"Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality." (Rom. 12:9-13)
We are called by Jesus to love one another. Love is the defining characteristic of the Christian community; Jesus called it His "new command" and said it would distinguish us as His disciples (John 13:34-35). He did not lay it out for us as a good option; it was an order. Obedience requires that we love Him and that we love others.
Knowing that, we usually try to put on love - or at least the appearance of love. Even when we cultivate bitterness in our hearts toward another, we cultivate smiles and warmth on our faces. Our words and our inner feelings do not always match. We act loving because we know we are supposed to; but we do not feel loving. That's a problem.
Which is genuine love? When Paul tells us to love each other sincerely, does he really expect our feelings to fall in line with our obedience? Is it acceptable to act loving rather than to be loving? It's a start, but we can't be content with that. Our feelings change slowly, especially when we've been offended or slighted. In such cases, we can at least act as we know we are supposed to act. But we cannot stop there. We must guard our hearts diligently. That is where all actions will eventually flow from. At some point, obedience must include sincerity. Otherwise, it doesn't come close to the character of God.
Think about that. Does God love us reluctantly? Does He say: "You've sinned so much that I don't have strong feelings for you, but according to My promise I'll treat you lovingly"? Of course not. There is no internal contradiction in God's attitudes. He is not superficial in the least. His love is real - the most authentic, genuine love there is. So must ours be.
How can we get there? Genuine love is so hard, especially when we're told to love our enemies! Fallen, sinful natures cannot fulfill that command. The answer must be supernatural.
We must trust God to live His life in us. That's what our life in the Holy Spirit is all about. We must ask Him not to reform our character by giving us love, but to replace our character by giving us His. His love is utterly sincere. Ours must be as well.
"Has God commanded something? Then throw yourself back on God for the means to do what He has commanded." - Watchman Nee
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Pure Joy
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." (James 1:2-4)
I know it's been awhile since I've posted anything, but I'm back now. Earlier today, I was reading these words written by James, and it occurred to me: What rational person would consider the trials of life pure joy? Only those who can see the surprising benefit in them. Through the lens of Scripture, we can see that benefit. We are told that our trials develop our character in ways that will produce eternal profit for us; and we are told that the God who allows them always has our welfare in mind. These are things that an unbelieving world cannot see, but they have been revealed to those who will believe.
The book of Acts is an amazing chronicle of the early church. In chapter 5, the apostles who were arrested for preaching Jesus left the court of the Sanhedrin "rejoicing for the Name" (v. 41). In chapter 16, Paul and Silas sang praises to God from the depths of a filthy Philippian prison. What kind of mind reacts to trials this way? According to the world, an irrational one. But according to Scripture, only a mind grounded in the truths of the gospel can recognize the glorious realities behind our temporary problems.
Though James points to the benefit our trials have for our own character, we know that there is an even greater blessing in them. Jesus is revealed in us. His power is made manifest in our weakness (2 Cor. 12:9-10), and participating in His sufferings lets us participate in His resurrection (Phil. 3:10). Not only is our character sharpened in painful processes, the resurrection of Jesus is displayed in the crosses we bear. Such trials are worth rejoicing about.
We all go through difficult times. Don't despair. Discouragement and depression are not the biblical responses, only the natural ones. But we live above the natural because the lens of Holy Scripture lets us see beyond the natural. We know the end result of our pain. Perseverance results in maturity, and problems give Jesus a stage to show His resurrection power. There is no greater blessing than that. Consider it pure joy.
"More crucifixion, more resurrection. The more we suffer, the more we are drawn to Christ and His power." - A persecuted Christian in Nepal
I know it's been awhile since I've posted anything, but I'm back now. Earlier today, I was reading these words written by James, and it occurred to me: What rational person would consider the trials of life pure joy? Only those who can see the surprising benefit in them. Through the lens of Scripture, we can see that benefit. We are told that our trials develop our character in ways that will produce eternal profit for us; and we are told that the God who allows them always has our welfare in mind. These are things that an unbelieving world cannot see, but they have been revealed to those who will believe.
The book of Acts is an amazing chronicle of the early church. In chapter 5, the apostles who were arrested for preaching Jesus left the court of the Sanhedrin "rejoicing for the Name" (v. 41). In chapter 16, Paul and Silas sang praises to God from the depths of a filthy Philippian prison. What kind of mind reacts to trials this way? According to the world, an irrational one. But according to Scripture, only a mind grounded in the truths of the gospel can recognize the glorious realities behind our temporary problems.
Though James points to the benefit our trials have for our own character, we know that there is an even greater blessing in them. Jesus is revealed in us. His power is made manifest in our weakness (2 Cor. 12:9-10), and participating in His sufferings lets us participate in His resurrection (Phil. 3:10). Not only is our character sharpened in painful processes, the resurrection of Jesus is displayed in the crosses we bear. Such trials are worth rejoicing about.
We all go through difficult times. Don't despair. Discouragement and depression are not the biblical responses, only the natural ones. But we live above the natural because the lens of Holy Scripture lets us see beyond the natural. We know the end result of our pain. Perseverance results in maturity, and problems give Jesus a stage to show His resurrection power. There is no greater blessing than that. Consider it pure joy.
"More crucifixion, more resurrection. The more we suffer, the more we are drawn to Christ and His power." - A persecuted Christian in Nepal
Thursday, May 12, 2011
All Things
"And he made known to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ, to be put into effect when the times will have reached their fulfillment - to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, even Christ. ... And you also were included in Christ, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation. Having believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit." (Eph. 1:9-10, 13)
The story of God's people is a long one, stretching back thousands of years to the beginning of creation. What purpose did the Lord have in mind in this strange and beautiful world? What was He aiming for when He began the redemption story with a chosen family? What were all those Hebrew biographies and chronicles about? What ultimate purpose was it all pointing to?
God's ultimate aim was and is to bring everything in heaven and earth under Jesus. That goal was present in the Hebrew Scriptures, but it's only unveiled in completeness in the New Testament. This purpose is why we take every thought captive to Christ (2 Cor. 10:5) and rejoice in the fact that every knee will bow to Him (Phil. 2:10). The fall of humanity scattered elements of creation out from under God's good dominion, and in Christ they are brought back into His hand. Jesus, as other translations of this passage say, is the "sum" of all things.
We often miss the significance of "all things." We think Jesus reigns over compartments of our lives, especially the spiritual things. But His reign is comprehensive; the whole earth, and in fact the whole universe, is coming into His dominion. The world doesn't always look that way, but that's the direction we're headed. Every knee will bow - it's inevitable. And all things, even the physical creation, will be restored.
That's why the New Testament is so insistent on a bodily resurrection. Jesus is Lord of every atom in the universe. And that's why our tendency to confine His lordship to the purely "spiritual" aspects of our lives often leaves us with a sense of defeat and discouragement. But there's no need to limit our expectations of what we can bring to Him or what He might do. We can be encouraged that He is interested in every detail of our lives because every detail is ultimately His. Our whole life - including whatever we might be facing today - belongs to Him.
"There is not a thumb's breadth of this universe about which Jesus Christ does not say, 'It is mine.'" - Abraham Kuyper
The story of God's people is a long one, stretching back thousands of years to the beginning of creation. What purpose did the Lord have in mind in this strange and beautiful world? What was He aiming for when He began the redemption story with a chosen family? What were all those Hebrew biographies and chronicles about? What ultimate purpose was it all pointing to?
God's ultimate aim was and is to bring everything in heaven and earth under Jesus. That goal was present in the Hebrew Scriptures, but it's only unveiled in completeness in the New Testament. This purpose is why we take every thought captive to Christ (2 Cor. 10:5) and rejoice in the fact that every knee will bow to Him (Phil. 2:10). The fall of humanity scattered elements of creation out from under God's good dominion, and in Christ they are brought back into His hand. Jesus, as other translations of this passage say, is the "sum" of all things.
We often miss the significance of "all things." We think Jesus reigns over compartments of our lives, especially the spiritual things. But His reign is comprehensive; the whole earth, and in fact the whole universe, is coming into His dominion. The world doesn't always look that way, but that's the direction we're headed. Every knee will bow - it's inevitable. And all things, even the physical creation, will be restored.
That's why the New Testament is so insistent on a bodily resurrection. Jesus is Lord of every atom in the universe. And that's why our tendency to confine His lordship to the purely "spiritual" aspects of our lives often leaves us with a sense of defeat and discouragement. But there's no need to limit our expectations of what we can bring to Him or what He might do. We can be encouraged that He is interested in every detail of our lives because every detail is ultimately His. Our whole life - including whatever we might be facing today - belongs to Him.
"There is not a thumb's breadth of this universe about which Jesus Christ does not say, 'It is mine.'" - Abraham Kuyper
Monday, May 9, 2011
The Road to Wholeness
"This is what God the LORD says - he who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and all that comes out of it, who gives breath to its people, and life to those who walk on it: 'I, the LORD, have called you in righteousness; I will take hold of your hand. I will keep you and will make you to be a covenant for the people and a light for the Gentiles, to open eyes that are blind, to free captives from prison and to release from the dungeon those who sit in darkness. I am the LORD; that is my name! I will not give my glory to another or my praise to idols. See, the former things have taken place, and new things I declare; before they spring into being I announce them to you.'" (Isa. 42:5-9)
Deep in the heart of every person is a desire for wholeness - for things to work out, for fulfillment to come, for life to be filled with things that are right and good. In some hearts, that desire is deeply suppressed and obscured, probably from years of bitter disappointment. But it's there. It's always there.
The promise of the Messiah addresses that desire. Isaiah prophesied to a people in rebellion and headed to captivity, and he gave them a picture of deliverance, justice, restoration, and life (vv. 3-7). He would shine light in darkness and bring hope to every remote island. He would release captives and open eyes to see truth. He would give the human heart everything that long-buried desire was afraid to hope for. And He would bring it about by taking us by the hand and leading us into His righteousness and blessing.
Too many Christians approach the life of faith as an obligation, seeing obedience as a "have to" rather than a "get to." But according to God's Word, righteousness that comes from God is a privilege that leads to wholeness. It has the power to reach down into the soul, stoke the embers of that dying desire, and blow it into a living flame. His righteousness brings life and fulfillment - the kind we always hoped for.
The irony is that we think we can find life and fulfillment in other things and that righteousness will depress us with a long, painful to-do list. But the whisper that told us that didn't come from God. It came from a thief who steals, kills, and destroys, a liar who hates God and anyone He loves. The truth is that when God takes us by His hand and leads us in His righteousness, all of life comes into focus.
Don't be afraid to be led by God, even at the expense of those things you thought might bring you life. Only His truth, His Messiah, His righteousness can make you whole. Walk in them. Run in them. Never let go of the hand that leads you.
"The righteousness of God is not acquired by acts frequently repeated...but is imparted by faith." - Martin Luther
Deep in the heart of every person is a desire for wholeness - for things to work out, for fulfillment to come, for life to be filled with things that are right and good. In some hearts, that desire is deeply suppressed and obscured, probably from years of bitter disappointment. But it's there. It's always there.
The promise of the Messiah addresses that desire. Isaiah prophesied to a people in rebellion and headed to captivity, and he gave them a picture of deliverance, justice, restoration, and life (vv. 3-7). He would shine light in darkness and bring hope to every remote island. He would release captives and open eyes to see truth. He would give the human heart everything that long-buried desire was afraid to hope for. And He would bring it about by taking us by the hand and leading us into His righteousness and blessing.
Too many Christians approach the life of faith as an obligation, seeing obedience as a "have to" rather than a "get to." But according to God's Word, righteousness that comes from God is a privilege that leads to wholeness. It has the power to reach down into the soul, stoke the embers of that dying desire, and blow it into a living flame. His righteousness brings life and fulfillment - the kind we always hoped for.
The irony is that we think we can find life and fulfillment in other things and that righteousness will depress us with a long, painful to-do list. But the whisper that told us that didn't come from God. It came from a thief who steals, kills, and destroys, a liar who hates God and anyone He loves. The truth is that when God takes us by His hand and leads us in His righteousness, all of life comes into focus.
Don't be afraid to be led by God, even at the expense of those things you thought might bring you life. Only His truth, His Messiah, His righteousness can make you whole. Walk in them. Run in them. Never let go of the hand that leads you.
"The righteousness of God is not acquired by acts frequently repeated...but is imparted by faith." - Martin Luther
Monday, April 25, 2011
The Husband
"For Zion's sake I will not keep silent, for Jerusalem's sake, I will not remain quiet, till her righteousness shines out like the dawn, her salvation like a blazing torch. The nations will see your righteousness, and all the kings your glory; you will be called by a new name that the mouth of the LORD will bestow. You will be a crown of splendor in the LORD's hand, a royal diadem in the hand of your God. No longer will they call you Deserted, or name your land Desolate. But you will be called Hephzibah, and your land Beulah; for the LORD will take delight in you, and your land will be married. As a young man marries a maiden, so will your sons marry you; as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over you." (Isa. 62:1-5)
"Your Maker is your husband." That's how God inspired Isaiah to describe His relationship with His people. In the prophetic books, God used a lot of metaphors to describe that relationship, but this one is the most prominent. He is the Husband of His people, the Lover of the beloved, the Bridegroom who delights in His bride. Like a smitten man who cherishes his sweetheart, God cherishes us.
God could have described His love for His people in the form of a fact sheet or a news report. He could have simply inspired the prophets to write, "God loves you and He wants what's best for you." But somehow that just wasn't descriptive enough. When God speaks, He often uses pictures. And in Scripture, the picture of God's love is very often a husband's love for the woman of his dreams.
We should be ecstatic that God used such a picture. "Love" can mean a world of things, from our superficial feelings about preferences and pastimes to our deepest emotions of passion and purpose. "Love" by itself wouldn't tell us much about God's desire for us. But the love of a bridegroom, a husband, a suitor - that's exhilarating. That sky-high feeling of budding affection as it develops into deep, consuming passion is a feeling we all understand. This picture tells us that God's love for us isn't an obligation. It thrills Him.
Have you ever tried to imagine God rejoicing over you? Have you ever envisioned Him as madly, deeply taken with you? If the imagery of the prophets means anything at all, God's love isn't calculated and formal. It's wild and wonderful. His affection is like that of a groom for his bride; it sends Him soaring.
If you think about that, it will send you soaring too. People who have found their true love are on an emotional high, completely absorbed with each other. God wants that kind of relationship. Let yourself fall in love with the One who loves you deeply.
"Romance is at the heart of the universe and is the key to all existence." - Paul Billheimer
"Your Maker is your husband." That's how God inspired Isaiah to describe His relationship with His people. In the prophetic books, God used a lot of metaphors to describe that relationship, but this one is the most prominent. He is the Husband of His people, the Lover of the beloved, the Bridegroom who delights in His bride. Like a smitten man who cherishes his sweetheart, God cherishes us.
God could have described His love for His people in the form of a fact sheet or a news report. He could have simply inspired the prophets to write, "God loves you and He wants what's best for you." But somehow that just wasn't descriptive enough. When God speaks, He often uses pictures. And in Scripture, the picture of God's love is very often a husband's love for the woman of his dreams.
We should be ecstatic that God used such a picture. "Love" can mean a world of things, from our superficial feelings about preferences and pastimes to our deepest emotions of passion and purpose. "Love" by itself wouldn't tell us much about God's desire for us. But the love of a bridegroom, a husband, a suitor - that's exhilarating. That sky-high feeling of budding affection as it develops into deep, consuming passion is a feeling we all understand. This picture tells us that God's love for us isn't an obligation. It thrills Him.
Have you ever tried to imagine God rejoicing over you? Have you ever envisioned Him as madly, deeply taken with you? If the imagery of the prophets means anything at all, God's love isn't calculated and formal. It's wild and wonderful. His affection is like that of a groom for his bride; it sends Him soaring.
If you think about that, it will send you soaring too. People who have found their true love are on an emotional high, completely absorbed with each other. God wants that kind of relationship. Let yourself fall in love with the One who loves you deeply.
"Romance is at the heart of the universe and is the key to all existence." - Paul Billheimer
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Depths of Glory
"You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave - just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." (Matt. 20:25-28)
Where is God glorified? Is it in our stylish appearance on Sunday mornings? Our impressive displays of talent and skill? Our ability to influence others? Maybe sometimes, but most of us know that's not where the God of glory dwells. Despite His majestic splendor, He's much more humble than that. Ours is a God who, during His incarnation, dwelt in a feeding trough at birth and rode a donkey at the height of His popularity. The exalted Lord Jesus has never really appeared "exalted" to our wordly eyes.
Why is that? He could certainly impress us all the time with parted seas and with blazing fires by night. He could clearly fill a temple with His awesome presence. Why did the Everlasting Father clothe Himself as a Suffering Servant?
Because glory is about His character, not about His appearance. And character shows up best when circumstances are worst. It's the same with us. Nobody really judges us by the way we appear at our best; they size us up when we're under a burden. The contrast between light and darkness shows up when we're one and our environment is the other. So it is with God.
Many think the glory of God is reflected in great cathedrals, and perhaps it is. But it is also reflected in the slums of third-world megacities and the mental hospitals of postwar generations. The cathedrals allow observers to praise man's ingenuity; the slums and wards are so dreadful that any evidence of God in them is clear. No one has trouble finding light when all else is dark.
Don't strive for the glory of God by reaching for the heights. Seek it by plunging into the depths. That's what Jesus did, leaving eternal majesties for the corrupt environment of earth, and oh, how God was glorified. That's the direction in which He calls us as well. Go down. Show His love to broken sinners; proclaim His mercy in trash-filled streets; and shine your light in dark ghettoes. Jesus dove deep for us. He calls us to dive deep for Him.
"If Christ were here, He would help them, and so must I." - Toyohiko Kagawa, on his mission to Kobe's slum-dwellers
Where is God glorified? Is it in our stylish appearance on Sunday mornings? Our impressive displays of talent and skill? Our ability to influence others? Maybe sometimes, but most of us know that's not where the God of glory dwells. Despite His majestic splendor, He's much more humble than that. Ours is a God who, during His incarnation, dwelt in a feeding trough at birth and rode a donkey at the height of His popularity. The exalted Lord Jesus has never really appeared "exalted" to our wordly eyes.
Why is that? He could certainly impress us all the time with parted seas and with blazing fires by night. He could clearly fill a temple with His awesome presence. Why did the Everlasting Father clothe Himself as a Suffering Servant?
Because glory is about His character, not about His appearance. And character shows up best when circumstances are worst. It's the same with us. Nobody really judges us by the way we appear at our best; they size us up when we're under a burden. The contrast between light and darkness shows up when we're one and our environment is the other. So it is with God.
Many think the glory of God is reflected in great cathedrals, and perhaps it is. But it is also reflected in the slums of third-world megacities and the mental hospitals of postwar generations. The cathedrals allow observers to praise man's ingenuity; the slums and wards are so dreadful that any evidence of God in them is clear. No one has trouble finding light when all else is dark.
Don't strive for the glory of God by reaching for the heights. Seek it by plunging into the depths. That's what Jesus did, leaving eternal majesties for the corrupt environment of earth, and oh, how God was glorified. That's the direction in which He calls us as well. Go down. Show His love to broken sinners; proclaim His mercy in trash-filled streets; and shine your light in dark ghettoes. Jesus dove deep for us. He calls us to dive deep for Him.
"If Christ were here, He would help them, and so must I." - Toyohiko Kagawa, on his mission to Kobe's slum-dwellers
Monday, February 21, 2011
Anti-Worship
"Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." (Psa. 139:23-24)
It's a little disturbing to us that David equates anxious thoughts with an "offensive way" in this psalm. We're anxious by nature, frequently wondering how things will turn out for us. We know bad things happen to all kinds of people, and it's only natural for us to worry that they might happen to us. Life can be stressful. So what's wrong with being stressed?
Think of what our anxiety says about God. When we harbor anxious thoughts, we are saying that the One who has promised to take care of our future (Jeremiah 29:11) might not do a good job of it. It says that the One who has promised to walk us through the waters and not to allow the fire to burn us (Isaiah 43:2) might abandon us to the waters and the fire. And it says that His presence in the valley of the shadow of death (Psalm 23:4) might not be enough to calm us. We don't realize it, but our emotions often tell our Provider that we don't think we'll have enough provision, tell our Savior that we're afraid of not being saved, tell our Comforter that we're uncomfortable, and tell our Deliverer that we're sure we'll remain captive. Our hearts actually slander Him when we don't trust His protection, His strength, and His love. We don't mean to; we're just anxious. But our anxiety can be awfully offensive.
Imagine a son lying awake at night wondering if his parents are going to feed him tomorrow. Or a daughter wondering if she will have something to clothe herself in. That might happen in some homes, but what does it say of the parents? Nothing complimentary.
But we who worship God cannot praise Him with such insecurities. Our fears are a form of anti-worship - a clear declaration that our God might not have promised us enough, or might not be able to follow through on what He has promised. Yes, He will let us go through hard things, but never outside of His timing or beyond His protection. So worship Him. And don't worry about it.
"Anxiety comes from strain, and strain is caused by too complete a dependence on ourselves." - Thomas Merton
It's a little disturbing to us that David equates anxious thoughts with an "offensive way" in this psalm. We're anxious by nature, frequently wondering how things will turn out for us. We know bad things happen to all kinds of people, and it's only natural for us to worry that they might happen to us. Life can be stressful. So what's wrong with being stressed?
Think of what our anxiety says about God. When we harbor anxious thoughts, we are saying that the One who has promised to take care of our future (Jeremiah 29:11) might not do a good job of it. It says that the One who has promised to walk us through the waters and not to allow the fire to burn us (Isaiah 43:2) might abandon us to the waters and the fire. And it says that His presence in the valley of the shadow of death (Psalm 23:4) might not be enough to calm us. We don't realize it, but our emotions often tell our Provider that we don't think we'll have enough provision, tell our Savior that we're afraid of not being saved, tell our Comforter that we're uncomfortable, and tell our Deliverer that we're sure we'll remain captive. Our hearts actually slander Him when we don't trust His protection, His strength, and His love. We don't mean to; we're just anxious. But our anxiety can be awfully offensive.
Imagine a son lying awake at night wondering if his parents are going to feed him tomorrow. Or a daughter wondering if she will have something to clothe herself in. That might happen in some homes, but what does it say of the parents? Nothing complimentary.
But we who worship God cannot praise Him with such insecurities. Our fears are a form of anti-worship - a clear declaration that our God might not have promised us enough, or might not be able to follow through on what He has promised. Yes, He will let us go through hard things, but never outside of His timing or beyond His protection. So worship Him. And don't worry about it.
"Anxiety comes from strain, and strain is caused by too complete a dependence on ourselves." - Thomas Merton
Saturday, February 12, 2011
The Shepherd
Ok, so I know I haven't written anything in a while. Truthfully, I haven't been where I should be in my spiritual walk lately, and haven't been serving God the way I need to be. Thanks to a very lovely and important person in my life, God has brought this to my attention. This post isn't going to be like all my other posts. This time, I'll just let God speak for Himself:
"'For this is what the Sovereign LORD says: I myself will search for my sheep and look after them. As a shepherd looks after his scattered flock when he is with them, so will I look after my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places where they were scattered on a day of clouds and darkness. I will bring them out from the nations and gather them from the countries, and I will bring them into their own land. I will tend them in a good pasture, and the mountain heights of Israel will be their grazing land. There they will lie down in good grazing land, and there they will feed in a rich pasture on the mountains of Israel. I myself will tend my sheep and have them lie down, declares the Sovereign LORD. I will search for the lost and bring back the strays. I will bind up the injured and strengthen the weak, but the sleek and the strong I will destroy. I will shepherd the flock with justice.
"'As for you, my flock, this is what the Sovereign LORD says: I will judge between one sheep and another, and between rams and goats. Is it not enough for you to feed on the good pasture? Must you also trample the rest of your pasture with your feet? Is it not enough for you to drink clear water? Must you also muddy the rest with your feet? Must my flock feed on what you have trampled and drink what you have muddied with your feet?
"'Therefore this is what the Sovereign LORD says to them: See, I myself will judge between the fat sheep and the lean sheep. Because you shove with flank and shoulder, butting all the weak sheep with your horns until you have driven them away, I will save my flock, and they will no longer be plundered. I will judge between one sheep and another. I will place over them one shepherd, my servant David, and he will tend them; he will tend them and be their shepherd. I the LORD will be their God, and my servant David will be prince among them. I the LORD have spoken.
"'I will make a covenant of peace with them and rid the land of wild beasts so that they may live in the desert and sleep in the forests in safety. I will bless them and the places surrounding my hill. I will send down showers in season; there will be showers of blessing. The trees of the field will yield their fruit and the ground will yield its crops; the people will be secure in their land. They will know that I am the LORD, when I break the bars of their yoke and rescue them from the hands of those who enslaved them. They will no longer be plundered by the nations, nor will wild animals devour them. They will live in safety, and no one will make them afraid. I will provide for them a land renowned for its crops, and they will no longer be victims of famine in the land or bear the scorn of the nations. Then they will know that I, the LORD their God, am with them and that they, the house of Israel, are my people, declares the Sovereign LORD. You my sheep, the sheep of my pasture, are people, and I am your God, declares the Sovereign LORD.'"
Be encouraged.
"'For this is what the Sovereign LORD says: I myself will search for my sheep and look after them. As a shepherd looks after his scattered flock when he is with them, so will I look after my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places where they were scattered on a day of clouds and darkness. I will bring them out from the nations and gather them from the countries, and I will bring them into their own land. I will tend them in a good pasture, and the mountain heights of Israel will be their grazing land. There they will lie down in good grazing land, and there they will feed in a rich pasture on the mountains of Israel. I myself will tend my sheep and have them lie down, declares the Sovereign LORD. I will search for the lost and bring back the strays. I will bind up the injured and strengthen the weak, but the sleek and the strong I will destroy. I will shepherd the flock with justice.
"'As for you, my flock, this is what the Sovereign LORD says: I will judge between one sheep and another, and between rams and goats. Is it not enough for you to feed on the good pasture? Must you also trample the rest of your pasture with your feet? Is it not enough for you to drink clear water? Must you also muddy the rest with your feet? Must my flock feed on what you have trampled and drink what you have muddied with your feet?
"'Therefore this is what the Sovereign LORD says to them: See, I myself will judge between the fat sheep and the lean sheep. Because you shove with flank and shoulder, butting all the weak sheep with your horns until you have driven them away, I will save my flock, and they will no longer be plundered. I will judge between one sheep and another. I will place over them one shepherd, my servant David, and he will tend them; he will tend them and be their shepherd. I the LORD will be their God, and my servant David will be prince among them. I the LORD have spoken.
"'I will make a covenant of peace with them and rid the land of wild beasts so that they may live in the desert and sleep in the forests in safety. I will bless them and the places surrounding my hill. I will send down showers in season; there will be showers of blessing. The trees of the field will yield their fruit and the ground will yield its crops; the people will be secure in their land. They will know that I am the LORD, when I break the bars of their yoke and rescue them from the hands of those who enslaved them. They will no longer be plundered by the nations, nor will wild animals devour them. They will live in safety, and no one will make them afraid. I will provide for them a land renowned for its crops, and they will no longer be victims of famine in the land or bear the scorn of the nations. Then they will know that I, the LORD their God, am with them and that they, the house of Israel, are my people, declares the Sovereign LORD. You my sheep, the sheep of my pasture, are people, and I am your God, declares the Sovereign LORD.'"
Be encouraged.
Friday, January 28, 2011
The God Who Wounds
"Blessed is the man whom God corrects; so do not despise the discipline of the Almighty. For he wounds, but he also binds up; he injures, but his hands also heal. ... Then Job replied: 'If only my anguish could be weighed and all my misery be placed on the scales! It would surely outweigh the sand of the seas - no wonder my words have been impetuous.'" (Job 5:17-18, 6:1-3)
We've all suffered wounds from God. We'd prefer never to know pain at His hands, but the Bible gives us no such promise. What we are promised is comforting, but much less relaxing than what we'd like to hear. We want a god who will always give us what we want and will never teach us hard lessons. We want to be conformed to the image of Jesus without the chisel that shapes us. But God's hand, though always good, isn't always easy. He takes us through not only joys and comfort, but also pain. A quick survey of Scripture should be enough to convince us. Just ask Job - or Abraham, Joseph, David, Jeremiah, Daniel, John the Baptist, John the disciple, Peter, Paul, Stephen, or any other character God used. The godly life is joyful but painful.
Or we could just ask our living Lord. That sacred head once wounded has a testimony for us: Those who worship God yet live in this world will be traumatized by the contradictions between the two. Count on it. And it isn't just an unfortunate spiritual dynamic; the God we worship has ordained it. Whether for correction or character, it's from Him.
Is that unsettling? Don't worry; His wounds are never deeper than they must be, and never beyond His ability to heal. In fact, He has promised to heal them. But we must have them if He is to shape us. There's no way we can be like Jesus and yet wear no scars in this world.
Did we think the Christian life was going to be without pain? No. Look at Jesus. Look at His disciples. Look at two thousand years of church history. Or, closer to home, look at the headlines. The crucified Lord has a crucified church. It's the only path to resurrection.
No, the Christian life is by no means without pain. It can't be, not if it's real and if it exists in a hostile world. And not if we're going to be like Jesus. But neither is it without comfort and healing. That's why we can worship the God who wounds as well as the God who restores. He knows what He is doing; He is preparing us for glory.
"No pain, no palm; no thorns, no throne; no gall, no glory; no cross, no crown." - William Penn
We've all suffered wounds from God. We'd prefer never to know pain at His hands, but the Bible gives us no such promise. What we are promised is comforting, but much less relaxing than what we'd like to hear. We want a god who will always give us what we want and will never teach us hard lessons. We want to be conformed to the image of Jesus without the chisel that shapes us. But God's hand, though always good, isn't always easy. He takes us through not only joys and comfort, but also pain. A quick survey of Scripture should be enough to convince us. Just ask Job - or Abraham, Joseph, David, Jeremiah, Daniel, John the Baptist, John the disciple, Peter, Paul, Stephen, or any other character God used. The godly life is joyful but painful.
Or we could just ask our living Lord. That sacred head once wounded has a testimony for us: Those who worship God yet live in this world will be traumatized by the contradictions between the two. Count on it. And it isn't just an unfortunate spiritual dynamic; the God we worship has ordained it. Whether for correction or character, it's from Him.
Is that unsettling? Don't worry; His wounds are never deeper than they must be, and never beyond His ability to heal. In fact, He has promised to heal them. But we must have them if He is to shape us. There's no way we can be like Jesus and yet wear no scars in this world.
Did we think the Christian life was going to be without pain? No. Look at Jesus. Look at His disciples. Look at two thousand years of church history. Or, closer to home, look at the headlines. The crucified Lord has a crucified church. It's the only path to resurrection.
No, the Christian life is by no means without pain. It can't be, not if it's real and if it exists in a hostile world. And not if we're going to be like Jesus. But neither is it without comfort and healing. That's why we can worship the God who wounds as well as the God who restores. He knows what He is doing; He is preparing us for glory.
"No pain, no palm; no thorns, no throne; no gall, no glory; no cross, no crown." - William Penn
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
High Conformity
"Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." (Eph. 5:1-2)
A trap of the human conscience is to think that God wants us to be loving, gracious, generous, and all those other good things because He wants us to behave ourselves and get along with each other. That would, in fact, be a wonderful by-product of our spiritual maturity, but it isn't the goal. No, the goal is much deeper than that: It's to be like God.
As creatures designed to reflect His image, we've fallen tragically short of the goal. God's restoration offered in the Cross of Jesus and the gift of His Spirit puts us back on the image-of-God track. God wants us to be loving, gracious, generous, and all those other good things because He is all of those things. Any good father would want to instill his values and his character into his children. And our God is a very good Father. He wants us to be like Him.
That's a different approach to maturity than many of us usually take. We want to fulfill the requirements - at least the minimum - and get by with better-than-average growth. We seek a Christianized form of self-improvement. But God has so much more for us than self-improvement. His greater desire for us is God-conformity. We are being drawn by His Spirit into a new role - from servants to children. Both must comply with the Father's wishes. Only one can really inherit His genes and grow in His character.
Think about this: Have you approached the fruit of the Spirit as items on a list - a list that's primarily about you and your growth? I know I certainly have before. But we must look higher than that. They are aspects of God's character that He is fully intent on having us share. He is relentless in pursuit of His image being found in each of us. He won't diverge from that goal. Neither should we.
God wants us to love because He is love. He wants us to be pure because He is pure. He wants us to forgive because He has forgiven. He wants us to give because He has given. The list could go on. And, in fact, it should. Everything we do should be done with one question in mind: Does this look like my Father?
"...But the greatest of these is love." (1 Cor. 13:13) Nowhere in the New Testament is love defined simply as a common human emotion. Biblical love is much more radical than that. It extends farther than the world's love - to enemies and strangers; and it also goes deeper - to sacrificial offerings of adoration. We love because God adamantly insists that we be like Him. But if human experience isn't the template for biblical love, where do we go to take our cues? Jesus is our example.
Jesus loved us and gave Himself as an offering. He considered His own human feelings of no account; a higher consideration than self took Him to the Cross. He defined love for His disciples as laying down one's life for a friend, and He gave them an object lesson they would never forget. The visual illustration of this kind of love sticks with us as well. It's the example Paul gives to the Ephesians: We are to love in the same way that Christ loved us. Paul wrote to the Romans of the call to be a living sacrifice. Using Jesus as our model is a reiteration of the same theme.
Think of Jesus' kind of love: He embraced cheaters and prostitutes. He touched lepers and dead people. He was sometimes very tender and sometimes very harsh. He always told the truth, even when it hurt. He loved sinners but hated sin. He let people self-destruct - Pharisees, insincere seekers, Peter in his denial - never compromising principles for the sake of sentiment. He was incredibly patient with hardheaded disciples. And He bled.
Does that description of Jesus' love reflect the kind of love we show each other in the church and in the world? Probably not. We have a long way to go. But there's no way we can worship this God without a desire to be like Him - especially in His love.
Paul frequently makes Jesus our prime example. So much for attainable goals! But a God worth worshiping would never settle for mediocrity anyway. We must press on. His love compels us.
"We are shaped and fashioned by what we love." - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
"He who is filled with love is filled with God Himself." - Augustine
A trap of the human conscience is to think that God wants us to be loving, gracious, generous, and all those other good things because He wants us to behave ourselves and get along with each other. That would, in fact, be a wonderful by-product of our spiritual maturity, but it isn't the goal. No, the goal is much deeper than that: It's to be like God.
As creatures designed to reflect His image, we've fallen tragically short of the goal. God's restoration offered in the Cross of Jesus and the gift of His Spirit puts us back on the image-of-God track. God wants us to be loving, gracious, generous, and all those other good things because He is all of those things. Any good father would want to instill his values and his character into his children. And our God is a very good Father. He wants us to be like Him.
That's a different approach to maturity than many of us usually take. We want to fulfill the requirements - at least the minimum - and get by with better-than-average growth. We seek a Christianized form of self-improvement. But God has so much more for us than self-improvement. His greater desire for us is God-conformity. We are being drawn by His Spirit into a new role - from servants to children. Both must comply with the Father's wishes. Only one can really inherit His genes and grow in His character.
Think about this: Have you approached the fruit of the Spirit as items on a list - a list that's primarily about you and your growth? I know I certainly have before. But we must look higher than that. They are aspects of God's character that He is fully intent on having us share. He is relentless in pursuit of His image being found in each of us. He won't diverge from that goal. Neither should we.
God wants us to love because He is love. He wants us to be pure because He is pure. He wants us to forgive because He has forgiven. He wants us to give because He has given. The list could go on. And, in fact, it should. Everything we do should be done with one question in mind: Does this look like my Father?
"...But the greatest of these is love." (1 Cor. 13:13) Nowhere in the New Testament is love defined simply as a common human emotion. Biblical love is much more radical than that. It extends farther than the world's love - to enemies and strangers; and it also goes deeper - to sacrificial offerings of adoration. We love because God adamantly insists that we be like Him. But if human experience isn't the template for biblical love, where do we go to take our cues? Jesus is our example.
Jesus loved us and gave Himself as an offering. He considered His own human feelings of no account; a higher consideration than self took Him to the Cross. He defined love for His disciples as laying down one's life for a friend, and He gave them an object lesson they would never forget. The visual illustration of this kind of love sticks with us as well. It's the example Paul gives to the Ephesians: We are to love in the same way that Christ loved us. Paul wrote to the Romans of the call to be a living sacrifice. Using Jesus as our model is a reiteration of the same theme.
Think of Jesus' kind of love: He embraced cheaters and prostitutes. He touched lepers and dead people. He was sometimes very tender and sometimes very harsh. He always told the truth, even when it hurt. He loved sinners but hated sin. He let people self-destruct - Pharisees, insincere seekers, Peter in his denial - never compromising principles for the sake of sentiment. He was incredibly patient with hardheaded disciples. And He bled.
Does that description of Jesus' love reflect the kind of love we show each other in the church and in the world? Probably not. We have a long way to go. But there's no way we can worship this God without a desire to be like Him - especially in His love.
Paul frequently makes Jesus our prime example. So much for attainable goals! But a God worth worshiping would never settle for mediocrity anyway. We must press on. His love compels us.
"We are shaped and fashioned by what we love." - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
"He who is filled with love is filled with God Himself." - Augustine
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Nonconformity
"For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds." (2 Cor. 10:3-4)
Imagine a culture in which there is no word to describe deception. No lie has ever been told and no one has even considered deviating from the truth. This culture has such clear lines of authority that it would occur to no one to assert his own rights - or violate another's. It has a complete absence of conflict, a perfectly united fellowship, and a plan that everyone single-mindedly pursues. There's no discord there, only harmony. It's the utopia that human beings have instinctively envisioned, yet never achieved.
Such was the culture of heaven before Satan fell like lightning from his high estate. As far as we can tell from Scripture, Lucifer's rebellion was an isolated incident. It drew many followers - one-third of heaven's hosts, according to many interpretations of Revelation 12:4 - but was not in any way typical of the remainder of heaven's inhabitants. No, heaven's culture was perfect. Who - except for a being as prideful as Satan - would have wanted to mess it up?
We can't relate to a society in which evil is foreign. We're not nearly innocent enough for that. We've grown up with sin all around us, showing up in violence, bitterness and anger, lust and greed, and all sorts of idolatries. But in the enormous span of cosmic history, our earth has gone tragically wrong for only a well-defined moment - a brief sliver of eternity. What we've accepted as normal is drastically abnormal. God's eternal kingdom will not accept any elements of rebellion. Regardless of how comfortable we've been in the past with the human rebellion, we need to be terribly uncomfortable with it now. We have to change.
Our worship of God is to involve a radical transformation to His culture - a society in which all disobedience is a horrifying thought. No lying, no lust, no discord, no rebellion. Our minds must fit the eternal patterns of heaven, not the momentary aberrations of earth. We are citizens of a very different kingdom than we've ever known. The ways of this world hold nothing for us anymore. Our conformity is over. Transformation must begin.
"Measure your growth in grace by your sensitiveness to sin." - Oswald Chambers
Imagine a culture in which there is no word to describe deception. No lie has ever been told and no one has even considered deviating from the truth. This culture has such clear lines of authority that it would occur to no one to assert his own rights - or violate another's. It has a complete absence of conflict, a perfectly united fellowship, and a plan that everyone single-mindedly pursues. There's no discord there, only harmony. It's the utopia that human beings have instinctively envisioned, yet never achieved.
Such was the culture of heaven before Satan fell like lightning from his high estate. As far as we can tell from Scripture, Lucifer's rebellion was an isolated incident. It drew many followers - one-third of heaven's hosts, according to many interpretations of Revelation 12:4 - but was not in any way typical of the remainder of heaven's inhabitants. No, heaven's culture was perfect. Who - except for a being as prideful as Satan - would have wanted to mess it up?
We can't relate to a society in which evil is foreign. We're not nearly innocent enough for that. We've grown up with sin all around us, showing up in violence, bitterness and anger, lust and greed, and all sorts of idolatries. But in the enormous span of cosmic history, our earth has gone tragically wrong for only a well-defined moment - a brief sliver of eternity. What we've accepted as normal is drastically abnormal. God's eternal kingdom will not accept any elements of rebellion. Regardless of how comfortable we've been in the past with the human rebellion, we need to be terribly uncomfortable with it now. We have to change.
Our worship of God is to involve a radical transformation to His culture - a society in which all disobedience is a horrifying thought. No lying, no lust, no discord, no rebellion. Our minds must fit the eternal patterns of heaven, not the momentary aberrations of earth. We are citizens of a very different kingdom than we've ever known. The ways of this world hold nothing for us anymore. Our conformity is over. Transformation must begin.
"Measure your growth in grace by your sensitiveness to sin." - Oswald Chambers
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
A Living Sacrifice
"Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God - this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind." (Rom. 12:1-2)
Since the days of the Exodus, wherever a tabernacle or temple stood, faithful Jews would bring the best of their flocks and herds to a priest standing at the altar of God. It was an act of devotion, a commandment handed down by God Himself. There were various reasons for the command: The offering would, at times, serve as a symbol of sin and its ugly consequences; as a sacrifice of gratitude, acknowledging that every good gift comes from God; or as an act of devotion and worship, a gift from a loving heart. Regardless of the reason, the origin of the sacrifice was always God - human beings clearly never created a ram or a bull - and the sacrifice was always a reminder of the horrible gap between the Creator and the created.
God bridged that gap with His ultimate sacrifice, of course - the body of Jesus on an altar made of Roman lumber. The wages of sin were paid in full. There are no more guilt offerings. All that was left for us to do is to place our lives in Him. Never before had such a gift been given, and never since. Those who accept it have no sin to work off, no condemnation to dread. We're left standing with nothing but our gratitude.
There is, however, an appropriate response. It has nothing to do with merit or guilt, but only with the thankfulness that should naturally flow from a redeemed heart. It is our spiritual act of worship.
The response is for us to walk to that tabernacle or temple as the Israelites did in days of old, approach the Priest, and hand Him the sacrifice that we brought out of our gratitude: ourselves. We are to envision our Priest doing His duty by taking the sacrifice, placing it on the altar of God, and accepting it in His name. But unlike the old sacrifices, this sacrifice still lives. It lives a dedicated life, an altar life. It now belongs to the Priest. We are in His hands.
But what does it mean to lay our lives on God's altar? Imagine a scene from the movies: In some distant tribal culture, one man saves another's life. According to custom, the saved now belongs to the savior. And why not? If not for the rescuer, the rescued one would be dead. His life rightfully belongs to the one who preserved it. He might as well spend the rest of his days for the one who actually gave him the rest of his days.
So it is with Jesus and His sheep. We were lost and, for all practical purposes, dead. That's not our preferred assessment of ourselves, but it's what the Bible says. Without Jesus, we'd be forever lost and lifeless. But He rescued us. And in His culture, we now belong to Him. We are to live out the rest of our days - the days He mercifully gave us - for Him.
That's what being a living sacrifice is all about. It means that when Jesus tells us to turn the other cheek, we don't have the right to say, "No, not this time." When Jesus tells us to give all we have - our time, our talents, our money, or even our deepest desires - to some aspect of His work, we don't have the authority to decline. We are not our own; we have no claim on our own lives. We were bought with a precious, heavy price. We were saved for the One who saved us.
Just as Jesus laid Himself on God's altar for our sin, we are to lay ourselves on that altar for His righteousness. We don't earn His righteousness, of course. But practically, God puts it into us - He works it into our spirits - to the extent that we lay down our tainted lives in exchange for His resurrected one.
The implications of that relationship are astounding. Radical. Relentless. It was an "everything" purchase for a "forever" promise. Living sacrifices don't live for themselves. They live for Another. That's their service of worship.
Since the days of the Exodus, wherever a tabernacle or temple stood, faithful Jews would bring the best of their flocks and herds to a priest standing at the altar of God. It was an act of devotion, a commandment handed down by God Himself. There were various reasons for the command: The offering would, at times, serve as a symbol of sin and its ugly consequences; as a sacrifice of gratitude, acknowledging that every good gift comes from God; or as an act of devotion and worship, a gift from a loving heart. Regardless of the reason, the origin of the sacrifice was always God - human beings clearly never created a ram or a bull - and the sacrifice was always a reminder of the horrible gap between the Creator and the created.
God bridged that gap with His ultimate sacrifice, of course - the body of Jesus on an altar made of Roman lumber. The wages of sin were paid in full. There are no more guilt offerings. All that was left for us to do is to place our lives in Him. Never before had such a gift been given, and never since. Those who accept it have no sin to work off, no condemnation to dread. We're left standing with nothing but our gratitude.
There is, however, an appropriate response. It has nothing to do with merit or guilt, but only with the thankfulness that should naturally flow from a redeemed heart. It is our spiritual act of worship.
The response is for us to walk to that tabernacle or temple as the Israelites did in days of old, approach the Priest, and hand Him the sacrifice that we brought out of our gratitude: ourselves. We are to envision our Priest doing His duty by taking the sacrifice, placing it on the altar of God, and accepting it in His name. But unlike the old sacrifices, this sacrifice still lives. It lives a dedicated life, an altar life. It now belongs to the Priest. We are in His hands.
But what does it mean to lay our lives on God's altar? Imagine a scene from the movies: In some distant tribal culture, one man saves another's life. According to custom, the saved now belongs to the savior. And why not? If not for the rescuer, the rescued one would be dead. His life rightfully belongs to the one who preserved it. He might as well spend the rest of his days for the one who actually gave him the rest of his days.
So it is with Jesus and His sheep. We were lost and, for all practical purposes, dead. That's not our preferred assessment of ourselves, but it's what the Bible says. Without Jesus, we'd be forever lost and lifeless. But He rescued us. And in His culture, we now belong to Him. We are to live out the rest of our days - the days He mercifully gave us - for Him.
That's what being a living sacrifice is all about. It means that when Jesus tells us to turn the other cheek, we don't have the right to say, "No, not this time." When Jesus tells us to give all we have - our time, our talents, our money, or even our deepest desires - to some aspect of His work, we don't have the authority to decline. We are not our own; we have no claim on our own lives. We were bought with a precious, heavy price. We were saved for the One who saved us.
Just as Jesus laid Himself on God's altar for our sin, we are to lay ourselves on that altar for His righteousness. We don't earn His righteousness, of course. But practically, God puts it into us - He works it into our spirits - to the extent that we lay down our tainted lives in exchange for His resurrected one.
The implications of that relationship are astounding. Radical. Relentless. It was an "everything" purchase for a "forever" promise. Living sacrifices don't live for themselves. They live for Another. That's their service of worship.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
In Spirit and Truth
"Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in spirit and in truth." (John 4:23-24)
We are worshiping creatures by nature. It's why we were made. A glance around our world reveals a panorama of worship. Our culture alone includes an abundance of styles, a plethora of deities, a multitude of definitions, and myriad motives.
Considering the central role of worship in the life of a human being - it is our entire reason for being, as well as the eternal activity of the saints in heaven, according to the Word - we might do well to consider what God wants it to be like. Does He prefer informal or formal? Ritualistic or spontaneous? Noisy or quiet? Dignified or recklessly passionate? Nearly everyone has an opinion on these alternatives, but they aren't really the heart of the issue. What God desires most has less to do with how we express our worship than with the spirit behind it. In our adoration of our Creator, God seeks inspiration and integrity, sincerity and a spirit of sacrifice. He wants our outward expression to match our inward attitudes. He wants us not to worship ignorantly, but to know who He is. He wants it to be real.
That's hard for us. We fall into error so easily: We're either too emotional or not emotional enough, too rigid or too unstructured, too self-conscious or not self-aware enough. Most of all, we're apt to turn a worshipful heart into a routine behavior in the blink of an eye. What was sincere devotion yesterday is a performance for God's approval today. What was once an act of passion is now an act of obligation. Our hearts can grow cold faster than we ever thought.
We should consider what our worship is like. Is it a Sunday ritual or a frenzied emotion that we can put on and take off? Is it limited to one style of music or a particular church? Most important, is it more than skin-deep?
God seeks those whose worship emanates from deep within. He desires legitimate praise and integrity between heart and mouth. He wants to be the One we treasure most. Most of all, He wants you. All of you.
We are worshiping creatures by nature. It's why we were made. A glance around our world reveals a panorama of worship. Our culture alone includes an abundance of styles, a plethora of deities, a multitude of definitions, and myriad motives.
Considering the central role of worship in the life of a human being - it is our entire reason for being, as well as the eternal activity of the saints in heaven, according to the Word - we might do well to consider what God wants it to be like. Does He prefer informal or formal? Ritualistic or spontaneous? Noisy or quiet? Dignified or recklessly passionate? Nearly everyone has an opinion on these alternatives, but they aren't really the heart of the issue. What God desires most has less to do with how we express our worship than with the spirit behind it. In our adoration of our Creator, God seeks inspiration and integrity, sincerity and a spirit of sacrifice. He wants our outward expression to match our inward attitudes. He wants us not to worship ignorantly, but to know who He is. He wants it to be real.
That's hard for us. We fall into error so easily: We're either too emotional or not emotional enough, too rigid or too unstructured, too self-conscious or not self-aware enough. Most of all, we're apt to turn a worshipful heart into a routine behavior in the blink of an eye. What was sincere devotion yesterday is a performance for God's approval today. What was once an act of passion is now an act of obligation. Our hearts can grow cold faster than we ever thought.
We should consider what our worship is like. Is it a Sunday ritual or a frenzied emotion that we can put on and take off? Is it limited to one style of music or a particular church? Most important, is it more than skin-deep?
God seeks those whose worship emanates from deep within. He desires legitimate praise and integrity between heart and mouth. He wants to be the One we treasure most. Most of all, He wants you. All of you.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Precious Offerings
"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?
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?
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?
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
The Easy Way vs. God's Way
"There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end it leads to death." (Pro. 14:12)
The Easy Way
"In those days Israel had no king; everyone did as he saw fit." (Jud. 21:25)
When given a choice between an easy option and a difficult one, which are we more likely to select? All other things being equal, the easy one. But all other things are not equal. Our choices have far-reaching ramifications, and God usually has a preference in them. And, not surprisingly to us, His will has little to do with what's easy.
The United States Declaration of Independence asserts our right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That's ingrained in us. We are not often encouraged to do difficult things unless the rewards are great - and clear to our senses. No, more often we prefer the path of least resistance. We'll work for a self-serving cause, or even a selfless cause we feel passionately about. But we do not see God's benefits easily. We are unaware of His rewards, unfamiliar with His Kingdom's ways, and often unconcerned with the glory of His name. We are creatures of the easy way.
That's a natural tendency of a fallen humanity, and cultural ideals and elders who know better try to train us otherwise. But, like the Israelites in one terribly lawless period, everyone does as he or she sees fit (Jud. 21:25). We forget that God never asked us to do what seems right in our own eyes; He asks us to do what is right in His eyes. Before the Holy Spirit lovingly invades our lives, we have no spiritual discernment and are guided by impure minds. At the time, that seems like a satisfying independence. But in truth, it's a scary way to live.
Consider God's ways with those in the Bible. If difficulties indicated being out of God's will, Paul had most certainly gone astray. (His hardships are listed in 2 Cor. 6:4-10.) If obedience were always an easy decision, Abraham's willingness to sacrifice Isaac was pointless. No, our God calls us to hard things. We don't like that, but we need to get used to it. It's a temporary but certain component of the Kingdom of God: The way that seems right often isn't.
God's Way
"This day I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live." (Deut. 30:19)
The way of human ingenuity and discernment, according to the Bible, leads to death. This verse is often applied to salvation, but it is much farther-reaching than that. It applies to all of our choices. We are confronted with constant decisions between self-will and God's will. And the choices may be much more subtle than that: the easy way vs. the hard way, small compromises vs. absolute truth, or any other such confusing fork in the road. We don't realize the gravity of our direction. Man's way leads to death, while God's way leads to . . . well, death.
Have you considered that? If we serve ourselves and cling to our false values, we will die. If we submit to Jesus, we must die. But the outcome is not as uniform as it seems. This world offers us "life" and then death - forever. God offers us "death" and then life - forever. Fools choose the "life" of this world, the "life" of the party, the "life" of freedom from all responsibility. The wise choose God. Yes, that means a cross now - a daily cross, a painful cross, a difficult path of aversion to our own wills and submission to God's. But in the end, it leads to life.
God is constantly calling us into His will. We're afraid of Him. We've been convinced by a hostile world and a lying enemy that God's will involves untold sacrifice and pain without a corresponding benefit. We think it's all pain, no gain - or a lot of pain with very uncertain gain. We just can't see the blessing beyond the cross.
But do you think you have a real alternative? That cross we carry may be painful and sacrificial - it is not the easy way. But it's the only way. The alternative is to live outside the will of God, which equals a thousand deaths, each a thousand times worse than the blessed life of submission to the compassionate Lord. What "life" are we embracing when we opt for self-will? A momentary sense of satisfaction, perhaps. But that won't last. God's Kingdom will. It's where life will live forever.
"Carry the cross patiently and with perfect submission, and in the end it shall carry you." - Thomas à Kempis
The Easy Way
"In those days Israel had no king; everyone did as he saw fit." (Jud. 21:25)
When given a choice between an easy option and a difficult one, which are we more likely to select? All other things being equal, the easy one. But all other things are not equal. Our choices have far-reaching ramifications, and God usually has a preference in them. And, not surprisingly to us, His will has little to do with what's easy.
The United States Declaration of Independence asserts our right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That's ingrained in us. We are not often encouraged to do difficult things unless the rewards are great - and clear to our senses. No, more often we prefer the path of least resistance. We'll work for a self-serving cause, or even a selfless cause we feel passionately about. But we do not see God's benefits easily. We are unaware of His rewards, unfamiliar with His Kingdom's ways, and often unconcerned with the glory of His name. We are creatures of the easy way.
That's a natural tendency of a fallen humanity, and cultural ideals and elders who know better try to train us otherwise. But, like the Israelites in one terribly lawless period, everyone does as he or she sees fit (Jud. 21:25). We forget that God never asked us to do what seems right in our own eyes; He asks us to do what is right in His eyes. Before the Holy Spirit lovingly invades our lives, we have no spiritual discernment and are guided by impure minds. At the time, that seems like a satisfying independence. But in truth, it's a scary way to live.
Consider God's ways with those in the Bible. If difficulties indicated being out of God's will, Paul had most certainly gone astray. (His hardships are listed in 2 Cor. 6:4-10.) If obedience were always an easy decision, Abraham's willingness to sacrifice Isaac was pointless. No, our God calls us to hard things. We don't like that, but we need to get used to it. It's a temporary but certain component of the Kingdom of God: The way that seems right often isn't.
God's Way
"This day I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live." (Deut. 30:19)
The way of human ingenuity and discernment, according to the Bible, leads to death. This verse is often applied to salvation, but it is much farther-reaching than that. It applies to all of our choices. We are confronted with constant decisions between self-will and God's will. And the choices may be much more subtle than that: the easy way vs. the hard way, small compromises vs. absolute truth, or any other such confusing fork in the road. We don't realize the gravity of our direction. Man's way leads to death, while God's way leads to . . . well, death.
Have you considered that? If we serve ourselves and cling to our false values, we will die. If we submit to Jesus, we must die. But the outcome is not as uniform as it seems. This world offers us "life" and then death - forever. God offers us "death" and then life - forever. Fools choose the "life" of this world, the "life" of the party, the "life" of freedom from all responsibility. The wise choose God. Yes, that means a cross now - a daily cross, a painful cross, a difficult path of aversion to our own wills and submission to God's. But in the end, it leads to life.
God is constantly calling us into His will. We're afraid of Him. We've been convinced by a hostile world and a lying enemy that God's will involves untold sacrifice and pain without a corresponding benefit. We think it's all pain, no gain - or a lot of pain with very uncertain gain. We just can't see the blessing beyond the cross.
But do you think you have a real alternative? That cross we carry may be painful and sacrificial - it is not the easy way. But it's the only way. The alternative is to live outside the will of God, which equals a thousand deaths, each a thousand times worse than the blessed life of submission to the compassionate Lord. What "life" are we embracing when we opt for self-will? A momentary sense of satisfaction, perhaps. But that won't last. God's Kingdom will. It's where life will live forever.
"Carry the cross patiently and with perfect submission, and in the end it shall carry you." - Thomas à Kempis
Thursday, November 25, 2010
The Joy of Gratitude
"Give thanks to the LORD, call on his name; make known among the nations what he has done. ... Glory in his holy name; let the hearts of those who seek the LORD rejoice. Look to the LORD and his strength; seek his face always. Remember what wonders he has done, his miracles, and the judgments he pronounced." (Psa. 105:1, 3-5)
First of all, HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!! Now, to the meat:
The hearts of those who seek the Lord are often tentative and fretful. Why do we approach God this way? We're not sure of how we'll be received. We know He is loving, but we also know He is holy. We know He is near, but we also know He is utterly transcendent, completely different from what we can imagine. We know that He is light, but we also know that "clouds and thick darkness surround him" (Psa. 97:2). Everyone who ever got a glimpse of Him really couldn't explain it to others very well. The mystery is too great. So we sometimes seek God with a little fear or a little pessimism. We're not sure what we'll find on the other side of the mystery.
Psalm 105 gives us other instructions. Yes, He is mysterious, shrouded in transcendence, incomprehensible in His holiness. But we can still approach Him with joy. We can rejoice because we know that everything He does is good. It may be hard and it may be confusing, but it will be good. God never spurns those who approach Him with an elementary understanding of who He is.
How does this help us? Our natural tendency, like Adam and Eve, is to hide from God. We don't necessarily sit behind the bushes hoping He won't discover us, but mentally we're not entirely open to Him. We dress up our prayers to sound right to His ears, we dress up our deeds to appear worthy before Him, and we dress up our worship to appeal to His glory.
In doing so, we sometimes hide things. We don't come to Him boldly, as the writer of Hebrews encourages us to do ("Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need." Heb. 4:16). We're spiritual actors when we don't need to be. We underestimate His mercies. We're not quite sure who He is.
Gratitude reminds us never to underestimate Him. It reminds us of what He has done, what He has forgiven, and what He has promised. It acknowledges who He is. And it sends us into His presence with joy.
"The best way to show my gratitude to God is to accept everything, even my problems, with joy." - Mother Teresa
First of all, HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!! Now, to the meat:
The hearts of those who seek the Lord are often tentative and fretful. Why do we approach God this way? We're not sure of how we'll be received. We know He is loving, but we also know He is holy. We know He is near, but we also know He is utterly transcendent, completely different from what we can imagine. We know that He is light, but we also know that "clouds and thick darkness surround him" (Psa. 97:2). Everyone who ever got a glimpse of Him really couldn't explain it to others very well. The mystery is too great. So we sometimes seek God with a little fear or a little pessimism. We're not sure what we'll find on the other side of the mystery.
Psalm 105 gives us other instructions. Yes, He is mysterious, shrouded in transcendence, incomprehensible in His holiness. But we can still approach Him with joy. We can rejoice because we know that everything He does is good. It may be hard and it may be confusing, but it will be good. God never spurns those who approach Him with an elementary understanding of who He is.
How does this help us? Our natural tendency, like Adam and Eve, is to hide from God. We don't necessarily sit behind the bushes hoping He won't discover us, but mentally we're not entirely open to Him. We dress up our prayers to sound right to His ears, we dress up our deeds to appear worthy before Him, and we dress up our worship to appeal to His glory.
In doing so, we sometimes hide things. We don't come to Him boldly, as the writer of Hebrews encourages us to do ("Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need." Heb. 4:16). We're spiritual actors when we don't need to be. We underestimate His mercies. We're not quite sure who He is.
Gratitude reminds us never to underestimate Him. It reminds us of what He has done, what He has forgiven, and what He has promised. It acknowledges who He is. And it sends us into His presence with joy.
"The best way to show my gratitude to God is to accept everything, even my problems, with joy." - Mother Teresa
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