Take nothing for the journey . . . no bread, no money, no extra tunic (Luke 9:3).
Send the crowd away so they go to the surrounding villages . . . and find food and lodging (Luke 9:12).
Not long before taking his disciples to Bethsaida, Jesus had sent them out on their own to do what they had seen him do. There are no armchair disciples – not then, not now. Eventually those who follow are sent.
They had heard Jesus speak about the Kingdom of God and proclaim its present reality. Now it was their turn to raise their voices and announce the good news. They had seen Jesus heal, mend the broken, place his hands on the sick. Now it was their turn to do the same. Training camp was over. Time to get in the game.
Only one thing . . . this journey was luggage free. No need to pack a bag. Jesus told them to take nothing for the journey – no extra coat, no wallet, no ATM card, no sandwiches. Don’t worry about making reservations. Don’t call AAA for a trip-tick. Just go.
And so they went, and in doing so they learned that what Jesus had given them – his power and authority – was really all they needed. Life in the Kingdom isn’t about stockpiling resources and following a daily itinerary.
Funny how that experience seems to be fading by the time they get to Bethsaida. A crowd gathers in a remote place. Jesus is teaching and healing, and as long as he does this people are not inclined to leave. The sun begins to sit low in the sky. All these people will need a place to stay. They’ll need bread.
“Send them away.” Let them provide for themselves; let them find food and lodging. That’s the plan offered by the twelve – the same twelve who had been sent out with no bread, no extra tunic, no bag, no money. The same twelve who had been sustained by grace.
Many of us live with a low-grade amnesia when it comes to grace in our lives. The problem is not that we don’t believe, but that we don’t remember. What God did so clearly back then somehow fails to embolden us for now. Grace was there yesterday, but today we woke up with an agenda. We keep trying to orchestrate our lives rather than simply playing our part and letting Jesus conduct.
Train yourself every day to look for signs of God’s presence. Don’t simply look. Expect it. Maybe the best way to do this is by looking back – at last year, at last week, at yesterday. At some point in your life Jesus sent you out without bread . . . and yet you had bread when you needed it. Jesus was with you. Do you remember? The time you spent in the hospital, that season when you prayed for conception and planned for adoption, that long stretch of looking for work?
The grace that sustained you then will be there for you today. The Jesus that journeyed with the twelve and gathered the five thousand also walks with you. Don’t forget it.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, help us to remember your faithfulness – and in remembering make us bold, and strengthen our faith today. We thank you that what you have done before, you will do again. Send us out today to serve in your name and in your power, we pray. Amen.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Leaning in A New Direction
Send the crowd away so they can go to the surrounding villages and countryside and find food and lodging. . . (Luke 9:12).
The familiar story of Jesus feeding the five thousand is the source of much comfort. It reminds us that Jesus can and will provide for our needs. It reminds us that even a small gift can be used by Jesus to do great things.
But I find encouragement in the story for an entirely different reason: I am encouraged to see that I am not alone in giving Jesus instructions. Like the twelve, I often think I know exactly how certain situations need to be handled. Prayer often becomes a time for me to lay out the plan.
The crowds had tracked Jesus and the twelve to Bethsaida. Jesus had welcomed them. He talked about the Kingdom and healed the sick among them. With five thousand in attendance it’s not hard to understand how the service ran a bit long. It was beginning to get late. Time for the twelve to interject their assessment of the situation.
“Send the crowd away so they can get food and find a place to sleep.” Fred Craddock observes that this advice was not an act of faithlessness. The apostles, genuinely concerned about the welfare of the people, are simply advising Jesus to do what common sense dictates. Wrap it up, give the benediction, and send the congregation back to town before everything closes.
But Kingdom living isn’t always friendly to common sense. There is a proverb that tells us to trust on the Lord with all our heart and lean not on our own understanding (Prov. 3:5). Life in the Kingdom is about learning how to lean in a new direction.
In the early days of my son’s little league experience I became frustrated over my inability to help him catch the ball. He was playing it safe, sidestepping the ball. When the ball came to him, he would instinctively step slightly to the side, extend his hand with the fingers of his glove angled downward, and catch the ball in an underhanded position.
Looking back, it is clear to me why he did this. When a ball appears to be coming right at your face it is instinctive to get out of the way. I was asking him to change his standard and preferred practice, to train himself in a new behavior that felt very uncomfortable.
When scripture tells us not to lean on our own understanding, it does not mean that we will abandon common sense. What we will do is lean in a new direction, placing our weight on something other than what we can see and make sense of. This isn’t easy. It’s like standing still when the ball is coming right at your face. It's like inviting the crowd to sit down instead of sending them back to town.
Is there something coming at you today that seems to demand a certain kind of response? Do you find yourself giving Jesus instruction about what needs to happen in that situation? Maybe Jesus is inviting you to lean in a new direction, to trust him more than you trust your own limited understanding of what’s happening to you. Jesus is prepared to handle whatever it is. We follow his instructions – not the other way around.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, we want to acknowledge you in all our ways, but it’s hard for us to ignore our own understanding. Give us wisdom today and help us know how to lean on you rather than our own ways of doing things. Teach us to trust you. Walk with us and make our paths straight, we pray. Amen.
The familiar story of Jesus feeding the five thousand is the source of much comfort. It reminds us that Jesus can and will provide for our needs. It reminds us that even a small gift can be used by Jesus to do great things.
But I find encouragement in the story for an entirely different reason: I am encouraged to see that I am not alone in giving Jesus instructions. Like the twelve, I often think I know exactly how certain situations need to be handled. Prayer often becomes a time for me to lay out the plan.
The crowds had tracked Jesus and the twelve to Bethsaida. Jesus had welcomed them. He talked about the Kingdom and healed the sick among them. With five thousand in attendance it’s not hard to understand how the service ran a bit long. It was beginning to get late. Time for the twelve to interject their assessment of the situation.
“Send the crowd away so they can get food and find a place to sleep.” Fred Craddock observes that this advice was not an act of faithlessness. The apostles, genuinely concerned about the welfare of the people, are simply advising Jesus to do what common sense dictates. Wrap it up, give the benediction, and send the congregation back to town before everything closes.
But Kingdom living isn’t always friendly to common sense. There is a proverb that tells us to trust on the Lord with all our heart and lean not on our own understanding (Prov. 3:5). Life in the Kingdom is about learning how to lean in a new direction.
In the early days of my son’s little league experience I became frustrated over my inability to help him catch the ball. He was playing it safe, sidestepping the ball. When the ball came to him, he would instinctively step slightly to the side, extend his hand with the fingers of his glove angled downward, and catch the ball in an underhanded position.
Looking back, it is clear to me why he did this. When a ball appears to be coming right at your face it is instinctive to get out of the way. I was asking him to change his standard and preferred practice, to train himself in a new behavior that felt very uncomfortable.
When scripture tells us not to lean on our own understanding, it does not mean that we will abandon common sense. What we will do is lean in a new direction, placing our weight on something other than what we can see and make sense of. This isn’t easy. It’s like standing still when the ball is coming right at your face. It's like inviting the crowd to sit down instead of sending them back to town.
Is there something coming at you today that seems to demand a certain kind of response? Do you find yourself giving Jesus instruction about what needs to happen in that situation? Maybe Jesus is inviting you to lean in a new direction, to trust him more than you trust your own limited understanding of what’s happening to you. Jesus is prepared to handle whatever it is. We follow his instructions – not the other way around.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, we want to acknowledge you in all our ways, but it’s hard for us to ignore our own understanding. Give us wisdom today and help us know how to lean on you rather than our own ways of doing things. Teach us to trust you. Walk with us and make our paths straight, we pray. Amen.
Monday, October 06, 2008
Chairman of the Bored
For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it (Luke 9:24).
Recently Marnie and I made some changes with regard to our insurance coverage. This involved a conversation with a representative of the insurance company in which we were asked a series of questions about our lifestyle. They wanted to know if I flew an airplane. They wanted to know how often I went skydiving. I assured the nice anonymous lady that I neither piloted an airplane, nor did I have any intention of jumping out of one.
I look back on that conversation with mild amusement, especially when I read the words of Jesus and think abut the upside down way of living to which Jesus calls us. The gist of my conversation with the insurance company was this: “I am a boring person. I don’t do risky foolish things. My life is ensconced in a large buffer of predictability and safety.” Insurance companies feel good about that kind of life.
But that’s not the kind of life Jesus calls us to. Jesus calls us to lose our lives, to give ourselves away. Life is diminished when we play it safe, hedge our bets, avoid the unfamiliar people and the unexplored places. That’s no way to live.
Jesus speaks directly to this right on the heels of Peter’s bold confession. Jesus had asked what people were saying about him, gauging the word on the streets. And then he got to the real question. What did his own close followers say about him? Who did they think he was?
Peter speaks up. “You are the Christ of God.” The anointed. The Messiah. Peter got it right; he goes to the head of the class. But once that has been said, Jesus begins to explain what it means. He uses words like suffering and cross. He says that life is to be spent and given away, not saved and guarded.
The story is telling us that we will never embrace the upside down ways of the Kingdom of God unless we know who Jesus is. Jesus is Lord. He is teacher and master. Jesus is our savior. He never intended to be chairman of the bored and the boring.
As you look at this day, where is the risk? Have you worked carefully to eliminate it? Most of us wake up every day thinking about how we can save our lives. We strive to maximize comfort and minimize pain; we seek to protect our property and the people we love; we aim to impress those who can help us move up in the world. Planning to lose life is upside down – but that’s life in the Kingdom.
Today is another chance for you to take a sanctified risk. It might be a decision you’re struggling with. It might be a conversation you need to have but have been putting off. It might be as simple as loving your neighbor by introducing yourself. Chances to give life away are found all the time in all kinds of places. So go ahead and lose yourself in the Kingdom – and find the life God intends for you to have.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, I have been well trained in saving my life, guarding what I have and gathering what I want. Teach me what it means to lose life, to give it away, to risk myself in your service. And make me bold in the knowledge that you are Lord. You are mighty to save. You are worthy of my trust. Amen.
Recently Marnie and I made some changes with regard to our insurance coverage. This involved a conversation with a representative of the insurance company in which we were asked a series of questions about our lifestyle. They wanted to know if I flew an airplane. They wanted to know how often I went skydiving. I assured the nice anonymous lady that I neither piloted an airplane, nor did I have any intention of jumping out of one.
I look back on that conversation with mild amusement, especially when I read the words of Jesus and think abut the upside down way of living to which Jesus calls us. The gist of my conversation with the insurance company was this: “I am a boring person. I don’t do risky foolish things. My life is ensconced in a large buffer of predictability and safety.” Insurance companies feel good about that kind of life.
But that’s not the kind of life Jesus calls us to. Jesus calls us to lose our lives, to give ourselves away. Life is diminished when we play it safe, hedge our bets, avoid the unfamiliar people and the unexplored places. That’s no way to live.
Jesus speaks directly to this right on the heels of Peter’s bold confession. Jesus had asked what people were saying about him, gauging the word on the streets. And then he got to the real question. What did his own close followers say about him? Who did they think he was?
Peter speaks up. “You are the Christ of God.” The anointed. The Messiah. Peter got it right; he goes to the head of the class. But once that has been said, Jesus begins to explain what it means. He uses words like suffering and cross. He says that life is to be spent and given away, not saved and guarded.
The story is telling us that we will never embrace the upside down ways of the Kingdom of God unless we know who Jesus is. Jesus is Lord. He is teacher and master. Jesus is our savior. He never intended to be chairman of the bored and the boring.
As you look at this day, where is the risk? Have you worked carefully to eliminate it? Most of us wake up every day thinking about how we can save our lives. We strive to maximize comfort and minimize pain; we seek to protect our property and the people we love; we aim to impress those who can help us move up in the world. Planning to lose life is upside down – but that’s life in the Kingdom.
Today is another chance for you to take a sanctified risk. It might be a decision you’re struggling with. It might be a conversation you need to have but have been putting off. It might be as simple as loving your neighbor by introducing yourself. Chances to give life away are found all the time in all kinds of places. So go ahead and lose yourself in the Kingdom – and find the life God intends for you to have.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, I have been well trained in saving my life, guarding what I have and gathering what I want. Teach me what it means to lose life, to give it away, to risk myself in your service. And make me bold in the knowledge that you are Lord. You are mighty to save. You are worthy of my trust. Amen.
Friday, October 03, 2008
The Kingdom and Hardship
“Anyone signing up for the Kingdom of God has to go through plenty of hard times” (Acts 14:22, The Message).
Last summer I had the privilege of spending a week with a group of Christians from a predominantly Muslim country. The visible Kingdom in which they live is governed by both a constitution and Islamic law. My week with them allowed me to experience what citizenship in God’s Kingdom means, how it transcends the geographical borders of the United States and the country in which they live and worship.
Among this group was a 36 year old man, an elder in the Presbyterian Church, a husband and father. About two months ago I began receiving emails asking for prayer for this brave man. He had been told to present himself to the police. He complied with this order and was subsequently placed under arrest. He remains imprisoned today though no formal charges have been filed against him. This kind of thing is not new to him. His own father, a pastor, was put to death by the government in 1990.
Living in God’s Kingdom is a hard and risky business for many around the world.
This will sound strange to us, but one of the ways heaven comes to earth is through our experience of affliction. Of course, it isn’t always this way. The Kingdom of God is made real in acts of service and compassion, when we work for justice and alleviate suffering.
But the New Testament is also clear that “we must go through many hardships to enter the Kingdom of God.” What does that mean?
Maybe it simply means that we are never more fully aware of God’s ruling presence than when our own capacities for managing life are exhausted and spent. That’s what hardship does to us. It exposes our limitations. The crust is rinsed from our eyes and we see clearly that we’re not in charge of much. And once we see that, we’re more likely to see what we had previously missed: grace is all around us. God is at work governing our lives. The Spirit quietly brings about the purposes of God that were hidden from us. In short, we’re living in another Kingdom – the one where God rules.
We are often too quick to conclude that our hardships are evidence of God’s absence. “If God were truly in charge of things, this wouldn’t be happening” – or so we think. Be vigilant against this flawed reasoning. The hardships you are facing today stand before you as an open door, a way into the Kingdom of God. The pain you feel right now is an invitation to grace. Come on in.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, you humbly learned obedience through what you suffered (Hebrews 5:8). Teach us to do the same. We are inclined to resent hardships. We work hard to fix them. We try hard to escape them. Help us instead to live through them and in them show us your grace. Strengthen our confidence in your ruling presence in this world, we pray. Amen.
Last summer I had the privilege of spending a week with a group of Christians from a predominantly Muslim country. The visible Kingdom in which they live is governed by both a constitution and Islamic law. My week with them allowed me to experience what citizenship in God’s Kingdom means, how it transcends the geographical borders of the United States and the country in which they live and worship.
Among this group was a 36 year old man, an elder in the Presbyterian Church, a husband and father. About two months ago I began receiving emails asking for prayer for this brave man. He had been told to present himself to the police. He complied with this order and was subsequently placed under arrest. He remains imprisoned today though no formal charges have been filed against him. This kind of thing is not new to him. His own father, a pastor, was put to death by the government in 1990.
Living in God’s Kingdom is a hard and risky business for many around the world.
This will sound strange to us, but one of the ways heaven comes to earth is through our experience of affliction. Of course, it isn’t always this way. The Kingdom of God is made real in acts of service and compassion, when we work for justice and alleviate suffering.
But the New Testament is also clear that “we must go through many hardships to enter the Kingdom of God.” What does that mean?
Maybe it simply means that we are never more fully aware of God’s ruling presence than when our own capacities for managing life are exhausted and spent. That’s what hardship does to us. It exposes our limitations. The crust is rinsed from our eyes and we see clearly that we’re not in charge of much. And once we see that, we’re more likely to see what we had previously missed: grace is all around us. God is at work governing our lives. The Spirit quietly brings about the purposes of God that were hidden from us. In short, we’re living in another Kingdom – the one where God rules.
We are often too quick to conclude that our hardships are evidence of God’s absence. “If God were truly in charge of things, this wouldn’t be happening” – or so we think. Be vigilant against this flawed reasoning. The hardships you are facing today stand before you as an open door, a way into the Kingdom of God. The pain you feel right now is an invitation to grace. Come on in.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, you humbly learned obedience through what you suffered (Hebrews 5:8). Teach us to do the same. We are inclined to resent hardships. We work hard to fix them. We try hard to escape them. Help us instead to live through them and in them show us your grace. Strengthen our confidence in your ruling presence in this world, we pray. Amen.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Build Your Boat
By faith Noah, when warned about things not yet seen, in holy fear built an ark to save his family. (Hebrews 11:7).
There’s a well-worn phrase that describes some people as being “so heavenly minded they are of no earthly good.” “Heavenly minded” means detached, out of touch with the realities of daily life, insulated by their religion so that they can’t feel the heat of city or hear the roar of the traffic.
The phrase is almost always invoked to convey a kind of disdain. I know because I’ve used those words that way. The intent is to say “I’m not that kind of Christian.”
The phrase is clever, but it’s wrong. It’s wrong because those who are of the most earthly good are precisely the heavenly minded. They bring unseen realities to bear on the world we see. You might say they bring heaven to earth – just like Jesus did.
Jesus’ rule over all things is an unseen reality. It is not apparent, and that makes it hard to believe for many people. To say that God’s Kingdom is in effect right now has implications for Wall Street and your street. That sounds good. We want to believe it – but we strain to catch the slightest glimpse of that reality.
Noah had his eye on things unseen; he knew something about the reality of things that no one else knew. It was this unseen reality that evoked in him a holy fear, a sense of God’s very presence in history and in his own life. It was the unseen that shaped his behavior. He started building a boat. Very practical. Very hands on. Very public. The seen shaped by the unseen.
Maybe the way to be of little or no earthly good is to see nothing but earthly things. Violence around the globe makes us cynical. Starvation and disease stoke our despair. Gridlock in Washington and nosedives in the economy fill us with fear. Some of us are so earthly minded we’re completely stumped, short-sighted, clueless as to what comes next. C. S. Lewis had it right when he observed that “if you read history you will find that the Christians who did the most for the present world were just those who thought the most of the next.”[1]
From the way Jesus lived and taught about the Kingdom of God, this much seems clear: the Kingdom is never an escape hatch. We don’t retreat to God’s kingdom to find protection from sick and starving people; we don’t barricade ourselves in God’s Kingdom in order to weather tough times in the economy.
Instead, we see something that isn’t readily apparent in our world – the rule of Jesus in all things – and that shapes how we live. The Kingdom is always a base camp, never a hiding place.
What would it mean for you to begin building a boat today? Like Noah, how will you live this day in reverent fear and engage this world having glimpsed unseen things. Look carefully. The Lord reigns. Jesus is at work in the world. God is faithful. Get that firmly in your sights and enter this day heavenly minded. You will then do more earthly good than you imagined possible.
Prayer:
Gracious God, we want to make a difference in this world. Give us today sightings of unseen things: the reality of your presence around us and your power at work in the world. Let our living be a response to what we see. Make us heavenly minded that we might be of some earthly good, we pray. Amen.
[1] This is from Lewis’ Mere Christianity cited in Mark Buchanan’s Things Unseen, p. 23.
There’s a well-worn phrase that describes some people as being “so heavenly minded they are of no earthly good.” “Heavenly minded” means detached, out of touch with the realities of daily life, insulated by their religion so that they can’t feel the heat of city or hear the roar of the traffic.
The phrase is almost always invoked to convey a kind of disdain. I know because I’ve used those words that way. The intent is to say “I’m not that kind of Christian.”
The phrase is clever, but it’s wrong. It’s wrong because those who are of the most earthly good are precisely the heavenly minded. They bring unseen realities to bear on the world we see. You might say they bring heaven to earth – just like Jesus did.
Jesus’ rule over all things is an unseen reality. It is not apparent, and that makes it hard to believe for many people. To say that God’s Kingdom is in effect right now has implications for Wall Street and your street. That sounds good. We want to believe it – but we strain to catch the slightest glimpse of that reality.
Noah had his eye on things unseen; he knew something about the reality of things that no one else knew. It was this unseen reality that evoked in him a holy fear, a sense of God’s very presence in history and in his own life. It was the unseen that shaped his behavior. He started building a boat. Very practical. Very hands on. Very public. The seen shaped by the unseen.
Maybe the way to be of little or no earthly good is to see nothing but earthly things. Violence around the globe makes us cynical. Starvation and disease stoke our despair. Gridlock in Washington and nosedives in the economy fill us with fear. Some of us are so earthly minded we’re completely stumped, short-sighted, clueless as to what comes next. C. S. Lewis had it right when he observed that “if you read history you will find that the Christians who did the most for the present world were just those who thought the most of the next.”[1]
From the way Jesus lived and taught about the Kingdom of God, this much seems clear: the Kingdom is never an escape hatch. We don’t retreat to God’s kingdom to find protection from sick and starving people; we don’t barricade ourselves in God’s Kingdom in order to weather tough times in the economy.
Instead, we see something that isn’t readily apparent in our world – the rule of Jesus in all things – and that shapes how we live. The Kingdom is always a base camp, never a hiding place.
What would it mean for you to begin building a boat today? Like Noah, how will you live this day in reverent fear and engage this world having glimpsed unseen things. Look carefully. The Lord reigns. Jesus is at work in the world. God is faithful. Get that firmly in your sights and enter this day heavenly minded. You will then do more earthly good than you imagined possible.
Prayer:
Gracious God, we want to make a difference in this world. Give us today sightings of unseen things: the reality of your presence around us and your power at work in the world. Let our living be a response to what we see. Make us heavenly minded that we might be of some earthly good, we pray. Amen.
[1] This is from Lewis’ Mere Christianity cited in Mark Buchanan’s Things Unseen, p. 23.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Kingdom thoughts in the Gas Line
. . . Anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it (Mark 10:15).
“Upside down” is the moniker we’re using to speak of God’s kingdom. By that we mean to say that God’s rule in the world turns things upside down; it’s a great reversal. William Willimon helps get at the meaning of “upside down” by explaining it this way:
Jesus took those whom we put at the fringe of society and put them right in the middle of the disciples . . . It is as if Jesus wanted to say, “You want to get into my kingdom? The only way to get into my kingdom is to be very small, very little, very needy. There will be no adults in my kingdom, no self-sufficient, liberated, autonomous, independent adults. There will only be children. Here is a kingdom that has a very small door.” (Willimon, Peculiar Speech, 68-69)
Lately I’ve had to admit that living upside down isn’t easy. Living under the rule of God is not instinctive, at least not for me. This truth is being clarified for me in the ongoing search for gas.
I don’t like to get up early on Saturday mornings, but this past Saturday I left the house at 6:30 to get Krispy Kremes (my kids really like them) and to look for gas. Finding the Krispy Kremes was no problem. The gas was a different matter entirely. On the way home I approached a QT with a tanker in the lot and fairly long line was already forming. I took my place in line, a good 10 or 15 cars from the pumps, and resisted the urge to snack on the Krispy Kremes.
The whole find-the-gas experience has made me think of Exodus 16 and the story of God’s provision of manna in the wilderness. God told the people to take only what they needed for one day. They were not horde it and keep some tucked away for tomorrow. If they tried, the manna rotted. Take only what you need for this day and trust God to provide when you wake up in the morning.
If I were to take that seriously I would simply drive my car until the needle sat right on empty, knowing that God would lead me to a land flowing with premium and regular unleaded. But I don’t do that. Half begins to feel empty to me. Driving down to three-fourths makes me very antsy, like the guy who stuffs extra manna in his pockets so he won’t run out.
This kingdom teaches us to feel secure in a full tank of gas. God’s kingdom tells us that our needs will be met because God knows what we need. This kingdom conditions us to have more than enough. God’s kingdom conditions us to give away and to seek only what we need for this day. God’s kingdom feels strange, a tough place to live.
Is there something that makes it hard for you to live in God’s kingdom? What challenges your confidence in God’s rule over all things? Name what it is as this day begins and ask God to help you live the day upside down.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, we are immersed in a Kingdom very different from yours. Our thinking and our desires are often defined by this world, and that makes your ways seem odd and even threatening. Teach us to trust you. Help us to see things as you see them. Make us fit for life in your kingdom we pray. Amen.
“Upside down” is the moniker we’re using to speak of God’s kingdom. By that we mean to say that God’s rule in the world turns things upside down; it’s a great reversal. William Willimon helps get at the meaning of “upside down” by explaining it this way:
Jesus took those whom we put at the fringe of society and put them right in the middle of the disciples . . . It is as if Jesus wanted to say, “You want to get into my kingdom? The only way to get into my kingdom is to be very small, very little, very needy. There will be no adults in my kingdom, no self-sufficient, liberated, autonomous, independent adults. There will only be children. Here is a kingdom that has a very small door.” (Willimon, Peculiar Speech, 68-69)
Lately I’ve had to admit that living upside down isn’t easy. Living under the rule of God is not instinctive, at least not for me. This truth is being clarified for me in the ongoing search for gas.
I don’t like to get up early on Saturday mornings, but this past Saturday I left the house at 6:30 to get Krispy Kremes (my kids really like them) and to look for gas. Finding the Krispy Kremes was no problem. The gas was a different matter entirely. On the way home I approached a QT with a tanker in the lot and fairly long line was already forming. I took my place in line, a good 10 or 15 cars from the pumps, and resisted the urge to snack on the Krispy Kremes.
The whole find-the-gas experience has made me think of Exodus 16 and the story of God’s provision of manna in the wilderness. God told the people to take only what they needed for one day. They were not horde it and keep some tucked away for tomorrow. If they tried, the manna rotted. Take only what you need for this day and trust God to provide when you wake up in the morning.
If I were to take that seriously I would simply drive my car until the needle sat right on empty, knowing that God would lead me to a land flowing with premium and regular unleaded. But I don’t do that. Half begins to feel empty to me. Driving down to three-fourths makes me very antsy, like the guy who stuffs extra manna in his pockets so he won’t run out.
This kingdom teaches us to feel secure in a full tank of gas. God’s kingdom tells us that our needs will be met because God knows what we need. This kingdom conditions us to have more than enough. God’s kingdom conditions us to give away and to seek only what we need for this day. God’s kingdom feels strange, a tough place to live.
Is there something that makes it hard for you to live in God’s kingdom? What challenges your confidence in God’s rule over all things? Name what it is as this day begins and ask God to help you live the day upside down.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, we are immersed in a Kingdom very different from yours. Our thinking and our desires are often defined by this world, and that makes your ways seem odd and even threatening. Teach us to trust you. Help us to see things as you see them. Make us fit for life in your kingdom we pray. Amen.
Monday, September 29, 2008
The Kingdom and Starbucks
“The Kingdom of God is near. Repent and believe the good news.” (Mark 1:15)
Do you remember what you did on February 26, 2008 between the hours of 5:30 and 8:30 p.m.? It was a Tuesday, if that helps. There’s one thing you probably did not do. You didn’t go to Starbucks for coffee. On that day Starbucks closed 7000 stores for three hours to re-train 135,000 baristas. That three hour continuing ed. session cost the company 10 million dollars in wages and lost revenue. The aim of the training was simple: learn how to make decent espresso.
Espresso is basic to the whole Starbucks enterprise. Apparently, mastery of this basic skill among Starbucks baristas had gotten sloppy. It was time to get back to basics and learn or re-learn how to do what it is that Starbucks does. Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz says he’s “looking to the company’s future with ‘laser intensity’ by looking back to where it all began: the coffee.” The coffee is everything.[1]
In the coming weeks we’ll be doing the same thing with regard to living as followers of Jesus. If we look back to where things started with Jesus we find this: Jesus announced that the Kingdom of God was at hand, right here among us.
Kingdom of God. Those words have grown moldy for many of us. They smack of too much religiosity, a high sounding notion that’s hard to apply to daily life. We’re not entirely sure what the Kingdom of God is. Time to learn or re-learn what Jesus was talking about – and he talked about it often.
Here’s a place to start today. When Jesus announced the Kingdom he called for two specific responses.
First, repent: change the direction of your life. The kingdom is a new reality that brings “up there down here.” The Kingdom redefines our values and our priorities and asks us to make adjustments to the way we live. Turns out, the Kingdom is very practical.
Second, believe the good news. With all that’s happening in our world today, we need some good news. The good news is that God is real and God is in charge. Appearances to the contrary aside, God is in control of all we see, and that includes you and all that concerns you.
What does the reality of this Kingdom mean for you today? Is it time for a change of course? Are you struggling to believe good news, overwhelmed with the bad news that meets us every morning?
Let’s get back to basics. Life isn’t defined by Washington and Wall Street. The Kingdom of God is real. Let’s figure out what it means to live there.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, the Kingdom you announced sounds like the stuff of fantasy and wishful thinking. Help us to see it and believe it. Even more, help us to live in the reality of your ruling presence among us, we pray. Amen.
[1] From an article by David Margolick in the July 2008 issue of Portfolio magazine.
Do you remember what you did on February 26, 2008 between the hours of 5:30 and 8:30 p.m.? It was a Tuesday, if that helps. There’s one thing you probably did not do. You didn’t go to Starbucks for coffee. On that day Starbucks closed 7000 stores for three hours to re-train 135,000 baristas. That three hour continuing ed. session cost the company 10 million dollars in wages and lost revenue. The aim of the training was simple: learn how to make decent espresso.
Espresso is basic to the whole Starbucks enterprise. Apparently, mastery of this basic skill among Starbucks baristas had gotten sloppy. It was time to get back to basics and learn or re-learn how to do what it is that Starbucks does. Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz says he’s “looking to the company’s future with ‘laser intensity’ by looking back to where it all began: the coffee.” The coffee is everything.[1]
In the coming weeks we’ll be doing the same thing with regard to living as followers of Jesus. If we look back to where things started with Jesus we find this: Jesus announced that the Kingdom of God was at hand, right here among us.
Kingdom of God. Those words have grown moldy for many of us. They smack of too much religiosity, a high sounding notion that’s hard to apply to daily life. We’re not entirely sure what the Kingdom of God is. Time to learn or re-learn what Jesus was talking about – and he talked about it often.
Here’s a place to start today. When Jesus announced the Kingdom he called for two specific responses.
First, repent: change the direction of your life. The kingdom is a new reality that brings “up there down here.” The Kingdom redefines our values and our priorities and asks us to make adjustments to the way we live. Turns out, the Kingdom is very practical.
Second, believe the good news. With all that’s happening in our world today, we need some good news. The good news is that God is real and God is in charge. Appearances to the contrary aside, God is in control of all we see, and that includes you and all that concerns you.
What does the reality of this Kingdom mean for you today? Is it time for a change of course? Are you struggling to believe good news, overwhelmed with the bad news that meets us every morning?
Let’s get back to basics. Life isn’t defined by Washington and Wall Street. The Kingdom of God is real. Let’s figure out what it means to live there.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, the Kingdom you announced sounds like the stuff of fantasy and wishful thinking. Help us to see it and believe it. Even more, help us to live in the reality of your ruling presence among us, we pray. Amen.
[1] From an article by David Margolick in the July 2008 issue of Portfolio magazine.
Friday, September 26, 2008
The Balance of Things
Then all the people of the region asked Jesus to leave them, because they were overcome with fear (Luke 8:37).
Fall began this week – at 11:40 a.m. on Monday to be precise. When the garage doors open in the morning there’s a chill in the air that bears witness to the new season and makes the folded and stored away beach chairs look odd and unfamiliar.
The cool air of the week has also been tainted with an element of tension, even fear. The financial news and the activity of the markets coupled with the scarcity of gas in Atlanta have left an edgy feel to the week. Though vaguely defined, the word “normal” keeps coming to mind. It’s what we yearn for – a return to normal.
Maybe that’s why the people of Gerasa asked Jesus to leave them (Luke 8:37). As Mark tells it they were slightly more urgent in their request. They begged Jesus to go away. The presence of a changed life, a shattered soul reassembled, dressed and in his right mind – this was not a cause for celebration or worship. The people were afraid.
We can understand fearing the demons, but why did the merciful kindness and powerful authority of Jesus evoke fear? Jesus casts out the demon. The people cast out Jesus.
Perhaps the normal they knew had been disturbed. A demon-possessed man in the area isn’t something the chamber of commerce puts in a brochure, but it isn’t a problem as long as he stays among the tombs. At least they knew where he was. They knew not to go there. It’s like thinking that everything is fine as long as the prostitutes and drug dealers stay downtown. We just don’t want them in our neighborhoods.
When Jesus spoke peace to the demoniac all hell broke loose. Once loosed it entered a herd of pigs and drove the pork market straight in to the sea. Floating carcasses washed ashore and everyone freaked out a little over what that meant for the local economy. A neighbor made well didn’t get as much press as pigs made dead.
Jesus had disturbed the balance of things. Like it or not, that’s what Jesus does.
Jesus’ presence is never benign. It demands response. Jesus shows up and disturbs what we know as normal. He shifts the balance of things and ushers in a new reality. We can either embrace this reality, or we can insist in living in a reality of our own making. Either way, we must respond to Jesus.
We can respond by rejecting Jesus. We do this with outright hostility. Sometimes we reject him by our casual indifference. The result is the same.
The other choice of course is to follow him. We can obediently go where he sends us. This may not be easy. The demoniac was sent back to his village and home, a place where people knew his story and had watched his out of control life. But he goes, obedient to the one who had spoken the word that restored him to life (Luke 8:39).
When Jesus shows up, he changes the balance of things. But at the same time he himself is the center that anchors us. That’s what we need, especially when “normal” is hard to find. Jesus is the same yesterday and today and forever (Hebrews 13:8).
Prayer:
These are anxious days, Lord Jesus. How quick we are to seek our security and well being in something other than you and your word. Strengthen our faith, we pray, that we might live as confident people – not fearful. Help us to follow where you lead and go where you send, ready to tell the goodness of the Lord. Amen
Fall began this week – at 11:40 a.m. on Monday to be precise. When the garage doors open in the morning there’s a chill in the air that bears witness to the new season and makes the folded and stored away beach chairs look odd and unfamiliar.
The cool air of the week has also been tainted with an element of tension, even fear. The financial news and the activity of the markets coupled with the scarcity of gas in Atlanta have left an edgy feel to the week. Though vaguely defined, the word “normal” keeps coming to mind. It’s what we yearn for – a return to normal.
Maybe that’s why the people of Gerasa asked Jesus to leave them (Luke 8:37). As Mark tells it they were slightly more urgent in their request. They begged Jesus to go away. The presence of a changed life, a shattered soul reassembled, dressed and in his right mind – this was not a cause for celebration or worship. The people were afraid.
We can understand fearing the demons, but why did the merciful kindness and powerful authority of Jesus evoke fear? Jesus casts out the demon. The people cast out Jesus.
Perhaps the normal they knew had been disturbed. A demon-possessed man in the area isn’t something the chamber of commerce puts in a brochure, but it isn’t a problem as long as he stays among the tombs. At least they knew where he was. They knew not to go there. It’s like thinking that everything is fine as long as the prostitutes and drug dealers stay downtown. We just don’t want them in our neighborhoods.
When Jesus spoke peace to the demoniac all hell broke loose. Once loosed it entered a herd of pigs and drove the pork market straight in to the sea. Floating carcasses washed ashore and everyone freaked out a little over what that meant for the local economy. A neighbor made well didn’t get as much press as pigs made dead.
Jesus had disturbed the balance of things. Like it or not, that’s what Jesus does.
Jesus’ presence is never benign. It demands response. Jesus shows up and disturbs what we know as normal. He shifts the balance of things and ushers in a new reality. We can either embrace this reality, or we can insist in living in a reality of our own making. Either way, we must respond to Jesus.
We can respond by rejecting Jesus. We do this with outright hostility. Sometimes we reject him by our casual indifference. The result is the same.
The other choice of course is to follow him. We can obediently go where he sends us. This may not be easy. The demoniac was sent back to his village and home, a place where people knew his story and had watched his out of control life. But he goes, obedient to the one who had spoken the word that restored him to life (Luke 8:39).
When Jesus shows up, he changes the balance of things. But at the same time he himself is the center that anchors us. That’s what we need, especially when “normal” is hard to find. Jesus is the same yesterday and today and forever (Hebrews 13:8).
Prayer:
These are anxious days, Lord Jesus. How quick we are to seek our security and well being in something other than you and your word. Strengthen our faith, we pray, that we might live as confident people – not fearful. Help us to follow where you lead and go where you send, ready to tell the goodness of the Lord. Amen
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Will 700 Billion Do It?
For he had often been chained hand and foot, but he tore the chains apart and broke the irons on his feet (Mark 5:4).
That seems to be the question this week. You can’t escape it. Congress is hashing out the details, and who knows where they’ll end up. Some voices are urgently calling for a do something and do it now approach. Others seem to be asking questions, wondering what do-it-now means. If we do-it-now, what exactly will we be doing?
Candidates are sparring over the question; a few are shaking their fingers with an air of “I tried to warn you.” Beneath the clamor and carping this much seems clear: The 700 billion will get us through, but it won’t make us right.
You don’t need a graduate degree in economics to pick up on the fact that this mess is deep and systemic. The seeds that are bearing fruit today have been germinating for a long time. In the weeks ahead Congress may come up with a plan to get us through, but it’ll take much longer to make things right. Something will have to happen deep down
In the region of the Gerasenes people probably argued about how to get a handle on the out of control lunatic who lived among the tombs. The end of the story suggests that this man was someone who lived in one of the nearby villages. Some probably knew him by name. His gradual slide into darkness and isolation and madness had been something they watched happen.
Maybe some wanted to leave him alone. Apparently others feared him. He needed to be controlled lest he harm children and destroy property. So they tried to put chains on him. They tried to contain him. They tried to keep him away from decent families and nice neighborhoods. Chains and shackles on the hands and feet should do it.
But the chains didn’t work. They never do.
Chains can only restrain what is out of control. They cannot restore wholeness. Chains keep the unsightly unseen. They cannot transform the appearance. Chains might make people feel safe, but they cannot make things right.
Sadly, chains are about the best we can do with our demons, those things that torment us deep down. We make promises to do better. We self-medicate with alcohol or food. We throw ourselves into our work to stay busy and distracted. Chains may work for a while, but eventually we break them.
Only Jesus can work change from the inside out. Real transformation isn’t imposed upon us. It emerges from within us. Jesus does this with his words, words of command and blessing. Even now, Jesus works deep within us by his Spirit and his word.
Jesus wants to work in the deep places of your life today. He wants you to be done with chains and all other imposed efforts at managing life. Jesus begins his work by inviting you to listen. His words go deep. They will get you through - but more than that, they will make you right. Thanks be to God.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, we do our best to manage the mess that life can be – but our efforts are frail chains. They work for a while, but they do not work long or well. We turn to you for something more. We ask you to change us deep within and bring transformation from the inside out, that others might see your peace in our lives. Begin that life changing work today we pray. Amen.
That seems to be the question this week. You can’t escape it. Congress is hashing out the details, and who knows where they’ll end up. Some voices are urgently calling for a do something and do it now approach. Others seem to be asking questions, wondering what do-it-now means. If we do-it-now, what exactly will we be doing?
Candidates are sparring over the question; a few are shaking their fingers with an air of “I tried to warn you.” Beneath the clamor and carping this much seems clear: The 700 billion will get us through, but it won’t make us right.
You don’t need a graduate degree in economics to pick up on the fact that this mess is deep and systemic. The seeds that are bearing fruit today have been germinating for a long time. In the weeks ahead Congress may come up with a plan to get us through, but it’ll take much longer to make things right. Something will have to happen deep down
In the region of the Gerasenes people probably argued about how to get a handle on the out of control lunatic who lived among the tombs. The end of the story suggests that this man was someone who lived in one of the nearby villages. Some probably knew him by name. His gradual slide into darkness and isolation and madness had been something they watched happen.
Maybe some wanted to leave him alone. Apparently others feared him. He needed to be controlled lest he harm children and destroy property. So they tried to put chains on him. They tried to contain him. They tried to keep him away from decent families and nice neighborhoods. Chains and shackles on the hands and feet should do it.
But the chains didn’t work. They never do.
Chains can only restrain what is out of control. They cannot restore wholeness. Chains keep the unsightly unseen. They cannot transform the appearance. Chains might make people feel safe, but they cannot make things right.
Sadly, chains are about the best we can do with our demons, those things that torment us deep down. We make promises to do better. We self-medicate with alcohol or food. We throw ourselves into our work to stay busy and distracted. Chains may work for a while, but eventually we break them.
Only Jesus can work change from the inside out. Real transformation isn’t imposed upon us. It emerges from within us. Jesus does this with his words, words of command and blessing. Even now, Jesus works deep within us by his Spirit and his word.
Jesus wants to work in the deep places of your life today. He wants you to be done with chains and all other imposed efforts at managing life. Jesus begins his work by inviting you to listen. His words go deep. They will get you through - but more than that, they will make you right. Thanks be to God.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, we do our best to manage the mess that life can be – but our efforts are frail chains. They work for a while, but they do not work long or well. We turn to you for something more. We ask you to change us deep within and bring transformation from the inside out, that others might see your peace in our lives. Begin that life changing work today we pray. Amen.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
A Tale of Two Storms
He got up and rebuked the wind and the raging waters; the storm subsided and all was calm (Luke 8:24)
When they came to Jesus they found the man from whom the demons had gone out, sitting at Jesus’ feet, dressed and in his right mind (Luke 8:35).
What is it about stories?
While waiting in a doctor’s office not long ago, my two kids were growing restless, getting on each others nerves and fraying my own as well. I reached into a plastic magazine rack mounted to the wall and pulled out a thin book. It was the story of some chubby little animal having a birthday party or some such infantile plot line. The sentences were all short, one or two on a page, written in big letters. This was not a book for a fourth or fifth grader. But I started to read it aloud and to my surprise, my kids got still. Stories of all kinds are powerful. They captivate us, pull us in.
In the pages of scripture the gospel writers prove themselves to be first-rate story tellers, each in their own way. Mark and Luke both tell the story of Jesus’ encounter with the demon possessed man in Gerasa. They both tell the story well, but as master story tellers they do something else. The story of the demon possessed man is coupled with the story of a storm at sea. Mark and Luke seem to have done this on purpose. One story mirrors the other. Echoes of the sea storm are heard again in the voice of the demoniac.
On the sea: A squall comes down on the lake
On the land: A man cries out and cuts himself and cannot be subdued with chains.
On the sea: Jesus calms the winds and the waves.
On the land: the man is found dressed and in his right mind.
On the sea: Jesus speaks a word of command – “peace, be still.”
On the land: Jesus speaks a word of command – “come out of him.”
With both stories, Mark and Luke are trying to convey a simple message about the power of Jesus. Jesus subdues storms.
Some of those storms rage around us. These storms happen to us and are beyond our capacities to manage them. It may be a hurricane that literally floods your home or a disease that invades your body or a dip in the stock market that sets you back and nearly puts you under.
Other storms rage within us. Addictions and depression, guilt over wrongs we’ve done and bitterness over wrongs done to us, fear of the future and memories of the past. These storms ravage mind and heart and soul.
And to each of them Jesus speaks peace.
The good news for us is that Jesus still speaks peace to our storms. It has been said and sung that Jesus may let the storms rage, but he speaks peace to us in the midst of the tempest. Whether those storms are happening to us, happening around us, or churning within us, only Jesus can speak stillness into our fidgety lives.
A boat at sea, a crazed man in Gerasa: suddenly those stories are our stories. Take time today to listen for Jesus’ word to you. Enter the peace Christ offers.
Prayer:
“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in time of trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though the waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging . . . The Lord almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge” (Psalm 46:1-3, 7). Amen.
When they came to Jesus they found the man from whom the demons had gone out, sitting at Jesus’ feet, dressed and in his right mind (Luke 8:35).
What is it about stories?
While waiting in a doctor’s office not long ago, my two kids were growing restless, getting on each others nerves and fraying my own as well. I reached into a plastic magazine rack mounted to the wall and pulled out a thin book. It was the story of some chubby little animal having a birthday party or some such infantile plot line. The sentences were all short, one or two on a page, written in big letters. This was not a book for a fourth or fifth grader. But I started to read it aloud and to my surprise, my kids got still. Stories of all kinds are powerful. They captivate us, pull us in.
In the pages of scripture the gospel writers prove themselves to be first-rate story tellers, each in their own way. Mark and Luke both tell the story of Jesus’ encounter with the demon possessed man in Gerasa. They both tell the story well, but as master story tellers they do something else. The story of the demon possessed man is coupled with the story of a storm at sea. Mark and Luke seem to have done this on purpose. One story mirrors the other. Echoes of the sea storm are heard again in the voice of the demoniac.
On the sea: A squall comes down on the lake
On the land: A man cries out and cuts himself and cannot be subdued with chains.
On the sea: Jesus calms the winds and the waves.
On the land: the man is found dressed and in his right mind.
On the sea: Jesus speaks a word of command – “peace, be still.”
On the land: Jesus speaks a word of command – “come out of him.”
With both stories, Mark and Luke are trying to convey a simple message about the power of Jesus. Jesus subdues storms.
Some of those storms rage around us. These storms happen to us and are beyond our capacities to manage them. It may be a hurricane that literally floods your home or a disease that invades your body or a dip in the stock market that sets you back and nearly puts you under.
Other storms rage within us. Addictions and depression, guilt over wrongs we’ve done and bitterness over wrongs done to us, fear of the future and memories of the past. These storms ravage mind and heart and soul.
And to each of them Jesus speaks peace.
The good news for us is that Jesus still speaks peace to our storms. It has been said and sung that Jesus may let the storms rage, but he speaks peace to us in the midst of the tempest. Whether those storms are happening to us, happening around us, or churning within us, only Jesus can speak stillness into our fidgety lives.
A boat at sea, a crazed man in Gerasa: suddenly those stories are our stories. Take time today to listen for Jesus’ word to you. Enter the peace Christ offers.
Prayer:
“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in time of trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though the waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging . . . The Lord almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge” (Psalm 46:1-3, 7). Amen.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
The Caves
. . . And though he was chained hand and foot and kept under guard, he had broken his chains and had been driven by the demon into solitary places (Luke 8:29).
It is the nature of our demons to isolate us, to drive us from the land of the living and the company of those who love us. Our demons isolate us because their survival depends upon our being beyond reach, seemingly out of control.
Before we explore this story further, let’s be honest about the word “demon.” Some will read the word and dismiss this story as the best efforts of a primitive mind to explain behavior that everyone feared and no one understood. When Luke tells us that Jesus “stepped ashore and was met by a demon possessed man” we can take that at face value and let it mean exactly what it says – but we’re wrong to feel superior to the story or to Luke who just didn’t know better.
Demons were and are real. However, they do not always appear in ways that are obviously frightening. Their most well-practiced strategies don’t make for box-office hits. One such strategy is to isolate, to drive us into solitary places.
A spirit of shame can do this, isolating us with secrets we can’t share, shortcomings we simply will not acknowledge.
A spirit of driven-ness can do this, forcing us to prove ourselves day after long day, keeping us from those we love while we chase the approval of those we resent.
An accusatory spirit can do this, keeping others at a distance with a sharp tongue and ready word of criticism.
A spirit of lust, a spirit of anger, a spirit anxious care – all of these can drive us to isolation. Our demons thrive in darkness.
When Jesus shows up he enters the isolation. Jesus finds us in those solitary places; his presence draws us out of the caves where we’ve hidden. Luke tells us that Jesus sailed to the region of the Gerasenes (Luke 8:26). By proper Jewish standards, this is a rough neighborhood. This is no place for a respected Rabbi to hang out. It’s Gentile territory; the pigs that inhabit the land are unclean and the people aren’t much better.
But that’s where Jesus goes. Luke is telling us that the presence and power of Jesus are at work even here. Jesus has a way of finding us, even in those dark unclean places. Others had tried to intervene with this wild boar of a man, but only Jesus could show up and draw him out and make him whole.
Only Jesus can step into those solitary places of our lives and shine light on what we’ve kept hidden. Paul asked it like this: “What can separate us from the love of Christ?” Nothing can. But some things will try. Are there any “demons” driving you to isolation today? Invite Jesus to that place. He’s looking for you even now.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, you ask us to name our demons. You invite us to identify what it that drives us from you and from others. Sometimes we wish you’d leave us alone, and yet being alone is what we fear. Find us today, wherever we may be, and draw us from the shadows. You are the light of the world. Shine on us we pray. Amen.
It is the nature of our demons to isolate us, to drive us from the land of the living and the company of those who love us. Our demons isolate us because their survival depends upon our being beyond reach, seemingly out of control.
Before we explore this story further, let’s be honest about the word “demon.” Some will read the word and dismiss this story as the best efforts of a primitive mind to explain behavior that everyone feared and no one understood. When Luke tells us that Jesus “stepped ashore and was met by a demon possessed man” we can take that at face value and let it mean exactly what it says – but we’re wrong to feel superior to the story or to Luke who just didn’t know better.
Demons were and are real. However, they do not always appear in ways that are obviously frightening. Their most well-practiced strategies don’t make for box-office hits. One such strategy is to isolate, to drive us into solitary places.
A spirit of shame can do this, isolating us with secrets we can’t share, shortcomings we simply will not acknowledge.
A spirit of driven-ness can do this, forcing us to prove ourselves day after long day, keeping us from those we love while we chase the approval of those we resent.
An accusatory spirit can do this, keeping others at a distance with a sharp tongue and ready word of criticism.
A spirit of lust, a spirit of anger, a spirit anxious care – all of these can drive us to isolation. Our demons thrive in darkness.
When Jesus shows up he enters the isolation. Jesus finds us in those solitary places; his presence draws us out of the caves where we’ve hidden. Luke tells us that Jesus sailed to the region of the Gerasenes (Luke 8:26). By proper Jewish standards, this is a rough neighborhood. This is no place for a respected Rabbi to hang out. It’s Gentile territory; the pigs that inhabit the land are unclean and the people aren’t much better.
But that’s where Jesus goes. Luke is telling us that the presence and power of Jesus are at work even here. Jesus has a way of finding us, even in those dark unclean places. Others had tried to intervene with this wild boar of a man, but only Jesus could show up and draw him out and make him whole.
Only Jesus can step into those solitary places of our lives and shine light on what we’ve kept hidden. Paul asked it like this: “What can separate us from the love of Christ?” Nothing can. But some things will try. Are there any “demons” driving you to isolation today? Invite Jesus to that place. He’s looking for you even now.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, you ask us to name our demons. You invite us to identify what it that drives us from you and from others. Sometimes we wish you’d leave us alone, and yet being alone is what we fear. Find us today, wherever we may be, and draw us from the shadows. You are the light of the world. Shine on us we pray. Amen.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Your Life, His Heart
Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus . . . (Philippians 2:5)
“What if, for one day, Jesus were to become you?”
With that question Max Lucado opens the first chapter of his book Just Like Jesus. He lingers with the question, letting the implications of it touch every area of our lives. That basic question gives rise to a series of other questions. Lucado continues by asking
What if for twenty-four hours Jesus lives in your house, assumes your schedule? Your boss becomes his boss, your mother becomes his mother, your pains become his pains . . . what if for one day and one night Jesus lives your life with his heart. Your heart gets the day off, and your life is led by the heart of Christ. His priorities govern your actions. His passions drive your decisions. His love directs your behavior.
What would you be like? Would people notice a change? Your family – would they see something new? Your co-workers – would they sense a difference? And you? How would you feel? What alterations would this transplant have on your stress level? Your mood swings? Your temper? Would you sleep better? Would you see sunsets differently? Death differently? Taxes differently? With Jesus taking over your heart would anything change?
Keep working on this for a moment. Keep adjusting the lens of your imagination until you have a clear picture of Jesus leading your life, then snap the shutter and frame the image. What you see is what God wants. He wants you to “think and act like Christ Jesus.” (Max Lucado, Just Like Jesus, 1-2).
I recently listened to a podcast in which John Ortberg observed how the entire nation had watched in awe as Michael Phelps broke multiple world records and won eight Olympic gold medals.
Many of us admire what he did. Nearly all of us respect what he achieved. But for some kid somewhere, what he felt went beyond respect and admiration. He watched Michael Phelps and said to himself, “I can do that too.” This kid and his parents now plan his week around time in the pool. He’s dreaming and visualizing what it’s like to win races in the water. He may have gotten a coach. He is actually shaping his life to be like Mike.
Plenty of people respect Jesus, admire him for his moral teachings, stand in awe of the miracles recorded in scripture. But Jesus calls us to do more than admire. He asks us to follow. He wants us to live like he lived. A transformation of life in which we increasingly become like Jesus – that’s what God wants to do in your life.
This week we’ll linger with a story from Luke 8 and watch how Jesus changed a badly damaged and broken man, made his soul whole and well. And we’ll reflect on how Jesus wants to do the same thing in our lives.
Prayer:
I want to do more than admire you from afar, Lord Jesus. Help me to become more like you and let that change begin today. Help me to live this day with your heart. Amen.
“What if, for one day, Jesus were to become you?”
With that question Max Lucado opens the first chapter of his book Just Like Jesus. He lingers with the question, letting the implications of it touch every area of our lives. That basic question gives rise to a series of other questions. Lucado continues by asking
What if for twenty-four hours Jesus lives in your house, assumes your schedule? Your boss becomes his boss, your mother becomes his mother, your pains become his pains . . . what if for one day and one night Jesus lives your life with his heart. Your heart gets the day off, and your life is led by the heart of Christ. His priorities govern your actions. His passions drive your decisions. His love directs your behavior.
What would you be like? Would people notice a change? Your family – would they see something new? Your co-workers – would they sense a difference? And you? How would you feel? What alterations would this transplant have on your stress level? Your mood swings? Your temper? Would you sleep better? Would you see sunsets differently? Death differently? Taxes differently? With Jesus taking over your heart would anything change?
Keep working on this for a moment. Keep adjusting the lens of your imagination until you have a clear picture of Jesus leading your life, then snap the shutter and frame the image. What you see is what God wants. He wants you to “think and act like Christ Jesus.” (Max Lucado, Just Like Jesus, 1-2).
I recently listened to a podcast in which John Ortberg observed how the entire nation had watched in awe as Michael Phelps broke multiple world records and won eight Olympic gold medals.
Many of us admire what he did. Nearly all of us respect what he achieved. But for some kid somewhere, what he felt went beyond respect and admiration. He watched Michael Phelps and said to himself, “I can do that too.” This kid and his parents now plan his week around time in the pool. He’s dreaming and visualizing what it’s like to win races in the water. He may have gotten a coach. He is actually shaping his life to be like Mike.
Plenty of people respect Jesus, admire him for his moral teachings, stand in awe of the miracles recorded in scripture. But Jesus calls us to do more than admire. He asks us to follow. He wants us to live like he lived. A transformation of life in which we increasingly become like Jesus – that’s what God wants to do in your life.
This week we’ll linger with a story from Luke 8 and watch how Jesus changed a badly damaged and broken man, made his soul whole and well. And we’ll reflect on how Jesus wants to do the same thing in our lives.
Prayer:
I want to do more than admire you from afar, Lord Jesus. Help me to become more like you and let that change begin today. Help me to live this day with your heart. Amen.
Friday, September 19, 2008
A No Shirking Zone
Incline my heart to your testimonies and not to selfish gain (Psalm 119:36)
Remember the reindeer games from which poor Rudolph was excluded? Seems there’s more to that than a cute Christmas ditty.
In his fine book Death by Suburb, David Goetz tells about Valerius Geist. Geist is a cervid biologist, which means he knows more about the deer family than most people will ever care to know. Geist generated a buzz among biologists by positing the theory of the “shirker bull.” Shirker bulls are bulls that don’t like to play the reindeer games or any other kind of deer games for that matter.
Among elk and deer there’s a fall ritual in which the bulls square off against each other, butting heads and seeking dominance over other bulls and favor with the does. According to Geist, a “shirker bull” refuses to knock heads. This means that the shirker often grows very large antlers. Geist suggested that those prize heads mounted over lodge fireplaces are likely the heads of shirkers. They have a full spread of antlers because they won’t fight. They won’t engage.
For reasons that escape me, when it comes to the Bible it’s far too easy to be a shirker. We simply will not engage the text. I caught myself this morning. I was supposed to be reading my Bible. Instead I let most of an hour get by me while I sat and thought of something to write that would encourage people to read their Bibles. What’s wrong with that picture?
We talk about the bible and listen to others talk about it in sermons. We debate the Bible with folks we don’t like and give Bibles as gifts to those we do like. Some of us even grew up singing about the B-I-B-L-E yes that’s the book for me.
However, when it comes to reading the Bible we’re somewhat haphazard. We may go long stretches and not read it at all. We don’t engage the text, wrestle with what it means, grapple with how its words speak to 21st century people. That’s hard work, easily left undone. We’re shirkers.
The Bible is a book that requires engagement on two levels.
First, we have to engage the text itself. Let’s admit that the Bible isn’t always an easy book. Getting those words from there to here is sometimes heavy lifting. It’s worth noting that Satan tempted Jesus in the desert by quoting the Bible. His application was faulty but he knew the words. How do we know who is handling scripture responsibly? We won’t know without some effort. Engage the text.
But as we engage the text we also need to engage the world. Shirkers are sometimes those who know alot about the Bible, but never live it in service to others. Their heads are full of bible knowledge, but their lives are narrow and insulated. Hands that hold the sacred book ought not to be too clean.
Today would be a great day to declare your Bible a “no shirking zone.” Open the Bible, lower your head over the text and engage. Engage the words. Engage the world.
Prayer:
Give me a willing heart and a searching mind, O Lord. Teach me to read your words with a listening ear. Help me to be diligent and attentive before you, that what I learn I may then live to the glory of your name and for the good of the world you love. Amen.
Remember the reindeer games from which poor Rudolph was excluded? Seems there’s more to that than a cute Christmas ditty.
In his fine book Death by Suburb, David Goetz tells about Valerius Geist. Geist is a cervid biologist, which means he knows more about the deer family than most people will ever care to know. Geist generated a buzz among biologists by positing the theory of the “shirker bull.” Shirker bulls are bulls that don’t like to play the reindeer games or any other kind of deer games for that matter.
Among elk and deer there’s a fall ritual in which the bulls square off against each other, butting heads and seeking dominance over other bulls and favor with the does. According to Geist, a “shirker bull” refuses to knock heads. This means that the shirker often grows very large antlers. Geist suggested that those prize heads mounted over lodge fireplaces are likely the heads of shirkers. They have a full spread of antlers because they won’t fight. They won’t engage.
For reasons that escape me, when it comes to the Bible it’s far too easy to be a shirker. We simply will not engage the text. I caught myself this morning. I was supposed to be reading my Bible. Instead I let most of an hour get by me while I sat and thought of something to write that would encourage people to read their Bibles. What’s wrong with that picture?
We talk about the bible and listen to others talk about it in sermons. We debate the Bible with folks we don’t like and give Bibles as gifts to those we do like. Some of us even grew up singing about the B-I-B-L-E yes that’s the book for me.
However, when it comes to reading the Bible we’re somewhat haphazard. We may go long stretches and not read it at all. We don’t engage the text, wrestle with what it means, grapple with how its words speak to 21st century people. That’s hard work, easily left undone. We’re shirkers.
The Bible is a book that requires engagement on two levels.
First, we have to engage the text itself. Let’s admit that the Bible isn’t always an easy book. Getting those words from there to here is sometimes heavy lifting. It’s worth noting that Satan tempted Jesus in the desert by quoting the Bible. His application was faulty but he knew the words. How do we know who is handling scripture responsibly? We won’t know without some effort. Engage the text.
But as we engage the text we also need to engage the world. Shirkers are sometimes those who know alot about the Bible, but never live it in service to others. Their heads are full of bible knowledge, but their lives are narrow and insulated. Hands that hold the sacred book ought not to be too clean.
Today would be a great day to declare your Bible a “no shirking zone.” Open the Bible, lower your head over the text and engage. Engage the words. Engage the world.
Prayer:
Give me a willing heart and a searching mind, O Lord. Teach me to read your words with a listening ear. Help me to be diligent and attentive before you, that what I learn I may then live to the glory of your name and for the good of the world you love. Amen.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Making Sense of What You See
When the devil had finished all this tempting, he left him until an opportune time (Luke 4:13).
It’s as old as the Garden of Eden. Temptation links Jesus with Adam and Eve, and it pulls us into the mix as well. The letter to the Hebrews encouraged believers by reminding them that Jesus was tempted, that his experience and ours is not so different (Hebrews 2:18).
Every temptation is a chance for us to choose what reality we will live in. Details of temptation vary: eat this fruit, turn stones to bread, fudge the numbers on your tax return. But every stripe of temptation has this in common – the nature of reality is at stake.
This is the enemy’s strategy. The serpent in the garden and the devil in the desert were doing the same thing. He wants us to choose a reality that places God in the nose-bleed seats or removes God altogether.
Adam and Eve bought the lie. They defined reality minus God. God was out to deprive them of their rightful independence. They exerted their autonomy and ate of the tree. Jesus had a chance to do the same thing. Make food to feed the masses, draw followers by an act of great showmanship. He refused. Something else defined reality for Jesus.
Defining reality is a major task of every person who seeks to follow Jesus and live the Jesus way. And like Jesus, we define reality by God’s written word.
Not long ago I sensed a presence standing by my bed. With heavy lids half opened I saw my son standing over me. I looked at the clock. 3:55 a.m. He told me he wanted to go downstairs and eat breakfast. I told him no way and marched him back to his room. After a few minutes he was back asleep. I was wide awake.
While helping John get back to sleep I had heard the sound of a garbage truck starting and stopping at houses along the street. Hmm . . . they’re at it early. I noticed that the light coming through the window seemed a little bright. Wow, nice full moon. Finally, when I went downstairs to make coffee, I saw something that changed my reality. The oven displayed two large red letters that said “PF”. This means “Power Failure.” The digital clock next to the PF said 7:03. John had not gotten up at 4:00 am; he had gotten up at 7:00 a.m. Things suddenly got very busy around our house.
The simple act of reading re-defined reality for me. That’s what happens when we read the Bible. In fact, that’s the primary reason for reading God’s word. Reading tells us what’s real. Neglect scripture, and reality is distorted.
From time to time I’ll have the chance to talk with someone who’s living through a hard season. Their struggle is often voiced as a struggle to make sense of what is happening to them. We’re doing that all the time. We hear garbage trucks on the street and we see light coming through the window, but we’re not grasping the reality of what’s going on. Not until we read God’s story and get an entirely different picture of what’s real.
For those who struggle to make sense of what they see, there is rarely an answer. But there is a story. The Bible is the story of God’s work to make the world right, and that story defines reality. What do you see today? What reality will define how you live this day? Remember, whatever you see is a part of God’s story. For real.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, help us to make sense of what we see today by seeing it within the context of your story. Help us to live with the confidence that comes from knowing that you are at work in the world, working all things together for good. We give you thanks for your written word, the story that reads us and makes sense of our lives. Amen.
It’s as old as the Garden of Eden. Temptation links Jesus with Adam and Eve, and it pulls us into the mix as well. The letter to the Hebrews encouraged believers by reminding them that Jesus was tempted, that his experience and ours is not so different (Hebrews 2:18).
Every temptation is a chance for us to choose what reality we will live in. Details of temptation vary: eat this fruit, turn stones to bread, fudge the numbers on your tax return. But every stripe of temptation has this in common – the nature of reality is at stake.
This is the enemy’s strategy. The serpent in the garden and the devil in the desert were doing the same thing. He wants us to choose a reality that places God in the nose-bleed seats or removes God altogether.
Adam and Eve bought the lie. They defined reality minus God. God was out to deprive them of their rightful independence. They exerted their autonomy and ate of the tree. Jesus had a chance to do the same thing. Make food to feed the masses, draw followers by an act of great showmanship. He refused. Something else defined reality for Jesus.
Defining reality is a major task of every person who seeks to follow Jesus and live the Jesus way. And like Jesus, we define reality by God’s written word.
Not long ago I sensed a presence standing by my bed. With heavy lids half opened I saw my son standing over me. I looked at the clock. 3:55 a.m. He told me he wanted to go downstairs and eat breakfast. I told him no way and marched him back to his room. After a few minutes he was back asleep. I was wide awake.
While helping John get back to sleep I had heard the sound of a garbage truck starting and stopping at houses along the street. Hmm . . . they’re at it early. I noticed that the light coming through the window seemed a little bright. Wow, nice full moon. Finally, when I went downstairs to make coffee, I saw something that changed my reality. The oven displayed two large red letters that said “PF”. This means “Power Failure.” The digital clock next to the PF said 7:03. John had not gotten up at 4:00 am; he had gotten up at 7:00 a.m. Things suddenly got very busy around our house.
The simple act of reading re-defined reality for me. That’s what happens when we read the Bible. In fact, that’s the primary reason for reading God’s word. Reading tells us what’s real. Neglect scripture, and reality is distorted.
From time to time I’ll have the chance to talk with someone who’s living through a hard season. Their struggle is often voiced as a struggle to make sense of what is happening to them. We’re doing that all the time. We hear garbage trucks on the street and we see light coming through the window, but we’re not grasping the reality of what’s going on. Not until we read God’s story and get an entirely different picture of what’s real.
For those who struggle to make sense of what they see, there is rarely an answer. But there is a story. The Bible is the story of God’s work to make the world right, and that story defines reality. What do you see today? What reality will define how you live this day? Remember, whatever you see is a part of God’s story. For real.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, help us to make sense of what we see today by seeing it within the context of your story. Help us to live with the confidence that comes from knowing that you are at work in the world, working all things together for good. We give you thanks for your written word, the story that reads us and makes sense of our lives. Amen.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Bread Alone
. . . man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord (Deuteronomy 8:3).
Jesus answered, “It is written, man does not live on bread alone” (Luke 4:4).
Bread alone. Jesus said we couldn’t live on that, but I’ve tried. Seems I keep trying.
I took the kids to Roasters last night. That’s a favorite of ours. Good food, very kid friendly. And on top of that, before your meal comes out they bring you a basket of rolls and cornbread muffins. That means that for about ten minutes you’re sitting there with bread alone – and when the rolls are hot, that’s almost all you need. It requires great discipline to keep from making a meal out of bread alone.
Bread alone can be a problem and here’s why: It fills you up so that you don’t have an appetite for anything else. You’re full, but with nothing but rolls and muffins you are not well fed. There’s a difference.
Jesus knew this well. That’s why after a forty day fast, when the adversary came and tempted him with the immediate availability of warm rolls, Jesus reached back to Deuteronomy 8:3. Our craving for bread is misleading. The rolls can fill our stomachs – but what we need to truly live comes from God. God’s words give life. The bread basket will eventually be empty, and those who chow down on the rolls will be hungry again. But God’s words feed us in way that satisfies something deep within.
Throughout the Bible, the ordinary experiences of physical hunger and thirst serve as powerful metaphors for the spiritual life. Standing at a well with a Samaritan woman, Jesus said that he could give her water that would mean never being thirsty again (John 4:14). Jesus stood up at the height of a religious festival and told all who were thirsty to come to him; he would cause springs of living water to bubble up within them (John 7:38). The Psalmist observed that we tend to go to bed late and get up early, “eating the bread of anxious toil” (Psalm 127:2).
In the wilderness God gave bread from heaven every morning, but the bread wasn’t the point. Trusting God’s promise to provide was the point. We don’t live by bread alone. We live by the words God speaks. For you and me, those words are heard in the text of scripture.
But still, we fill ourselves with bread alone. And that’s not confined to hot rolls and muffins. Bread alone is a steady paycheck and adequate insurance. It can be clothes that make us feel good. Bread alone is a car with a fresh oil change and decent tires. Bread alone is getting the kids registered for the next season’s sports activities and taking satisfaction in their good grades. Bread is anything of which we say, “as long as we have that, we’ll be fine.”
And the bread is good, even necessary. But bread alone cannot truly fill us. We need God’s word. The question comes back to your appetite. What do you fill yourself with every day? Leave room for the words that truly give you life.
Prayer:
Gracious God, the bread offered to me by the world I live in is appealing. It seems to promise so much – and yet it doesn’t last long. I find myself hungry again. Give me an appetite for your words. Teach me how to feed on what you have spoken so that my hope will not be placed entirely on bread alone. Amen.
Jesus answered, “It is written, man does not live on bread alone” (Luke 4:4).
Bread alone. Jesus said we couldn’t live on that, but I’ve tried. Seems I keep trying.
I took the kids to Roasters last night. That’s a favorite of ours. Good food, very kid friendly. And on top of that, before your meal comes out they bring you a basket of rolls and cornbread muffins. That means that for about ten minutes you’re sitting there with bread alone – and when the rolls are hot, that’s almost all you need. It requires great discipline to keep from making a meal out of bread alone.
Bread alone can be a problem and here’s why: It fills you up so that you don’t have an appetite for anything else. You’re full, but with nothing but rolls and muffins you are not well fed. There’s a difference.
Jesus knew this well. That’s why after a forty day fast, when the adversary came and tempted him with the immediate availability of warm rolls, Jesus reached back to Deuteronomy 8:3. Our craving for bread is misleading. The rolls can fill our stomachs – but what we need to truly live comes from God. God’s words give life. The bread basket will eventually be empty, and those who chow down on the rolls will be hungry again. But God’s words feed us in way that satisfies something deep within.
Throughout the Bible, the ordinary experiences of physical hunger and thirst serve as powerful metaphors for the spiritual life. Standing at a well with a Samaritan woman, Jesus said that he could give her water that would mean never being thirsty again (John 4:14). Jesus stood up at the height of a religious festival and told all who were thirsty to come to him; he would cause springs of living water to bubble up within them (John 7:38). The Psalmist observed that we tend to go to bed late and get up early, “eating the bread of anxious toil” (Psalm 127:2).
In the wilderness God gave bread from heaven every morning, but the bread wasn’t the point. Trusting God’s promise to provide was the point. We don’t live by bread alone. We live by the words God speaks. For you and me, those words are heard in the text of scripture.
But still, we fill ourselves with bread alone. And that’s not confined to hot rolls and muffins. Bread alone is a steady paycheck and adequate insurance. It can be clothes that make us feel good. Bread alone is a car with a fresh oil change and decent tires. Bread alone is getting the kids registered for the next season’s sports activities and taking satisfaction in their good grades. Bread is anything of which we say, “as long as we have that, we’ll be fine.”
And the bread is good, even necessary. But bread alone cannot truly fill us. We need God’s word. The question comes back to your appetite. What do you fill yourself with every day? Leave room for the words that truly give you life.
Prayer:
Gracious God, the bread offered to me by the world I live in is appealing. It seems to promise so much – and yet it doesn’t last long. I find myself hungry again. Give me an appetite for your words. Teach me how to feed on what you have spoken so that my hope will not be placed entirely on bread alone. Amen.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
God's Word: Handled and Hidden
Jesus answered, “It is written . . .” (Luke 4:4, 8, 12)
The scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it he found the place where it is written . . . (Luke 4:17)
. . . You’ve gotten a call that you need to come to the emergency room. No details. You just need to come. On the way every light you hit is red . . . and eternal.
. . . 2 a.m. - You wake up in a hotel room far from home. Stressed and wound tight, very alone. It’s too late to call home. There’s the TV. And a menu of movies to distract you in any way you wish. Just push the buttons and pay the charge.
. . . The party your friends threw for you is over. The good-byes have been said more than once, promises to visit soon and stay in touch. There’s not much left to say. Your earthly belongings are in a truck somewhere, and with the car loaded down you drive beyond the city limits of the place you’ve called home, wondering if you made the right decision.
The Psalmist spoke of having God’s word hidden in the heart (Psalm 119:11). There are moments, like the ones just described, when the word you’ve hidden in your heart is the only word you have. You can’t reach for a Bible and comb through the concordance looking for just the right word of hope and strength and assurance. The mind grapples for a life-giving word the way a drowning man flails about for a rope. It reaches to your heart for the hidden word.
Jesus had obviously hidden God’s word in his heart. Psalm 119 was composed with memorization in mind, and Jesus no doubt knew verse 11. But Luke 4 shows us something more than Jesus quoting the hidden word. We also see Jesus handling the written text of scripture.
In the Nazareth synagogue – his hometown place of worship – Jesus was invited to teach one Sabbath day. They handed him the scroll of Isaiah. He opened it and found the exact chapter and verse of the prophetic writing that spoke to his own identity as the Lord’s anointed. Jesus knew how to handle the scroll. He knew his way around the text.
But in the wilderness there was no scroll. The wilderness was a place of struggle, a place of temptation, the place where seeds of doubt could be planted and flourish. In the wilderness you can’t reach for chapter and verse. The desert moments demand that we look to the word hidden away in the heart.
Those who handle the written word are more likely to have that word hidden away when the day of testing comes.
It is true that you can read the Bible and not memorize it. But if you never read it, you’ll never have the word you need when the hospital calls, when you’re alone late at night, when you’re moving toward the unknown. Those who handle the word may find some of those words hidden in the heart.
Desert moments will eventually come and test us, but the word of God sustains us in those barren places. Handle the word today so that you’ll find it hidden away when the desert days come.
Prayer:
Your word, O Lord, is a lamp to my feet and light to my path. Teach me to handle your word in the light of day, to read it and ponder it at peace, so that when darkness falls I may still hear those words and follow you through the wilderness places. Amen.
The scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it he found the place where it is written . . . (Luke 4:17)
. . . You’ve gotten a call that you need to come to the emergency room. No details. You just need to come. On the way every light you hit is red . . . and eternal.
. . . 2 a.m. - You wake up in a hotel room far from home. Stressed and wound tight, very alone. It’s too late to call home. There’s the TV. And a menu of movies to distract you in any way you wish. Just push the buttons and pay the charge.
. . . The party your friends threw for you is over. The good-byes have been said more than once, promises to visit soon and stay in touch. There’s not much left to say. Your earthly belongings are in a truck somewhere, and with the car loaded down you drive beyond the city limits of the place you’ve called home, wondering if you made the right decision.
The Psalmist spoke of having God’s word hidden in the heart (Psalm 119:11). There are moments, like the ones just described, when the word you’ve hidden in your heart is the only word you have. You can’t reach for a Bible and comb through the concordance looking for just the right word of hope and strength and assurance. The mind grapples for a life-giving word the way a drowning man flails about for a rope. It reaches to your heart for the hidden word.
Jesus had obviously hidden God’s word in his heart. Psalm 119 was composed with memorization in mind, and Jesus no doubt knew verse 11. But Luke 4 shows us something more than Jesus quoting the hidden word. We also see Jesus handling the written text of scripture.
In the Nazareth synagogue – his hometown place of worship – Jesus was invited to teach one Sabbath day. They handed him the scroll of Isaiah. He opened it and found the exact chapter and verse of the prophetic writing that spoke to his own identity as the Lord’s anointed. Jesus knew how to handle the scroll. He knew his way around the text.
But in the wilderness there was no scroll. The wilderness was a place of struggle, a place of temptation, the place where seeds of doubt could be planted and flourish. In the wilderness you can’t reach for chapter and verse. The desert moments demand that we look to the word hidden away in the heart.
Those who handle the written word are more likely to have that word hidden away when the day of testing comes.
It is true that you can read the Bible and not memorize it. But if you never read it, you’ll never have the word you need when the hospital calls, when you’re alone late at night, when you’re moving toward the unknown. Those who handle the word may find some of those words hidden in the heart.
Desert moments will eventually come and test us, but the word of God sustains us in those barren places. Handle the word today so that you’ll find it hidden away when the desert days come.
Prayer:
Your word, O Lord, is a lamp to my feet and light to my path. Teach me to handle your word in the light of day, to read it and ponder it at peace, so that when darkness falls I may still hear those words and follow you through the wilderness places. Amen.
Friday, September 12, 2008
It Doesn't Take Much
The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” (Luke 17:5)
". . . Nevertheless, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?" (Luke 18:8)
Ever heard of the Armoured Mistfrog? Me neither. Australia’s tropical northern region is home to this species, but none have been seen since 1991. At 1.5 inches long that’s not surprising. They’re easy to miss. But the long absence of their short bodies has led scientists to conclude that the species is extinct, killed off by a fungus that has infected the area.
Now the scientists are re-visiting that conclusion. A doctoral student at James Cook University in Townsville recently came across the Armoured Mistfrog while conducting research on another frog species. This has to be the academic equivalent of winning the lottery!
So . . . we thought they were extinct, gone, wiped out. But we’ve seen them again. They exist. They live. They aren’t mighty and numerous, but they are there.
Once, Jesus told a parable about a persistent widow and her repeated demands for justice. The parable was told so that we would not grow weary and falter in our prayers. At the end of the story, Jesus asked a question. “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”
Good question. I’ve wondered that myself a time or two. There are days when it seems extinct, real faith that is. I know it must be out there somewhere, but there are moments when I’m not sure it’s in me. Too much tragedy and senseless violence and starving masses and children orphaned by AIDS – all of that erodes what faith we have. We’re not sure it’s still around.
I understand well the urgent request of Jesus’ first followers. “Increase our faith.” The Greek is better rendered “add faith to us.” However you say it, the gist is the same. We need more faith. We don’t think we have enough, and we know there’s more to be had.
Jesus’ reply to their request should encourage us. Jesus said that the faith of a mustard seed could do powerful things. With mustard seed faith they could command a tree to throw itself into the ocean and it would happen. In other words, we want more faith – but Jesus tells us it doesn’t take much.
This may be one of those days when faith seems hard to find. You haven’t seen it in a while and you’re not sure it’s there. But remember, it doesn’t take much. God does great things with mustard seed faith.
Like the Armoured Mistfrog, you may not have seen it for a while, but that doesn’t mean your faith is extinct. It may be small, but it’s there – and that’s o.k. Offer God what faith you have and live this day knowing that God can do plenty with that.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, we ask today what your first followers asked: increase our faith. We want our faith to grow and flourish – and yet we know that you can do great things with even a little faith. So help us to live this day trusting in what you will do more than in what we feel or see. Our faith – every bit of it - is in you, our great and good God. Amen.
". . . Nevertheless, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?" (Luke 18:8)
Ever heard of the Armoured Mistfrog? Me neither. Australia’s tropical northern region is home to this species, but none have been seen since 1991. At 1.5 inches long that’s not surprising. They’re easy to miss. But the long absence of their short bodies has led scientists to conclude that the species is extinct, killed off by a fungus that has infected the area.
Now the scientists are re-visiting that conclusion. A doctoral student at James Cook University in Townsville recently came across the Armoured Mistfrog while conducting research on another frog species. This has to be the academic equivalent of winning the lottery!
So . . . we thought they were extinct, gone, wiped out. But we’ve seen them again. They exist. They live. They aren’t mighty and numerous, but they are there.
Once, Jesus told a parable about a persistent widow and her repeated demands for justice. The parable was told so that we would not grow weary and falter in our prayers. At the end of the story, Jesus asked a question. “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”
Good question. I’ve wondered that myself a time or two. There are days when it seems extinct, real faith that is. I know it must be out there somewhere, but there are moments when I’m not sure it’s in me. Too much tragedy and senseless violence and starving masses and children orphaned by AIDS – all of that erodes what faith we have. We’re not sure it’s still around.
I understand well the urgent request of Jesus’ first followers. “Increase our faith.” The Greek is better rendered “add faith to us.” However you say it, the gist is the same. We need more faith. We don’t think we have enough, and we know there’s more to be had.
Jesus’ reply to their request should encourage us. Jesus said that the faith of a mustard seed could do powerful things. With mustard seed faith they could command a tree to throw itself into the ocean and it would happen. In other words, we want more faith – but Jesus tells us it doesn’t take much.
This may be one of those days when faith seems hard to find. You haven’t seen it in a while and you’re not sure it’s there. But remember, it doesn’t take much. God does great things with mustard seed faith.
Like the Armoured Mistfrog, you may not have seen it for a while, but that doesn’t mean your faith is extinct. It may be small, but it’s there – and that’s o.k. Offer God what faith you have and live this day knowing that God can do plenty with that.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, we ask today what your first followers asked: increase our faith. We want our faith to grow and flourish – and yet we know that you can do great things with even a little faith. So help us to live this day trusting in what you will do more than in what we feel or see. Our faith – every bit of it - is in you, our great and good God. Amen.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Verdicts Old and New
When Jesus saw their faith, he said, “Friend, your sins are forgiven” (Luke 5:20).
Judge Jackie Glass has a tough job on her hands. She’s presiding over the trial in Las Vegas in which O.J. Simpson is being charged with various felonies. The work of a judge is hard enough, but Judge Glass is faced with the task of seating a jury that will consider the charges against Simpson without being influenced by another trial – the one Simpson sat through 13 years ago.
Addressing the pool of potential jurors this week, Judge Glass asked a straightforward question: “Can you put aside your feelings about that verdict?” More than few folks are being sent home because they can’t.
The Simpson trial happening now makes me wonder about old verdicts and what we do with them.
Those old verdicts may be verdicts that we silently passed on another person. Sometimes those old verdicts are judgments we rendered against ourselves.
The “guilty” verdict is heavy weight we carry around. With regard to someone else, it’s a label we can’t forget or ignore. The “not guilty” verdict is often one that we refuse to believe. We’re suspicious of others and our own guilt sits like a stain on the soul.
As the debris fell from the ceiling above Jesus’ head and the paralyzed man was lowered on his mat, Jesus rendered a verdict. “Friend, your sins are forgiven.” That verdict evoked an outcry from some who heard it. They were very serious about right and wrong and what it meant to keep God’s law. Maybe they had already rendered a verdict of their own, deciding that crippled legs meant punishment for some sin. They didn’t know what, but whatever it was only God could forgive and God’s verdict seemed clear.
Jesus saw their hearts. Judge Glass’ question comes to mind; “Can you set aside your feelings about that verdict?” Apparently they could not.
Jesus renders a new verdict. Just as he spoke forgiveness to the paralytic, he speaks it to us. The act of faith is coming to Jesus knowing that his verdict is final. No one reverses the old verdicts by becoming more adept at keeping the rules. We come to Jesus in faith, and Jesus forgives our sin. And then at his word we live a new life.
Those treasured words from 1 Corinthians 13 tell us that love is patient and kind . . . and does not keep a record of wrongs. Faith knows it to be true, and lives as if a new verdict has been handed down: Forgiven. When we hear that new verdict it changes us. We take up our mat and walk. People see something different. New verdict, new life.
What verdict shapes the way you live every day?
Prayer:
We give you thanks Lord Jesus for your grace and the new verdict you speak over our lives. Give us faith to believe it, and then help us to live a new way. Change us, and teach us to forgive as we have been forgiven. Amen.
Judge Jackie Glass has a tough job on her hands. She’s presiding over the trial in Las Vegas in which O.J. Simpson is being charged with various felonies. The work of a judge is hard enough, but Judge Glass is faced with the task of seating a jury that will consider the charges against Simpson without being influenced by another trial – the one Simpson sat through 13 years ago.
Addressing the pool of potential jurors this week, Judge Glass asked a straightforward question: “Can you put aside your feelings about that verdict?” More than few folks are being sent home because they can’t.
The Simpson trial happening now makes me wonder about old verdicts and what we do with them.
Those old verdicts may be verdicts that we silently passed on another person. Sometimes those old verdicts are judgments we rendered against ourselves.
The “guilty” verdict is heavy weight we carry around. With regard to someone else, it’s a label we can’t forget or ignore. The “not guilty” verdict is often one that we refuse to believe. We’re suspicious of others and our own guilt sits like a stain on the soul.
As the debris fell from the ceiling above Jesus’ head and the paralyzed man was lowered on his mat, Jesus rendered a verdict. “Friend, your sins are forgiven.” That verdict evoked an outcry from some who heard it. They were very serious about right and wrong and what it meant to keep God’s law. Maybe they had already rendered a verdict of their own, deciding that crippled legs meant punishment for some sin. They didn’t know what, but whatever it was only God could forgive and God’s verdict seemed clear.
Jesus saw their hearts. Judge Glass’ question comes to mind; “Can you set aside your feelings about that verdict?” Apparently they could not.
Jesus renders a new verdict. Just as he spoke forgiveness to the paralytic, he speaks it to us. The act of faith is coming to Jesus knowing that his verdict is final. No one reverses the old verdicts by becoming more adept at keeping the rules. We come to Jesus in faith, and Jesus forgives our sin. And then at his word we live a new life.
Those treasured words from 1 Corinthians 13 tell us that love is patient and kind . . . and does not keep a record of wrongs. Faith knows it to be true, and lives as if a new verdict has been handed down: Forgiven. When we hear that new verdict it changes us. We take up our mat and walk. People see something different. New verdict, new life.
What verdict shapes the way you live every day?
Prayer:
We give you thanks Lord Jesus for your grace and the new verdict you speak over our lives. Give us faith to believe it, and then help us to live a new way. Change us, and teach us to forgive as we have been forgiven. Amen.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Undaunted
Some men came carrying a paralytic on a mat and tried to take him into the house to lay him before Jesus. When they could not find a way to do this because of the crowd, they went up on the roof . . . (Luke 5:18-19).
I don’t understand the world of finance very well, but I’ve been hearing plenty this week about the Federal Government’s bail-out of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac. Listening to the news this week, what I’ve come away with is this: the government’s action isn’t a great plan, but it’s far better than the alternative.
Not unlike the decision to carry a paralyzed man to a rooftop, make a hole, and then lower him into the house.
The rooftop was “plan B.” As Luke tells it, the original plan was far simpler. These friends planned to take their buddy to see Jesus. They would lift his mat, carry him to the place was Jesus was reported to be, and make their way to the teacher as the crowd parted like a thin curtain.
It didn’t happen that way. They carried their friend to the house . . . where they were promptly told to take a number. Seems that no one had the slightest interest in letting them through. They regroup. And then they look up. The rooftop wasn’t the easiest way to get into the house. Getting there was physically demanding, making a hole would be messy, and some homeowner would be bent out of shape.
The rooftop was innovation and ingenuity. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was better than the alternative. Either go through the roof, or go home.
At some level, faith can be understood this way: whatever it is that drives us toward Jesus is stronger than the things that would keep us away. We simply must lay our burdens, our lives, our loved ones before Jesus. Nothing else will do. Nothing else will work.
I’m writing this much earlier in the day than usual. My son woke up around 3:30 a.m., bad dream or something. He was calling for his mom and it woke both of us. As Marnie calmed him, I went in to check on him – but he wasn’t too interested in Dad. This was something that only Mom could make right.
There are some things that only Jesus can make right. And when we act on that conviction, we’re living by faith.
Knowing how to get to Jesus is what we struggle with. In our minds we know that Jesus hears our prayers. But so often, even when we pray fervently, the way seems blocked. One option is to decide you’ve done all you can do and go home. A better option is to keep looking for a way to get in front of Jesus. Keep praying. Keep seeking. Refuse to carry the burden any longer.
In the Old Testament Jacob wrestled with God and said “I will not let you go until you bless me” (Genesis 32:26). Faith does that. It wrestles its way into the presence of Jesus because going home isn’t an option. Only Jesus will do. How will you climb to the rooftop today – and what will you take up there with you?
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, I bring my life before you today, undaunted by the obstacles that seem to block the way: busy-ness, fatigue, the presence of others who tell me not to bother. In you and you alone are hope and healing. Give us faith strong enough to wrestle. “Our eyes look to the Lord our God till he shows us his mercy” (Psalm 123:2). Amen.
I don’t understand the world of finance very well, but I’ve been hearing plenty this week about the Federal Government’s bail-out of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac. Listening to the news this week, what I’ve come away with is this: the government’s action isn’t a great plan, but it’s far better than the alternative.
Not unlike the decision to carry a paralyzed man to a rooftop, make a hole, and then lower him into the house.
The rooftop was “plan B.” As Luke tells it, the original plan was far simpler. These friends planned to take their buddy to see Jesus. They would lift his mat, carry him to the place was Jesus was reported to be, and make their way to the teacher as the crowd parted like a thin curtain.
It didn’t happen that way. They carried their friend to the house . . . where they were promptly told to take a number. Seems that no one had the slightest interest in letting them through. They regroup. And then they look up. The rooftop wasn’t the easiest way to get into the house. Getting there was physically demanding, making a hole would be messy, and some homeowner would be bent out of shape.
The rooftop was innovation and ingenuity. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was better than the alternative. Either go through the roof, or go home.
At some level, faith can be understood this way: whatever it is that drives us toward Jesus is stronger than the things that would keep us away. We simply must lay our burdens, our lives, our loved ones before Jesus. Nothing else will do. Nothing else will work.
I’m writing this much earlier in the day than usual. My son woke up around 3:30 a.m., bad dream or something. He was calling for his mom and it woke both of us. As Marnie calmed him, I went in to check on him – but he wasn’t too interested in Dad. This was something that only Mom could make right.
There are some things that only Jesus can make right. And when we act on that conviction, we’re living by faith.
Knowing how to get to Jesus is what we struggle with. In our minds we know that Jesus hears our prayers. But so often, even when we pray fervently, the way seems blocked. One option is to decide you’ve done all you can do and go home. A better option is to keep looking for a way to get in front of Jesus. Keep praying. Keep seeking. Refuse to carry the burden any longer.
In the Old Testament Jacob wrestled with God and said “I will not let you go until you bless me” (Genesis 32:26). Faith does that. It wrestles its way into the presence of Jesus because going home isn’t an option. Only Jesus will do. How will you climb to the rooftop today – and what will you take up there with you?
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, I bring my life before you today, undaunted by the obstacles that seem to block the way: busy-ness, fatigue, the presence of others who tell me not to bother. In you and you alone are hope and healing. Give us faith strong enough to wrestle. “Our eyes look to the Lord our God till he shows us his mercy” (Psalm 123:2). Amen.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Faith Sightings
. . . They went up on the roof and lowered him on his mat through the tiles into the middle of the crowd, right in front of Jesus (Luke 5:19).
Jesus saw their faith. And if he saw theirs he can see mine. Or can he?
Theirs was obvious. Their faith was evident as they ripped a hole in the ceiling above Jesus’ head. They were bold in their determination to place their paralyzed friend before Jesus. They were unshakable in their conviction that Jesus could do something, that Jesus could redefine reality.
That kind of thing is hard to miss. It’s go-for-broke, nothing-held-back behavior. What is it that motivates this kind of living? Faith. Jesus looked up and saw their faith.
I’m not ripping holes in too many rooftops these days. When I served a small congregation in southern Oklahoma, I would occasionally go out and knock tentatively on peoples’ front doors. I’ll be honest – that wasn’t an act of faith. That was fear. I was afraid of empty seats on Sunday morning, of failure, of being sent back to Fort Worth and told that it wouldn’t be necessary for me to drive up again next weekend.
I don’t knock on doors anymore, but I don’t climb up on rooftops either. I read this story from Luke 5 and I wonder how Jesus will see my faith. Maybe it’s a question for you to ask of your own life.
To read Luke’s story of Jesus healing the paralytic is to come away with a definition of faith that looks like this: Faith is a way of living that factors Jesus into every circumstance of your life, and then behaves accordingly. Faith is behavior that expects Jesus to make a difference.
You may not be tearing holes in rooftops – but maybe you can make a list of what others will see when faith is at work, shaping your life. Here’s my short list.
Prayer: People may not actually observe this, but I know that when faith is at work in my life I pray more often about more things. Prayer is a way to rip a hole in the roof and bring someone or something directly to Jesus. Prayer is an exercise that works the muscle of faith and makes it stronger.
Laughter: When faith is at work in my life I think I’m less tense, less prone to stress out over things that aren’t going like I thought they would or should go. When you’re really convinced that God has your day in hand, you’ll stress less and laugh more.
Really pay attention to other people: Maybe we can look for signs of faith in others, search out what God is doing in their lives. If Jesus is at work, he’s at work everywhere. Faith means listening to someone’s story, asking a thoughtful question about them. A self-consumed life doesn’t have room for others.
That’s a start. There’s more to add to the list. What might you add? How will faith be seen in your life today?
Prayer:
Help me today, Lord Jesus, to live as if you are present and actively involved in my life and in my world. Give me the kind of faith that others can see, and may my life point them to you – the one in whom all faith rests. Amen.
Jesus saw their faith. And if he saw theirs he can see mine. Or can he?
Theirs was obvious. Their faith was evident as they ripped a hole in the ceiling above Jesus’ head. They were bold in their determination to place their paralyzed friend before Jesus. They were unshakable in their conviction that Jesus could do something, that Jesus could redefine reality.
That kind of thing is hard to miss. It’s go-for-broke, nothing-held-back behavior. What is it that motivates this kind of living? Faith. Jesus looked up and saw their faith.
I’m not ripping holes in too many rooftops these days. When I served a small congregation in southern Oklahoma, I would occasionally go out and knock tentatively on peoples’ front doors. I’ll be honest – that wasn’t an act of faith. That was fear. I was afraid of empty seats on Sunday morning, of failure, of being sent back to Fort Worth and told that it wouldn’t be necessary for me to drive up again next weekend.
I don’t knock on doors anymore, but I don’t climb up on rooftops either. I read this story from Luke 5 and I wonder how Jesus will see my faith. Maybe it’s a question for you to ask of your own life.
To read Luke’s story of Jesus healing the paralytic is to come away with a definition of faith that looks like this: Faith is a way of living that factors Jesus into every circumstance of your life, and then behaves accordingly. Faith is behavior that expects Jesus to make a difference.
You may not be tearing holes in rooftops – but maybe you can make a list of what others will see when faith is at work, shaping your life. Here’s my short list.
Prayer: People may not actually observe this, but I know that when faith is at work in my life I pray more often about more things. Prayer is a way to rip a hole in the roof and bring someone or something directly to Jesus. Prayer is an exercise that works the muscle of faith and makes it stronger.
Laughter: When faith is at work in my life I think I’m less tense, less prone to stress out over things that aren’t going like I thought they would or should go. When you’re really convinced that God has your day in hand, you’ll stress less and laugh more.
Really pay attention to other people: Maybe we can look for signs of faith in others, search out what God is doing in their lives. If Jesus is at work, he’s at work everywhere. Faith means listening to someone’s story, asking a thoughtful question about them. A self-consumed life doesn’t have room for others.
That’s a start. There’s more to add to the list. What might you add? How will faith be seen in your life today?
Prayer:
Help me today, Lord Jesus, to live as if you are present and actively involved in my life and in my world. Give me the kind of faith that others can see, and may my life point them to you – the one in whom all faith rests. Amen.
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