'Us' means 'You'

Therefore . . . let us run with endurance the race that is set before us (Hebrews 12:1)


Spiritual disciplines are not elitist. Take a moment and read that sentence one more time.

There’s a chance that deep down you don’t believe that statement. Somehow you bought into the falsehood that ‘normal’ or ‘typical’ Christians don’t really have time to train when it comes to faith. Only the ‘good’ Christians get up in the morning to pray or read scripture; only the most ‘advanced’ among us ever fast or memorize parts of the Bible.

The weeks ahead will be of little value to you if you think that way.

So let me try one more time to be very clear about this: There are no ‘advanced’ Christians; there is nothing elitist or super-spiritual about the intentional practice of holy habits. Anyone can do this.

I make no claim to being a runner. I don’t especially enjoy running. But three or four times a week I do a four mile route in my neighborhood. I don’t run the entire route. I walk about half of it and when I run I feel like I plod along. I see others running who make want to go home and never run again. And then I see others plodding along, doing the best they can, and I’m reminded that comparisons are not helpful.

Anyone willing to put on a pair of shoes can run. And the spiritual disciplines are likewise for anyone who wants to grow in their faith. Simply put, you can do this.

The writer to the Hebrews spent the whole of chapter 11 rehearsing the names of those who had lived by faith. The roll of honor included Abraham and Moses and Enoch. These well known names are followed by a reference to the unnamed faithful “of whom the world was not worthy.”

And then at the beginning of chapter 12 we read a very significant word: “Therefore.” That is to say, since they lived by faith we can do the same thing. Given the example of these giants in the faith, let us run the same race. Don’t miss the word “us.” That includes you.

Don’t make excuses. Don’t make comparisons. Begin where you are today and start training. Be intentional about going deeper with God. Be purposeful about growing in your faith. This isn’t for the elites or for the advanced and uber-devout. This is for you. But it will require more than good intentions.

Who do you look to as exemplary in their life of faith? How will you begin to live the life they live?

Prayer:
Grant me grace, O God, to move beyond good intentions. Help me to take specific steps toward you and the life you’ve called me to live. Guard me from making comparisons that breed discouragement. Help me to draw inspiration from exemplary people of faith, both living and dead. I will run, even if slowly, doing all in reliance on your son Jesus, in whose name I pray. Amen.

Soul Check

My soul thirsts for you . . . as in a dry and weary land where there is no water (Psalm 63:1).


I should have known something was wrong.

The thermostat in my hallway told me that it was 80 degrees on the main floor of my home. The house felt warm but not miserably so. I performed two simple diagnostic tests. First, I checked to see if air was coming from the vents near the floor. Second, I judged if the air was cool. Yes, there was air. Yes, it seemed cool enough to me.

Temperatures in Atlanta last week were somewhere around 106 F. I assumed my air conditioner was working overtime but struggling to keep up with the withering heat outdoors. I gave thanks to God for ceiling fans.

Then came the weekend. We had a technician to the house to do a routine check on our AC units. After a few moments of poking around with the unit in our basement he came up and asked us if we had been feeling warm indoors. Turns out the unit that cools our bedrooms had no refrigerant. For all practical purposes, we had lived through the hottest days of the summer with no air conditioning.

The unit was running. The air was blowing. But the substance that actually makes the air cool was not there. The unseen element that allows an air conditioner to do what it was made to do was missing. I had misread the signs.

**********

As we take up a regimen of training in the life of faith, the practice of spiritual disciplines, it might be a good idea to read the signs and assess the condition of our soul. This is not easy. We live in a world obsessed with the body. We get plenty of help with staying healthy and staying in shape. We are not as good at tending to the well being of our souls.

It is so easy to live our days with the assumption that everything is working just fine. The unit seems to be humming along, we can feel air coming from the vents, but still we have a nagging sense that something isn’t quite right.

What we manage to ignore is that the soul – that unseen reality that allows us to be what God made us to be – is empty or weary. In the well known words of the Twenty-third Psalm we say that the Lord “restores my soul” (Ps. 23:3). One of the ways God does this is through an intentional life of spiritual practices or “holy habits.”

It is said that the Puritans used to ask “How are things with your soul?” It’s a good question. Maybe we can ask it this way: Where in your life do you have a nagging sense that something is not right?

Invite God to show up and work specifically in that part of your life. Invite God to restore your soul as you practice holy habits in the days ahead.

Prayer:
Help us, O God, to read the signs rightly and to know truthfully the state of our souls. Show us those places where things seem to be fine, but are in fact empty and weary and not what you intend. Restore our souls, we pray, so that we might live as you created us to live, through Jesus our Lord. Amen.

Gold Rush

. . . you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith – more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire – may be found to result in praise (1 Peter 1:7).


Think “Gold Rush” and your mind will likely conjure up images of the unruly Western frontier. What your mind is far less likely to conjure up is a picture of Dahlonega, Georgia.

Dahlonega – a Cherokee word meaning “yellow money” – was at the center of an enthusiastic search for gold in the early nineteenth century. I recently learned that my great-grandfather on my mother’s side of the family had invested in a gold mine near Dahlonega. Nothing much ever came of that.

In the weeks ahead we’ll be witnessing a different kind of gold rush. This time the action is in London and crusty miners are replaced with highly skilled athletes from all over the world. In the deep bowels of a mine or in the throes of athletic competition, gold represents a singular attainment. You find gold and strike it rich. You win the contest and receive the gold medal. But in the life of faith, gold is seen differently.

The apostle Peter reminds us that faith in Jesus is more valuable than gold (1 Peter 1:7). Furthermore, like gold, faith is refined in testing. It is purified by fire. For followers of Jesus, gold is not for the lucky ones who happen to find it. Gold is not for the highly skilled who work hard to win it. Gold is faith itself, a life at rest in the care of God.

And here’s the thing: in the life of faith, the treasure is in the digging. The treasure is in the training. In the work of unearthing this treasure and in the efforts of training, faith is refined and developed.

The focus of these daily reflections will be on the practices, the spiritual disciplines, by which the life of faith is cultivated and refined. With a particular interest in the athletic imagery of the Olympics, we will meditate on what scripture teaches us about living a life of faith. Our desire is to run well the race that is set before us. No one, however, will run well without training to do so.

These daily meditations are offered as one part of your training plan. Being an avid spectator of the USA teams is fine for the Olympics. The role of spectator simply will not do as you seek to live your faith. It’s time to train, time to get in the game.

So come each day ready to read the scripture; come ready to think about what it says to you; come to spend time with God in prayer. Let the games begin. Go for the gold.

Prayer:
Gracious God, we don’t want to live our lives haphazardly, doing what we can to get by. Rather, we would live well, intentionally, with focus and purpose as we seek to become more like Jesus. In these days grant your grace, and move us to action as we pursue the gold of mature faith. We ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Today

He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives . . . (Luke 4:18).


Several weeks ago when we started our series of daily reflections on “Breaking Free” I expected a particular challenge with regard to the theme of freedom. I thought it would be hard to say something compelling about the gift of freedom to people who already assumed they were free.

My assumption was that a compelling message about freedom would first require a compelling exploration of our lack of freedom, the peculiar nature of our bondage.

As we conclude this series, I’ve come to think my assumption was wrong.

Most people, even in ‘the land of the free and the home of the brave,’ know the places in their life that are shackled and stuck. We acknowledge the horrific realities of slavery and human trafficking in our world. And we know all too well the more subtle forms of bondage like addictions and debt and chronic depression.

The chains that leave our souls raw and bruised are not that hard to see. The real challenge with regard to freedom is in knowing with certainty that freedom can be had right now, today.

In our modern day captivity the widely used mantra of hope is “someday.” Someday things will change. Someday things will settle down. Someday we’ll find the right job or the spouse we’ve been waiting for. Someday the market will bounce back. Someday something will happen to make us truly free. We will shed what burdens us and slip free of what holds us in its grip. Someday we’ll find freedom.

**********

When Jesus launched his ministry in the synagogue at Nazareth he did so by reading from the prophet Isaiah. He read a passage of scripture in which God spoke through the prophet about setting captives free, releasing the oppressed and restoring sight to the blind.

After the reading Jesus sat down and began his teaching on the text with these words: “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” Today. Jesus announced to the Nazareth congregation that the freedom God wanted to bring about was not merely a promise. It was a present reality and it was happening in Jesus’ works and words.

And what Jesus did then he does now. Jesus makes us free. He does this by the power of the Spirit. “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,” wrote Isaiah. Jesus grants to us the gift of that Spirit and “where the Spirit of the Lord is there is freedom” (2 Cor. 3:17).

So we end with a simple invitation with regard to your freedom. Don’t look to someday. Don’t look to something. Look to someone. God’s gift of freedom is yours in the life and death of his Son and that gift can be yours. Today.

Prayer:
We know the chains that bind us, O God. We bring them to you and we ask you to change these things; we ask you to change our world. And we ask you set us free by changing us. Make us messengers of freedom as we live each day in the power of your Spirit, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

More Yielding . . . Less Wielding

This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer (Mark 9:29).


He had had enough. For years he had stood helplessly, watching his child suffer.

He could barely remember the sound of his son’s voice. A spirit had long ago rendered the boy mute. And as if that were not enough, it would from time to time seize him in such a way as to cause convulsions, foaming at the mouth, sometimes attempting to burn him or drown him.

This was not something a father could fix. And it was not something a father could bear. He took his son to Jesus.

In Jesus’ absence, the disciples attempted to cast out the spirit. They couldn’t do it. We don’t know what they did, but whatever it was, whatever they tried, it was ineffective. Frustrated, they ended up arguing with some scribes who had been spectators to their failure. When Jesus finally arrived he found a scene of utter powerlessness: humiliated disciples, desperate father, afflicted boy.

So Jesus did what no one else could do. He drove out the spirit. He restored the boy to his father, whole and well.

Later, in private, the disciples got up the nerve to ask, “Why couldn’t we drive it out?”

**********

As many times as I’ve read this story I’m continually perplexed by the final line. “This kind comes out only by prayer.”

I’m perplexed because I’ve asked the same question the disciples asked. “Why couldn’t I do it?” Why couldn’t I make the situation right, why couldn’t I get through to that person, why couldn’t I get the win, why couldn’t I save the day?

And I’m perplexed by Jesus’ answer because I’ve prayed. I’ve sought his help. I’ve asked for his grace. Maybe you’ve prayed too. You’ve prayed for your child, you’ve prayed for your marriage, you’ve prayed for a job, you’ve prayed to get well. And ‘this kind’ – whatever that is – simply will not budge.

I’d like to be able to explain Jesus’ peculiar answer to his disciples. I don’t have a good explanation. What I have is more of a hunch. Earlier this week we called prayer a weapon. But prayer is more than that. Sometimes prayer is a window. We can’t just wield prayers, use them like clubs and set them aside. Sometimes we need to open a window to God’s power and grace, like letting air and light flood a room.

We won’t do anything against ‘this kind’ by simply saying prayers. We need prayer – the kind of prayer that opens our lives to a power that comes from beyond us. This kind of prayer calls for more yielding and less wielding.

How will you yield to God’s power today? Where in your life do you need to open a window?

Prayer:
With our prayer today, O God, we want to open a window to the light of your presence and the power of your grace. We bring our lives to you now, especially those things that we cannot fix and cannot bear on our own. You know ‘this kind’ of thing in every life, and we look to you for help and strength today, through Jesus our lord. Amen.

Reframe the Fight

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against . . . spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms (Ephesians 6:12)


Doug Dworak is the Executive Director of Tiny Hands International, an organization “committed to finding the greatest injustices in the world and working toward bringing relief to those living under its oppression--especially orphans, street children, and the victims of sex trafficking.”

Founded in 2004, Tiny Hands began modest efforts in 2007 to patrol the border between Nepal and India. Each year in Nepal, approximately 10,000 girls are taken across the border and sold to brothels in India. The average age of these girls is 15. Some are as young as 7.

Tiny Hands began with one border monitoring station and in their first year they intercepted 64 girls. In a recent interview at Texas A&M University, Dworak said, “if we had only intercepted one girl that would have been enough. If it was my daughter . . . that would have been enough.”

On the heels of this initial success, the leadership team at Tiny Hands began asking what it would take to have more of an impact on this overwhelming issue. As they pondered this, a conviction settled upon them, deep rooted and urgent. They realized their real enemy in this matter was not a corrupt government or systemic poverty or ruthless criminals. Their real enemy was “The Enemy.”

What they had engaged was not merely a social plight, but a spiritual battle: a fight not against flesh and blood, but against spiritual forces of evil. This conviction led to a weekly time of prayer and fasting focused on this fight.

Since that time Tiny Hands has opened 15 border monitoring stations. Whereas in 2007-2009 they intercepted around 100 girls, since 2009 they have intercepted 4500 girls.

Sometimes you have to reframe the fight in order to fight well.

This is true not only with regard to widespread and obvious evil like slavery and human trafficking. It is true with regard to most of the challenges and struggles you’ll face in the course of this day.

Jesus said that our enemy comes to steal and kill and destroy (John 10:10). Peter wrote that our adversary actively seeks someone to devour (1 Peter 5:8). Your real enemy is not your spouse or your neighbor or your boss. They cannot truly steal your joy. But your soul has an adversary, and this adversary will gladly use your spouse or your neighbor or your boss or anything else to draw you into discouragement.

Try to reframe the fight. And remember this: you have a weapon and that weapon is prayer.

What ‘fight’ are you up against today? How will you preserve your joy in the midst of that struggle? Don’t try to engage the challenge without prayer. Reach for your weapon. It is close at hand, powerful and effective.

Prayer:
Keep us faithful in prayer, O God. Remind us daily that our fight is not against flesh and blood. Make us confident in the power and effectiveness of our prayers. We lift our struggles to you today and look to your strength and power as walk by faith, ever joyful in the fight through Jesus our Lord. Amen.

We Do Not Lose Heart

We look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen . . . (2 Corinthians 4:18).


The International Justice Mission reports that there are an estimated 27 million slaves in the world today.

Some slavery today takes the form of relentless, meaningless labor. Some of it takes the form of sexual exploitation and human trafficking. Whatever form it takes, we can barely get our minds around that number. Twenty-seven million people enslaved. We don’t know what to do or where to begin. We are prone to ignore it, or if we choose to face it head on as we should, we are tempted to lose heart.

In his classic Mere Christianity, C. S. Lewis explains the Christian virtue of ‘hope’ with these words:

A continual looking forward to the eternal world is not (as some modern people think) a form of escapism or wishful thinking . . . It does not mean we are to leave the present world as it is. If you read history you will find that the Christians who did the most for the present world were just those who thought most of the next . . . The English Evangelicals who abolished the slave trade, all left their mark on earth precisely because their minds were occupied with heaven. It is since Christians have largely ceased to think of the other world that they have become so ineffective in this. Aim at heaven, and you’ll get earth “thrown in”: aim at earth and you’ll get neither. (p. 119) 

In his second letter to the church in Corinth Paul wrote, “We do not lose heart.” A close reading of the letter reveals that he had good reason to lose heart; his present was marked by affliction and suffering. But against the backdrop of eternity, these afflictions were seen as “slight” and “momentary.” Paul lived with a profound awareness of things unseen and because of that he was able to say “we do not lose heart.” Lewis helps us understand that this is not escapism.

Slavery is a real issue today. But it is not the most real thing. Paul and C. S. Lewis remind us that what we see impacts our influence in this world far more than what we feel. Losing heart is not resisted by pumping up our emotions. We fight against losing heart by getting a vision for a world we cannot see. When it comes to slavery or poverty or hunger or homelessness, remember: a mind occupied with heaven will leave a mark on earth.

What is the most “real” thing in your life today? What reality most occupies your mind?

Prayer:
Gracious God, we are constantly urged to give attention to what we feel. We ask today that you would make us equally aware of what we see. We ask you to give us a vision for your presence in afflictions and troubles that surround us. Open our eyes to things unseen that we might live for your glory in this world. We ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Free from Regret

Reuben said this to rescue him from them and take him back to his father (Genesis 37:22)


As far as Reuben was concerned, he had failed.

The inconsolable grief of his aging father was his fault. Most nights, before sleep came, Reuben saw again the sight of the empty cistern. He heard the echo of laughter as his brothers counted the shekels and explained that Joseph had been sold and was on his way to Egypt.

The original plan was to murder Joseph. Lacking the stomach for murder, but possessing the guts to speak up, Reuben offered an alternative plan. “Don’t shed any blood. Throw him into this cistern.” Rueben didn’t disclose his real plan. He would come back later for Joseph, get him out of the pit and take him home to Jacob.

Reuben left the others for a while, thinking his plan was in place. When he returned he was told that Joseph had been sold to some Midianite merchants.

And Reuben was left with his regrets. If only he had stayed close by. If only he had been there when the merchants came. If only he had come back sooner.

********

Most of us have said this kind of thing to ourselves about something. We’ve relived the moments that we think we could have changed if only we’d done better or done more. We’ve rehearsed our failure over and over again. We’ve given ear to the low murmurings of our regrets.

If only we had been there. If only we had known. If only we had said something sooner.

We can easily imagine that Reuben lived long with his regrets, that he rehearsed them often. But what looked and felt like failure to Reuben wasn’t failure at all. God wanted to get Joseph to Egypt. God’s plan trumped Reuben’s plan, but this is hard for us to see.

The divine hand is often hidden behind what goes wrong.

One of the most practical ways we experience God’s gift of freedom is in knowing that God’s grace covers all of our regrets. What we would do all over again if we could is guided by the will and ways of God who does all things well from the start, every time.

What would you do over again if you could? How will you place your regrets in the hands of a sovereign God?

Prayer:
Gracious God, I’ve replayed my mistakes enough. I’ve rehearsed my regrets and know them well. Today I give them to you, trusting your unseen hand to work something good, something redemptive, from every part of my life. Help me to trust you with all of my life, and grant your peace, I pray. Amen.

Embrace a 'Holy Must'

And he began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things . . . (Mark 8:31).


We call it the ‘terrible twos.’ The phrase is descriptive, but not accurate.

What we see at age two was there at birth. Turning three won’t get rid of it. That first sin, the catastrophic ‘fall,’ left a deep bruise. We feel the ache of it across a life time and in so many different ways. One of the most common is the reaction of our fallen hearts to authority. We don’t like it. We are inclined to push back.

Fred Craddock sees a particular expression of this in what he calls our “resistance to ‘must’.” He observes that so many of us work hard to keep our options open. We don’t like being saddled with burdens and obligations, commitments and covenants. In fact, some regard a life dominated by ‘must’ or ‘have to’ as unhealthy. Craddock doesn’t mince words. He names our resistance to ‘must’ a copout – a rejection of responsibility.

To live a life in which we continually squirm out from under the weight of necessity is to live a life that will make little difference in this world. Craddock explains

As long as we spend our energies protecting all our alternatives, keeping them alive and well, we will achieve very little. Do you recall meeting now and then a really significant person? Someone who impressed you as really making a difference? Then I’m sure you noticed one thing about her. She possessed a sense of having something she had to do. To others she may look burdened, perhaps obsessed . . . The really burdened person is the one who gets up in the morning, goes to bed in the evening, struggles with great issues such as what should we eat, what should we drink, what should we wear? Gets up in the morning, goes to bed in the evening, grows old, and dies, without a burden. (The Collected Sermons, p. 92)

And so Jesus set his face toward Jerusalem. He had to go there. He repeatedly told his closest friends that the “Son of Man must suffer many things.” Jeremiah knew this ‘must’ as “a fire in his bones.” Preachers of old spoke of unction. Nehemiah spoke of a “great work” from which he would not be distracted.

Mark Buchanan calls it a ‘Holy Must.’ It is a burden, a weight laid upon the heart and mind. And those who are so burdened know what it is to live free.

There is a beautiful clarity to life that comes with a holy must. The clarity brings freedom, liberation from every distraction that seems to promise us joy. Strange isn’t it? A light burden, resisting ‘must,’ is actually cumbersome. The heavy burden is a joy.

What is the one thing you must do - your ‘Holy Must’? How will you embrace that freedom today?

Prayer:
Grant to us, O God, the gift of a Holy Must. Lay upon our souls the weight of a great necessity, a free life defined clearly by what you have called us to do in this world. Subdue our resistance, and keep us faithful to the ‘must’ you give, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Eight Days Later

Eight days later the disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them . . . (John 20:26)

Thomas had made himself perfectly clear.

He was resolute in his ‘unless.’ Absent compelling evidence, the kind that he could see and touch, he would not believe. Never mind that he was surrounded by believing friends. Their enthusiastic reports were not enough to pull faith from the clinched jaws of doubt. Thomas would need something more.

And something more appeared. Jesus came and stood among them: “Put your finger here . . . put your hand here.” The resolute ‘unless’ gave way to worship. “My Lord and my God.” The one who had announced his unbelief was now a believer.

**********

We are hardly surprised that Thomas’ story ends as it does. How could it be otherwise? Thomas refuses to believe. Thomas believes. He insists on evidence. He erupts in worship. The scenes unfold quickly, a seamless transition from here to there, from doubt to faith.

Except for this: Eight days.

Jesus does not rush in to rescue Thomas from his questions. Before Jesus appears among his disciples there are eight days . . . of what? We are not told. Most likely those eight days were days of conversation, eight days of argument, eight days of efforts to persuade met by stubborn resistance, eight days of frustration.

Why does Jesus linger? Why does he take so long to show up and show off and bring the skeptic to his knees?

Such questions are hard for us. We may not doubt God, but neither do we understand God’s ways. We may not question God’s love, but we have plenty of questions about God’s timing. We may not question God’s power, but we have plenty of questions about God’s plan.

This we know for certain: For eight days Thomas had friends who were willing to tell him, “We have seen the Lord.” He didn’t believe it – but they told him anyway, probably over and over again. And what’s more they stayed with him. They didn’t leave. When Jesus appeared they were all there.

It is in those eight days that all of us a prone to be doubters. As unlikely as it seems, God is at work in the ‘eight days.’ When it looks as if nothing is happening, more is happening than we know. We may be stuck; the Spirit moves freely, often in ways unnoticed.

Are you waiting for someone to come to faith, make the move from resistance to receiving, from questioning to believing? That can be a long story: it may be eight days . . . it may well be eight years. Keep saying what you know to be true. And stay with it. Stay with him or her, lost friend, wayward child, stone-cold spouse, just stay there and live a life that says “I have seen the Lord.”

Trust Jesus to show up and do the rest. He is at work, even in the eight days. Don’t miss the end of the story.

Prayer:
Few things are harder for us, O God, than waiting. We crave quick results and speedy answers to prayer – eight minutes rather than eight days. Keep us faithful in the waiting seasons, whatever they may be, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Needed: A Shepherd

“I am the good shepherd.” (John 10:11).

Not too long ago I read something that bothered me. I’m not sure it should have – but it did.

The author, a highly regarded pastor-teacher, is someone whom I greatly respect. I listen often to his podcast. So when he said in an interview that the word “shepherd” was irrelevant, he got my attention. Here’s the quote, admittedly removed from context:

“That word [shepherd] needs to go away. Jesus talked about shepherds because there was one over there in a pasture he could point to . . . I’ve never seen a flock. I’ve never spent five minutes with a shepherd. It was culturally relevant in the time of Jesus but it’s not culturally relevant anymore.” (Leadership Journal, May 28, 2007).

Ok . . . I think I get that. I claim little to no experience with shepherds or flocks of livestock of any kind. In my first church in Oklahoma I knew that several of my members owned cows, but I never actually had interaction with their cattle. Shepherds are not easily found in metro-Atlanta. But while I acknowledge the truth of what this fellow-pastor says, I just can’t reach his conclusion. Bottom line: I think he’s wrong.

For one thing, his position elevates (his) personal experience to an unworthy height while it sells people short. Meaningful knowledge cannot be tethered to what I myself have seen and done. And it is also possible that intelligent people are capable of comprehending the meaning of a metaphor that is foreign to their own time and culture.

Jesus didn’t use the word “shepherd” because there was one in a field that he could see and point to. Jesus used “shepherd” because he had read Isaiah and the Psalms. The concept came to him from Israel’s history, not a Judean hillside.

But beyond that there is this practical matter. If you jettison the biblical image of a “shepherd” what will you use in its place? Is there anything that we can see or identify that offers an adequate substitute for the Biblical image? What speaks most powerfully to the deepest needs of our life?

The Lord is . . . my adviser? We need far more than advice. The Lord is . . . my boss or CEO? That hardly stirs our affections. The Lord is my . . . coach? That might get at what we need. Personal coaching is big these days. The Lord is my . . . counselor? Maybe – but good counselors pay close attention to boundaries. The shepherd risks his life the sheep. Counselor is close, but not quite there.

Maybe what we need is exactly what Jesus said he was in John 10:11. We need a shepherd.

How do you see it? Why does it matter that Jesus is a “good shepherd?” Could he meet you in the details of your life or at your point of deepest need as something else?

Prayer:
Lord Jesus, you called yourself a good shepherd. While the image is strange to us, we know you in what you do with us – the way you guide us and seek us out when lost and lead us to what will sustain us and give us life. We will not fight over words. We only seek to follow you as you do your work among us by your Holy Spirit. Do that work today, we pray. Amen.

Exclusive Claims, Inclusive Aims

“And I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also . . .” (John 10:16).


Exclusive claims. Inclusive aims.

The minute you begin the Christian life, the moment you take a step on the Jesus way and begin living his life, you’ll find yourself in this tension. There are some things that simply do not work properly without tension. Relieve the tension on guitar strings and you’ll get no music. The Christian life is not too different from this.

Jesus made exclusive claims. He said he was the gate for the sheep; he said no one came to Father except through him; he said that if you have seen him you have seen the Father; he told very devout people in his day that they were blind because they couldn’t accept his words; he told top-flight Bible scholars that they were ignorant because they refused to see that scripture pointed to him. Time and time again in John’s gospel Jesus speaks of his own identity with variations on “I am.”

But Jesus also had radically inclusive aims. For Jews, Samaria was a very bad neighborhood – but Jesus gladly went there. Lepers were to be avoided and quarantined – but Jesus willingly touched them. Tax collectors were thieves – but Jesus had a good time at their parties. No decent Rabbi would be caught dead in the presence of a prostitute – but Jesus allowed one such woman to weep at his feet. Jesus had “other sheep” and he was intent on bringing them into the fold.

This tension can be uncomfortable, even tiresome. But we need to be careful about hastily seeking to resolve what makes us uneasy.

Holding deep convictions about Jesus’ exclusive claims should never produce a heart that is stingy and small, or a reach to the world that is stunted in its scope. And embracing the world with a generous heart, inclusive and broad, should never produce thinking about Jesus that has morphed into something generic and benign.

Some of us are very clear about what we believe about Jesus, but we’re ensconced in a small world that looks like we look and thinks like we think. Others of us are intent on making the tent wide, vaulting over the ethnic or ideological walls that so easily divide us, but discovering in mid-air that we’ve left a clear and compelling word of ‘good news’ about Jesus.

Exclusive claims. Inclusive aims. They must be held together, no matter how uneasy it makes us.

Ever tempted to ease this tension? How are you most likely to do so?

Prayer:
Help us, Lord Jesus, to love and to treasure both your claims and your aims. Grant us the boldness of deep convictions firmly held. Grant us compassionate hearts intent on bringing all people into the care of the good shepherd. We pray this in your powerful and merciful name. Amen.

Unmet Expectations

The reason why the crowd went to meet him was that they head he had done this sign (John 12:18)

Few places are harder to live than in the gap between what we expect and what we get, that barren stretch that separates what we think we deserve and what our lives have actually delivered to us. We can barely tolerate being there and we’ll do anything to find a way out.

Sometimes that means we adjust our expectations. The pain of disappointment is alleviated by lowering our sights. But with every downward adjustment hope is diminished, and eventually we find we’ve stopped dreaming altogether.

Another strategy moves in the opposite direction. Sometimes the tension between what we expect and what we get pushes us to do whatever we need to do to secure our own happiness. We lash out at whoever or whatever gets in the way of what should have been.

Of course, we often ricochet back and forth between both of those responses: resignation or anger, passive acceptance or violent force. What we find most difficult is what the Psalmist urged. “Wait on the Lord” (Psalm 27:14).

Holy Week is bracketed by shouting crowds. On the front end of Holy Week we remember the day Jesus entered the city of Jerusalem. Luke tells us that the crowd that welcomed him that day “praised God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen” (19:37). Their shouts were grounded in past events, but those past events had shaped their expectations of what would soon be.

Holy Week is the story of what it means to walk with Jesus in the midst of unmet expectations.

This kind of disappointment isn’t unique to the godless or the wicked. Even Jesus’ closest followers struggled during those final days of his life. And they failed. Some of them failed big.

And as for us – plenty of us live every day with unmet expectations. Some of them are minor. Others go to the core of who we are. The long-awaited retirement brings a deadening boredom and feelings of uselessness. The new purchase becomes a draining burden rather than the status symbol it was supposed to be. The promotion proves to be a wrong fit for your best skills. In short, things are not working out like you had hoped they would.

That gap between what we expected and what we actually experience is the place where faith wanes. During this week – or for that matter during any week – when the tension between what you hoped for and what you’ve received feel unbearable, hear the invitation of Jesus. Stay with him. Don’t get swept up the noisy demands and expectations of the culture. God is at work. Such hardly seems to be the case, and you may not see it now. But God is at work.

To all who feel the ache of something that hasn’t worked out according to plan, welcome to Jerusalem.

Prayer:
Lord Jesus, keep us close to you in the final days of this Lenten journey. Our expectations so easily become demands. We stop praying and start giving direction. Keep us attentive to what you are doing, especially when life unfolds in ways we didn’t expect or ask for. Teach us trust, even in the shadow of the cross. Amen.

Could be Worse

Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you (John 5:14).

We’re all preachers. Every single one of us.

It doesn’t matter how you earn your living or what you believe about God. Everyone preaches – and usually to a congregation of one. We all preach to ourselves. Sometimes our sermons comfort. Sometimes they condemn.

In the world of psychology we call our preaching ‘self-talk.’ All of us have ways of exhorting and encouraging ourselves. We have messages that we speak to ourselves to get us through something or guide us in a mess. Yes, we are all preachers.

And this is a standard sermon: “Could be worse.”

I don’t know how many times I’ve heard someone say those words. Having done three years of hospital ministry I can say with confidence that this is standard doctrine among the afflicted. Even those who are actually experiencing the ‘worst’ will remind themselves that it could be worse. It is a universal exhortation.

**********

At the pool of Bethesda in Jerusalem Jesus had healed a man, relieving him of some nondescript affliction that had had a chokehold on his life for 38 years.

This man had not sought Jesus. He had not asked Jesus for healing. He appears not to have known who Jesus was or to have had any kind of faith in Jesus. As far as this man knew, he was simply answering a question about his illness, explaining his hopeless plight. Jesus’ act of healing was pure gift. It was all grace.

But in the aftermath of this grace and mercy there is a strange line at the end of the story. Jesus finds the man in the temple crowd (again – notice who does the finding) and tells him, “See, you are well. Sin no more that nothing worse may happen to you.”

This sounds odd, even a bit harsh. Is this a threat? What does Jesus mean? Having shown so much mercy is Jesus now saying “You better be good or God will strike you with something worse?” If the man was crippled, is Jesus now threatening him with crippled legs and blindness, or blindness with leprosy? Probably not.

This is no threat. This healed man would not be afflicted by God with more severe pain. He would not be ravaged by a more vicious disease. He would not be sent back to the pool.

What Jesus knows is this: There is something worse than 38 years of affliction. What’s worse is a pain-free life void of God. A life centered entirely on self. A life given to advancing a self agenda and basking in self indulgence. What we sow in this life we reap in the next. And that is indeed the worse that could happen.

What’s worse than suffering with an awareness of God’s presence and grace? Living at ease with no knowledge of the same. Sure, things could be worse – but worse is not always what we think it is.

Prayer:
We give you thanks, O God, for the way your grace finds us in the worst of circumstances. We thank for the way you take what is hard and use it to bless us. Guard us from the worst that could happen – a life lived without you, centered on self. We turn to you today in constant reliance on your mercy, through Jesus our Lord. Amen.

As Then . . . So Again

“The Lord who delivered me from the paw of the lion . . . will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine” (1 Samuel 17:37).

We imagine David as vulnerable and poorly armed for battle. We are wrong.

He had been offered the King’s armor. He had even tried to wear the “helmet of bronze and the coat of mail.” He had strapped on the King’s sword – and the weight of all that strength was paralyzing to David. He could barely move. He laid all of that aside and took up the weapon he knew best – a sling.

This is God’s way. What looks to us like pathetic weakness is actually power in God’s hand.

But David stepped into the valley that day armed with something that no one there could see, certainly not Goliath and not even Saul. It was not weapon that could be held in the hand or placed on the head or draped over the body.

Perhaps David’s most formidable weapons that day were stories and memories: stories and memories of God’s help, God’s deliverance, God’s presence in trouble, God’s power in the face of threat. David had lived this. David had seen this. And it made him confident. These stories had made a giant killer of a shepherd boy.

This is no mere belief in God. When it’s time to face a giant it simply will not do to say “I believe in God.” Killing giants requires more than the kind of agreeable mental assent we often label as ‘belief.’ Those who kill giants have stories to tell. They have seen God at work. They know what Go can do. They are utterly convinced that God is able. And for this reason they are dangerous.

David had field experience . . . literally. In the remote regions where shepherds dwell David had faced enemies. When beasts came to prey on the flock under his care, David had gone at them aggressively. And time and time again God had delivered. Every such story was a weapon in David’s soul.

As then . . . so again. What God did once God will do now. David knew this. Do you?

Throughout the Bible this is God’s way with us. When Joshua was called upon to take the place of Moses God encouraged him with this promise: “As I was with Moses so I will be with you” (Joshua 1:5). As then . . . so again.

When the disciples were in a boat with Jesus and worried about the fact that they had forgotten to bring bread, Jesus reminded them of how he had fed thousands with meager provisions and how they had gathered days worth of leftovers (Mark 8:14-21). Why worry about bread? As then . . . so again.

So what stories do you tell? When and how have you seen God unmistakably at work in your life? When have you known his presence as close to you as your own breath? When have you sensed his peace taking up residence deep in your chest? Be specific – and remember. Tell yourself and others this story. Rehearse it. It will make you dangerous today against whatever you face.

Psalm 143 is a Psalm “of David.” In it the Psalmist cries out to God about threats coming from an enemy – an enemy who “has crushed my life to the ground.” The Psalmist responds to this threat with memory: “I remember the days of old; I meditate on all that you have done” (Psalm 143:3-5).

As then . . . so again. What work of God will you remember today?

Prayer:
“I remember the days of old; I meditate on all that you have done; I ponder the works of your hands . . . my soul thirsts for you like a parched land. For your name’s sake, O Lord, preserve my life . . . destroy all the adversaries of my soul, for I am your servant.” Amen. (from Psalm 143)

Thursday Book Club: A Praying Life

I want to let you know about something that’s starting this week. I know . . . short notice.

Anyway, I’m trying to gather any and all interested persons in a five week book club to read through and discuss Paul Miller’s book A Praying Life: Connecting With God in a Distracting World. The format is very simple: you read the book week by week and we gather and talk about what we’re learning. You are welcomed to bring a lunch with you . . . or not. This will be a very relaxed kind of thing, not a “class.” We’ll open each week with “what did you read that you liked or learned from, etc” and then we’ll see where things go.

The Book: A Praying Life by Paul Miller (in the Peachtree Bookstore now)

The Day: Thursdays beginning January 26 – ending Feb. 23 (a good read just as Lent begins)

The Time: 12:05 – 12:55 pm

The Place: The Lodge @ Peachtree Presbyterian Church (one of the classrooms upstairs)

Call 404-842-3172 for more information

The Circle Maker: Praying "For" and "Through"

Seems to me that Mark Batterson may be the E. M. Bounds of our age. Bounds wrote almost 100 years before Batterson, but the voices are similar. Both of these men talk about prayer like it really does something. Both urge the kind of praying that expects something - a confident coming before the throne of grace, a persistent knocking like a widow demanding justice.

When was the last time you found yourself flat on your face before the Almighty? When was the last time you cut off your circulation kneeling before the Lord? when was the last time you pulled and all-nighter in prayer?

There are higher heights and deeper depths in prayer, and God wants to take you there . . . But if you want God to do something new, you can't do the same old thing. It will involve more sacrifice, but if you are willing to go there you'll realize that you didn't sacrifice anything at all. It will involve more risk, but if you are willing to go there you'll realize that you didn't risk anything at all.

Make the sacrifice . Take the risk. Draw the circle. (Circle Maker, 34)

Batterson calls this "praying through." Praying through is different than "praying for." It is marked by a particular intensity and consistency.

So what are you praying "for?" What are you praying "through?"

Vague Prayers: Reflections on Mark Batterson's "The Circle Maker"

Over the past several weeks I’ve been making my way through Mark Batterson’s latest book, The Circle Maker: Praying Circles Around Your Biggest Dreams and Greatest Fears.

The way Batterson approaches prayer reminds me of a statement I heard from the late Elizabeth Achtemeier. Achtemeier taught Bible at Union Seminary in Richmond, Va. for many years. In this particular sermon she was talking about the prophets and how they viewed and spoke about God. Without recalling the exact context, I remember her observation that “many people in our churches believe in God . . . they just don’t think he does anything.”

The Circle Maker has challenged me because it raises my suspicions that my own prayer life proves Professor Achtemeier’s point.

In my own defense, I do believe there is a variety of streams or schools of prayer. Richard Foster’s Prayer covers them quite well.

Most of my reading has dealt with a more contemplative approach to prayer - and that has naturally shaped the way I pray. Contemplative prayer seems to be a way of giving attention to God in the midst of what is actually there – the circumstances that exist now, the people I encounter. The act of paying attention is at the heart of this kind of praying.

But Batterson’s book is about a way of praying that visualizes what isn’t actually there – at least not yet. It goes beyond paying attention to visioning a desired reality. This is how Batterson prayed as he went to plant a church in Washington, D.C. His book is full of examples and stories of how he has seen God work through prayer.

My discomfort comes from the sense that I’ve never really prayed this way. But I want to. At least I think I do.

To be specific, I want to pray circles around my ministry and my family.

From time to time I’ll post a quote from the book. I might offer some commentary along with it. Batterson is an engaging writer – pithy in the style of Rick Warren. I’ll begin today with this statement about vague prayers.

A few years ago I read one sentence that changed the way I pray. The author, pastor of one of the largest churches in Seoul, Korea, wrote, “God does not answer vague prayers.” (p. 25)

If our prayers aren’t specific . . . God gets robbed of the glory that He deserves because we second-guess whether or not he actually answered them. We never know if the answers were the result of specific prayer or general coincidences that would have happened anyway. (p. 26)

Questions: Does God answer vague prayers? How do you know? And what specific prayers are you bringing before God these days?

Winter - Spring 2012 Bible Studies Begin this Week

"MIDWEEK" starts this Wednesday, January 11 @ 6:00 p.m.

Wisdom . . . what exactly is it, and how do we get it? We learn early on that we will be rewarded for being smart (good grades). And ewe eventaully learnd that we will be admired for our wealth (status). But wisdom is rarely applauded. We recognize it, but how do we pursue it? This semestrer in "Midweek" we'll be looking at the books of Proverbs and James and thinking about what it means to live with wisdom. Not a bad pursuit for a New Year.

"SOLA SCRIPTURA" starts on Sunday, January 15 @ 9:00 a.m.

Making use of Eugene Peterson's book Run with the Horses: The Quest for Life at its Best, we'll spend some time with the prophet Jeremiah. Jeremiah had a prophetic ministry that lasted about 50 years . . . a half century of being ignored. How did he stay at it? And how do we walk faithfully with our God when it seems to be doing little "good?"

Wrestling and Christmas

But as he considered these things . . . an angel appeared to him in a dream (Matt. 1:20)

In our house last week the focus was getting through exams. In fact, the focus was not merely on getting through, but doing well. That’s why I didn’t give much thought to the email that came from my son’s wrestling coach: the email that explained the practice schedule over the Christmas break.

I shared the content of the email with my son on Sunday night. He was not enthusiastic.

School’s out and Christmas is coming. That combination makes for one of the best times of the year. Wrestling practice doesn’t fit in to that very well. Enough wrestling. It’s Christmas. It’s time for a break.

He’ll end up going to the practices, but I understand how he feels. Sooner or later we all feel like we’re tired of wrestling, tired of grappling with the lives we live in order to get things pinned down and figured out: schedules, payments, deadlines, needs to be met and appointments to be kept. A relentless wrangling of moving parts. Who doesn’t get tired of that?

And then there’s the life of faith. We had thought that following Jesus might make things better, more manageable, less exhausting. Thus our surprise when we discover that following Jesus also involves some struggle. Once again, we’re wrestling. We’re like Jacob. Jacob wrestled with God and lived – but he walked for the rest of his life with a limp (Genesis 32:22-28). Maybe you’re limping too. Christmas is a tough time for wrestling. But we are hardly the first to know this.

The story of Joseph’s discovery of Mary’s pregnancy is a wrestling story. Matthew gives it to us in spare language. Mary is pledged to Joseph, the marital commitment in place without the full benefits and living arrangements of the marital relationship. This is when Joseph discovers that Mary is pregnant. And this is when the wrestling begins, unseen and yet strenuous. Joseph grappling with God, grappling with his own heart and mind.

Again, Matthew shows us none of this except to say that Joseph “considered” how he could divorce Mary quietly and thus protect her from public disgrace. But can such “considering” be anything less than anguish and pain? How long did he “consider?” How many sleepless nights, how many bitter questions hurled at heaven? How many tense conversations with his beloved? How many fake smiles at neighbors as if all was well?

And even once the Angel has appeared and Joseph has taken Mary as is wife, the difficulties are hardly over. Craig Keener notes that Joseph’s decision to go ahead with his marriage was a decision to sacrifice his own reputation. The wrestling surely didn’t stop. Wrestling mingled with waiting until the birth in the Bethlehem stable.

Many of us come to Advent wrestling and waiting; life has us in a head-lock and we’re trying desperately to find the right move that will loosen its grip. With the Psalmist we ask “How long must I wrestle with my thoughts?” (Ps. 13:2). Christmas doesn’t change the fact that we’re wrestling with decisions that need to be made, decisions we wish could make over again, afflicted bodies, conflicted relationships and competing expectations. We wrestle through one challenge only to face another.

But in the midst of the wrestling, Joseph’s and ours, there is this assurance: the Holy Spirit is at work. To see it may require waiting, long waiting and still more wrestling. But God is active in your wrestling story, even – perhaps especially – at Christmas.

What opponent will you wrestle today?

Prayer:
Grant to us, O God, the patience to trust you in all things and the strength to wrestle long until we see your hand at work: show your hand in the difficult situations, the perplexing questions, the stubborn circumstances that refuse to budge. Be present with us in the struggles of this day, making us confident as we wrestle and wait in Jesus’ name. Amen.