My plans for the day involved a rake, roar
of blower, hours of bending and bagging
and yet leaves shower down like thick confetti.
This party is nowhere near over.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Bring Your Umbrella
So Peter was kept in prison, but the church was earnestly praying to God for him (Acts 12:5).
Years ago I had the privilege of serving as pastor to a wonderful group of people in a community that had a long history as a farming community. It was not uncommon, especially during the long parched days of summer, for rain to be mentioned as a “prayer request.” On one occasion an older member of the congregation recounted to me how in times past they used to gather for specially called prayer meetings to pray for rain. Folks who came to the prayer meeting often brought umbrellas with them.
The umbrellas may have been a symbolic gesture, but I think it was more than that. I think the umbrellas spoke to their confident faith. Bringing an umbrella to the prayer meeting was a quiet way of declaring that God would respond to the prayers of his people. In my mind, those umbrellas also spoke to the church’s power. We don’t make it rain, but we pray to the God who gives rain and all good things.
There is a wonderful story in Acts 12 about prayer and power. Things were not going well for the church. James, the brother of John, had recently been executed by King Herod. Not long after that, Herod had Peter arrested and assigned sixteen soldiers to guard him. We are told that as Peter sat in prison “the church was earnestly praying to God for him” (Acts 12:5).
Making a fairly long story less long, an angel of the Lord appeared and escorted Peter from his prison cell in miraculous fashion. Once free and clear of the jail house, Peter went to the place where a prayer meeting was being held – very likely a prayer meeting for Peter.
Peter knocked on the door. When the servant girl Rhoda announced to the praying Christians that Peter was at the door, they didn’t believe her. They told he she was nuts, out of her mind (Acts 12:15).
These were not the kind of Christians who brought their umbrellas to the prayer meeting. Nevertheless, God answered in power.
The church’s only true source of power is prayer. Nothing of lasting significance happens without it. There are other aspects of church life that appear powerful: large crowds, impressive facilities, wide-ranging programs of all kinds for all ages. But apart from prayer these are wires without current.
Far too many of us will show up to pray, but we don’t bring an umbrella. At some deep level, we’re not sure anything will come of our prayers. Said another way, we’re busy at church but we’re not especially powerful. When Peter shows up at the door, we refuse to believe it.
We need the church, but not because we need something more to do. Most of us are already busy enough. We need the church because we need to pray. We need others to pray for us and we need to be praying for others. That’s where power comes from.
So pray. And while you’re at it, be sure to bring your umbrella.
Prayer:
Too often, O God, we live in ignorance of the power you make available to us. We pray with low expectations and we live as if it all depends on us. Move your people to bold prayer, trusting your promises and resting in your grace. Through our prayers grant your power and change our world, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Years ago I had the privilege of serving as pastor to a wonderful group of people in a community that had a long history as a farming community. It was not uncommon, especially during the long parched days of summer, for rain to be mentioned as a “prayer request.” On one occasion an older member of the congregation recounted to me how in times past they used to gather for specially called prayer meetings to pray for rain. Folks who came to the prayer meeting often brought umbrellas with them.
The umbrellas may have been a symbolic gesture, but I think it was more than that. I think the umbrellas spoke to their confident faith. Bringing an umbrella to the prayer meeting was a quiet way of declaring that God would respond to the prayers of his people. In my mind, those umbrellas also spoke to the church’s power. We don’t make it rain, but we pray to the God who gives rain and all good things.
There is a wonderful story in Acts 12 about prayer and power. Things were not going well for the church. James, the brother of John, had recently been executed by King Herod. Not long after that, Herod had Peter arrested and assigned sixteen soldiers to guard him. We are told that as Peter sat in prison “the church was earnestly praying to God for him” (Acts 12:5).
Making a fairly long story less long, an angel of the Lord appeared and escorted Peter from his prison cell in miraculous fashion. Once free and clear of the jail house, Peter went to the place where a prayer meeting was being held – very likely a prayer meeting for Peter.
Peter knocked on the door. When the servant girl Rhoda announced to the praying Christians that Peter was at the door, they didn’t believe her. They told he she was nuts, out of her mind (Acts 12:15).
These were not the kind of Christians who brought their umbrellas to the prayer meeting. Nevertheless, God answered in power.
The church’s only true source of power is prayer. Nothing of lasting significance happens without it. There are other aspects of church life that appear powerful: large crowds, impressive facilities, wide-ranging programs of all kinds for all ages. But apart from prayer these are wires without current.
Far too many of us will show up to pray, but we don’t bring an umbrella. At some deep level, we’re not sure anything will come of our prayers. Said another way, we’re busy at church but we’re not especially powerful. When Peter shows up at the door, we refuse to believe it.
We need the church, but not because we need something more to do. Most of us are already busy enough. We need the church because we need to pray. We need others to pray for us and we need to be praying for others. That’s where power comes from.
So pray. And while you’re at it, be sure to bring your umbrella.
Prayer:
Too often, O God, we live in ignorance of the power you make available to us. We pray with low expectations and we live as if it all depends on us. Move your people to bold prayer, trusting your promises and resting in your grace. Through our prayers grant your power and change our world, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Thursday, November 01, 2012
The Fool
And I will say to my Soul, ‘Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’ (Luke 12:19)
Jesus had a strong word for anyone who calls someone a ‘fool.’ Hold your tongue. Restrain your anger. If you call your brother or sister a ‘fool’ you’ll be liable to the hell of fire. Best to drop that word from your vocabulary (Matt. 5:22).
But then Jesus told a story about a successful businessman, blessed with good fortune and skilled in leveraging it to maximize his profits. He was by every measure a very smart man. But in Jesus’ story God sums up this man’s life with one word: ‘Fool.’
My question: Why was this man a fool? What was it that God saw that merited this judgment?
Interestingly, these two scripture texts use a different Greek word for ‘fool.’ The word that Jesus forbade, the one which places our souls at peril, is the root of our English word ‘moron.’ It is a derogatory word, an insult. By contrast, the word God speaks in judgment upon the savvy rich man is a different word. God is not insulting the successful farmer. God is simply telling the truth, as God always does.
Sometimes ‘fool’ is an outburst, a slanderous word spoken in anger. But sometimes ‘fool’ is a word of truth. A person may rightly be named a fool because that’s exactly how they have chosen to live.
Note that God’s word of judgment is spoken at the very end of the man’s life. For this reason we may rightly regard this man’s death as tragic. The tragedy is not in how he died, for we do not know that. His death is not tragic because of when he died, for we know nothing of his age. The man’s death is tragic because of how he lived.
Embedded in Jesus’ story is the brief mission statement by which the main character had chosen to live. In our culture, whether consciously or not, so many have adopted the same mission statement. Lay up ample goods . . . relax . . . eat . . . drink . . . be merry.
The man in Jesus’ parable was not a fool because he was successful. He was not a fool because planned well and managed his resources wisely. He was not a fool because he built bigger barns. He was a fool because the aim of all of this was his own comfort. All of it was directed back at the self. The highest aim of his life was accumulation for the purpose of indulgence.
Such aims are not worthy of your life. Upon such a life God will pronounce his judgment. To use our energies and resources and intelligence to create a self-serving existence is foolish.
So, work hard. Manage well. Invest wisely. Grow your business. Advance your career. But live for something worthy of the gift of life. Use every grace that is yours to glorify the one who gave it to you. This is why you were made. This is why you are here.
Rightly used, earthly treasure reveals God as our greatest treasure. Where and how are you “laying up treasure” today?
Prayer:
Guard us, O God, from foolish living. Make us thankful for your gifts and grant us wisdom in using them well. But keep our hearts from loving the gifts above you, the giver. Make us bold to use what we have for glory of your name in this world, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Jesus had a strong word for anyone who calls someone a ‘fool.’ Hold your tongue. Restrain your anger. If you call your brother or sister a ‘fool’ you’ll be liable to the hell of fire. Best to drop that word from your vocabulary (Matt. 5:22).
But then Jesus told a story about a successful businessman, blessed with good fortune and skilled in leveraging it to maximize his profits. He was by every measure a very smart man. But in Jesus’ story God sums up this man’s life with one word: ‘Fool.’
My question: Why was this man a fool? What was it that God saw that merited this judgment?
Interestingly, these two scripture texts use a different Greek word for ‘fool.’ The word that Jesus forbade, the one which places our souls at peril, is the root of our English word ‘moron.’ It is a derogatory word, an insult. By contrast, the word God speaks in judgment upon the savvy rich man is a different word. God is not insulting the successful farmer. God is simply telling the truth, as God always does.
Sometimes ‘fool’ is an outburst, a slanderous word spoken in anger. But sometimes ‘fool’ is a word of truth. A person may rightly be named a fool because that’s exactly how they have chosen to live.
Note that God’s word of judgment is spoken at the very end of the man’s life. For this reason we may rightly regard this man’s death as tragic. The tragedy is not in how he died, for we do not know that. His death is not tragic because of when he died, for we know nothing of his age. The man’s death is tragic because of how he lived.
Embedded in Jesus’ story is the brief mission statement by which the main character had chosen to live. In our culture, whether consciously or not, so many have adopted the same mission statement. Lay up ample goods . . . relax . . . eat . . . drink . . . be merry.
The man in Jesus’ parable was not a fool because he was successful. He was not a fool because planned well and managed his resources wisely. He was not a fool because he built bigger barns. He was a fool because the aim of all of this was his own comfort. All of it was directed back at the self. The highest aim of his life was accumulation for the purpose of indulgence.
Such aims are not worthy of your life. Upon such a life God will pronounce his judgment. To use our energies and resources and intelligence to create a self-serving existence is foolish.
So, work hard. Manage well. Invest wisely. Grow your business. Advance your career. But live for something worthy of the gift of life. Use every grace that is yours to glorify the one who gave it to you. This is why you were made. This is why you are here.
Rightly used, earthly treasure reveals God as our greatest treasure. Where and how are you “laying up treasure” today?
Prayer:
Guard us, O God, from foolish living. Make us thankful for your gifts and grant us wisdom in using them well. But keep our hearts from loving the gifts above you, the giver. Make us bold to use what we have for glory of your name in this world, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Zeal and Fervor
Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord (Romans 12:11).
I’ve concluded that the propane tank on my grill has some kind of sensor that tells it when guests are at our house. Without fail, it is when guests are present and the burgers are on the grill that the propane tank refuses to make fire, literally runs out of gas.
The frustration in this is that I don’t know what’s happening until I check the burgers, only to discover half-cooked meat sitting on a lukewarm grill. This usually means a hurried trip to get a new propane tank and an awkward delay in the meal.
I came across a Native American proverb that said something to the effect of “better a pot that boils over than one that does not boil at all.” The same could be said of a gas grill. No fire, no food.
In his letter to the Romans Paul gave this exhortation: “Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord” (Romans 12:11). The Greek word “slothful” that Paul uses here is the same word used in the Greek translation of Proverbs 6:9; it is the word “sluggard.” It suggests indolence or slackness.
The positive command coupled with this warning about sloth is a word that means “to burn.” It suggests the idea of a boiling pot. Thus we are told to burn or to be “fervent in spirit.”
Interestingly, few Christians aspire to zealotry. Zealots are dangerous. We think of zealots as being out of control, often angry in their passion for a cause, violent in the expression of their convictions. In American culture, the last thing a Christian wants to be is “zealous.” We prefer other words life “faithful” or perhaps “devout.” But zealous? No thanks.
However, in our fear of zeal we have unwittingly become slothful. Our faith is thoroughly tamed, void of adventure and risk. We’ve done the very thing that Paul warned us not to do. Spiritually speaking, the burgers are on the grill but there’s no fire. The pot doesn’t boil at all.
For the remainder of this week we will examine the deadly seduction of sloth by looking at its opposite: Zeal and fervor. Specifically, we’ll get a picture of spiritual zeal by looking at one of the most fervent and passionate characters in the New Testament – John the baptizer.
Consider your own life: is there something in your life that stirs ‘zeal’ in you? Perhaps the more familiar word for what we’re after is ‘passion.’ Where do you see this in yourself? When it comes to spiritual matters, what do zeal and fervor look like? Specifically, what would a fervent spirit look like in your life of faith?
Prayer:
Grant to us, O God, a zeal and fervor in our walk with you. Above all, make us passionate for the glory of your name in this world. Guard us from the timidity that so easily becomes sloth. Help us to live our faith in such a way that zeal is expressed in love and service to others. We ask this is Jesus’ name. Amen.
I’ve concluded that the propane tank on my grill has some kind of sensor that tells it when guests are at our house. Without fail, it is when guests are present and the burgers are on the grill that the propane tank refuses to make fire, literally runs out of gas.
The frustration in this is that I don’t know what’s happening until I check the burgers, only to discover half-cooked meat sitting on a lukewarm grill. This usually means a hurried trip to get a new propane tank and an awkward delay in the meal.
I came across a Native American proverb that said something to the effect of “better a pot that boils over than one that does not boil at all.” The same could be said of a gas grill. No fire, no food.
In his letter to the Romans Paul gave this exhortation: “Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord” (Romans 12:11). The Greek word “slothful” that Paul uses here is the same word used in the Greek translation of Proverbs 6:9; it is the word “sluggard.” It suggests indolence or slackness.
The positive command coupled with this warning about sloth is a word that means “to burn.” It suggests the idea of a boiling pot. Thus we are told to burn or to be “fervent in spirit.”
Interestingly, few Christians aspire to zealotry. Zealots are dangerous. We think of zealots as being out of control, often angry in their passion for a cause, violent in the expression of their convictions. In American culture, the last thing a Christian wants to be is “zealous.” We prefer other words life “faithful” or perhaps “devout.” But zealous? No thanks.
However, in our fear of zeal we have unwittingly become slothful. Our faith is thoroughly tamed, void of adventure and risk. We’ve done the very thing that Paul warned us not to do. Spiritually speaking, the burgers are on the grill but there’s no fire. The pot doesn’t boil at all.
For the remainder of this week we will examine the deadly seduction of sloth by looking at its opposite: Zeal and fervor. Specifically, we’ll get a picture of spiritual zeal by looking at one of the most fervent and passionate characters in the New Testament – John the baptizer.
Consider your own life: is there something in your life that stirs ‘zeal’ in you? Perhaps the more familiar word for what we’re after is ‘passion.’ Where do you see this in yourself? When it comes to spiritual matters, what do zeal and fervor look like? Specifically, what would a fervent spirit look like in your life of faith?
Prayer:
Grant to us, O God, a zeal and fervor in our walk with you. Above all, make us passionate for the glory of your name in this world. Guard us from the timidity that so easily becomes sloth. Help us to live our faith in such a way that zeal is expressed in love and service to others. We ask this is Jesus’ name. Amen.
Monday, September 24, 2012
More of the Same
All things are wearisome, more than one can say. The eye never has enough of seeing nor the ear its fill of hearing. What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. (Ecc. 1:8-9).
The words of Solomon are baffling. That a king could be bored is hard for us to believe. Here is a man who lacks nothing, bemoaning his boredom. “What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again.” Poor Solomon.
I find it hard to be sympathetic with a bored King. His words hit me in much the same way my children’s words do when they complain of boredom. “You’ve got to be kidding; how can you possibly be bored?” And yet, kids with computers and Xbox and smart phones get bored. Busy grown-ups with comfortable homes and beautiful families and well paying jobs get bored. And, as Ecclesiastes plainly shows us, Kings get bored.
Leo Tolstoy, in Anna Karenina, wrote that boredom is “the desire for desires.” That captures something of the inner deadness that boredom is. Look deeply into the deadly seduction of “sloth” and you’ll find boredom. The heart beats but never races. The eyes see but never dance in what they behold. The mouth speaks words but rarely to truly say anything.
Thus was Solomon afflicted. Maybe you know the deadening weight of this particular seduction. Caring about things requires so much energy and seems to make so little difference. Sloth isn’t a sin we commit. Sloth settles on us as we abandon our commitments.
In Ecclesiastes the boredom is described as a numbing repetition. What has been will be again. Solomon observed the movements of the sun and the wind. He watched the relentless flow of streams that feed the ocean but never fill it (Ecc. 1:5-7). All of this left him numb. That’s what sloth does. It makes us numb to joy and blind to beauty.
We observe the same traffic patterns in our morning commute, the same scheduled meetings, the routines of carpool and practices and laundry. Imperceptibly the sloth settles and the numbness spreads.
Typically, our first response is a change of pace, a new variable in the equation of our lives. This might mean a vacation or a career move. But over time even the new element becomes tired and familiar. What we need is the capacity to see into the ordinary repeated parts of life and discern the presence and purposes of God.
Sloth is what we’re left with when God is bleached out of an otherwise wonderful life. Absent God, the gift of ordinary things, of routines and practices, becomes burdensome.
Try this today: Look for God in something familiar. Identify a person in your world with whom you interact every day or every week. Determine to learn one new thing about that person’s life.
Prayer:
God, through this day and all of its familiar routines, help me to detect your presence. Remind me that you are at work in the most ordinary details of the most ordinary day, and help me to live this day in eager expectation. I ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen.
The words of Solomon are baffling. That a king could be bored is hard for us to believe. Here is a man who lacks nothing, bemoaning his boredom. “What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again.” Poor Solomon.
I find it hard to be sympathetic with a bored King. His words hit me in much the same way my children’s words do when they complain of boredom. “You’ve got to be kidding; how can you possibly be bored?” And yet, kids with computers and Xbox and smart phones get bored. Busy grown-ups with comfortable homes and beautiful families and well paying jobs get bored. And, as Ecclesiastes plainly shows us, Kings get bored.
Leo Tolstoy, in Anna Karenina, wrote that boredom is “the desire for desires.” That captures something of the inner deadness that boredom is. Look deeply into the deadly seduction of “sloth” and you’ll find boredom. The heart beats but never races. The eyes see but never dance in what they behold. The mouth speaks words but rarely to truly say anything.
Thus was Solomon afflicted. Maybe you know the deadening weight of this particular seduction. Caring about things requires so much energy and seems to make so little difference. Sloth isn’t a sin we commit. Sloth settles on us as we abandon our commitments.
In Ecclesiastes the boredom is described as a numbing repetition. What has been will be again. Solomon observed the movements of the sun and the wind. He watched the relentless flow of streams that feed the ocean but never fill it (Ecc. 1:5-7). All of this left him numb. That’s what sloth does. It makes us numb to joy and blind to beauty.
We observe the same traffic patterns in our morning commute, the same scheduled meetings, the routines of carpool and practices and laundry. Imperceptibly the sloth settles and the numbness spreads.
Typically, our first response is a change of pace, a new variable in the equation of our lives. This might mean a vacation or a career move. But over time even the new element becomes tired and familiar. What we need is the capacity to see into the ordinary repeated parts of life and discern the presence and purposes of God.
Sloth is what we’re left with when God is bleached out of an otherwise wonderful life. Absent God, the gift of ordinary things, of routines and practices, becomes burdensome.
Try this today: Look for God in something familiar. Identify a person in your world with whom you interact every day or every week. Determine to learn one new thing about that person’s life.
Prayer:
God, through this day and all of its familiar routines, help me to detect your presence. Remind me that you are at work in the most ordinary details of the most ordinary day, and help me to live this day in eager expectation. I ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Help from an Old Hymn
My wife and I readily admit to our children that we are nerds. My children readily agree.
Marnie and I proved this to ourselves several years ago when we celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary with a trip to London. Among the many places we visited there was Bunhill Fields Cemetery. I doubt that many visitors to London intentionally spend an afternoon at Bunhill Fields, but being church history nerds we did so eagerly.
In the late 17th and early 18th centuries Bunhill Fields was a ‘nonconformist’ cemetery. That is to say, it was a burial site for those who had renounced their ties with the official Church of England. The names of those to whom the Church refused a ‘decent burial’ are surprising. They are, in my mind, some of the greatest names in Christian history.
As you walk among the gravesites at Bunhill Fields you’ll see the burial place of John Bunyan, author of Pilgrim’s Progress. Also buried there is Susanna Wesley, the godly mother of the founders of Methodism, John and Charles Wesley.
Keep walking and you’ll come upon the burial site of Isaac Watts (1674 - 1748). Watts was a pastor, but we know him best as the composer of the much loved hymn When I Survey the Wondrous Cross.
The opening verse of the hymn is of particular interest to us this week:
When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of Glory died
My richest gain I count but loss
And pour contempt on all my pride.
We close this week thinking about what we can do to wage war on pride or, in the poetic words of Isaac Watts, “pour contempt” on our pride. Watts’ answer is simple. We pour contempt on our pride as we look to the cross of Jesus. Pride is put to death at the cross.
We would be wise not to speak of the cross in a way that subtly inflates our pride. The cross does indeed tell us of God’s love for us, but it says much more than that. It tells us that God loved us while we still sinners. In this, we are profoundly humbled.
Every illusion that pride constructs, the cross demolishes. The first sin an every sin that flows from it will not be made right by more education or better economic systems. We need a savior. That’s what the cross tells us. And if we’ll look at the cross and ponder it prayerfully, our pride will look silly to us, worthy of our contempt.
In what other ways does the cross kill our pride?
Prayer:
“Forbid it Lord that I should boast, save in the death of Christ my God; all the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to his blood.” Amen. (Isaac Watts, 1707).
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Grace and Grasping
. . . she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate (Genesis 3:6).
Your life is a gift, everything about it. Ponder that for a moment. Ponder it and ask yourself whether you believe it.
That’s not the same as asking whether you can affirm it. Sometimes we affirm things without really believing them. We may say that life is a gift but we don’t actually live as if this is true. We are prone to ignore all that we have received while we obsess over what we resent and regret. Our stress, our edginess, our fatigue tell the world that life is more grind than gift.
The story of what happened in the Garden of Eden may explain why we live this way. Yesterday we observed that the tempter’s first strategy in stoking human pride is to diminish God. In the midst of this something else is happening. In a very subtle way the tempter shifts the focus of life away from all that has been given to the one thing that has been withheld: The one tree of which God has said, “No.” Grace slips into the distant background. The goodness of the giver is called into question.
When life is no longer gift and when there is no good giver, there is only one way left to live: We define the good life based on our desires. We spend our energy scraping and clutching at what we want.
The verb “took” in Genesis 3:6 is very significant. Until now all has been given. The breath of life was given. The abundance of the garden was given. The work of tending the garden and naming the animals was given. All was gift – until the serpent appears in Genesis 3. Drawn to the tree by the serpent’s promise, the woman “took.”
This act of taking changed everything. Grasping, not grace, became our way life.
One of the most practical ways you can wage war on pride in your life is by identifying the ways in which life comes to you as a gift. If we can recover our capacity to see life as gift, we will cultivate thankfulness. Gratitude is the only fitting response to a gift. And gratitude has a way of tempering our pride. If truly proud people have a hard time being thankful, maybe truly thankful people will have a hard time being proud.
Your life is a gift, everything about it. Do you believe this?
If not, begin paying attention to the grace that surrounds you today. Wage war on pride by naming the gifts that God has placed in your life. Receive them all with gratitude. More grace, less grasping.
Prayer:
With each new day, O God, your gifts come to us afresh. Too often our sight is clouded by pain or we miss your gifts because of our frenetic way living. Grant that we might live this day with open hands, ready to see and receive what you give, ever thankful and humble before you. We ask this in the name of your son Jesus, the greatest gift of all. Amen.
Your life is a gift, everything about it. Ponder that for a moment. Ponder it and ask yourself whether you believe it.
That’s not the same as asking whether you can affirm it. Sometimes we affirm things without really believing them. We may say that life is a gift but we don’t actually live as if this is true. We are prone to ignore all that we have received while we obsess over what we resent and regret. Our stress, our edginess, our fatigue tell the world that life is more grind than gift.
The story of what happened in the Garden of Eden may explain why we live this way. Yesterday we observed that the tempter’s first strategy in stoking human pride is to diminish God. In the midst of this something else is happening. In a very subtle way the tempter shifts the focus of life away from all that has been given to the one thing that has been withheld: The one tree of which God has said, “No.” Grace slips into the distant background. The goodness of the giver is called into question.
When life is no longer gift and when there is no good giver, there is only one way left to live: We define the good life based on our desires. We spend our energy scraping and clutching at what we want.
The verb “took” in Genesis 3:6 is very significant. Until now all has been given. The breath of life was given. The abundance of the garden was given. The work of tending the garden and naming the animals was given. All was gift – until the serpent appears in Genesis 3. Drawn to the tree by the serpent’s promise, the woman “took.”
This act of taking changed everything. Grasping, not grace, became our way life.
One of the most practical ways you can wage war on pride in your life is by identifying the ways in which life comes to you as a gift. If we can recover our capacity to see life as gift, we will cultivate thankfulness. Gratitude is the only fitting response to a gift. And gratitude has a way of tempering our pride. If truly proud people have a hard time being thankful, maybe truly thankful people will have a hard time being proud.
Your life is a gift, everything about it. Do you believe this?
If not, begin paying attention to the grace that surrounds you today. Wage war on pride by naming the gifts that God has placed in your life. Receive them all with gratitude. More grace, less grasping.
Prayer:
With each new day, O God, your gifts come to us afresh. Too often our sight is clouded by pain or we miss your gifts because of our frenetic way living. Grant that we might live this day with open hands, ready to see and receive what you give, ever thankful and humble before you. We ask this in the name of your son Jesus, the greatest gift of all. Amen.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Empty Promises
. . . your eyes will be opened and you will be like God, knowing good and evil (Genesis 3:5).
Say the word ‘sin’ and immediately our minds go to a list of bad behaviors. To sin is to break a rule, to do something harmful or dishonest, to lie or steal or gossip or injure someone violently.
Perhaps, having managed to tame or avoid those clearly prohibited behaviors, we sin in more subtle ways. We define ‘sin’ in terms of wrong attitudes and disordered emotions. We manage to hide these fairly well. The well behaved are generally well thought of, and that suits us just fine.
But beneath the outward disobedience and the inner deceptions something deeper is at work. Sin has to do with what we believe, what we trust to make us whole, what we look to for our sense of well being in this world.
Every sin makes a promise and to sin is to believe that promise.
Seven of those promises will hold our attention in the weeks ahead. To the extent that a promise has the power to lure and entice we may rightly speak of these as ‘Seven Deadly Seductions.’ You may be more familiar with the designation of ‘Seven Deadly Sins.’ But before there is a sin, there is a belief, a promise embraced, a seduction.
Pride promises you that the praise and adulation of others will make you whole and happy.
Sloth promises you that leisure and ease are the mark of success and the aim of life.
Lust promises you that the pleasure of someone’s body will cure your boredom.
Gluttony tells you you’re hungry when you aren’t and promises that the emptiness you live with can be fixed by food.
Envy promises to ease the pain of your resentments and tells you that if you can have someone else’s life, then life will be good.
Anger insists that you’ve been wronged or deprived and promises that hitting back is right and just, bringing satisfaction through venting.
Greed tells you that you deserve more, that more is possible and permissible. Greed promises you that getting more will prove you matter.
Each of these promises has one thing in common: they are all lies. And yet we are prone to believe them. In the weeks ahead we’ll be trying to expose the empty promises we’ve embraced. We’ll also look for the alternative promises that come to us from God and from the good news of God’s grace through Jesus.
For today: Which of the promises above are you most vulnerable to believing?
Prayer:
Far too often and far too easily, O God, we embrace empty promises. We place our trust in things that cannot save us and live our days restless and discontented. Help us to face hard truths about ourselves that we might embrace the blessed truth of your promises. As we go through this day remind us that where sin abounds, grace abounds even more, through Jesus our Lord. Amen.
Say the word ‘sin’ and immediately our minds go to a list of bad behaviors. To sin is to break a rule, to do something harmful or dishonest, to lie or steal or gossip or injure someone violently.
Perhaps, having managed to tame or avoid those clearly prohibited behaviors, we sin in more subtle ways. We define ‘sin’ in terms of wrong attitudes and disordered emotions. We manage to hide these fairly well. The well behaved are generally well thought of, and that suits us just fine.
But beneath the outward disobedience and the inner deceptions something deeper is at work. Sin has to do with what we believe, what we trust to make us whole, what we look to for our sense of well being in this world.
Every sin makes a promise and to sin is to believe that promise.
Seven of those promises will hold our attention in the weeks ahead. To the extent that a promise has the power to lure and entice we may rightly speak of these as ‘Seven Deadly Seductions.’ You may be more familiar with the designation of ‘Seven Deadly Sins.’ But before there is a sin, there is a belief, a promise embraced, a seduction.
Pride promises you that the praise and adulation of others will make you whole and happy.
Sloth promises you that leisure and ease are the mark of success and the aim of life.
Lust promises you that the pleasure of someone’s body will cure your boredom.
Gluttony tells you you’re hungry when you aren’t and promises that the emptiness you live with can be fixed by food.
Envy promises to ease the pain of your resentments and tells you that if you can have someone else’s life, then life will be good.
Anger insists that you’ve been wronged or deprived and promises that hitting back is right and just, bringing satisfaction through venting.
Greed tells you that you deserve more, that more is possible and permissible. Greed promises you that getting more will prove you matter.
Each of these promises has one thing in common: they are all lies. And yet we are prone to believe them. In the weeks ahead we’ll be trying to expose the empty promises we’ve embraced. We’ll also look for the alternative promises that come to us from God and from the good news of God’s grace through Jesus.
For today: Which of the promises above are you most vulnerable to believing?
Prayer:
Far too often and far too easily, O God, we embrace empty promises. We place our trust in things that cannot save us and live our days restless and discontented. Help us to face hard truths about ourselves that we might embrace the blessed truth of your promises. As we go through this day remind us that where sin abounds, grace abounds even more, through Jesus our Lord. Amen.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
God's Design in Our Depletion: Five Lessons from Elijah
“Arise and eat, for the journey is too great for you.” (1 Kings 19:7).
When long-distance runners or cyclists hit a state of depletion it is usually a sign that something is going wrong. The body is beginning to shut down. Runners call it ‘hitting the wall.’ Cyclists call it ‘bonking.’ Whatever you call it, if you are an athlete you don’t want it happening to you.
As strange as it seems to us, unlike physical depletion, a depleted soul is not always a mistake. In fact, God often has a design in our depletion. If we’ll linger with Elijah under the broom tree we might detect what God’s design is. Here are five lessons drawn directly from the text.
1. A depleted and empty soul is not the same thing as a loss of faith; people of faith find themselves in this valley of emptiness. (19:1-9).
Throughout the entire story Elijah is in constant conversation with God. This is the essence of a life of faith. Faith is insisting that in all things we must deal with God: questions, complaints, doubts, everything. People of faith experience this depletion, this emptiness of soul.
2. Our depletion and emptiness of soul may be grounded in a disordered view of reality (19:2-4)
When Elijah stood on Mt Carmel God was the defining reality of his life. God was large; Baal and his prophets were small. Jezebel and Ahab were small. But under the broom tree, his view of reality changed. Jezebel was suddenly large and threatening and God was small. How does this happen? We’ll look at this later in the week
3. Depletion of soul and body are connected (19:5-7)
When God responds to Elijah’s complaint God does so with bread and water and sleep. Spiritual depletion and physical exhaustion are integrally connected. Sometimes the best thing you can do for your soul involves taking good care of your body. Eating and sleeping can be spiritual disciplines.
4. In our depletion God is bringing us to himself; be patient with this journey (19:8).
The journey from Beersheba to Mt. Horeb can be done on foot in about 14 days. However, God led Elijah on a 40 day journey. In our depletion God is at work to bring us to himself. That might take longer than we expect. Be patient with the journey.
5. Depletion is remedied by hearing the word of God in a fresh and personal way (19:9).
On Mt. Horeb Elijah heard God’s voice in a powerful way. The word of God came to him and restoring his vision of reality and renewing his call. What we need more than anything in our depletion is the voice of God in a fresh and personal way.
We’ll take a closer look at a few of these in the days ahead. For today: What would you identify as the signs of your own spiritual depletion?
Prayer:
Your ways, O God, are not our ways. We struggle to understand your design in our depletion – how you work your will in the dark and barren places of our lives. Renew our faith today, provide what we need for this journey, and make us attentive to your voice. We ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen.
When long-distance runners or cyclists hit a state of depletion it is usually a sign that something is going wrong. The body is beginning to shut down. Runners call it ‘hitting the wall.’ Cyclists call it ‘bonking.’ Whatever you call it, if you are an athlete you don’t want it happening to you.
As strange as it seems to us, unlike physical depletion, a depleted soul is not always a mistake. In fact, God often has a design in our depletion. If we’ll linger with Elijah under the broom tree we might detect what God’s design is. Here are five lessons drawn directly from the text.
1. A depleted and empty soul is not the same thing as a loss of faith; people of faith find themselves in this valley of emptiness. (19:1-9).
Throughout the entire story Elijah is in constant conversation with God. This is the essence of a life of faith. Faith is insisting that in all things we must deal with God: questions, complaints, doubts, everything. People of faith experience this depletion, this emptiness of soul.
2. Our depletion and emptiness of soul may be grounded in a disordered view of reality (19:2-4)
When Elijah stood on Mt Carmel God was the defining reality of his life. God was large; Baal and his prophets were small. Jezebel and Ahab were small. But under the broom tree, his view of reality changed. Jezebel was suddenly large and threatening and God was small. How does this happen? We’ll look at this later in the week
3. Depletion of soul and body are connected (19:5-7)
When God responds to Elijah’s complaint God does so with bread and water and sleep. Spiritual depletion and physical exhaustion are integrally connected. Sometimes the best thing you can do for your soul involves taking good care of your body. Eating and sleeping can be spiritual disciplines.
4. In our depletion God is bringing us to himself; be patient with this journey (19:8).
The journey from Beersheba to Mt. Horeb can be done on foot in about 14 days. However, God led Elijah on a 40 day journey. In our depletion God is at work to bring us to himself. That might take longer than we expect. Be patient with the journey.
5. Depletion is remedied by hearing the word of God in a fresh and personal way (19:9).
On Mt. Horeb Elijah heard God’s voice in a powerful way. The word of God came to him and restoring his vision of reality and renewing his call. What we need more than anything in our depletion is the voice of God in a fresh and personal way.
We’ll take a closer look at a few of these in the days ahead. For today: What would you identify as the signs of your own spiritual depletion?
Prayer:
Your ways, O God, are not our ways. We struggle to understand your design in our depletion – how you work your will in the dark and barren places of our lives. Renew our faith today, provide what we need for this journey, and make us attentive to your voice. We ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
'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.
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.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
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.
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.
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.
Monday, July 09, 2012
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.
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.
Friday, June 29, 2012
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.
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.
**********
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.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
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?”
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, June 25, 2012
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:
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.
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.
Friday, June 22, 2012
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
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.
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.
Friday, April 27, 2012
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.
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.
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.
Friday, April 20, 2012
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.
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.
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