“In the morning, O Lord, You will hear my voice; in the morning I will order my prayer to You and eagerly watch” (Ps 5:3).
Most of us pray. Perhaps not as often as we would like or as eloquently as we would like. But still we pray. We petition God. We ask Him to move. We ask Him to intervene. We long for Him to act on our behalf. So we pray for anything from wisdom in relationships to obtaining a job to healing from cancer. We may pray in the morning, we may pray in the evening, in our bed or in our car, sitting down or on our knees. Whenever, however, we send forth our voice into the heavenly realm.
And many of us leave it at that. We say our prayers and then go on with our day or go to sleep. We tend to think of prayer as only the voicing of our requests. But in Psalm 5 David includes another part in his petitioning— watching.
He says his morning prayers, and then throughout the rest of the day David looks for God’s response. More than mere lip-service, as if he half-heartedly believes something will result from his prayer, he comes to God because he believes God will help. He is fully convinced God cares about his situation and more so, that God will do something about it. In an act of faith, he watches, eagerly anticipating His response.
Sometimes I wrestle with watching. There are circumstances in my life in which I plead with God for His active involvement. Most days He seems silent. I see no movement. I receive no response. There are moments (that sometimes turn into days) in which I struggle to believe He will come to my aid.
But the words and actions of David keep me lifting my eyes upward. God may not always give us what we want or respond the way we want. For many reasons, perhaps unknown to us, God may not answer our request as we desire. But sometimes He will. However He moves we can rest in the truth that He is always with us and in every situation, painful or joyful, working for our good and His glory (Rom 8:28). At minimum then we can watch how he labors for these in the midst of our longings.
So what about you? When you pray, do you think He hears you? Are you convinced He cares? Do you think He is able to and will work in the situation?
David concludes his prayer, "For it is You who blesses the righteous man, O LORD, You surround him with favor as with a shield" (v.12). Let his words of faith encourage us to keep watch, believing and hoping in God’s loyal love. And may the Spirit grant us discernment to note the gentle, sometimes subtle, hand of God weaving through the moments of our day.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
When Grief Changes God
“Then I said, “It is my grief, that the right hand of the Most High has changed.’” ~ Ps 77:10
Pain often has a way of skewing how we see God. Like storm clouds hide the warm rays of the sun, suffering can overshadow God’s compassion, mercy, love. Some moments it seems to whisper, “God isn’t good.” At other times, it screams, “God has left you.”
Perhaps you have felt, or are feeling, something similar. Sorrow so great that nothing seems to bring relief. God feels thousands of miles away. Perhaps it’s a break up, a job loss, a car crash. Maybe a loved one died, or it’s an addiction you can’t shake, or loneliness that causes your heart to ache. Whatever the cause of pain, it feels impossible to find comfort. You look to God and find nothing. Friends’ words offer no lasting hope. It appears God has fled the scene.
This is exactly what Asaph, author of Psalm 77, experienced. While we don’t know the specifics of his circumstance, it was powerful enough to rock his world. He could find no escape from his sorrow. He laments, “my soul refused to be comforted” (77:2). He wondered if God had stopped loving him. Had God abandoned His people? Had He spent all His grace? Would God no longer forgive, restore, rebuild? Had His anger sapped all His compassion?
But in the midst of the darkness of questioning God’s character, a light began to shine. Asaph awakened to the reality that God does not change (77:10; cf., James 1:17). Rather, it was his despair that had altered his perspective of God.
With this new understanding Asaph consoles his soul, “I will meditate on all Your work and muse on Your deeds” (77:12). He decides to shift his focus from his sorrow to God’s past dealings with him and the nation of Israel. He hoped in the unchanging nature of God. If He showed love in the past, He will show it in the future. If He delivered before, He will deliver again. If He gave good gifts in the past, He will give good gifts once again.
When the storms of life crash on us, we can cling to God’s works in the past. We must refuse to focus on our circumstances. People, places, and times may change, but God’s goodness remains the same. Tears may fall but God still loves. Hearts may break but God still mends. Panic may overwhelm but God still calms storms. Sinners transgress but God still transforms hearts of stone. A terminal diagnosis may come but God still raises the dead.
So when tragedy rattles our world, let’s remember. Let’s lift our eyes to the Rock of all rocks, the One who is sturdy, strong, unchanging. In so doing our souls find comfort, relief, hope. As Asaph says, “Your way, O God, is holy; what god is great like our God? You are the God who works wonders; You have made known Your strength among the peoples” (77:13, 14).
Pain often has a way of skewing how we see God. Like storm clouds hide the warm rays of the sun, suffering can overshadow God’s compassion, mercy, love. Some moments it seems to whisper, “God isn’t good.” At other times, it screams, “God has left you.”
Perhaps you have felt, or are feeling, something similar. Sorrow so great that nothing seems to bring relief. God feels thousands of miles away. Perhaps it’s a break up, a job loss, a car crash. Maybe a loved one died, or it’s an addiction you can’t shake, or loneliness that causes your heart to ache. Whatever the cause of pain, it feels impossible to find comfort. You look to God and find nothing. Friends’ words offer no lasting hope. It appears God has fled the scene.
This is exactly what Asaph, author of Psalm 77, experienced. While we don’t know the specifics of his circumstance, it was powerful enough to rock his world. He could find no escape from his sorrow. He laments, “my soul refused to be comforted” (77:2). He wondered if God had stopped loving him. Had God abandoned His people? Had He spent all His grace? Would God no longer forgive, restore, rebuild? Had His anger sapped all His compassion?
But in the midst of the darkness of questioning God’s character, a light began to shine. Asaph awakened to the reality that God does not change (77:10; cf., James 1:17). Rather, it was his despair that had altered his perspective of God.
With this new understanding Asaph consoles his soul, “I will meditate on all Your work and muse on Your deeds” (77:12). He decides to shift his focus from his sorrow to God’s past dealings with him and the nation of Israel. He hoped in the unchanging nature of God. If He showed love in the past, He will show it in the future. If He delivered before, He will deliver again. If He gave good gifts in the past, He will give good gifts once again.
When the storms of life crash on us, we can cling to God’s works in the past. We must refuse to focus on our circumstances. People, places, and times may change, but God’s goodness remains the same. Tears may fall but God still loves. Hearts may break but God still mends. Panic may overwhelm but God still calms storms. Sinners transgress but God still transforms hearts of stone. A terminal diagnosis may come but God still raises the dead.
So when tragedy rattles our world, let’s remember. Let’s lift our eyes to the Rock of all rocks, the One who is sturdy, strong, unchanging. In so doing our souls find comfort, relief, hope. As Asaph says, “Your way, O God, is holy; what god is great like our God? You are the God who works wonders; You have made known Your strength among the peoples” (77:13, 14).
Saturday, January 29, 2011
What's The Point?
Many Christians believe the reason for faith in Christ is to rescue us from hell and secure a place for us in heaven. Take for instance the evangelical question posed by many, “If you died today and God asked you why He should let you in to heaven, what would you say?” If you answer anything other than Jesus you’re not getting in. In other words, Jesus is the key to the door of heaven. But I have a problem with this question. It assumes that the point of the Christian faith is heaven, and I don’t think it is.
While Jesus’ work on the cross does deliver us from hell (rescued from God’s wrath) and set us aside for heaven, when we reduce salvation to our eternal destination we miss the point. So why does He save us? Doesn’t Jesus say He came to bring us eternal life?
The problem arises when we equate everlasting life with heaven. Jesus, instead of focusing on a destination, describes eternal life in terms of a relationship, “This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent” (John 17:3). Even Peter, Paul and the early missionaries didn’t focus on heaven as they evangelized. They didn’t sell Christianity with the reward of heaven. They didn’t say, “Believe in Jesus so you can get to Paradise,” as if heaven is the point.
Instead, Peter says, “Therefore repent and return, so that your sins may be wiped away, in order that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord” (Acts 3:19). Sin doesn’t merely keep us out of heaven; it separates us from God. In fact our transgressions severed our relationship with Him. Our sin ruptured the union between us and our Creator. In Christ, though, God takes sin out of the way, nailing it to the cross (Col 2:14).
And because He has a set a day in the future to judge sinners, He beckons us now to repentance, “that [we] would seek God, if perhaps [we] might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us; for in Him we live and move and exist” (Acts 17:27, 28ff). As Paul writes, “God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not counting their trespasses against them” (2 Cor 5:19; italics mine). Knowing God, not entrance to heaven, was, and is, the hope offered.
But I wonder, do we see Him as our reward? Is He the one we long for? What exactly is our motivation for believing in Christ? Is it to get to heaven, or to get to know God? Are we more excited about the thought of Paradise, of some life-long stay at a resort in Hawaii, laying out by the pool, sipping on non-alcoholic piña coladas? Or do we yearn for God’s nearness, to live in His presence, seeing His eyes, feeling His embrace, smelling His glorious aroma?
In Scripture, when the authors write of heaven, they focus, not on its perfection, but rather who resides there. John writes of the new Jerusalem, “Behold, the tabernacle of God is among men, and He will dwell among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself will be among them” (Rev 21:3). Is heaven perfect? Yes. Is it free of pain, sin and death? Yes. Is it full of utter joy, complete satisfaction and relentless love? Yes, but as David writes, “In Your presence is fullness of joy; in Your right hand are pleasures forever” (Ps 16:11). Heaven is all these things because heaven is where God is.
So we Christians do hope for a future place, not because of the location itself, but because of who lives there. Jesus says, “I go and prepare a place for you. If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am there you may be also” (John 14:2, 3). Jesus doesn’t save us merely so we can enjoy Paradise. He rescues us for Himself.
If in our longing for heaven then we find ourselves yearning for something or someone more than God we miss the gospel. We fail to grasp how good the good news is. Paul says, “For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain” (Phil 1:21). Feeling torn between evangelizing and leaving this world he further says, “But I am hard-pressed from both directions, having the desire to depart and be with Christ, for this is very much better; yet to remain on in the flesh is more necessary for your sake” (Phil 1:23). Paul didn’t focus on death as a passage to heaven; he welcomed death as entrance in to the Savior’s presence.
So let us examine our hearts. Do we only or primarily say yes to Christ to get out of hell and get in to heaven? Or do we say yes because we’ve tasted His goodness and feel overcome with awe and joy that He mended what our sin tore, that we can in fact know God once more? If it’s anything less than the latter, may we wrestle with Jesus’ words of warning, “Many will say to Me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophecy in Your name, and in Your name cast out demons, and in Your name perform many miracles?’ And then I will declare to them, “I never knew you; depart from Me, you who practice lawlessness” (Matt 7:22,23).
God saves us from an eternity separate from Him; He rescues us that we may know and enjoy Him. I fear for our eternal destination if we’ve said yes to Jesus solely as access inside the pearly gates. For those, contrarily, who come to Christ to gain Christ Himself, count all things as loss to know Him now (Phil 3:8), while eagerly awaiting His return (Phil 3:20) when we will see Him face to face, knowing Him in full (I Cor 13:12).
While Jesus’ work on the cross does deliver us from hell (rescued from God’s wrath) and set us aside for heaven, when we reduce salvation to our eternal destination we miss the point. So why does He save us? Doesn’t Jesus say He came to bring us eternal life?
The problem arises when we equate everlasting life with heaven. Jesus, instead of focusing on a destination, describes eternal life in terms of a relationship, “This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent” (John 17:3). Even Peter, Paul and the early missionaries didn’t focus on heaven as they evangelized. They didn’t sell Christianity with the reward of heaven. They didn’t say, “Believe in Jesus so you can get to Paradise,” as if heaven is the point.
Instead, Peter says, “Therefore repent and return, so that your sins may be wiped away, in order that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord” (Acts 3:19). Sin doesn’t merely keep us out of heaven; it separates us from God. In fact our transgressions severed our relationship with Him. Our sin ruptured the union between us and our Creator. In Christ, though, God takes sin out of the way, nailing it to the cross (Col 2:14).
And because He has a set a day in the future to judge sinners, He beckons us now to repentance, “that [we] would seek God, if perhaps [we] might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us; for in Him we live and move and exist” (Acts 17:27, 28ff). As Paul writes, “God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not counting their trespasses against them” (2 Cor 5:19; italics mine). Knowing God, not entrance to heaven, was, and is, the hope offered.
But I wonder, do we see Him as our reward? Is He the one we long for? What exactly is our motivation for believing in Christ? Is it to get to heaven, or to get to know God? Are we more excited about the thought of Paradise, of some life-long stay at a resort in Hawaii, laying out by the pool, sipping on non-alcoholic piña coladas? Or do we yearn for God’s nearness, to live in His presence, seeing His eyes, feeling His embrace, smelling His glorious aroma?
In Scripture, when the authors write of heaven, they focus, not on its perfection, but rather who resides there. John writes of the new Jerusalem, “Behold, the tabernacle of God is among men, and He will dwell among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself will be among them” (Rev 21:3). Is heaven perfect? Yes. Is it free of pain, sin and death? Yes. Is it full of utter joy, complete satisfaction and relentless love? Yes, but as David writes, “In Your presence is fullness of joy; in Your right hand are pleasures forever” (Ps 16:11). Heaven is all these things because heaven is where God is.
So we Christians do hope for a future place, not because of the location itself, but because of who lives there. Jesus says, “I go and prepare a place for you. If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am there you may be also” (John 14:2, 3). Jesus doesn’t save us merely so we can enjoy Paradise. He rescues us for Himself.
If in our longing for heaven then we find ourselves yearning for something or someone more than God we miss the gospel. We fail to grasp how good the good news is. Paul says, “For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain” (Phil 1:21). Feeling torn between evangelizing and leaving this world he further says, “But I am hard-pressed from both directions, having the desire to depart and be with Christ, for this is very much better; yet to remain on in the flesh is more necessary for your sake” (Phil 1:23). Paul didn’t focus on death as a passage to heaven; he welcomed death as entrance in to the Savior’s presence.
So let us examine our hearts. Do we only or primarily say yes to Christ to get out of hell and get in to heaven? Or do we say yes because we’ve tasted His goodness and feel overcome with awe and joy that He mended what our sin tore, that we can in fact know God once more? If it’s anything less than the latter, may we wrestle with Jesus’ words of warning, “Many will say to Me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophecy in Your name, and in Your name cast out demons, and in Your name perform many miracles?’ And then I will declare to them, “I never knew you; depart from Me, you who practice lawlessness” (Matt 7:22,23).
God saves us from an eternity separate from Him; He rescues us that we may know and enjoy Him. I fear for our eternal destination if we’ve said yes to Jesus solely as access inside the pearly gates. For those, contrarily, who come to Christ to gain Christ Himself, count all things as loss to know Him now (Phil 3:8), while eagerly awaiting His return (Phil 3:20) when we will see Him face to face, knowing Him in full (I Cor 13:12).
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Something To Talk About
“I too, having heard of the faith in the Lord Jesus which exists among you and your love for all the saints, do not cease giving thanks for you... (Eph 1:15, 16a)”
Their reputation preceded them. News had spread. Paul had heard. Apparently the Ephesians loved in such a way that others took notice. I wonder what they had done. Did they financially support others? Had they clothed the cold, fed the famished, adopted the abandoned? Did they weep with the grieving and dance with the happy? Had they labored to build faith into each other? Perhaps they had done all of this and more. Regardless, Paul, though living many miles away, had heard of their love.
Reading this has me thinking about my own life. Can anyone say they have heard of my love for all Christians? Or even a few? Does the way I love make people talk? It should. But ashamedly, I don’t think it does.
Many of us know that Jesus commands us to love each other, and to do so in such a way that others notice. In fact He says, “By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another” (Jn 13:35). He couldn’t speak any clearer. The way the world will know we follow Him is by the way we love. That means we cannot love from the confines of our homes and with lip-service. We must learn to love those we encounter daily and to do so in deed.
Christ calls us to His way of loving (Eph 5:1, 2; Phil 2:5-7). It’s a self-sacrificing love. It’s a love that requires us to deny ourselves for the welfare and benefit of another. Jesus denied Himself paradise and unbroken fellowship with the Father in order to come to us and take our sins upon Himself. In this same way we ought to love each other. Sadly, I more often deny others love in order to serve myself, to secure my comfort, safety, and money.
But I want to follow Jesus, so I’m learning to lay down my own desires. I’m learning to look at the needs in my church, neighborhood, work, home, and places of play. And as I see, I’m seeking out how I might meet these needs with the resources God has given me. Christ met our need through His death, and He wants us to do the same for each other.
So maybe we deny ourselves a few meals at a restaurant in order to buy ingredients to bake bread for the elderly and lonely people in our neighborhoods. Or maybe we deny ourselves a relaxing Saturday in order to labor for the fatherless in our church by mowing their yard, building a fence, providing home maintenance help. Or perhaps we deny ourselves relaxing in front of the television in order to write encouraging cards or make phone calls to the hurting. If we aren’t denying ourselves for the welfare of another we aren’t following Christ.
And as we love, people will start talking, and more importantly, see Christ. We are mere disciples. We look to and learn from a Master greater than us. The fact that we can love sacrificially testifies to the work of His Spirit in us.
So in this day where news can spread across the world in seconds, is anyone talking about the way you or I love others, especially our family in Christ? If we look at our lives and see a lack of love then perhaps we need to travel down Calvary’s road and meet our Savior hanging on a cross. As we meditate on God’s great love toward us in Christ, let us emulate that same love to the people we work with, sit in pews with, live at home with. Let’s give them something to talk about. How about love?
Their reputation preceded them. News had spread. Paul had heard. Apparently the Ephesians loved in such a way that others took notice. I wonder what they had done. Did they financially support others? Had they clothed the cold, fed the famished, adopted the abandoned? Did they weep with the grieving and dance with the happy? Had they labored to build faith into each other? Perhaps they had done all of this and more. Regardless, Paul, though living many miles away, had heard of their love.
Reading this has me thinking about my own life. Can anyone say they have heard of my love for all Christians? Or even a few? Does the way I love make people talk? It should. But ashamedly, I don’t think it does.
Many of us know that Jesus commands us to love each other, and to do so in such a way that others notice. In fact He says, “By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another” (Jn 13:35). He couldn’t speak any clearer. The way the world will know we follow Him is by the way we love. That means we cannot love from the confines of our homes and with lip-service. We must learn to love those we encounter daily and to do so in deed.
Christ calls us to His way of loving (Eph 5:1, 2; Phil 2:5-7). It’s a self-sacrificing love. It’s a love that requires us to deny ourselves for the welfare and benefit of another. Jesus denied Himself paradise and unbroken fellowship with the Father in order to come to us and take our sins upon Himself. In this same way we ought to love each other. Sadly, I more often deny others love in order to serve myself, to secure my comfort, safety, and money.
But I want to follow Jesus, so I’m learning to lay down my own desires. I’m learning to look at the needs in my church, neighborhood, work, home, and places of play. And as I see, I’m seeking out how I might meet these needs with the resources God has given me. Christ met our need through His death, and He wants us to do the same for each other.
So maybe we deny ourselves a few meals at a restaurant in order to buy ingredients to bake bread for the elderly and lonely people in our neighborhoods. Or maybe we deny ourselves a relaxing Saturday in order to labor for the fatherless in our church by mowing their yard, building a fence, providing home maintenance help. Or perhaps we deny ourselves relaxing in front of the television in order to write encouraging cards or make phone calls to the hurting. If we aren’t denying ourselves for the welfare of another we aren’t following Christ.
And as we love, people will start talking, and more importantly, see Christ. We are mere disciples. We look to and learn from a Master greater than us. The fact that we can love sacrificially testifies to the work of His Spirit in us.
So in this day where news can spread across the world in seconds, is anyone talking about the way you or I love others, especially our family in Christ? If we look at our lives and see a lack of love then perhaps we need to travel down Calvary’s road and meet our Savior hanging on a cross. As we meditate on God’s great love toward us in Christ, let us emulate that same love to the people we work with, sit in pews with, live at home with. Let’s give them something to talk about. How about love?
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Distressed But Full of Joy
“In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials, so that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold which is perishable, even though tested by fire, may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ; and though you have not seen Him, you love Him, and though you do not see Him now, but believe in Him, you greatly rejoice with joy inexpressible and full of glory, obtaining as the outcome of your faith the salvation of your souls” (I Pet 1:6-9).
Marital conflict. Job loss. Cancer diagnosis. Defiant children. Car accident. These and many other trials fill our weeks, months, and sometimes, years. And as they beat down upon us, they test not only our character, but our faith. Will we keep trusting God? Can we believe He will see us through? Will we dare to keep hoping?
Peter, like to the men and women he wrote, was separated from friends and family, enduring harsh persecution (v.1). And yet he describes the possibility of joy inexpressible in the midst of such suffering. How, I wonder?
Peter directs our attention to God's salvation. It seems he longed for those scattered abroad, and for us, to so prize God’s grace, to look beyond what is seen and temporal to Christ's final return, that we not only endure life's trials, but that we do so with joy that abounds.
But we often mistake happiness for joy. While happiness comes from the feeling we have when life is good, joy remains in the shifting of circumstances, even in the presence of pain.
It’s difficult, though, if not impossible, to feel joy when we feel anxious. Joy results from trust and confidence; anxiety, contrarily, often results from insecurity and uncertainty. Peter, and all believers, can express inexpressible joy because of Christ. No matter the circumstance, He remains faithful and our salvation secure.
Many days, however, my hope is not fixed completely on the grace to be brought to me at the return of Christ (I Pet 1:13). In difficult times, I often place my hope in improved circumstances. I begin to demand too much from this world, to set my heart on secure employment, enjoyment of friends and family, a rich church community.
It's not wrong to long for these good gifts. But to have a life of worry, stress and even despair reveals a heart that is not consumed with the love and grace of God. It exposes a heart that needs adjusting.
So what do you feel stressed and anxious about? Can you identify a current trial that may be challenging your faith?
Let us, as Peter exhorts, cast our worries upon Christ knowing He cares for us (I Pet 5:7) as proven at the cross. And let us yearn for His return more than we long for the comfort and riches of this world. May we enter into His joy by clinging to His enduring love and abiding presence that sustains us on this often rocky journey home.
Marital conflict. Job loss. Cancer diagnosis. Defiant children. Car accident. These and many other trials fill our weeks, months, and sometimes, years. And as they beat down upon us, they test not only our character, but our faith. Will we keep trusting God? Can we believe He will see us through? Will we dare to keep hoping?
Peter, like to the men and women he wrote, was separated from friends and family, enduring harsh persecution (v.1). And yet he describes the possibility of joy inexpressible in the midst of such suffering. How, I wonder?
Peter directs our attention to God's salvation. It seems he longed for those scattered abroad, and for us, to so prize God’s grace, to look beyond what is seen and temporal to Christ's final return, that we not only endure life's trials, but that we do so with joy that abounds.
But we often mistake happiness for joy. While happiness comes from the feeling we have when life is good, joy remains in the shifting of circumstances, even in the presence of pain.
It’s difficult, though, if not impossible, to feel joy when we feel anxious. Joy results from trust and confidence; anxiety, contrarily, often results from insecurity and uncertainty. Peter, and all believers, can express inexpressible joy because of Christ. No matter the circumstance, He remains faithful and our salvation secure.
Many days, however, my hope is not fixed completely on the grace to be brought to me at the return of Christ (I Pet 1:13). In difficult times, I often place my hope in improved circumstances. I begin to demand too much from this world, to set my heart on secure employment, enjoyment of friends and family, a rich church community.
It's not wrong to long for these good gifts. But to have a life of worry, stress and even despair reveals a heart that is not consumed with the love and grace of God. It exposes a heart that needs adjusting.
So what do you feel stressed and anxious about? Can you identify a current trial that may be challenging your faith?
Let us, as Peter exhorts, cast our worries upon Christ knowing He cares for us (I Pet 5:7) as proven at the cross. And let us yearn for His return more than we long for the comfort and riches of this world. May we enter into His joy by clinging to His enduring love and abiding presence that sustains us on this often rocky journey home.
Friday, October 15, 2010
I Wear Dirty Clothes
“Then he showed me Joshua the high priest standing before the angel of the LORD, and Satan standing at his right hand to accuse him. The LORD said to Satan, “The LORD rebuke you, Satan! Indeed, the LORD who has chosen Jerusalem rebuke you! Is this not a brand plucked from the fire?” Now Joshua was clothed with filthy garments and standing before the angel” (Zech 3:1-3).
Picture the scene. Satan strides up to the throne of God. Full of confidence, cocky, smug. He comes ready to gloat. He comes to accuse. This time he’s got his guilty man. This time he will win.
See, unlike Job, who Satan also accused, and who God describes as blameless and upright (Job 1:8), Joshua doesn’t fare so well in God’s assessment. Nor do the people of God, for in this text Joshua, as a high priest, stands representing the nation of Judah.
Did you notice the description of Joshua’s clothing? Filthy garments. These symbolized a sinful heart marred by transgressions. Of the people of Judah God says, “The LORD was very angry with your fathers” (Zech 1:2); hence their persecution and invasion by other nations for over 70 years (Zech 1:12). So surely Satan had his man this time.
The Adversary would accuse, and God would have to concede. His people had abandoned Him. They had worshiped another. They would have to die.
So Satan sneers, ready to lash out the first accusation. But he isn’t even given a chance to speak.
For Joshua is to be a recipient of mercy. He is a brand, or branch, plucked from the fire. Rescued. Saved. Redeemed.
The reality is that Satan is right. Joshua, representative of all of us ultimately, is dirty with sin. We are stained. None righteous. So Satan comes to accuse us. He hates mercy, but God delights in it. And God loves giving guilty people grace. He loves pulling us from the fire.
Joshua did nothing to get rescued. A dry branch cannot avoid destruction in the midst of flames. Not even a branch drenched in water can escape a blazing fire, which is what many of us try, thinking our good works will cleanse and cover up our broken, marred hearts.
I often struggle with feeling condemned, with being bombarded of thoughts of being less, or of not living up to some standard. The truth is I am. I stand guilty. I have not lived up to God’s standards. I have failed Him. I have dirtied myself with rebellion and sin. Pop culture and many counselors might tell me to combat these thoughts and perhaps reframe them in a positive light somehow.
But I wonder if it wouldn’t be better to say, Amen. I stand helpless before God the Creator. And as Satan and his cohort come to accuse me, God steps in. “She’s mine, and there’s nothing you can do. Dare you condemn whom I have chosen!” Mercy.
Seeing how God defends us makes Paul’s words sink in deeper, “Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Rom 8:1). No, I suppose not. When the only One who can legitimately sentence us decides to pardon us and gift us with the death and resurrection of His Son (plucking us from the fires of hell), who else can stand against us? When God silences the Accuser, who else stands to speak?
So I’m learning to discern the voice of the enemy and the voice of my Advocate. I’m first learning to accept as true my guilt. Many of the thoughts that come against me are in fact accurate. But instead of a period following the accusation there is a comma followed by the words but God-“but God being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved)” (Eph 2:4, 5).
Do you feel condemned? Perhaps instead of fighting the thoughts, the first step is to acknowledge them. To come before God ,helpless and dirty. We have an enemy who knows we are dirty. But God is stronger. He silences him. Let the words of God shut him up on your behalf, “Who will bring a charge against God’s elect? God is the one who justifies; who is the one who condemns? Christ Jesus is He who died, yes, rather, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who also intercedes for us” (Rom 8:33, 34).
Rather than convince ourselves we aren’t good enough, let God quiet those thoughts with grace. We do deserve death. We are wrong. But we are loved. Undeserving of the grace we have been given. But as we humble ourselves in the presence of His love we will be continually changed by His mercy.
Picture the scene. Satan strides up to the throne of God. Full of confidence, cocky, smug. He comes ready to gloat. He comes to accuse. This time he’s got his guilty man. This time he will win.
See, unlike Job, who Satan also accused, and who God describes as blameless and upright (Job 1:8), Joshua doesn’t fare so well in God’s assessment. Nor do the people of God, for in this text Joshua, as a high priest, stands representing the nation of Judah.
Did you notice the description of Joshua’s clothing? Filthy garments. These symbolized a sinful heart marred by transgressions. Of the people of Judah God says, “The LORD was very angry with your fathers” (Zech 1:2); hence their persecution and invasion by other nations for over 70 years (Zech 1:12). So surely Satan had his man this time.
The Adversary would accuse, and God would have to concede. His people had abandoned Him. They had worshiped another. They would have to die.
So Satan sneers, ready to lash out the first accusation. But he isn’t even given a chance to speak.
For Joshua is to be a recipient of mercy. He is a brand, or branch, plucked from the fire. Rescued. Saved. Redeemed.
The reality is that Satan is right. Joshua, representative of all of us ultimately, is dirty with sin. We are stained. None righteous. So Satan comes to accuse us. He hates mercy, but God delights in it. And God loves giving guilty people grace. He loves pulling us from the fire.
Joshua did nothing to get rescued. A dry branch cannot avoid destruction in the midst of flames. Not even a branch drenched in water can escape a blazing fire, which is what many of us try, thinking our good works will cleanse and cover up our broken, marred hearts.
I often struggle with feeling condemned, with being bombarded of thoughts of being less, or of not living up to some standard. The truth is I am. I stand guilty. I have not lived up to God’s standards. I have failed Him. I have dirtied myself with rebellion and sin. Pop culture and many counselors might tell me to combat these thoughts and perhaps reframe them in a positive light somehow.
But I wonder if it wouldn’t be better to say, Amen. I stand helpless before God the Creator. And as Satan and his cohort come to accuse me, God steps in. “She’s mine, and there’s nothing you can do. Dare you condemn whom I have chosen!” Mercy.
Seeing how God defends us makes Paul’s words sink in deeper, “Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Rom 8:1). No, I suppose not. When the only One who can legitimately sentence us decides to pardon us and gift us with the death and resurrection of His Son (plucking us from the fires of hell), who else can stand against us? When God silences the Accuser, who else stands to speak?
So I’m learning to discern the voice of the enemy and the voice of my Advocate. I’m first learning to accept as true my guilt. Many of the thoughts that come against me are in fact accurate. But instead of a period following the accusation there is a comma followed by the words but God-“but God being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved)” (Eph 2:4, 5).
Do you feel condemned? Perhaps instead of fighting the thoughts, the first step is to acknowledge them. To come before God ,helpless and dirty. We have an enemy who knows we are dirty. But God is stronger. He silences him. Let the words of God shut him up on your behalf, “Who will bring a charge against God’s elect? God is the one who justifies; who is the one who condemns? Christ Jesus is He who died, yes, rather, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who also intercedes for us” (Rom 8:33, 34).
Rather than convince ourselves we aren’t good enough, let God quiet those thoughts with grace. We do deserve death. We are wrong. But we are loved. Undeserving of the grace we have been given. But as we humble ourselves in the presence of His love we will be continually changed by His mercy.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Call Me Gomer
I’m an adulterer. My heart bleeds lust. I pay a lot to get quick and momentary pleasure. Many days I struggle to stay away from brothels. And I’m not alone.
Throughout Scripture God’s people continue to prostitute themselves. Instead of the true God, they prefer to serve trendy gods they can see and touch.
Perhaps most vividly in the story of Hosea God gives us a living picture of how He experiences His relationship with Israel. God tells Hosea, a righteous man to marry Gomer, a prostitute. Though he pursues and cares for her, she refuses to rest in his love. Instead she leaves the safety, comfort and provision of her husband to pursue lovers who abuse. She exchanges love for lust, met needs for insatiable desire, union for loneliness.
I see myself in Gomer. I see my friends and fellow churchgoers too. The human heart seems to beat in accord with Gomer the whore. While most of us don’t literally sell our bodies in return for money, we give our hearts to lovers who end up taking all we have, leaving us empty. Desperate and foolish we keep returning thinking this time it will be different. It seems God’s people have not changed much over the centuries.
But why? Why do we stray? Perhaps one reason is because at our core we hate faith. We prefer something tactile. Something our five senses can perceive. Something we can manipulate to do our bidding.
Like the people of old we make our own golden calf. Our calves just look different. Perhaps like a spouse we beg to give us our identity; we speak words that will elicit a desired response. Or alcohol we down to drown out a painful existence; we decide when and how much to drink to numb our emotions. Or a country-club membership to make us feel valuable; we name-drop to friends and co-workers, feeling alive and desired as their eyes respond with envy.
When we look to created objects, however, to bring us hope, healing and salvation we abandon Christ, and He becomes of no value to us. (No wonder Sunday morning worship seems so quiet, so tame. We have lifted our hands and voices to countless others throughout the week.)
In this world, though, we must hope for some sort of salvation to continue on. It could be salvation from pain, loneliness, meaningless, insecurity, monotony. If we are honest not many of us actually long to be rescued from sin. The effects of sin done to us, yes. But to admit we have contributed to the ravages of sin and affronted God with our dirty infidelity is another matter. We expect God to fix our pain, make our lives work, bless us with good things. But to suggest that in our confusion and longing what we may need most is repentance seems offensive.
But what Gomer needed was not to find a lover who paid her enough, or excited her pleasure to another level, or soothed her insecurity with vain words about her beauty. What she needed was the presence of her husband. She needed to repent of her harlotry.
So what do we think we need to have peace? To have value? To feel secure? Perhaps freedom from pain. Or close and fulfilling relationships. A steady income. Meaningful work. Verbal validation. While all these things are good, they will never fulfill. And when we demand that they do, we commit adultery.
So if we answer the question with any other answer besides Christ we are sleeping around. Instead of placing our hope and trust (our faith) in what is seen, we must look to the God we cannot see. Even now He invites us, “Come to Me, all who are weary and heave-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matt 11:28).
So let’s leave the brothels. Let's abandon our current lovers who promise healing but leave us wounded (Jer 2:13). Let’s come home to the one true Savior. Let us rest in His grace, in His sacrificial provision, and in the promise of paradise to come. And in doing discover in Him our heart's exceeding joy.
Throughout Scripture God’s people continue to prostitute themselves. Instead of the true God, they prefer to serve trendy gods they can see and touch.
Perhaps most vividly in the story of Hosea God gives us a living picture of how He experiences His relationship with Israel. God tells Hosea, a righteous man to marry Gomer, a prostitute. Though he pursues and cares for her, she refuses to rest in his love. Instead she leaves the safety, comfort and provision of her husband to pursue lovers who abuse. She exchanges love for lust, met needs for insatiable desire, union for loneliness.
I see myself in Gomer. I see my friends and fellow churchgoers too. The human heart seems to beat in accord with Gomer the whore. While most of us don’t literally sell our bodies in return for money, we give our hearts to lovers who end up taking all we have, leaving us empty. Desperate and foolish we keep returning thinking this time it will be different. It seems God’s people have not changed much over the centuries.
But why? Why do we stray? Perhaps one reason is because at our core we hate faith. We prefer something tactile. Something our five senses can perceive. Something we can manipulate to do our bidding.
Like the people of old we make our own golden calf. Our calves just look different. Perhaps like a spouse we beg to give us our identity; we speak words that will elicit a desired response. Or alcohol we down to drown out a painful existence; we decide when and how much to drink to numb our emotions. Or a country-club membership to make us feel valuable; we name-drop to friends and co-workers, feeling alive and desired as their eyes respond with envy.
When we look to created objects, however, to bring us hope, healing and salvation we abandon Christ, and He becomes of no value to us. (No wonder Sunday morning worship seems so quiet, so tame. We have lifted our hands and voices to countless others throughout the week.)
In this world, though, we must hope for some sort of salvation to continue on. It could be salvation from pain, loneliness, meaningless, insecurity, monotony. If we are honest not many of us actually long to be rescued from sin. The effects of sin done to us, yes. But to admit we have contributed to the ravages of sin and affronted God with our dirty infidelity is another matter. We expect God to fix our pain, make our lives work, bless us with good things. But to suggest that in our confusion and longing what we may need most is repentance seems offensive.
But what Gomer needed was not to find a lover who paid her enough, or excited her pleasure to another level, or soothed her insecurity with vain words about her beauty. What she needed was the presence of her husband. She needed to repent of her harlotry.
So what do we think we need to have peace? To have value? To feel secure? Perhaps freedom from pain. Or close and fulfilling relationships. A steady income. Meaningful work. Verbal validation. While all these things are good, they will never fulfill. And when we demand that they do, we commit adultery.
So if we answer the question with any other answer besides Christ we are sleeping around. Instead of placing our hope and trust (our faith) in what is seen, we must look to the God we cannot see. Even now He invites us, “Come to Me, all who are weary and heave-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matt 11:28).
So let’s leave the brothels. Let's abandon our current lovers who promise healing but leave us wounded (Jer 2:13). Let’s come home to the one true Savior. Let us rest in His grace, in His sacrificial provision, and in the promise of paradise to come. And in doing discover in Him our heart's exceeding joy.
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