done – or imagined.
3. He doesn’t need a lot to work with. Our insufficiency doesn’t hamper Him; the improbability of the situation doesn’t hinder Him. He’s got a history of making something from nothing, with no help from anyone else.

If these things are true, then I guess we could bring anything to Him – that chaotic job situation, the hopelessly confused marital relationship, the decision that pulls us in three different directions, anything and everything that breeds disorder and confusion in our life – and expect Him to dispel the ruckus and overwhelming helplessness, and restore order and peace. To implement a plan. To take charge. To change our world – or change us.

So why don’t you and I let Him do it… today?

Constructive Criticism

Pastor Rick acknowledged Sunday that some criticism was almost certain to come his way in response to his treatment of the topic at hand: the gift of tongues and its application in the church today.

I believe that the Lord led him to a balanced, thoughtful, and Scriptural approach, and I don’t have any criticism to offer. However, so as not to disappoint him or others who were braced for it, I do have a two constructive criticisms to offer… on other topics, and not my own observations. You might say they were overheard, and I am passing them on, for whatever good they might do us (for it is said that in every criticism there is at least a grain of truth).

The first came my way some months ago when my husband Dave, still an elder at the time, was give the elder-job of contacting a lady who had stopped attending FAC. (The idea is to let the people know they’re missed, find out what is keeping them away, see if there is anything we can do as a church for them, etc.)

When Dave got off the phone, he shared with me the reason this person had switched churches. “She said we were too serious about our relationship with God.” I smiled. It was constructive criticism, all right, well taken. It constructed in me a gladness that FAC is dead serious about knowing God personally and walking in a way that pleases Him. And it shows when people come to visit.

I overheard the second criticism while sitting in my pew one Sunday morning waiting for the service to start. Two people behind me were discussing Epic Faith, and one commented on an acquaintance who had attended one of their services. “He didn’t like it,” she reported. “He said it was too friendly.”

Once again I jumped for joy inside. Oh, I understand that maybe this man was shy or trying to hang back and check things out, and just wanted to be incognito… but what an encouraging critique!

Too serious about God… too friendly to visitors. Those are charges that shouldn’t be ignored. They should be celebrated! And may the grain of truth in them multiply and be fruitful!

Got Love?

I think it would take a major mental shift for today’s Christian culture to grasp Paul’s meaning in those first verses of 1 Corinthians 13:

“If I pound it out from the pulpit in words that bring them pouring down the aisles… If I become a sought-after Bible teacher, and am flooded with letters of gratitude from people who finally grasp truth that always eluded them… If I’m the one everyone asks to pray for them, because God always seems to answer my prayers… If my church sends me out as a missionary, and I leave everything behind, and them suffer persecution in a foreign land and end up a martyr… If I do any of these kinds of things, but lack love, I haven’t done anything!”

Of course, if you’re like me you don’t qualify for any of those heroic scenarios. I’m no preacher or Bible teacher or prayer giant or missionary. But the question is for us, too. Whatever we’ve done for God, what has the motive been? What the overall attitude? How many of us have worked so hard for so many years – but really haven’t done anything out of real love? Duty, maybe, or habit or selfish satisfaction or desire for recognition or trying to earn our way into God’s good graces. But authentic, God-given love?

Methinks there’s a lot of clanging and clashing going on in the larger Christian church today, and it’s the sound of service without love. There are a lot of gongs and cymbals announcing the implementation of gifts without genuine consideration for the rest of the body. Let’s make sure we aren’t adding to the commotion.

It might mean sitting down with the Holy Spirit and allowing Him to reassess our work for Him, and our motives. Our home life, our work life, our social life, our ministry for Him - all areas. According to the Apostle Paul, there is only one ingredient that will prevent our efforts in each area from falling into oblivion, from being counted as worthless. That ingredient is Love.

Got love?

When I was a kid, our family used to put jigsaw puzzles together. We followed a sort of system: first we’d look for all the straight-edged pieces, and build the frame. Next one of us might piece together the blue sky while another tackled the patch of flowers in the lower left corner… Finally it would all start to come together, and what a celebration it was to fit the last piece into the puzzle, and admire the finished creation.

In fact, it got to be such a coveted honor to insert that final piece, that one of us would often hide a puzzle piece in order to insure that we were the one to complete the picture.

Does it seem sometimes (when Pastor John is lobbying for children’s workers or the Internal Impact team is looking for Sunday morning greeters or…) that somebody is sitting on a puzzle piece at FAC… hoarding what the body of Christ needs to make it complete and healthy?

There are no high honors for the one who holds out the longest! Those of us sitting on our puzzle pieces are losing the joy of fitting into the right place, completing our part of the puzzle, connecting people with God and each other, giving a true picture of Christ to our community and the world.

Or have you looked and looked, and still can’t see where your spiritual gift fits in? Maybe you should try what we did as children building that puzzle, and hold out that spiritual gift and say, “Here’s what I have. Help me find where it fits in at FAC.” Another set of eyes might spy exactly where your gift should be exercised.

So get it out. Hold it up. Fit it in. And let the celebration begin!

A Lesson in Gratitude

My family always exchanged Christmas gifts with my aunt and her family. I clearly remember the year that we gave my cousin, young Nathan, some model train tracks.

It was a great gift - an accessory to the train set his parents had bought him for Christmas. This extension set would enlarge the track and make it lots more fun to play. The only problem was, my aunt’s family hadn’t opened their gifts yet.

I don’t think anyone had thought about this at the time… until Nathan unwrapped his present. He looked at the track extensions - lonely, useless little pieces - and smiled and politely thanked us for the gift. He didn’t appear to have any idea what they were for, and even if he had, he couldn’t have done anything with them at all! I just wonder if he didn’t wish (until Christmas at least) that we’d asked him what he’d like, or at least come up with something a little more brilliant… But I have to give him credit – he didn’t turn up his nose or turn down the gift. He didn’t look around and whine for his brother’s gift instead. He accepted the puzzling, perhaps disappointing present he’d been given.

If only we could always do so well. Pastor Ben reminded us that the Holy Spirit has given gifts to each believer. But isn’t it often a lot like Nathan’s predicament? We struggle to identify the gift God has given us – What is it? And then we struggle to figure out what to do with it! Where does this fit in? Is something missing? Isn’t it all a mistake? Couldn’t God have come up with something more fun, more useful, more exciting…

I think from Nathan we can learn that God’s gifts are really great – we just need to be grateful even when we don’t see their purpose or yet understand just what we’re supposed to do with them. We need to accept them and hang on to them (even work to develop them while we’re waiting), watching for the opportunity to pull them out and put them in use.

Because they’ll snap into place as surely as Nathan’s train tracks did, a few days later. And the Body of Christ around us will be enlarged and encouraged when that happens.

Holy Mysterion

Here at FAC, the first Sunday of every month is an invitation to mystery. The mystery of Holy Communion.

For nearly two thousand years, theologians have tried to solve it. Some insist the bread and cup become the actual body and blood of Christ. Others term it a “spiritual feeding” on Christ. Still others say He is simply present in an unusual way as we remember His death for us. The church has been trying to lay it all out in black and white for nearly two thousand years, but the case remains unsolved.

No wonder. The Greek word used in the early church for sacrament is mysterion, usually translated mystery. It indicates that through sacraments, God discloses things that are beyond human capacity to know through reason alone (gbod.org). In a way we can’t fully understand, He uses communion as a “means of grace” to help open us up to Himself and His work.

So as for what exactly happens at Holy Communion…it seems we ought to let it be a mystery. God’s ways can be hard to define. Sometimes only a mind as large as His can fully understand what He’s doing.

Instead, the next time the plate of bread is coming our way and the tray of juice is passed… we might do better to shiver at the inexplicable: Someone is present; Something is happening. Christ is attending by His Spirit, grace is flowing, the ancient sacrifice is still pleading for us. And then we should take up the broken bread and the wine-red juice and, as the old Methodists said, “feed on Him in our hearts by faith.”

For it’s a mystery… a mystery that should keep us on the edge of our seats the first Sunday of every month at FAC.

Because He Stooped So Low

“It takes more grace than I can tell to play the second fiddle well.”

So goes the saying, referring to the difficulty of being subordinate to someone else – second in command, inferior in perceived status, weaker in power. No one can argue that the role does indeed require grace…

“But,” my adopted dad used to say, “the second fiddle plays the harmony.” And harmony is a beautiful thing. It takes the melody and makes a masterpiece of it. It takes the message and carries it to the heart. It embellishes and completes the efforts of the solitary first violinist.

It’s the beauty of subordination. But in our culture we’re more familiar with its opposite – insubordination. The refusal to take orders, the inability to walk in the shadow of others, the insistence on equal billing. It’s the independent/equality streak in our American mentality, gone awol. And it’s everywhere – in the schools, in the workplace, sometimes in the church (sadly), and often in the home.

Are you in a position that calls for subordination? I think, in some area or another, we all are. So where can we second fiddles find a role model? Who has done it right? Who has sung the harmony perfectly and gladly and without apology?

Jesus Christ, who, “did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing… [and] humbled himself and became obedient to death” (Phil. 2:6-8 NIV). And “[because He stooped so low] God has exalted Him” (2:9 AMP). In fact, God has given Jesus a name to which every knee will one day bow and every tongue will proclaim as Lord.

Jesus made Himself nothing intentionally, premeditatedly, and without begrudging or complaining. Gethsemane tells us it wasn’t automatic or pretty or pleasant - quite the opposite. But it was worth it, for Him and for us.

As Bill Hybels wrote in Descending Into Greatness (highly recommended reading, by the way), “If we want to follow in the footsteps of the Son of God, we have to consciously move down.”

Consciously, on purpose, imitating the One Who stooped so low for us. I’m becoming more and more convinced that I don’t have to be afraid to do the same. How about you?

Living on the Fringes

While watching a documentary on emperor penguins recently, I was amused by the tall tuxedoed mass huddled together for protection from the Antarctic cold. I laughed as they shuffled awkwardly, inching their way from one position to another. But I did feel sorry for the ones on the fringes, their backsides blasted with icy winds as they pressed close to the heat of the pack. It did not look like a fun place to be, even for a penguin.

The Bible draws its lessons from a much warmer climate and talks considerably more of sheep than penguins, but the principle is the same. The edge of a flock is not always a fun place to be. Those rams and lambs and ewes are in a more vulnerable position. They’re easier prey for the wolf pack. They more easily succumb to distraction and end up wandering off. They’re more likely to nibble that trail of deceptively green grass that leads away from the safety of the shepherd and the flock. And for them, the shepherd’s warning call is more distant than the rebellious suggestions of a nearby flockmate.

Similarly, when we live on the fringes of the Christian life, what blessings we miss out on. We’re so much less likely to sense the Shepherd’s nearness, enjoy His companionship, receive His affectionate caress, benefit from His rod of correction, or hear Him tenderly whisper our name (although we may hear Him shout it in warning!).

I guess in the case of penguins, somebody has got to mill about the edges, sacrificially taking the icy blast for the sake of the pack. And as for sheep, it’s physically impossible for them all to be in the inner circle. But when it comes to following Christ, the opposite is true: we can all press just as close as we want to the warmth of His love, without ever crowding anyone else out.

We can all say with the Psalmist: “But as for me, it is good to be near God” (Ps. 73:28 NIV). As far away from the fringes as possible!

My Day to Watch Him

“Am I my brother’s keeper?”

We’ve heard the story dozens of times, each time recoiling at Cain’s hardhearted, self-justifying reply when asked by God, “Where is Abel your brother?”

Cain knew exactly where Abel lay lifeless, and he knew why. And the best defense he could muster was, “Is he my responsibility? Is it my day to watch him? He’s his own person; he’s got to watch out for himself.”

That attitude didn’t even get a response from God. God skipped right to the heart of the matter, “What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood is crying to me from the ground…” (Gen. 4:10 Amp).

Aren’t we tempted to offer the same irrelevant excuse to God (on a more spiritual level, of course)? “Am I my brother’s keeper? Surely You can’t mean that I must refrain from doing what I feel free to do, just because it confuses and harms him? Is it up to me to shore up his shaky faith? Must I always play by his over-sensitive conscience? Does he get to set the parameters of my conduct? “

It’s really about self-indulgence, I think, most of the time. We say it’s about maintaining Christian freedom and resisting legalism, but isn’t it usually annoyance at being denied our pleasures? Isn’t it more like, “I give up enough for you, Lord… must I also give this up just for a fellow human being?”

“Whatever you do for one of the least, you do for Me.” So maybe if we recognized our “weaker” brother (and who of us is not the weaker brother in some area?) as Christ Himself, we would find it easier to say,

“My brother [or sister] is my responsibility. Today is my day to watch him. He’s part of my very own Body, the Body of Christ. And if this will offend him, it will offend Christ.

“I am my brother’s keeper. “

Giving My Life to Christ

“I am all things to all men that I may win some.”

I was struck Sunday by how very intentional Paul was… how completely he sacrificed his own way of doing things, day after day after day, in order to connect with those around him.

The whole idea of sacrificing our way of living is one we have difficulty grasping. We tend, I think, to understand that we are sinners in need of a Savior. We get the concept of confessing sin and receiving forgiveness, of needing to make a clean break with wrongdoing, of committing to going to church and praying and reading the Word, etc.

But the idea of literally “giving our life to Christ” – have we thought that through? Do we realize that it means (or should mean) more than giving him our past to forgive, and our future to secure… it means giving the here and now, the rest of our days on earth. It means that when I wake up in the morning the day is not mine to plan and the agenda is not mine to set. It’s not my life anymore – it’s His. I’ve exchanged what was mine for eternal life with Him (a pretty good deal on my part!)

If I have truly given my life to Christ, then today is his day to do with as He wishes. And so is tomorrow and the next day; so is next year, and the next, because I’ve given my life to Him – it is not my own any more.

If we could get our minds around that, and commit our wills to that, how different daily life would be! How much more easily and willingly we could adjust ourselves, as Christ would, to those around us. How much more freely we could embrace change; how much more courageously we could face down our fears in the power of the Spirit.

I don’t think we can expect any kudos from the world for living this way, but it gets rave reviews from Christ. Because finally He gets our hands and our feet and our minds and our hearts and our days… as instruments through which He can work to win lost men and women to Himself.

All things to all people… nothing in ourselves. It sounds like foolishness to the world, like we’re throwing away our only chance to make something of ourselves. But to God it sounds like the wisest choice we can make, and He’ll make sure it’s worth our while.

Be All There

The gloriosa daisies growing beside my front porch some years ago were stunning – tall, with large multi-colored daisy-faces of orange, brown and yellow. Visitors commented on them and relatives carted some of the perennials home to their own gardens.

But there was a problem with those flowers - we never knew exactly where they were going to come up! By the next year they had jumped a little to the left of where they had been planted, or even invaded the middle of a nearby flower grouping.

It didn’t matter so much to me that the daisies couldn’t be counted on to reappear in the same spot as before, but someone who was looking for true order and harmony in their landscaping design would find their plans continually rearranged!

I once heard Twila Paris, contemporary Christian singer/songwriter, emphasize a familiar piece of advice: “Bloom exactly where you are planted.”

Sometimes it’s so hard to do, isn’t it? It’s exciting and showy to jump around and invade others’ turf and send shoots out toward greener grass… in occupations and relationships and interests and, yes, sometimes even in marriage and singleness. Sunday’s sermon addressed 1 Cor. 7: 8-16, and I’d like to add verse 17:

“And don’t be wishing you were someplace else or with someone else. Where you are right now is God’s place for you. Live and obey and love and believe right there. God, not your marital status, defines your life” (The Message).

As missionary martyr Jim Elliot once said, "Wherever you are, be all there." God is not looking for restless roots and wandering thought-tendrils and feelings that are blown off-course by the slightest breeze. He’s looking for us in exactly the place He planted us, today, and the next season, and the next.

Can we trust Him to design the landscape of our lives, to do any transplanting that needs done, and to tend to every detail of our situation? Can we hold our position without whining or pining, convinced that He’s put us exactly where our bloom matters most?

I think a little more faith in the Gardener would make us more contented plants, settle us more firmly into the soil, and help us to “live and obey and love and believe” exactly where He’s planted us.

For Better or Best

I think one of the most powerful arguments for us Christian couples to work at our marriages is that marriage is, as Pastor Rick said Sunday, a sort of object lesson, a “pretaste” of our relationship as a church (the Bride) to Jesus Christ (the Bridegroom).

In For Better or Best, author Gary Smalley gives some marital advice that I will adapt for this blog. These are ways that couples can grow and stay close to each other. And don’t stop reading, singles, because there’s an application for you, too:

1. Share common experiences together. Don’t make a habit of going separate ways; plan times of togetherness.
2. Attack and conquer tragedies as a couple, not as individuals. Deal with hard times as a team.
3. Make important decisions together. The Smalley’s history of arguing was finally broken when they purposed “never to make final decisions on matters that affected both of us unless we both agreed.”
4. Develop a sense of humor. Lighten up.
5. Understand each other’s personality traits. Each of us have strengths and weaknesses, and understanding our spouse’s (and our own) can help us appreciate how we complement each other, and can also help us bear more patiently with how and why we clash!

And all of us, whether married or single, can apply these points to our relationship with Jesus. Are we going for better or for best in our life with Him?

Do Jesus and I share common experiences together? Or do I pull away in certain areas of my life, and live independently of Christ?
Do we attack and conquer tragedies together, or do I invent my own ways of coping, and adopt solutions without consulting Him?
Do we make important decisions together, with me recognizing Him as not only Bridegroom, but Lord?
Is there joy in our life together? Or has everything gotten very serious? No matter the outward circumstances, can I - to some degree at least - “be of good cheer, because He has overcome the world”?
Do I understand, or try to understand, Jesus’ perspective, His likes and dislikes? Do I appreciate His complete understanding of me? Does it give me confidence to trust His leading and stay close to Him?

Good questions for spouses… and for all believers, married or not.

Offering Leftovers

There they sat, in clear plastic storage containers with blue lids… five-day-old leftovers.

You had sniffed the meat to make sure it wasn’t spoiled. Added a fresh quarter-cup of Italian dressing to the pasta salad to bring back the zing. And stirred the watery pool that had collected on the pudding. Then you called,

“Dinner’s ready!”

So they all came and they all ate. And it was okay, maybe, for middle-of-the-week must-goes, or just-before-groceries-and-the-cupboards-are-bare. But for the Sunday meal with special guests? For dinner with the boss and his wife? For a farewell send-off party or the celebration of a special accomplishment?

Leftovers aren’t for special times or special people. They’re what’s left over from times that we did consider special, from people we did really want to honor.

So it’s worth wondering, “Who do I put out the best china for in my life? Who gets the royal treatment, the choicest cut, the freshest fare? Me? The employer? The family? The house? The bank account? The television? ...

“God?”

Few of us really intend to insult God by giving Him the leftovers of our time and energy and devotion, fitting Him in when a gnawing sense of obligation overtakes us. Few of us realize that we approach quiet time with Him like we’ve just raided the fridge… that we reconstitute the same phrases we’ve used for years, and set out our prayers in little microwaveable dishes… We just wonder why He doesn’t seem too excited about what we’ve placed before Him.

What’s exciting about getting us when we’re dead-tired and our concentration’s shot? Getting our resources only after they’ve been picked over by everyone and everything that wants a piece of us? What’s so exciting about being offered leftovers?

We need reminded that God deserves better, but He’s not going to demand it. It’s up to us to offer our best, our firstfruits, our all. To spread it all out in a lavish buffet and say to God, “You are the One I want to honor, above everyone and everything else. Here is the best that I have.

“Come and dine.”

What Can I Afford?

It’s hard for many people today to relate to their grandparent’s stories – how difficult it was during the Great Depression, the ingenious ways they came up with to earn a little money, how they made use of everything and threw almost nothing away (and, of course, how far they had to walk to the school bus :).

I especially notice it in the music… Old-time gospel songs, even songs from slavery days, were penned and sung by people going through hard times and full of the longing for better days. Songs like, “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” “Everybody Will Be Happy Over There,” “It Will Be Worth It All.” They celebrated the time when all wrongs will be made right, and rejoiced that one day everyone will finally have enough of all they want and need, and abundantly more beside. And because of that confidence, they could afford to wait.

Today there are a few notable songs about heaven, but mostly we sing about loving God and living for Him here and now. Maybe we have it comfortable enough here that we don’t think of there that much… or maybe it seems wrong to serve God now for what we’re going to get out of it in the future.

But even Christ endured the cross and despised its shame for the joy set before him (Heb. 12:2), so I think it’s okay to find strength for today by looking ahead to better times. Particularly when, like the Corinthians, we’re struggling with situations where we’re being taken advantage of, when we want to retaliate, when in the eyes of the world we have every “right” to assert our rights to our personal benefit. That’s the time to look ahead and to ask ourselves,

”What can I afford here?” Can I afford to lose a brother or sister in Christ? Can I afford to smear the church’s name? Can I afford to disappoint Christ and to disillusion watching unbelievers? Can I really afford to win my rights in this case?

A. W. Tozer used to say, “We will have all eternity to be happy. We can afford to wait.” We can endure the injustice or the inequality or the just plain unfairness of it all – for the joy set before us. We can let somebody else get there first, have the bigger piece, even take some of ours – for the joy set before us.

We can afford to wait .

P.S. To enjoy some of those good ole gospel songs, come to FAC's Gospel Celebration III on June 1!

Caring for the Body

I guess one thing that’s very obvious from this sermon series in 1 Corinthians, is that sometimes the Body of Christ doesn’t look like the Body of Christ. Doesn’t act like it. And doesn’t even seem to care.

Maybe it’s a little like the way we handle our own bodies… taking them for granted, misusing them, expecting too much - or asking nothing of them, instead pacifying their every whim until they’re soft and flabby. We forget that we need that heart for the duration of life here on earth. And life’s a challenge without a good set of lungs, a strong set of knees, a sharp pair of eyes. In fact, not a whole lot is easily expendable… Oh, well, thumb, a little gangrene won’t kill you… Yes, that looks risky, but what’s a broken rib or two?

Have we ever done that with a brother or sister in Christ? Taken them for granted, feeling no responsibility for their spiritual health and vitality? When we see the light go out of their eyes and the spring out of their step, do we feel any sense of connection, any sense that we have lost something, too? When we see them sin, do we feel somehow tainted, too?

There should be no division in the body, but… its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it (1 Cor. 12:25-26 NIV).

That means that if any part wonders, Am I my brother’s keeper?, the answer is, “Yes.” Christ’s blood flows through all of us. We are connected. So in a Christlike manner, lets live like it.

Spiritual Fathers

Over my life I’ve had a couple “spiritual fathers,” like Pastor Rick talked about Sunday. I don’t expect to have any more, because I think that at some point a child has to grow up and hopefully begin “parenting” the next generation… but I like to think about the contribution these people made to my walk with the Lord.

They were godly people, filled with a kind of persistent love that kept modeling the same things over and over, as though they were trying to teach me a new language, repeating the phrase over and over until the new sounds were uttered with the proper pronunciation and inflection, and then stored in my enlarging vocabulary.

They were particularly strong in areas I was weak, which is, I think, why God made them my spiritual fathers. They modeled exactly what I needed to see – what I wished I was like but didn’t see how that could happen. They made their lives and their hearts like “open books,” as Paul did with the church at Corinth, so I could see love and faith and hope lived-out in the ordinary days.

And God gave them authority in my life, like the apostle Paul had with the Corinthian church. They could speak His words into my life that other people couldn’t - I wouldn’t have paid much attention. But when these “fathers” talked, I listened (most of the time). Thankfully, God gave me persistent fathers, who kept at it until I finally got it.

They also had pretty good insight into what was making me tick and what was keeping me from ticking. The Holy Spirit had a lot to do with that, I’m sure. I soon learned that because generally they were right and I needed what they had to say, I couldn’t just shut them out even when I wanted to. At least not for long.

Have you had any spiritual fathers in your life? Even though it’s not quite Father’s Day, these special people are to be celebrated! Even just with a “thank-you” to God for giving them to you. If they’re still around, still “fathering,” you could let them know how much they’re appreciated.

And if they’re not, maybe you could express to God your own willingness to be molded into a spiritual father (or mother or brother or sister) to help somebody in their Christian walk. That sort of an appointment has to come from God, but I’m thinking that there’s probably a shortage of people who can be trusted to say, “Follow me as I follow Christ.”

So if you’ve got the courage, go for it.