"At that time David was in the stronghold, and the Philistine garrison was at Bethlehem. David longed for water and said, 'Oh, that someone would get me a drink of water from the well near the gate of Bethlehem!' So the three [of thirty chiefs (v. 15)] broke through the Philistine lines, drew water from the well near the gate of Bethlehem and carried it back to David. But he refused to drink it; instead, he poured it out before the LORD." (1 Chronicles 11:16-18)
David had been on the run from Saul, hiding out in caves and deserts. Now after Saul's death, he was on the attack against Philistines in the same desert near the same caves. And, not surprisingly, David was thirsty. Far from home, he longed for the familiar water of Bethlehem. Three of his warriors decided to do something about it. They broke through Philistine lines and brought back the coveted water to quench David's thirst. David's response? He poured it out to the Lord.
Those of us from capitalist societies cringe at his wastefulness. The water came at such great sacrifice, at such enormous risk, that David could at least show his appreciation by drinking some of it! But David had a higher goal than quenching thirst. His desire was to offer the Lord whatever was most precious to him. And this water was precious. Three of his right-hand men had risked life and limb to get it, even though there were surely closer sources of water than the well at Bethlehem. They did it because they loved David. The water, therefore, was immediately one of David's most treasured possessions. And treasured possessions make the best offerings.
We could learn from that. We give generously to God at times, but we save our most treasured possessions for ourselves. The first 10 percent of our income is one thing; the precious items we secure with the rest of it are another. God loves expressions of sacrifice. The greater the sacrifice, the greater the love demonstrated. If we hold things tightly, we love less fully.
Consider the things we give God. Do we give Him not only the first of our incomes, time and talents, but also the best of them? Do the things we treasure become the things we most want to honor God with? When each of us survey our own individual domains, we will see things we hold dear and things that are expendable. Which do you give to God? Which do I give to God? Do we long to give Him what is most precious to us?
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Alone with Him
"Yet the news about him spread all the more, so that crowds of people came to hear him and to be healed of their sicknesses. But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed." (Luke 5:15-16)
If you've read a couple of my most recent posts, you might recognize that I've been pointing my posts more toward worship lately. The times we're alone with Christ are the times we worship Him best.
We're busy. It's a fact of life, especially in our culture. All of our modern time-saving technology hasn't solved our busyness for us. We're spread as thin as ever.
At the same time, we're called to be Christlike. Jesus' image is imprinted in our spirits so we will one day be like Him. In some respects, if we are disciples at any level, we already are like Him. And we know, when we read His Word, that we are to take our cues from Him. That means that when the Word tells us He would withdraw to lonely places to pray, we know we are to do the same. Christlikeness means being like Christ.
What are we to do when our culture, our work, even our friends and families dictate against an attribute of Jesus? Are we to follow our culture or follow Christ? On the surface, it's an easy question. When we try to apply the answer, it isn't. Getting away to pray is next to impossible, especially getting away often. The demands of life compete against the demands of Jesus, and we far too often choose the former. It's easier.
But it won't get us where God wants us to be. The bulk of discipleship is to be learned in community, but there are some aspects of it that we can only get when we and God are alone together. Sometimes that can happen in a brief morning devotional, but there are other times when the Spirit wants to teach us a deeper lesson or perhaps simply to have a longer time of fellowship with us. That can't happen unless, from time to time - as often as possible, in fact - we get alone with God.
If getting away with God in a secluded place is not part of your regular discipleship, start thinking how you might change that. Plan a time to do it. If it seems impossible because of work or family demands, ask God to help you see when it could happen and to help arrange the details - who will cover for you, where it might be, and so on. Remember that He is even more interested in your rendezvous than you are. In Jesus, He gave us that truth: Worship involves solitude with Him.
"The more a man loves Christ, the more he delights to be with Christ alone. Lovers love to be alone." - Thomas Benton Brooks
If you've read a couple of my most recent posts, you might recognize that I've been pointing my posts more toward worship lately. The times we're alone with Christ are the times we worship Him best.
We're busy. It's a fact of life, especially in our culture. All of our modern time-saving technology hasn't solved our busyness for us. We're spread as thin as ever.
At the same time, we're called to be Christlike. Jesus' image is imprinted in our spirits so we will one day be like Him. In some respects, if we are disciples at any level, we already are like Him. And we know, when we read His Word, that we are to take our cues from Him. That means that when the Word tells us He would withdraw to lonely places to pray, we know we are to do the same. Christlikeness means being like Christ.
What are we to do when our culture, our work, even our friends and families dictate against an attribute of Jesus? Are we to follow our culture or follow Christ? On the surface, it's an easy question. When we try to apply the answer, it isn't. Getting away to pray is next to impossible, especially getting away often. The demands of life compete against the demands of Jesus, and we far too often choose the former. It's easier.
But it won't get us where God wants us to be. The bulk of discipleship is to be learned in community, but there are some aspects of it that we can only get when we and God are alone together. Sometimes that can happen in a brief morning devotional, but there are other times when the Spirit wants to teach us a deeper lesson or perhaps simply to have a longer time of fellowship with us. That can't happen unless, from time to time - as often as possible, in fact - we get alone with God.
If getting away with God in a secluded place is not part of your regular discipleship, start thinking how you might change that. Plan a time to do it. If it seems impossible because of work or family demands, ask God to help you see when it could happen and to help arrange the details - who will cover for you, where it might be, and so on. Remember that He is even more interested in your rendezvous than you are. In Jesus, He gave us that truth: Worship involves solitude with Him.
"The more a man loves Christ, the more he delights to be with Christ alone. Lovers love to be alone." - Thomas Benton Brooks
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Holy Fear
"Blessed are those who fear the LORD, who walk in his ways. ... Thus is the man blessed who fears the LORD. May the LORD bless you from Zion all the days of your life; may you see the prosperity of Jerusalem, and may you live to see your children's children." (Psa. 128:1, 4-6)
Fear of the Lord is not a popular subject. Modern revisionists have dismissed Bible verses that speak of fearing God and have adapted hymns that once praised it. God, we are told, is love - an entirely biblical idea; and love, we are told, tolerates anything and everything our heart desires - an entirely unbiblical idea. So while the Bible tells us to fear God, society says He's completely harmless and tame, and will pat us on the back for whatever we do.
But we know better. Fear is appropriate when we come into God's presence. It isn't a fear that dreads impending judgment - perfect love casts that out (1 John 4:18) - but a fear that is overwhelmed with something so awesomely greater than ourselves. If the sight of the Grand Canyon or Niagara Falls can make us tremble, as the power of natural forces can do, the sight of supernatural power is even more terrifying. A quick survey of Isaiah's call, the disciples' frequent reaction to Jesus' miracles, and John's vision on Patmos will confirm it: God is worthy of our fear.
That's important to remember because the fear of God - not just a healthy respect for Him - will constantly remind us that we live sacred lives in a sacred presence. We are always, in a sense, on holy ground. The God who has redeemed us has come to dwell within us, and we can never take sin, obedience, or even life itself casually again. The knowledge of the Holy One is a traumatic experience with powerful results. The presence of God changes us.
That's why this psalm tells us that those who fear the Lord are blessed - happy, fulfilled, complete. A sacred awareness of our lives as redeemed servants of the most high God will keep us focused on reality. It will change our behavior and our hearts in remarkable ways. It will keep us believing, praying, and loving because the majesty of the Creator overwhelms us with faith, hope, and love. The psalm is a promise: Blessing and prosperity come to those who do not take God casually.
"The fear of God kills all other fears." - Hugh Black
Fear of the Lord is not a popular subject. Modern revisionists have dismissed Bible verses that speak of fearing God and have adapted hymns that once praised it. God, we are told, is love - an entirely biblical idea; and love, we are told, tolerates anything and everything our heart desires - an entirely unbiblical idea. So while the Bible tells us to fear God, society says He's completely harmless and tame, and will pat us on the back for whatever we do.
But we know better. Fear is appropriate when we come into God's presence. It isn't a fear that dreads impending judgment - perfect love casts that out (1 John 4:18) - but a fear that is overwhelmed with something so awesomely greater than ourselves. If the sight of the Grand Canyon or Niagara Falls can make us tremble, as the power of natural forces can do, the sight of supernatural power is even more terrifying. A quick survey of Isaiah's call, the disciples' frequent reaction to Jesus' miracles, and John's vision on Patmos will confirm it: God is worthy of our fear.
That's important to remember because the fear of God - not just a healthy respect for Him - will constantly remind us that we live sacred lives in a sacred presence. We are always, in a sense, on holy ground. The God who has redeemed us has come to dwell within us, and we can never take sin, obedience, or even life itself casually again. The knowledge of the Holy One is a traumatic experience with powerful results. The presence of God changes us.
That's why this psalm tells us that those who fear the Lord are blessed - happy, fulfilled, complete. A sacred awareness of our lives as redeemed servants of the most high God will keep us focused on reality. It will change our behavior and our hearts in remarkable ways. It will keep us believing, praying, and loving because the majesty of the Creator overwhelms us with faith, hope, and love. The psalm is a promise: Blessing and prosperity come to those who do not take God casually.
"The fear of God kills all other fears." - Hugh Black
Friday, December 10, 2010
Dependence
"Our eyes look to the LORD our God, till he shows us his mercy." (Psa. 123:2)
I've been camping out in Psalms lately. And tonight, I've been thinking a lot about trust and dependence on God - about letting go and trusting that God will finish what He started. And that it will be good no matter what.
Think about this: You've asked God something, and you have waited for His answer. It hasn't come yet, or perhaps it hasn't come in the form you wanted. The natural human tendency, in such cases, is to think to yourself, "God must want me to work this out on my own." And you begin crossing that very fine line between expectant faith and willful self-assertion. When you do, you may get results - some sort of resolution to your problem. But it won't be God's resolution if it didn't come from Him.
That's a common problem in the life of faith. We trust God, but when He delays His intervention in our lives, we start making assumptions. Perhaps He wanted us to fend for ourselves, or perhaps He simply said no to our request and we missed it. So we act. We take our eyes off of His provision and put them on whatever we manage ourselves. It's a subtle shift with dramatic implications. Soon we're living on our own, only occasionally acknowledging the God we know is up there, though we're not sure where.
Psalm 123 tells us the right attitude. As a servant looks to his master - for everything, in its time - and as a maid looks to her mistress, so we are to look to God. Our eyes are to stay on Him. If He gives us what we expect, we have it. If He doesn't, we don't. There are no alternatives, no plan B's, no going back to the drawing board. If we truly depend on God, we depend only on Him and not on any other. Not even ourselves.
Trust and dependence are single-minded attitudes. If we have them, we have pinned all our hopes on this God, and whatever He does for us, that's what we have. He isn't the first resort before we move on to second, third, and last resorts; He isn't the first bank to which we apply for a loan, or the first school to which we apply for admission, with backup choices waiting just in case. No, He's it. All there is. The trusting heart will wait because it believes there are no other options. And in the end, that's the heart that will be shown mercy.
"What is more elevating and transporting than the generosity of heart which risks everything on God's Word?" - John Henry Newman
I've been camping out in Psalms lately. And tonight, I've been thinking a lot about trust and dependence on God - about letting go and trusting that God will finish what He started. And that it will be good no matter what.
Think about this: You've asked God something, and you have waited for His answer. It hasn't come yet, or perhaps it hasn't come in the form you wanted. The natural human tendency, in such cases, is to think to yourself, "God must want me to work this out on my own." And you begin crossing that very fine line between expectant faith and willful self-assertion. When you do, you may get results - some sort of resolution to your problem. But it won't be God's resolution if it didn't come from Him.
That's a common problem in the life of faith. We trust God, but when He delays His intervention in our lives, we start making assumptions. Perhaps He wanted us to fend for ourselves, or perhaps He simply said no to our request and we missed it. So we act. We take our eyes off of His provision and put them on whatever we manage ourselves. It's a subtle shift with dramatic implications. Soon we're living on our own, only occasionally acknowledging the God we know is up there, though we're not sure where.
Psalm 123 tells us the right attitude. As a servant looks to his master - for everything, in its time - and as a maid looks to her mistress, so we are to look to God. Our eyes are to stay on Him. If He gives us what we expect, we have it. If He doesn't, we don't. There are no alternatives, no plan B's, no going back to the drawing board. If we truly depend on God, we depend only on Him and not on any other. Not even ourselves.
Trust and dependence are single-minded attitudes. If we have them, we have pinned all our hopes on this God, and whatever He does for us, that's what we have. He isn't the first resort before we move on to second, third, and last resorts; He isn't the first bank to which we apply for a loan, or the first school to which we apply for admission, with backup choices waiting just in case. No, He's it. All there is. The trusting heart will wait because it believes there are no other options. And in the end, that's the heart that will be shown mercy.
"What is more elevating and transporting than the generosity of heart which risks everything on God's Word?" - John Henry Newman
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Proud Weakness, Humble Strength
"When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom. ... The LORD tears down the proud man's house but he keeps the widow's boundaries intact." (Pro. 11:2, 15:25)
I was walking through a bookstore in town the other day. I normally don't even bother with this section, but while moseying, I happened down what I call the "self-help" aisle. God has been really pushing wisdom for me lately, and I just happened to think about one of my favorite verses (Pro. 11:2), and how it applied to our need to better ourselves.
The self-improvement section is almost always the hottest corner of the bookstore. Why? Because it is human nature to build ourselves up. We want more security, more education, better skills, more income, stable mental health, stronger relationships, deeper passions, more adventure, and a higher standard of living. And God has even put those basic impulses into our hearts.
We might be surprised then to find out that God always opposes our most natural strategy for growth. We're into self-improvement, with an emphasis on the "self." We want to be stronger, better, smarter, and richer - ourselves. And we always try to attain our status with personal strategies and hard work. Does God oppose strategy and work? Hardly. He just hates the pride that those things foster.
There is a remarkable contrast in this proverb. The proud man has a house. It's likely gorgeous, or at least very sturdy. The walls are thick, the decor is stylish, and the construction is solid. How do we know? Because he is proud; proud people don't settle for second best. The widow, on the other hand, may not have much of a house. She may not have walls around her property. There's no security system, no guards, nothing to stop anyone from taking what little she has. The proud man is insulated, but the widow is completely vulnerable. He is the epitome of strength, and she is the epitome of weakness. So which one is more secure? According to this proverb, she is. The proud man's thick walls will be torn down by God Himself. The widow's naked boundaries will be guarded by God Himself. Yes, God chooses sides.
Why, when we're guaranteed such divine strength in our vulnerability, do we almost always opt for more of our own "strength"? Are we just too proud to be dependent? We can have either our self-sufficiency or God's sufficiency. Having both is not an option. This is not a difficult question: Which would you prefer?
I was walking through a bookstore in town the other day. I normally don't even bother with this section, but while moseying, I happened down what I call the "self-help" aisle. God has been really pushing wisdom for me lately, and I just happened to think about one of my favorite verses (Pro. 11:2), and how it applied to our need to better ourselves.
The self-improvement section is almost always the hottest corner of the bookstore. Why? Because it is human nature to build ourselves up. We want more security, more education, better skills, more income, stable mental health, stronger relationships, deeper passions, more adventure, and a higher standard of living. And God has even put those basic impulses into our hearts.
We might be surprised then to find out that God always opposes our most natural strategy for growth. We're into self-improvement, with an emphasis on the "self." We want to be stronger, better, smarter, and richer - ourselves. And we always try to attain our status with personal strategies and hard work. Does God oppose strategy and work? Hardly. He just hates the pride that those things foster.
There is a remarkable contrast in this proverb. The proud man has a house. It's likely gorgeous, or at least very sturdy. The walls are thick, the decor is stylish, and the construction is solid. How do we know? Because he is proud; proud people don't settle for second best. The widow, on the other hand, may not have much of a house. She may not have walls around her property. There's no security system, no guards, nothing to stop anyone from taking what little she has. The proud man is insulated, but the widow is completely vulnerable. He is the epitome of strength, and she is the epitome of weakness. So which one is more secure? According to this proverb, she is. The proud man's thick walls will be torn down by God Himself. The widow's naked boundaries will be guarded by God Himself. Yes, God chooses sides.
Why, when we're guaranteed such divine strength in our vulnerability, do we almost always opt for more of our own "strength"? Are we just too proud to be dependent? We can have either our self-sufficiency or God's sufficiency. Having both is not an option. This is not a difficult question: Which would you prefer?
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