Faith, Not Fear

I grew up on southern gospel music, in the day when a song about Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego proclaimed in lively tones, “They wouldn’t bend, they wouldn’t bow, they wouldn’t burn!”

As Pastor Mark pointed out, though, the outcome could have been different. They entered the fire with no “fire insurance” to guarantee their protection. They had God, who guarantees His Presence and His sufficiency, who promises to bring good out of everything… but doesn’t promise to conform to our idea of deliverance. That’s why 18 theology (Dan. 3:18) requires faith, and stretches even that! It says “But if not… I still will not bow.”

Think about bowing. When you bow, your head is lowered. Your shoulders droop. Your spine bends. Your eyes drop to the ground. You are waving the white flag before something or someone looming above you, holding power over you.

Nebuchadnezzar is long gone. But maybe your Nebuchadnezzar is another person - or a chaotic situation, an ongoing struggle, a memory, an illness, a failure or sin, a fear… If you identify such a tyrant in your life today, look at the position of your heart. Are you standing or bowing before it? Intimidated or unmoved? Has your gaze dropped from the heavens to the ground in front of you? Has the strength gone out of your spine?

18 theology says God is the only One deserving of the bent knee. The only One worthy of our surrender and worship. God’s Word urges us:

“Do not fear what [the people] fear, and do not dread it. The Lord Almighty is the one you are to regard as holy, he is the one you are to fear, he is the one you are to dread, and he will be a sanctuary” (Is. 8:12-14 NIV),

“Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then…” (Eph. 6:13-14 NIV). With a stiff backbone. With a clear and steady gaze. With an unbent knee and unbowed heart.

Worshipping God alone.

The Message of the Mirror

Christian wipes the fog from the bathroom mirror and peers anxiously at the face before him. It’s scowling. He hates to see that. Why can’t people around him be more positive? Inspecting further, he notes with alarm that an enormous zit of pride has swelled up from his heart – definitely needs attention. And those hurt feelings nearby can’t be ignored much longer- already they’re cracked and bleeding.

Definitely a work in progress, he concludes, turning away from the mirror. Must deal with it all somehow, sometime. The unappealing image fades quicker than the condensation on the mirror as Christian grabs his car keys and heads into the day. He’s already oblivious to the image of Christ he’s presenting. He’s procrastinating – again – the life improvements that need to be made, and hurting himself and the Kingdom and His Lord.

His brother Believer wipes the fog from his bathroom mirror and peers anxiously at the face before him. It’s hard to believe, but if what the Word told him is true, he’s looking at the image of God. Not perfect, mind you, but forgiven of sin and continually being remade in Christ’s likeness, going from strength to strength, and glory to glory (Ps. 84:7, 2 Cor. 3:18). He’s looking at one of the King’s own children. An heir to all that is Christ’s. Eternally saved, incredibly rich, awesomely privileged!

Wow, I need a pinch to convince myself it’s real, he thinks as he turns away from the mirror. Must spend some time trying to take that all in. But the appealing image fades faster than the condensation on the mirror as Believer grabs his car keys and heads into the day. He goes away forgetting. And so he has no defense against the Accuser who belittles him and the doubts that haunt him and the flaws and failures that keep cropping up. As the day wears on, he feels increasingly defeated and alone. And no one around him glimpses the loving, life-transforming God in whose image Believer is made.

Two men; two mirrors. Both forgot what they saw there, forgot the flaws that needed tended and the glorious reality of His image. And so both missed personal blessing, opportunity to please the Father, and effective Kingdom service.

Are we who we say we are? Spending time with Christ and His word offers us an honest, Spirit-guided look at ourselves. We see flaws that are humbling; we also see Christ’s transforming love. Things that need addressed and things that need celebrated. But we’ve got to act on what we see. What do we do with what He shows us? Do we live in His image 24/7, remembering who and Whose we are? Do we let Him deal with the flaws and continually remake us into His likeness?

“If you keep looking steadily into God’s perfect law – the law that sets you free – and if you do what it says and don’t forget what you heard, then God will bless you for doing it” (James 1:25 NLT).

The Hershey Prayer

Christmas candies, heaped high in an elegant bowl under crackling cellophane, gleamed in their silver and copper wrappers. This gift from our friends looked rich… in every way.

The taste-testing began. Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, butternut… but what were those two-toned delicacies? Dave took a bite.

“Peanut butter and chocolate,” he reported. “Like a Reece Cup.”

Reece Cup! Nature’s most nearly perfect food! Epicurean bliss in a brown and orange wrapper! The wedding of two flavors that were always meant to be together!

But not to be duplicated, my own taste-testing verified. Our Christmas candies were fancy-schmancy, but there was no imitating the real thing.

The first two sermons we’ve heard this New Year, taken together, also offer a winning combination. An unbeatable, inimitable marriage of ingredients and flavors: prayer and revolution.

But step aside, Hershey. This specialty can only be manufactured by God – and us. That’s the only combination that can turn out this treat. Prayer is the chocolaty exterior; hidden within are the changes we want to see happen, the flavor we crave in our lives, the internal revolution only God can concoct.

So I challenge you, at the top of the year, to combine the two flavors in a tangible way. Write a prayer to be prayed daily in 2011.

First, sit down with the Lord and talk together about His desires, your desires, His heart, your fears, etc. Then write a prayer – not too long – that expresses the gratitude you often unthinkingly withhold and the praise you forget to express. And deep within the heart of that prayer, ask for help in your areas of weakness, guidance in your lifestyle and decisions… and the specific change God wants to bring about in your mind and heart.

Pray that prayer every day.

I did this at the beginning of 2010, and I’m still not ready to lay that prayer aside. Maybe I’ll just update it. For it’s a good feeling to pray for the things God wants. It’s invigorating to pray for life-change, and to continually re-affirm our cooperation with the Revolutionary who can bring that about. It’s powerful spiritual exercise to pray persistently in the same direction for a whole year. And it’s faith-building to see change happen from the inside out.

Prayer and revolution. A winning combination, a marriage made in heaven, a spiritual delight. Enjoy… all year long!

Best Job in the World

To the astonishment of many of us, there are people in this world who do not want to retire. Ever.

Some have tried it and soon scurried back to their former place of employment, begging to be reinstated. Others have received the golden handshake, enjoyed a few weeks in the sun, then turned to part-time employment. Why in the world, we scratch our heads, would someone work when they can play? Our industrious friends' answers include:

I have a passion for what I'm doing.
I crave the interaction with people.
I have the greatest co-workers - couldn't find a better bunch anywhere.
I love doing something that makes a difference.
I have a reason to get up in the morning.
I have the best job in the world...what ever possessed me to leave it anyway?

Of course, these people are in the minority. But they prove that "work" can be positive, invigorating, compelling - when it gets results, when there is great reward for the labor invested, when we love the working conditions and companions.

By Webster's definition, "work" involves physical or mental effort, purposeful activity, doing/moving/making something. So prayer is work, yes. And like every job, it has its tedious moments, its discouraging seasons. So would we want to retire from it? Live the rest of our lives released from the discipline of prayer? Many of us would secretly say "Yes," perhaps because we've never felt that close to our co-workers, Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit, anyway. We've never felt we had much influence with the Father, or that He loves to talk with us. We haven't understood the importance of what we do, haven't realized our potential to make a difference through prayer. So there's been no passion for the job, no expectation that makes us want to get out of bed in the morning and hurry to our place of prayer.

But think about it... At what other job does the Employer always give us His full attention? Does the Management Team always join in our petitions, even perfecting their presentation? Where else can we submit a "work order" in PA and get instant results in Russia or Poland or Uruguay or the DR? Where else do we operate without a budget because we have unlimited resources to draw from? At what other job can we share an assignment ("Please pray for my child") with fellow pray-ers, and know they will eagerly jump in to help bear the load?

So thanks, Pastor Dave, for reminding us that prayer is a great work, that persistence pays all out of proportion to our efforts. That the more we understand our Employer and our benefits and the potential of the work, the more determined we will be: We don't want to exercise the retirement option; we don't even want to take a vacation. We'll keep praying as long as we have breath.

It's the best job in the world.

The Spirit of Things Yet to Come

I would like to get hold of that Ghost of Christmas Past.

Take me back there, I would implore, when the bell tolls one. For that hour, let me be a child again. Let me burst into the house, throw down my schoolbooks, and begin Christmas vacation with a fistful of those cookies I didn’t have to bake. Let the decorations magically appear, as it seems they did then; let the present pile up under the tree at an exhilarating rate without any shopping required on my part. Let me once again sit shivering in the car with my sisters, watching the letters of the store sign flash on and off, Z-A-Y-R-E (were we shivering because it was cold, or because our parents were inside doing some serious purchasing ?). All expectancy and little effort, that was Christmas Past. It’s certainly not Christmas Present!

In fact, expectancy of any kind seems to be under attack. Our material possessions fail (note the string of lights that went dark on that pre-lit tree). Our bodies wear out (note the shortness of breath as you dragged home the perfect Fraser Fir to replace it). Our hearts grow weary (so you collapsed in a nearby chair and dreamed of that glowing and carefree Christmas Past).

Spiritually, too, we can lose our awe of God and passionate devotion to Him. As Gordon Jensen expressed in his song, “Bring Back the New Again,” we plead to be restored to our former “best” condition:

How did I miss the goal?
When did I lose the glow?
And where did the wonder go?
Bring back the new again.

But I heard the choir Sunday, and I sang with them that powerful song, “Jesus Saves”:

Freedom's calling, chains are falling,
Hope is dawning bright and true;
Day is breaking, night is quaking,
God is making all things new…

The apostle John confirmed this: “Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away… I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God… He who was seated on the throne said, ‘I am making everything new!” (Rev. 21:1-5 NIV).

In the midst of all the deterioration and decay around us, God is making all things new. Everything we give Him, He’s transforming, whether old, broken-down dreams or jaded hearts or worn-out bodies. No temporary fix, not even a restoration job. New. A new body. A new reality. A new life. That’s what lies ahead for you and me.

In the light of that truth, forget the Ghost of Christmas Past. I want to kneel instead before the Lord of Christmas Future. To open my heart – with expectancy - to the Spirit of Things Yet to Come. To worship the God Who is making all things new.

Fire in the Inn!

If only the Christmas innkeeper could have heard Sunday’s sermon. But he hadn’t, and Mary and Joseph came too late. The rocks had already been placed in the jar, the sand sifted in around them, the water poured into the air pockets. One by one, he had dropped his guests into empty beds, stuffed his food and bedding into and around them, then poured his effort and energy into the remaining space.

The innkeeper’s jar was full. There was no room in the inn. Not for even one more rock. Not for even the Rock.

But what could he have done, after all? Even if he had known who Jesus was, the innkeeper had a predicament. Was he expected to kick someone out of their promised room? Give up his own bed?

Maybe… a fire drill? What if he had run into the inn and shouted, “Quick, everybody out! Move it, move it! Out! Out!” Then, with flustered guests still muttering and making for the door, he could have ushered Mary and Joseph in first, made sure his own family had lodging, and afterward fitted the remaining guests in - or as many as possible. He might have been the cause of some head-shaking and grumbling, or, worse, the target of well-aimed punch or a vengeful lawsuit… but what price can you put on hospitality to the Messiah?

But of course the innkeeper didn’t do that. In his defense, he had never heard the Christmas story. He could hardly know he was refusing the Messiah. But what about us? We’ve heard the story, and we heard Sunday’s sermon. We understand that Jesus is the Rock which must go into the Christmas season first, and everything else must be filled in around Him.

But we have a predicament. We’ve already packed the season with family, traditions, obligations, expectations, shopping, partying, traveling… We’re locked into our pattern of celebration, and it seems impossible to add much of anything – even Jesus - without causing an overflow of protest, a spill of resentment.

But what if we just “emptied the inn” this week? What if we dumped our to-do lists and family traditions and gift-buying expectations and all the contents of the Christmas jar out on the table, and started over? What if we then picked up the Rock upon which our salvation is built, and placed Him in first? Then we could replace the rest of the contents, prayerfully fitting them around our welcome to Jesus, as the Holy Spirit directs us.

It might be surprising how much would still go into the jar… but surely everything won’t fit. And won’t even seem to belong in there any more.

Maybe some things can’t be changed this year; it may be too late for that. But next September, when the world of commerce is starting to make little noises about Christmas, we could pull our jar off the shelf. We could empty its contents and reach for the Rock. We could start the new season a new way.

Others might have a little trouble understanding the change in our celebration of Christmas. But what price can you put on hospitality to the Messiah?

Sing Christmas!

Joseph reaches down for the strap of a heavy shoulder-bag. Hoisting it over his shoulder, he bends again and pulls up a second bag. He slings that one atop the first, and bends yet again. The third bag slaps heavily against the others as he turns to Mary and takes her arm.

Around him swirls music about a Singer and sweet harmony and the Song of the Redeemed, and a choir sings “Let there be Light”… but he just feels like a man stepping out on a long journey under a heavy responsibility: Mary, with Child. Immanuel.

To watchers of FAC’s Christmas musical, this 21st century Mary and Joseph are setting out for Bethlehem. The eyes of the congregation are fastened upon them, choral well-wishers sing them on their way - but we all know that in the end, there is no one to accompany them. It is their journey.

It’s Joseph’s journey, and the weight of responsibility in those bags is even heavier than he yet knows. For it will be up to him to move the Christmas story from Point A (Nazareth) to Point B (Bethlehem ) and, although he doesn’t yet know it, on to C (Egypt) and back to A (Nazareth). He’s got to see them through this journey, oversee a divine birth, meet Kings and shepherds, protect an infant Savior from a murderous monarch, obey angelic orders and divine dreams…

No wonder those bags feel so heavy, Joseph.

But he carries his responsibility anyway (and we should be glad). It’s his glorious burden, his privilege, his song, as the angel says. No one else can sing it for him. He alone can do what God has given him to do, play his part in bringing Light to a shadowed world, sing in sweet harmony of peace on earth, good will to men.

We cannot see what is in the bags of responsibility that lay at our feet today. But we can be sure that no one else is supposed to pick them up for us – they’re ours. We might shrink back, protesting that they’re too heavy, there are too many, someone else is better built to bear them. But they’re our bags, and God is asking us to carry them.

We might be more willing to bear our burdens if we remember two things:

1. Our burdens come with a song. When we stoop to pick them up, that melody will arise behind and around and within us… if we will take the time to listen. It’s the Song of the Redeemed and it arises in sweet harmony with the Redeemer, swells with the power of the Holy Spirit, and swirls with the promise of eternal peace.

2. Our songs matter. Each are meant to move some part of the Redemption Story from Point A to Point B. From darkness to light. From fear to peace.

Sing, then. Sing your song, the song no one else can imitate. Don’t let it fade to a faint hum; belt it out! For it’s a song holy angels cannot sing. A song that brings glory to the Son of the Singer. A song that will reverberate through all eternity.

Sing!

Psalm 23: Rx for Spiritual Sanity

It’s right about now that I’m tempted to go spiritually insane.

Tomorrow, two turkeys go into the oven (that’s right; one for Thanksgiving, the other to slice into take-home packets for those who love turkey sandwiches and more turkey sandwiches). Tomorrow also signals the beginning of the long downhill slide into hunting season, deer processing (a family activity), college breaks, decorating, shopping, Christmas, and New Year. As it all whizzes past with increasing speed, bodies will congregate and voices will multiply and…

And I am tempted to lose touch with Reality. To see only a world of my own making, in which I drive myself to do the impossible until pushed beyond exhaustion (it takes only a little push!). In which I threaten to harm myself with anxiety and unrealistic expectations...

As if there is no Shepherd, or, at best, He is a theoretical figure who came down at that first Christmas, but certainly won’t for this two-thousand-and-tenth-one.

Now, maybe the mayhem of the holidays is no big deal for you. Maybe your spouse handles that, or maybe you genuinely thrive on it. For you, perhaps something different triggers unReality – a stock market plunge, a job market plunge, poor health, poor choices (yours or those around you). Most of us have circumstances in which we allow ourselves moments, even seasons, of spiritual insanity… because they are so logical. So excusable. Who wouldn’t fall apart after hearing my prognosis, seeing my portfolio, opening today’s mail, getting that phone call? Even a saint falls apart every now and then…

Certainly the basis for anxiety and depression and loss of touch with reality sometimes lies outside the spiritual dimension. Medical or psychological problems, may require assistance and prescriptions of a far different sort. Much of the time, however, we've chosen (without realizing it) spiritual insanity: Loss of touch with spiritual reality, denial of the Shepherd, repression of past His faithfulness, suspicion of His intentions… and we experience the painful results.

Well, I can approach the poultry tomorrow morning with dread and loathing… or I can give myself a reality check. There is a Savior. And in the 23rd Psalm he has written us a prescription for spiritual sanity and delivered it to us this past Sunday. The ingredients are serenity (vv. 1-3), sight (v. 3), safety (v.4), significance (v.5), security (vv.5-6), and (Him)self (v.6). The side effects are faith in the shadowed times, fearlessness in the scary ones, and an ability to laugh at the days to come.

Wow. Dare I take these meds? Or will I drag my feet: I don’t need them, they won’t work, they don’t have my name on them...

Some rather important outcomes are at stake here. People are watching. They need to know whether Psalm 23 is just a beautiful recitation for the dying, or a potent prescription for the living.

By God’s grace, let’s show them which it is. Let’s confront our turkeys, or our job applications, or our test results – whatever - with spiritual sanity… because of the Shepherd of Psalm 23.

Choose to Remember

In The Face by Angela Hunt, main character Sarah Sims has a choice to make. She was born with severe facial defects, raised in seclusion as an orphan, and now has opportunity to receive a face transplant and return to “real world.” In addition, she’s offered a drug that would “cut the cord between memory and emotion.” In other words, although she could recall her past, it wouldn’t be traumatic any more; the pain would be erased from it.

But her aunt/psychologist protests such action. “I would give anything to prevent my child from suffering… but who’s to say that a painful experience won’t serve a purpose in my daughter’s life?” she theorizes. “If we could resurrect Anne Frank, would you advocate giving her a drug so she could forget all about the unpleasantness of the Holocaust? All the people whose lives have been changed because of her story – can you honestly believe mankind would be better off if we’d eradicated Anne’s trauma?”

We Christians face Sarah’s choice. In Christ, we’ve been given a new face – made, in fact, into new creatures. Old things have passed away. Everything is new. And so we make haste to eradicate the past. We give up old, harmful habits and lifestyles. We learn to look at life through eyes of faith. We frequent counselors and devour self-help books in attempts to finally rid ourselves of the baggage carried over into our new lives. The goal? Eradicate the pain.

This is good… but maybe, in some ways, we’re too successful at it. We turn our backs on our personal Holocausts and fixate on the present presence of God and assurance of salvation and hope of heaven, and life becomes very, very tolerable… But is it possible to forget too much? To deaden the pain and despair of separation from God until they are just a vaguely unpleasant memory?

Sounds harmless, until we hear a sermon about those who are still lost and headed to an eternity of separation from God. Until we hear about those who have no access to the good news of the gospel. For how will we care, pray, give resources, even set our own “beautiful feet” on those darkened mountains, if we never remember what it was like without Christ? How will we empathize with their pain? How will we love our neighbor as ourselves, if we never again put ourselves in their shoes? If we spend all our time trying to forget the darkness in which they still live?

In The Face, Sarah Sims finally makes her choice. “If I cut the cord between the memory and this pain, will I not lose the warmth that comes from the feeling of being loved? The pain, the love, the loss are all braided together, and I don’t think I will ever be able to separate them.”

If we cut the cord between the memory of our lostness and the rescuing love of Christ, between our helpless despair and His dogged pursuit, will we care as much about those who have no access to Him? Will we long for them to know the joy of redemption? Will we spend ourselves for their sakes? If that’s what Christ is calling us to do, some of us had better choose to remember.

Wrecked by Pride

There are wrecks, and then there are wrecks. There are autos flipped onto their roofs in the median strip, cars jammed under semis, ten-car pileups on icy winter roads.

But probably more often there are the fender-benders, the rear-enders, the side-swiping the guard rail, the taking out of a mailbox, or the loss of control that lands us in the ditch. Nobody’s hurt, we insist, as we climb from the vehicle. Just shook up, but we’ll be fine. No need to be checked over, we’ll just shake it off and send the car to the garage to be fixed by somebody skilled in collision repair. Maybe take a bit of a hit on our insurance premium, but it couldn’t be avoided.

Pride is always involving us in minor accidents, it seems. Like a set of bad brakes, it sends us into the person in front of us. Like a bald tire, it looses our grip on the narrow road as we take life’s curve too wide, too fast. Like a stuck gas pedal, it propels us forward when everything in us warns, Watch out! You need to slow down! Pride is the accident waiting to happen. It’s an often-undetected, even pre-inspected and stickered reason for the pile of minor wrecks we’ve left in the rearview mirror.

It takes many subtle forms: We’ve been defending our rights. We’ve been overworking to achieve (even in the church). We’ve been building an image that people keep scuffing. We’ve been holding out for our own clearly superior ideas, and on and on... And we haven’t stopped to realize that God never even authorized the use of His vehicle for this sort of thing.

“Come to me,” Jesus invited, “all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke fits perfectly, and the burden I give you is light” (Mt. 11:28-30 NLT).

Let me teach you, because I am humble… The heavier we load our frames and the faster we push the limits, the greater the wreck will be. But Jesus offers a perfectly-fitting yoke and a light burden… if we learn humility.

The humility that says I can’t do everything, and I’m not even supposed to. I don’t need to prove anything. I am more concerned about elevating those around me than promoting myself. I’m going to cultivate a thicker skin instead of taking offense at every slight. I’m not going to lobby for all that’s coming to me - I don’t deserve even as much as God’s given me. And I’m not going to ride His bumper; I’m just going to follow Him at His pace.

Pride is tricky. It pushes us into all sorts of bad driving habits, justified as “common practice,” and sets us on a collision course. So the next time you or I feel the yoke of service chafing or the burden of life weighing us down… it might be good to check for pride. A little humility often goes a long way toward lifting the heaviness from our hearts, and realigning the perfectly-crafted yoke we share with Jesus.

On Death and Dismemberment

Every once in a while Jesus comes out with a pronouncement that just tilts your mind up on end, doesn’t He? We heard one of them Sunday: “If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell” (Mt. 5:29-30 NIV).

Yikes. I picture large garbage cans at the doors of the sanctuary, quickly filling with offending body parts as the congregation files out. (Elders wielding long knives? This is a good blog for Halloween weekend). For who of us hasn’t sinned with our eyes or hands or tongue? Who of us would be able to keep from whittling away at our bodies, lopping off first this and then that disobedient part, until we were finally the death of ourselves?

Still, Jesus said it. So partway through Keith’s excellent sermon, I reached over to snag Dave’s Life Application Bible. Their commentary on the gouging/cutting-off verses did not, unsurprisingly, advocate literal mutilation of the body. Because, they point out, even a blind man can lust. Even an armless man can sin. For sin goes deeper than flesh and blood.

Lust – overpowering desire for any object – is a product of our inner man, not our physical body. Therefore, it’s the inner senses that lead us astray , and the inner person who needs dealt with. Scripture calls that inner person “the old man.” Yes, as believers we are new creatures in Christ, that old man has been crucified with Him… but we know that crucifixion is a slow and painful death. That old man hangs on the cross and begs for mercy and just a little more time. And Jesus is saying, “Don’t give him any. Cut off every supply of life. End it with a swift stoke of the sword. Don’t coddle what can send you to hell.”

How can we hasten the death of that old self within? Ultimately, there is only one Executioner able to deal the fatal blow and free us from the bondage of lust… the Holy Spirit. “If by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live” (Rm. 8:13 NIV). But He won’t do it without our cooperation. So we’ve got to show the Spirit that we mean business about this death of self. Here are some practical ways:

1. In our minds: Proclaim a “fast” from that forbidden thought pattern, from thinking about a person you shouldn’t be thinking about, from starting down a mental path that always drags you down. Every time your mind goes that direction, grab it by the neck and turn it elsewhere. Just do it, and do it for three weeks. That kind of starvation has an amazing power to clear the mind and open it to the Spirit’s perspective and help.

2. In our actions: Cut off the “blood supply” to that which is dragging you down. Pull the plug on the computer. Block the caller. Drive a different route to work. Plan new weekend activities to replace the harmful ones. Be as radical as you must, using every physical means available to strangle the temptation, and do it mercilessly, for three weeks. You'll be creating an opening for the Spirit to gain a foothold, and ultimately defeat a stronghold in your life.

3. In our hearts: Take an honest look at your heartstrings. What are they connected to? What is your “treasure”? If you aren’t sure, answer this question: Where does my mind go when it’s free to think about anything it wants to? That’s likely your treasure. If it’s not God-honoring, cut the strings. If you are unwilling, are you willing to be made willing? Tell the Spirit so, and whatever He says to you, do it.

Cut. Starve. Strangle. Desperate words for people who mean business. Who mean to do their part, and finally be the death of themselves. Who mean to cooperate with the Holy Spirit, experience the gift of His power and love and self-discipline (2 Tim. 1:7), and freely walk in newness of life.

It’s Time to Pray

In Jan Karon’s delightful series The Mitford Years, pastor Timothy Kavanaugh and his fiancé-eventually-wife Cynthia have a unique way of dealing with challenges. In times of crisis, they pray "the prayer that never fails."

But what that prayer is, the reader is not immediately told, and we grow increasingly curious. Karon is not a writer of fluff, offering pat answers that don’t really stand up to reality. But how can there be a prayer that never fails? What is it? Finally the reader is enlightened. We listen in as they carry yet another desperate need to the Father, and we learn… the prayer that never fails is this:

“Thy will be done.”

Four words! Four words that, sincerely prayed, never fail to help us see the situation through God’s eyes. Never fail to challenge our selfish preferences and foolish fears and stubborn agendas. Never fail to gently pry the need from our grip and hand the reins of authority over to Him. Never fail to give the Spirit permission to work in the crisis and in us, and freedom to move outside the lines we have drawn. Never fail to stretch our faith in His goodness and expand our confidence that He only seeks the best for everyone involved.

We at FAC are at a crucial point. According to our Search Committee chairman, within the next month we will likely know the name of our new senior pastor. So while we’ve certainly been praying all along, now is the time to pray as we have not prayed before. I don’t mean length or intensity of prayers, necessarily, but the kind of prayer we pray.

“Thy will be done” fits the bill. It puts us all on the same page, preserves the unity of the Body, seeks the highest possible good for all, pleases the Father, and aligns us to hear and cooperate with whatever He does. And it governs our response to God’s answer.

But it’s not for wimpy pray-ers, or those with their own agenda. It’s not for those who trust their own wisdom or pretend to see into the future. It’s not for the fainthearted or the hidebound (great word, google it). It’s a gutsy prayer, and only the gutsy intercessor can pray it and mean it.

A simple prayer but not always an easy one. Yet those four words can often accomplish what hours of intercession cannot. And it’s time to pray.

Building Up or Tearing Down?

TEARING DOWN OR BUILDING?

I watched them tearing a building down,
A gang of men in a busy town;
With a heave-ho and a lusty yell
They swung a beam and a building fell.

I asked the foremen, “Are these men skilled,
And the men you’d hire if you had to build?”
He gave a laugh and said, “No, indeed,
Just common labor is all I need;
I can easily wreck in a day or two
What builders have taken a year to do.”

And I thought to myself as I went my way,
Which of these roles have I tried to play?
Am I a builder who works with care,
Measuring life by the rule and square?

Am I shaping my deeds to a well-made plan,
Patiently doing the best I can?
Or am I a wrecker who walks the town,
Content with the labor of tearing down?

This little poem by Roe Fulkerson (Church Bulletin Bits) may sound outdated and trite, but it carries a valuable message. The apostle Paul wrote it this way: “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen” (Eph. 5:29 NIV).

I am thinking here of how we talk about fellow Christians. I am also thinking of how we discuss family members, neighbors, co-workers, bosses, church leaders, and, yes, government officials. Not that most of us intentionally spread false rumors or accusations. It is easy to use the truth like a wrecking ball – to swing it in a way that benefits no one and builds nothing; instead it lowers others and (we think) elevates us and serves no God-ordained purpose.

Do we think God doesn’t care about the other person (even if He is displeased with them)? And if He does care, what does He think of our insensitivity to His feelings? Of our destructive attitude and damaging words? How does He feel when we eagerly tell what we know, when we enjoy the power of the wrecking ball, when we thoughtlessly shatter someone else’s image? What does God think of us then?

Agape love does not delight in evil (1 Cor. 13:6). It doesn’t enjoy dismantling reputations. But love is not the natural way, or the quick way or the easy way. The discipline of building up everyone we meet and casting the best possible light on those we talk about is hard-learned and often a slow process – just as the builder requires longer training than the wrecker.

But it’s the assignment we’ve been given. The design for Christ’s members. The way of love.

We Can Wait

When I was in high school, I read The Status Seekers by popular social critic, Vance Packard. In it I learned something that still comes back to me from time to time.

Packard wrote of a study that had been conducted, involving children from both rich and poor environments. As I remember it, all the children were offered the choice of a small amount of candy or coins that they could have immediately, or a significantly larger gift if they would be willing to wait three days to get it.

What Packard found was that the poorer children tended to choose the gift they could see and hold and enjoy right then. The fear of hunger and deprivation, the uncertainty of tomorrow, and the lack of faith in the promises of others made the lure of instant gratification impossible to resist.

The wealthier children, however, were more inclined to recognize the benefit of waiting for the more valuable gift. They were much more likely to turn down the proffered candy. They could postpone gratification. They could wait.

Whatever that means for society in general, I’m thinking of it in spiritual terms. We are children of the King! God has promised to “graciously give us all things” (Rom. 8:32 NIV). Jesus has lavished the riches of God’s grace upon us (Eph. 1:7-8), and promised to take responsibility for our earthly needs if we seek first His Kingdom and His righteousness. We who believe in Jesus Christ for salvation are the “rich kids.” We were reborn with a silver spoon in our mouth. We are loaded daily with benefits (Ps. 68:19 NKJV). We are set for life… and beyond.

But we still struggle with this instant gratification things. Everybody around us, it seems, is biting into their handful of chocolate candy and smacking their lips with pleasure, while we back away, shaking our heads. No, we will sit out that choice of entertainment. No, we will wait til we can afford it to buy this or that, to go here or there. No, we will forego that recreation because we’ve committed those funds to advancing the Kingdom.

We don’t feel rich sometimes. And we certainly don’t look rich to those watching. But this week’s sermon reminded us that we are rich, nonetheless. We are heirs to all that is Christ’s. God is making us rich in faith (James 2:5), rich in good deeds (1 Tim 6:18), rich toward Him (Lk. 12:21). We are storing up treasures in heaven. They can’t be seen right now. They can’t be held in the hand or displayed in showcases. But they’re real, and they’re eternal, and they’re waiting for us.

So we can say no to things that would gobble up the financial margin in our lives – because we have already said yes to eternal treasure. We can delay gratification because we trust the One who is keeping that treasure. We have confidence in His promises; we have no fear of lack (Ps. 23:1). And we have been given a Spirit, not of weakness and selfishness and lack of self-discipline, but of power and of love and of self-control. We’ve been given margin! We can wait!

The Price of Resisting Margin

And now the ultimate for all who resist margin in their lives… the Villa Hamster in Nantes, France. Inspired by the lowly hamster cage, the hotel "offers guests the unique opportunity to leave their species at the door and live the life of a rodent."

Seriously. Here among the wood chippings, guests can imitate the hamster: pad about in fur costumes, dine on organic grain, sip from a water tube… and, of course, tread the metal wheel.

Does it surprise you that humans are clamoring for life in that cage? Villa Hamster owners are having no trouble finding warm bodies to fill those costumes and jump into those wood chips, no sir. People are lining up for a go at that organic grain (ugh… don’t hamsters like Reece Cups?) and a ride on that wheel, all in pursuit of the fun, the unique, the slightly-eccentric side of life.

Actually, none of us have to go clear to Nantes to live the life of a rodent. We’re already treading our own wheels right here! Although we've been reborn in the image of God, we repeatedly succumb to the lure of the wheel, leave our "species" at the door, and take up the mindless, mechanical life of something far inferior. That’s why we need to schedule margin. For most of us, it just doesn’t come naturally.

So we need to take Pastor Dave’s sermon literally. To get out our calendars and pray over them and ask the Lord to show us how to weave this fun (yes), unique, and (to the world) slightly eccentric concept of margin into our everyday lives. A half-hour a day with God? An hour every Sunday afternoon? A day set apart once a month? A longer personal retreat once a quarter? A combination of these? Or something entirely different that He brings to our mind?

Then we need to do it. To pencil in that margin-time. No… use permanent marker! As much as possible, arrange everything else around those set-apart times. Otherwise, we might find ourselves right back on that wheel, sweating under those rodent-costumes, on an organic-grain-induced sugar-low … the price of resisting margin.

Offering Margin

One of the first things I learned as a budding freelance writer was that editors want generous margins on everything they read. They want them for the same reasons our teachers in school wanted them on our homework papers, businesspeople use them on invoices and proposals, books have them on every page, and even websites try to provide them.

Margins make a paper look better. A marginless paper is unpleasant and intimidating to the eye. In effect, words that run to the edge of a paper scream, “I had even more to say but no space to say it!” And furthermore…“No room for your comment!”

Margins, on the other hand, bring a sort of quiet order to our presentation. They showcase our work in a silent white frame, putting boundaries around our words and setting them off in an attractive and organized fashion. They show that we thought through what we had to say, completed our thoughts, and are awaiting response.

Margins also give the reader room to respond – to write notes to themselves or others involved in the communication process, or to the author himself. These might be notes of affirmation or suggestion or correction (one common editorial note, so I’ve read, is the acronym MEGO – “My Eyes Glaze Over” - indicating the editor was less than captivated while reading the material submitted!).

The Lord reminded me through Keith on Sunday that even my quiet times need margin - time set aside to listen for His voice, His opinion about my prayer concerns, His interpretation of His Word, His guidance for my daily life - whatever He wants to say. Margins will make my time with God more inviting to Him. They’ll say, “Enough from me. I’m making room for Your response. What You have to say is more important anyway.”

Those moments of quietness – when we zip our lip and just wait on God – allow the gentle whisper of the Holy Spirit to penetrate our noisy hearts and hectic minds. We may never audibly hear anything, but realization dawns, a kind of knowing comes to us, and we begin to understand what His Word means, or begin to glimpse His perspective on a situation we’re wrestling with, or begin to grasp what needs to change in our lives.

That’s God, writing in the margins of our lives. Responding in the quiet space. Affirming, suggesting, correcting, revealing Himself to us. And have you noticed that sometimes the conundrums we agonize over and pray about for days are solved by a brief whisper from God? How much we can shorten our struggles by stopping to listen to Him! How easily we can please Him by waiting for His perfect Word for our lives! Yet how prone we are to talk and talk and talk and talk… until, if He were not the perfect Gentleman that He is, the Holy Spirit would write “MEGO” across our quiet time with Him.

Margin. Even just 5 minutes a day. Offer it to God in your next quiet time, and the next and the next… Who knows what He will write there!

Watch!

There are some things I don’t do while waiting for the doorbell to ring.

If company is coming at any moment, I don’t take a book to the backyard and become engrossed in the newest tale by a favorite author. I don’t station the dog near the door to be first greeter. I don’t draw the curtains and settle on the couch for a nap. I don’t rev up the vacuum sweeper. I don’t phone a friend, contemplate a bubble bath, or cue the DVD player to begin a new episode from the series I’ve been watching.

Why don’t I do these things? Not because they’re wrong (I am not against books, naps, or vacuuming the carpet!), and not because I don’t want the irritation of being interrupted. I just want to be alert and ready and welcoming.

So I put anything on hold that would drown out the sound of someone at my door. I forego the inviting swing under the backyard arbor. I wait on the nap. Instead, I listen for that doorbell. I glance out at the driveway. And I put the dog in the basement because he is rather hostile to strangers.

Jesus has given notice that He will be coming up our drive. Suddenly. No time for preparation, for hurrying in from worldly preoccupations to whip a house into shape and spruce up the guest room. We’re ready, or we’re not. Here’s the notice He has given, in His words:

“However, no one knows the day or hour when [I will return]…, not even the angels in heaven or the Son himself. Only the Father knows. And since you don’t know…, stay alert and keep watch.

“The coming of the Son of Man can be compared with that of a man who left home to go on a trip. He gave each of his employees instructions about the work they were to do, and he told the gatekeeper to watch for his return. So keep a sharp lookout! For you do not know when the homeowner will return – at evening, midnight, early dawn, or late daybreak. Don’t let him find you sleeping when he arrives without warning. What I say to you I say to everyone: Watch for his return!” - Mark 14:32-37 NLT.

“Watch out! Don’t let me find you living in careless ease and drunkenness and filled with the worries of this life. Don’t let that day catch you unawares, as in a trap. For that day will come upon everyone living on the earth. Keep a constant watch.” – Luke 21:34-36 NLT.

What does that mean for you? To me, Jesus isn’t saying that we should chuck all the activities of life and think of nothing but His return. No, He has given us, His “employees,” “instructions about the work we are to do.” We must be about our Father’s business. But not about the world’s business. Not committing ourselves to things that dull our readiness or steal our heart or preoccupy our mind. No, our business is to be His witnesses, help others prepare for His coming… and keep an ear out for that trumpet.

That might mean saying “No” to some tempting opportunities. It might mean scaling back on personal pursuits, earthly investments, selfish pleasures. It just might mean saying “Yes” to more Kingdom responsibilities and eternal investments. It most certainly will mean sharpening our spiritual senses and heightening our state of readiness to meet our Master.

The word from our Master is this: Whether by death or by My return, whether the bell tolls for you, or the trumpet sounds for everyone… be ready!

Divine Healing

I’ve mentioned the childhood game of Mousetrap before in this blog… I’m reminded of it again as I write this entry.

For me, the tension in that game wasn’t in the gradual assembling of all the pieces necessary to beating your opponent. It wasn’t in rolling higher numbers so you could stay ahead of your fellow mice. It was when it all came together and you got the opportunity to turn that crank and set the little steel ball in motion.

Oh, the drama that ensued! Would the ball get stuck on the stairs? Would it roll down the red chute too weakly to trip the spring that sent the ball through the bathtub to launch the poised plastic diver? Would some misalignment, some inherent flaw in the setup, sabotage the entire chain reaction? Had I held my mouth just right when I turned that crank?

Maybe we approach this idea of divine healing the same way. If it’s not happening, there must be something wrong in our setup. We’ve forgotten a promise we need to claim, we haven’t prayed enough or the right way, our faith is flawed, our motives aren’t right… we can think of many potential reasons for the “failure.” And it often leads to guilt and dismay. We aren’t doing something right, and we don’t know what it is.

Let’s simplify. Let’s let go of guilt – even of trying to figure out what God’s doing – and pray the simple prayer spoken by Pastor Dave in Sunday’s second service:

“While we lay our petitions before You, we bind You to nothing, except to glorify Your name.”

That’s the spirit in which Jesus faced the pain of the cross and the anguish of bearing our sin (which He was not spared); that’s the attitude with which Paul accepted the thorn in the flesh (which he was not delivered from - 2 Cor. 12:1-10): “Here’s what we’d prefer, Lord… but Your will be done, not ours. Our only requirement, the only thing we insist upon, is that Your name be glorified."

In Jesus’ case, that Name was glorified in the cross and death, because it led to resurrection and life for countless sinners. In Paul’s case, that Name was glorified in the thorn because it preserved Paul as a humble showcase for God’s power and glory.

At allianceacademicreview.com., Paul L. King writes, “Modern faith teaching has often put a guilt trip on people, saying that it is absolutely God's will for all to be healed, and if a person isn't healed, it is man's fault. While sin or lack of faith could be causes for lack of healing, [in his book The Lord for the Body] Simpson listed a variety of reasons, asserting that while it is generally God's will to heal all who believe, God in His sovereignty may not always grant healing.”

I do believe God wants to miraculously heal His sick children far more often than He’s given opportunity to. But it’s not a blanket provision for everyone all the time. And when He doesn’t, it’s not because we haven’t held our mouth the right way when we prayed. Divine healing isn’t about having all our ducks in a row. It’s not about us; it’s about Him. It’s about commitment to whatever God is doing, whatever brings Him glory, so that whether He is giving or taking away we can say,

“Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

Jesus, Our Sanctifier

My son worked in an office setting this year, and at one point dragged home a sorry-looking no-name plant that he’d found sitting on a file cabinet in a windowless room. I hinted I would like to take the thing out back and pitch it into the woods, but he wanted to try to rescue it.

Actually, he did a great job. With some sunlight and regular watering, it perked up. The drooping leaves lifted their heads. Their dullness gave way to a healthier shine. I was beginning to be impressed. But alas, the plant was doomed, through no fault of Ryan’s. For one day he noticed, as he was tending it, that there were many tiny little flea-like bugs crawling around in the soil.

He bought spray. He sprayed and sprayed. He repotted. He worked and worked at trying to make this plant healthy and fit to live in our house. But the bugs were stubborn tenants, and we feared that they would soon transfer – if they hadn’t already – to houseplants nearby. So eventually that plant ended up… out back, pitched into the woods.

I am no theologian. But I know that some of us who name Jesus as our Savior are like that plant. The difference is – we are plants with a will. We have chosen to stay in that windowless office… because we don’t want to see the Light of Truth. We have traded our shine and our spine for dullness and drooping – because we haven’t wanted to offer Jesus the obedience that brings blessing. We have watched, horrified, as the vermin multiplied exponentially in our personal lives, yet we’ve refused to let Jesus exterminate those sins. We’ve grown resistant to the spray of His shed blood, hardened to the horror of the invasion, refusing to be transplanted into holiness.

It’s not only tragic that we refuse to be made holy, and that we have no witness to those around us (in fact, we often infect them with our own uncleanness and disobedience – it can be communicable). It’s also sad that we miss out on the blessings of living in the Light, beautifying a corner of God’s world, bringing pleasure to God as He looks over His re-creation, maturing in spirit, taking on the likeness of Christ, discovering the promises Jesus has made to those who trust Him, enjoying an unshakeable assurance that we are a child of God and there is nothing between us and Him.

Jesus the Sanctifier is the Exterminator who can remove the creepy-crawly invasion of sin and clean up the soil of our lives, and make us fit to be put on display to show His glory in our world. Here is the Alliance Statement of Faith regarding sanctification:

“It is the will of God that each believer should be filled with the Holy Spirit and be sanctified wholly, being separated from sin and the world and fully dedicated to the will of God, thereby receiving power for holy living and effective service. This is both a crisis and a progressive experience wrought in the life of the believer subsequent to conversion.”

The will of God… is my sanctification and yours(1 Thess. 4:3). Our separation from sin and dedication to His purposes. This is both a crisis (it begins with a specific moment of surrender) – and a progressive experience (because God never takes away our will, surrender must continue).

And one bright, glorious, marvelous, light-as-a-feather Day, we will awake to find that the process of sanctification, once begun and long continued, is Complete. We are precious, whole, sinless and shining. There is no shred of impurity in us. We are holy as He is.

We shall see His face, and surrender will be worth it all… and then some.

It’s All About Jesus

It was mentioned Sunday that in Christ all things hold together; life without Him is chaos. In other words:

In my beginning, Jesus created me (Col. 1:16). Because of sin, my heart was formless and empty, full of chaos, and wrapped in darkness. But the Spirit of Christ hovered over my heart.

Then Jesus said, “Let there be Light,” and understanding began to dawn in my mind. And Jesus called the Light “Truth” and the darkness “Lies.” He invited me into the Day, and when I stepped into the Light, the darkness fled away. And my Lord said, “Let there be space between the earth and heaven,” and separated for me the temporary from the eternal, so I could see what really matters.

Then He said, “Let there be dry ground in My child’s life, terra firma, a solid Rock beneath him.” And Jesus became the firm foundation on which I trusted. He continued, “Let him become fruitful right where I have put him,” and I began to discover what Christ had made me to do and become, and to use the gifts and resources He'd given me to make much of Him.

Then Jesus put smaller lights in my life, imitations of Him, persons to mentor me and teach me to walk in the way that pleases Him. And He went on to say, “Let My child’s life be filled with blessings. May his days swarm with gifts from My hand - blessings in his home, blessings in his work, even blessings in his trials. And let these blessings multiply and spill over onto those around him, and fill his world with joy and praise to Me.”

Furthermore, Jesus said, “Let him reproduce more followers for me, who will go out and reproduce yet more, until My glory fills the whole earth, and men and women from every nation bow and proclaim that I am Lord to the glory of God the Father.”

Jesus Christ is not done speaking in my life – or yours. One day, He will say, “Let this one be fully remade in My image. Give him a new body, immortal as Mine. Give him a sinless heart and a holy mind, untainted by guilt or blemish. And bring him home to live with Me forever.” And on that endless Day, our Lord will say, “It is very good.”

Our lives do all hold together in Christ., and fall apart outside of Him. Life is all about Him. That concept isn’t just Alliance doctrine or congregational creed; it’s truth for our individual lives and pursuits. So a simple yet powerful question provides a tool for evaluating my life and work: Am I all about Christ?

He was all about me.