That’s God!

“Did you ever think, That’s God eating my soup?” Max Lucado asks Mary in his book God Came Near.

It’s an awesome question… and not for Mary alone. Although we tend to think of Mary’s experience as unique (she rubbed shoulders with the Creator, the Almighty, the I AM!), it’s our experience, too, as certainly as it was hers. It’s just that He is within as Spirit, and therefore less obvious. He’s easy to overlook, easy to neglect, even easy to conveniently forget…

Yet Jesus told His disciples, just before He left them,“If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching. My Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him” (John 14:23 NIV). And I can say,

That’s God living under my roof.

That’s God watching my television.

That’s God riding in my car.

What’s more, Jesus says to each of us, “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me” (Rev. 3:20 NIV). In a spiritual sense, then:

That’s God sitting at my heart-table.

That’s God breaking the Word of Life to me.

That’s God feasting with me

Talking with me

Laughing with me.

To be honest, I don’t think I’d want to trade places with Mary. She had Jesus at her table; I have Him in my heart. She fed Him; He feeds me. She watched Him walk off toward Jerusalem; He has come to me to stay. But I do want to share her response to the Christ - to treasure up all these things and ponder them in my heart,

until I begin to see as clearly as if the Christ-child played in my doorway…

That’s God eating my soup.

How Far?

“The journey from heaven to earth is the longest journey anyone has ever taken,” Pastor Rick said in his sermon on Sunday. Have you ever tried to grasp just how far Jesus had to come?

How many miles is it, after all, from the throneroom of heaven to a cave in Bethlehem? From total sovereignty to absolute dependence? From incredible glory to almost complete obscurity? From intimate fellowship with the Father and the Son to the peculiar barriers of flesh - an infant mind that cannot even comprehend its surroundings, eyes that cannot focus, lips that cannot yet form words?

How long is the journey from unending perfection to the decay of this sordid earth? From dazzling light and splendor to a globe that spends half its time in darkness? From complete wholeness and sufficiency to poverty and hunger? From omnipotent power to weakness and weariness? From myriads of angels in instant attendance to a mom and dad trying their imperfect best to understand the incoherent expressions of their infant Son?

How far, how really, really far, is it from superintending the creation of the universe to taking the form of the created being? From infinite knowledge to the barely conscious mind of an infant? From answering to the Father to taking orders from a carpenter and his wife?

How far did Jesus come, when He allowed Himself to be contracted from the infinite corners of His existence, into a microscopic embryo inside of Mary… utterly oblivious to existence, completely dependent on His Father and those entrusted with His care?

How far He came… for me and you! Truly He “made Himself nothing” for our sakes, joining us here so that we can someday join Him in all that He left. Standing beside the manger this Christmas season, we can only shake our heads in amazement, and whisper the words of the psalmist David,

Surely, You stooped down to make us great.* And we are eternally grateful.

*Psalm 18:35b NIV

A Smile for Eeyore

I hung up my favorite Christmas decoration last week. I’d forgotten about him, so I smiled when I pulled back the tissue paper and there lay Eeyore, hand-stitched onto a cheerful Christmas stocking made by my mom last year.

Are you familiar with Eeyore , the old grey donkey and pal of Winnie-the-Pooh in the Hundred Acre Wood? If you are, you might wonder why I said the stocking was cheerful. Poor gloomy Eeyore is stuck on looking on the dark side of things, often mourning what’s been lost (his tail), or forgotten (his birthday). Unlike the irrepressible Tigger, Eeyore’s most exuberant display of excitement is a flat, almost cynical “Hooray. How wonderful.”

Maybe you’re a bouncy free spirit like Tigger, or a fearful soul like Piglet… but of all of A.A. Milne’s characters, I’ve resonated most with Eeyore. By nature – the old, not the new - what an unnecessary weight I carried around. What a sad old heart beat inside. Like him, I often celebrated my blessings while waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But this stocking is cheerful, genuinely cheerful. Eeyore’s ears are droopy as ever, but there’s a festive hat on his head and a genuine smile on his face. And if you follow his gaze, you see the reason for that smile – a little tree topped with a large, bright yellow Christmas star.

Eeyore and I have both found that by looking at the reason for Christmas, and for life, we don’t have to operate by the old nature anymore. We don’t have to exude gloom or cynicism or despair or negativity. The secret lies in what we’re looking at.

If Eeyore ever becomes distracted and decides to trot off my Christmas stocking, he’ll likely trot right back to his old gloomy point of view. The same goes for me, too. So I’d best hold my position, with my eyes fixed on Jesus, convinced that no matter what else is happening in my Hundred Acre Woods, Christmas is to be celebrated… Life is to be celebrated… because of Jesus.

Hooray!

How really, really wonderful!



(www.disneyclips.com)

The Spirit of the Age

My boys used to have a football video game complete with “trash talk” – competitive taunts the players hurled at each other as they butted helmets or stiff-armed opponents: “That’s MY turf!”… “You goin’ DOWN, man!”…

I don’t suppose you or I have ever talked that way to people in our path… but sometimes our attitude on the inside isn’t much better. Did you catch it Sunday? “The spirit of the age is the advancement of self – concentrating on my personal happiness and on meeting my needs.” That spirit, though, is dead wrong: it sends us running for the opposite end zone, directly away from happiness.

C&MA founder A.B. Simpson, who was a keen observer of both God and men, said “Many of our griefs and heartbreaks spring from the purest selfishness, wounded pride, ambition, self-love, or the loss of something which we should not have called our own. The death of self blots out a universe of wretchedness and brings a heaven of joy.”

Simpson developed these thoughts in a curious little booklet titled “31 KINGS or Victory over Self” (available at rarechrisianbooks.com). The title is taken from the number of rulers Joshua and the children of Israel had to defeat in order to possess Canaanland west of the Jordan. Simpson lists 31 self-sins (the Self Dynasty) that must be overcome - some obvious, like self-glorifying and self-importance; others more subtle, such as self-consciousness and selfish sorrow.

They all fit right in with the spirit of the age… the spirit that promises so much but delivers so little, the spirit we are not to be conformed to, but transformed from: “[Christ] died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves, but for him who died for them and was raised again” (2 Cor. 5:15 NIV).

So are we transformed? When we believers say we have “given our life to Christ”… have we? Individualism and independence are so ingrained in us that it is hard to truly give up our life and our right to our own way, to literally trade the rest of our days and dreams for Someone else’s agenda.

But if we just keep saying yes to Him and allowing His Spirit to claim all our territory, spiritual transformation will eventually bring us to this: everything we were and ever would be on our own is dead, gone, a thing of the past. The final whistle has been blown; that game is over. The life we now live is Christ’s life through us …

…until on a heavenly turf our life is returned to us – full, perfect, and unending.

God-in-a-Minute

It sounds like a convenience food, doesn’t it? Like something you can pick up at the supermarket in aisle 17, next to the minute rice and the instant mashed potatoes. This past Sunday, I appreciated Pastor Keith’s emphasis on spending time with God. While there’s a place for fast food and a place for brief devotionals and short prayers, we need to understand something:

When we pick up the box of instant potatoes, we’ve decided that the nearly half-hour required to make homemade mashed potatoes can be better spent elsewhere. And when we opt for the short form of communication with God, we’ve again said that the time is better spent elsewhere.

Both decisions could be the right ones, under certain circumstances. But we could take a timely object lesson from the Mayflower pilgrims. That autumn feast in 1621 was long on preparation, from lessons in planting to prayers in waiting to celebration in harvest. It seems safe to say that at that first feast, NOTHING was instant. No Thanksgiving-in-a-bag. No meal-in-a-minute. So it’s appropriate that the meal you’ll eat this Thursday won’t showcase quick-order burgers and fries either.

Like the Thanksgiving feast we’ll enjoy this week, God Himself has prepared a spiritual banquet, and spared no time and expense in doing it. He calls us every day to a table loaded with promises and blessings. He sits at the head of the table, waiting for us to join Him… but too often He watches us race past the table, grabbing a leg-of-promise to carry off into our busy day. What’s that He’s saying as we rush past our empty chair?

“I am the Lord your God, who brought you up out of Egypt. Open wide your mouth and I will fill it… If you would but listen to me, you would be fed with the finest of wheat; with honey from the rock I would satisfy you” (from Ps. 81:10-16 NIV).

This week, let’s enjoy a feast for the soul as well as for the stomach. Let’s sit down with God in prayer and worship and fellowship, go for that stuffed-to-the-gills feeling of utter contentment in the spirit as well as the stomach... and accept His invitation to keep coming back to the table every day!

The Nearest Exit

“God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it” (1 Cor. 10:13 NIV, emphasis added).

As I sat in the sanctuary Sunday and heard these words, my eyes were drawn to the EXIT sign above the platform doors. I thought about how every tempting situation has one of those EXIT signs somewhere – a way of escape. (How hard it is to remember that in the time of temptation!)

And I couldn’t help but recall, too, the story made popular many years ago by Wendell “Wendy” Bagwell, a Christian singer and comedian, southern-style.

It seems he was once the guest of a congregation which, after the concert, proceeded to bring out a half-dozen rattlesnakes to handle as evidence of their faith. Apparently in their maneuvers with the serpents, they blocked the entrance door of the church. Wendy was more than a little nervous at that point, and asked someone nearby where the back door was. “They don’t have a back door,” he was told.

To which he replied, “Where do you reckon they want one?”

We're in Wendy's shoes more often than we realize. The Bible calls Satan a serpent. A tempter. Temptation is a sort of being "shut up in a room with him," a situation that sometimes becomes more drawn-out and dangerous than necessary. Maybe we're not nervous enough to have the sense to leave, or we feel that we haven’t conquered temptation unless we can be near it without succumbing, so we “keep the liquor in the house.” We sidle up to the snake.

Part of the battle is knowing when to run. We don't flee when when Satan comes to attack our faith or hinder our progress or hamper our witness or bury us under a landslide of discouragement or fear. That's the time to stand firm (James 4:7 – notice that Satan is the one who will be doing the fleeing!). But in the time of temptation, there’s no need to stick around and court disaster. God has given us a will and a pair of feet –

We don’t even have to create our own back door.

Sizing Up Sin

"He who has been forgiven much loves much” (Luke 7:47).

I’ve been thinking about this line from Sunday’s sermon, about what it means for me. Of course I came to Christ as a sinner - but not a particularly remarkable one, as we think of sinners. I did not come as a serial killer or a Mafia member or a former Nazi prison guard, and I’d never contemplated becoming a suicide bomber. I’m guessing you might not fall into any of those categories, either. Does that mean we can’t love Jesus as much as those who have been forgiven for grandiose crimes?

I see that Jesus spoke those words to Simon the Pharisee, at whose home he was dining. Simon had objected when a sinful woman anointed Jesus feet, but Jesus rebuked him:

“You didn’t give me water for my feet, but she has washed them with her tears. You didn’t anoint my head but she anointed my feet with costly perfume. She has been forgiven much, and she loves much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little.”

I don’t know if Simon got the message that day. But maybe the light began to dawn, some months later, when a cross stood against a darkened sky and Jesus groaned, “Father, forgive them for they don’t know what they are doing,” and a nearby centurion breathed in awe, “Surely this was the Son of God.”

Because it’s Jesus’ death that puts sin into proportion, isn’t it? At the foot of the cross, I see that no matter how little – or much – wrong I have done, Jesus had to die. Just my being born made it necessary for Him to die, because my innate, inherited sinful nature needed atoned for, before I ever told a lie or threw a tantrum or kicked the cat. Simon’s did, too. If he was forgiven little, it wasn’t because of the size of his sin, but because he hadn’t asked for forgiveness.

I think that one good way to experience God’s grace at the gut-level is to just sit down at the foot of the cross awhile. To take the time to consider what it cost Jesus and where I would be without His self-sacrifice. To realize that my sin was evil enough to bring the Lord of Glory to earth, sharp enough to pierce and scar Him, heavy enough to make Him gasp, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Big enough to make me love Him much, for He has forgiven me so much.