It seems to me that the conventional view of love is pretty fouled up. We (as a society) tend to get love confused with other things.
We get love confused with infatuation, for example. Infatuation is an intense, reactive sort of emotion. Love is an intentional commitment meant for the long-haul.
We get love confused with rewards, as in I'll love you if you . . . fill in the blank. Love isn't a variable in equation; it's supposed to be a constant. I'll love you no matter what.
We think love is a heart thing (something that just happens, outside my control) when real love is a heart-mind-hands and feet thing (something I decide that I will do, an endless series of actions I take).
I learned something else about love from my daughter. A while ago she took a summertime job in another state working with a small group of teenagers with all sorts of backgrounds. Before she moved there, before she ever saw any of them, she committed herself to loving them. She decided that she would love them -- regardless of what she found out about them, regardless of how they might behave, regardless of whether they accepted her or not.
I think this is an excellent model of Biblical love. After all, that's what our Lord did; he loved us before we decided to accept or reject his gift of sacrifice: "While we were yet sinners..."
I've been experimenting with deciding in advance to love people -- before I see what they are like or how they act. I decide to love the people on the drive to work, in the store, at the office -- before I ever encounter them.
Somehow, thinking about love this way opens up a new understanding for me.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Other churches -- part two
I seem to be unusually aware when I visit other churches, alive to what I might learn.
When I visited another church recently, I was surprised to notice that the people around me had kept their coats on. At first, I thought it was because the building had very high ceilings and was drafty. Then I thought it was because they didn’t intend to stay very long.
Then I thought about the words in Exodus associated with the institution of the Passover: the people were to obey His commands “with your cloak tucked into your belt, your sandals on your feet and your staff in your hand.” God was teaching the people to be ready for, to be expectant about His deliverance, His work in their lives. God’s people were supposed to be ready to go when He called them.
Back home in my church, we come into the church building, move into the pews, take off our coats and spread out our belongings. Suddenly, it seemed to me that back home we “set up camp” in our church.
In this far-away place of worship, I could imagine that the people were aware that they were treading on holy ground; their posture seemed to indicate that they were unworthy of God’s house.
I wondered about the difference in coming into God’s presence with an attitude of being ready to go vs. coming into God’s presence with an attitude of claiming territory. In the New Testament we are told to ‘Go and make disciples.’ We are told to ‘put on the armor of God’ which seems clearly to indicate something other than sitting comfortably.
I wonder if in my church tradition we tend to get too casual with God, assuming we can relax. I wonder if in our arrogance we are acting like guests in God’s presence instead of servants.
When I visited another church recently, I was surprised to notice that the people around me had kept their coats on. At first, I thought it was because the building had very high ceilings and was drafty. Then I thought it was because they didn’t intend to stay very long.
Then I thought about the words in Exodus associated with the institution of the Passover: the people were to obey His commands “with your cloak tucked into your belt, your sandals on your feet and your staff in your hand.” God was teaching the people to be ready for, to be expectant about His deliverance, His work in their lives. God’s people were supposed to be ready to go when He called them.
Back home in my church, we come into the church building, move into the pews, take off our coats and spread out our belongings. Suddenly, it seemed to me that back home we “set up camp” in our church.
In this far-away place of worship, I could imagine that the people were aware that they were treading on holy ground; their posture seemed to indicate that they were unworthy of God’s house.
I wondered about the difference in coming into God’s presence with an attitude of being ready to go vs. coming into God’s presence with an attitude of claiming territory. In the New Testament we are told to ‘Go and make disciples.’ We are told to ‘put on the armor of God’ which seems clearly to indicate something other than sitting comfortably.
I wonder if in my church tradition we tend to get too casual with God, assuming we can relax. I wonder if in our arrogance we are acting like guests in God’s presence instead of servants.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Other churches
When I travel, I like to visit other people’s churches.
Sometimes I like to visit churches in my own tradition or denomination. Sometimes I like to visit churches that are very different from my home church.
When I visit churches in my own tradition, I am comforted by the familiarity. I love the notion of having brothers and sisters in all parts of the world. I love the acceptance and welcome I find among these people who are strangers – and yet so familiar.
I am endlessly curious to see the many nuances of worship and community in these other churches that sport the same name on the sign out front. I read their bulletins and listen to their announcements with great interest. I often get new ideas for my own church’s ministries and activities.
In addition to the blessings associated with the corporate worship, I appreciate the opportunity to see what our churches look like through the eyes of a visitor. By noticing what makes me feel welcome or uncomfortable, I gain insight on how to help visitors to my church back home feel more at ease.
But as I said, I also like to visit churches that are very different from my normal Sunday morning experience. I know about various segments of Christianity, but I have not had many chances to experience those other churches first hand. I suppose that my lack of exposure to those other traditions is largely due to the fact that I am so very involved with my own church. In any case, I find it fascinating to have the chance to attend services in these other houses of worship, to see the variations on the theme.
Earlier this month, I was in a city in another country on Sunday morning. I did a little research on churches within walking distance of the hotel and decided on a cathedral about eight blocks away. My usual approach is to try to fit in with the crowd while not getting in the way of the members who usually attend there. Furthermore, I want to worship; I don’t want to be a tourist at church.
On this occasion, I attended a very formal “high church” sitting toward the back, where I admired the stunning architecture, the glorious stained-glass windows, and the angelic voices of the boys’ choir. I smelled the incense. I found my place in the book and joined in the responses of those around me.
As always when I visit a church that is strange to me, the experience was enlightening and thought-provoking. I worshiped God in their tradition and felt uplifted, benefitting from the changed perspective and unfamiliar cadence.
Sometimes I like to visit churches in my own tradition or denomination. Sometimes I like to visit churches that are very different from my home church.
When I visit churches in my own tradition, I am comforted by the familiarity. I love the notion of having brothers and sisters in all parts of the world. I love the acceptance and welcome I find among these people who are strangers – and yet so familiar.
I am endlessly curious to see the many nuances of worship and community in these other churches that sport the same name on the sign out front. I read their bulletins and listen to their announcements with great interest. I often get new ideas for my own church’s ministries and activities.
In addition to the blessings associated with the corporate worship, I appreciate the opportunity to see what our churches look like through the eyes of a visitor. By noticing what makes me feel welcome or uncomfortable, I gain insight on how to help visitors to my church back home feel more at ease.
But as I said, I also like to visit churches that are very different from my normal Sunday morning experience. I know about various segments of Christianity, but I have not had many chances to experience those other churches first hand. I suppose that my lack of exposure to those other traditions is largely due to the fact that I am so very involved with my own church. In any case, I find it fascinating to have the chance to attend services in these other houses of worship, to see the variations on the theme.
Earlier this month, I was in a city in another country on Sunday morning. I did a little research on churches within walking distance of the hotel and decided on a cathedral about eight blocks away. My usual approach is to try to fit in with the crowd while not getting in the way of the members who usually attend there. Furthermore, I want to worship; I don’t want to be a tourist at church.
On this occasion, I attended a very formal “high church” sitting toward the back, where I admired the stunning architecture, the glorious stained-glass windows, and the angelic voices of the boys’ choir. I smelled the incense. I found my place in the book and joined in the responses of those around me.
As always when I visit a church that is strange to me, the experience was enlightening and thought-provoking. I worshiped God in their tradition and felt uplifted, benefitting from the changed perspective and unfamiliar cadence.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
More old (but good!) words
God is the fountain whence
Ten thousand blessings flow
To Him my life, my health, and friends
And every good I owe.
The comforts he affords
Are neither few nor small
He is the source of fresh delight
My portion and my all.
He fills my heart with joy
My lips attunes for praise
And to his glory I'll devote
The remnant of my days.
Ten thousand blessings flow
To Him my life, my health, and friends
And every good I owe.
The comforts he affords
Are neither few nor small
He is the source of fresh delight
My portion and my all.
He fills my heart with joy
My lips attunes for praise
And to his glory I'll devote
The remnant of my days.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Old words
I grew up with the old hymns.
As a child I often wondered at the archaic language in those hymns which at best was indecipherable, at worst misleading and confusing.
Despite the gap between my English and the sometimes inaccessible vocabulary, I still enjoyed singing in the church back home. Over the years, I learned what most of the words meant and understood the sentiment of the lyrics.
Later on, like many of my generation, I welcomed the new praise music that spoke in more familiar terms and allowed me to sing from my heart without barriers.
Lately, however, I've noticed the depth of understanding in some of those old songs. Here's one that caught my attention recently, and although the language isn't native to me, I value highly the words of the writer:
O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be.
Let thy goodness like a fetter
Bind my wandering heart to thee.
Here's my heart, O take and seal it
Seal it for thy courts above.
Never let me wander from thee,
Never leave the God I love.
As a child I often wondered at the archaic language in those hymns which at best was indecipherable, at worst misleading and confusing.
Despite the gap between my English and the sometimes inaccessible vocabulary, I still enjoyed singing in the church back home. Over the years, I learned what most of the words meant and understood the sentiment of the lyrics.
Later on, like many of my generation, I welcomed the new praise music that spoke in more familiar terms and allowed me to sing from my heart without barriers.
Lately, however, I've noticed the depth of understanding in some of those old songs. Here's one that caught my attention recently, and although the language isn't native to me, I value highly the words of the writer:
O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be.
Let thy goodness like a fetter
Bind my wandering heart to thee.
Here's my heart, O take and seal it
Seal it for thy courts above.
Never let me wander from thee,
Never leave the God I love.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Outside looking in
Recently I've been challenged to take a peek at what the church looks like from the outside. If you haven't tried it lately, it's not for the faint of heart. If you can't bear criticism, don't read further. If you think we should be reaching people with good news, read on cautiously.
One note: I am not talking about any particular church. I'm talking in the large sense: church.
In order to pursue this outside perspective, I imagined myself outside any church -- having no church affiliation. Almost immediately I was struck by how exclusive the church looks from that perspective. For a person unaccustomed to the rhythms and customs of a church, everyone inside seems to be dancing to a song that only they can hear. When to sit, when to stand, what to expect next are mysteries. (Even as a church-goer, I've experienced this feeling briefly when I have visited churches in other cities or churches in other traditions than my own.)
Although most churches are genuinely welcoming, we sometimes talk in inaccessible language that probably sounds like code. And sometimes the words we use are unintentionally hurtful or offensive . . . exclusionary. Words like the ones we use for those people who are not in our churches, words like "non-Christians" or "unchurched" or "outsiders" or "the world" -- or gasp! "pagans." Even the terms "visitor" and "newcomer" can sound critical, carrying with it the idea of latecomer or those slow to arrive at the truth that the rest of us found oh so long ago. Even the well-intentioned visitor nametag can feel to some like a label -- or worse yet, a target. For some, it seems to brand them as a person who doesn't belong.
One man recently verbalized how exclusive Christians seem, noting that we have our own bookstores, or own radio stations, and in some places our own yellow pages so that we can avoid all contact with "outsiders" or people who don't belong to the same club. Yikes. Now that I see what that looks like from the perspective of a person approaching (or not!) us, I'm stunned. I hadn't thought of it that way. But now I see how it may appear.
When I received a flyer from a Christian bookstore recently, I read it with different (outside) eyes, and my heart hurt. If I were longing for inclusion, I would have found multiple instances reinforcing my lonely status -- not part of the group.
Let me challenge you to take a look at us with these "other eyes" and join me in thinking of ways to minimize these barriers.
One note: I am not talking about any particular church. I'm talking in the large sense: church.
In order to pursue this outside perspective, I imagined myself outside any church -- having no church affiliation. Almost immediately I was struck by how exclusive the church looks from that perspective. For a person unaccustomed to the rhythms and customs of a church, everyone inside seems to be dancing to a song that only they can hear. When to sit, when to stand, what to expect next are mysteries. (Even as a church-goer, I've experienced this feeling briefly when I have visited churches in other cities or churches in other traditions than my own.)
Although most churches are genuinely welcoming, we sometimes talk in inaccessible language that probably sounds like code. And sometimes the words we use are unintentionally hurtful or offensive . . . exclusionary. Words like the ones we use for those people who are not in our churches, words like "non-Christians" or "unchurched" or "outsiders" or "the world" -- or gasp! "pagans." Even the terms "visitor" and "newcomer" can sound critical, carrying with it the idea of latecomer or those slow to arrive at the truth that the rest of us found oh so long ago. Even the well-intentioned visitor nametag can feel to some like a label -- or worse yet, a target. For some, it seems to brand them as a person who doesn't belong.
One man recently verbalized how exclusive Christians seem, noting that we have our own bookstores, or own radio stations, and in some places our own yellow pages so that we can avoid all contact with "outsiders" or people who don't belong to the same club. Yikes. Now that I see what that looks like from the perspective of a person approaching (or not!) us, I'm stunned. I hadn't thought of it that way. But now I see how it may appear.
When I received a flyer from a Christian bookstore recently, I read it with different (outside) eyes, and my heart hurt. If I were longing for inclusion, I would have found multiple instances reinforcing my lonely status -- not part of the group.
Let me challenge you to take a look at us with these "other eyes" and join me in thinking of ways to minimize these barriers.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Within understanding distance
In 1839 Alexander Campbell wrote The Christian System, and in the second chapter he outlines seven rules for biblical interpretation. His 'rules' are excellent advice, in my opinion, standing the test of time.
I was particularly struck by his seventh rule, however: "The interpreter must come within understanding distance" of God in order to hear the biblical text clearly. Isn't that a rich thought: come within understanding distance of God.
Campbell explains:
Humility of mind, or what is in effect the same, contempt for all earth-born pre-eminence, prepares the mind for the reception of this light; or, what is virtually the same, opens the ears to hear the voice of God. Amidst the din of all the arguments from the flesh, the world, and Satan, a person is so deaf that he cannot hear the still small voice of God's philanthropy. But receding from pride, covetousness, and false ambition; from the love of the world; and in coming within that circle, the circumference of which is unfeigned humility, and the centre of which is God himself--the voice of God is distinctly heard and clearly understood. All within this circle are taught by God; all without it are under the influence of the wicked one. 'God resisteth the proud, but he giveth grace to the humble.'
In order to hear the still small voice of God, we must seek Him. We must travel as long and as far as necessary to come within understanding distance. We must approach with genuine humility.
I want to move to a place in my life where I am "within understanding distance of God."
I was particularly struck by his seventh rule, however: "The interpreter must come within understanding distance" of God in order to hear the biblical text clearly. Isn't that a rich thought: come within understanding distance of God.
Campbell explains:
Humility of mind, or what is in effect the same, contempt for all earth-born pre-eminence, prepares the mind for the reception of this light; or, what is virtually the same, opens the ears to hear the voice of God. Amidst the din of all the arguments from the flesh, the world, and Satan, a person is so deaf that he cannot hear the still small voice of God's philanthropy. But receding from pride, covetousness, and false ambition; from the love of the world; and in coming within that circle, the circumference of which is unfeigned humility, and the centre of which is God himself--the voice of God is distinctly heard and clearly understood. All within this circle are taught by God; all without it are under the influence of the wicked one. 'God resisteth the proud, but he giveth grace to the humble.'
In order to hear the still small voice of God, we must seek Him. We must travel as long and as far as necessary to come within understanding distance. We must approach with genuine humility.
I want to move to a place in my life where I am "within understanding distance of God."
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Be church
Some random thoughts . . .
A few months ago I read The Irresistable Revolution. It fueled my thoughts about church. You see, I've been convinced for some time that there is something out of kilter with the church of 2008. Not just your church or my church, but church (I'm spreading my arms to indicate all churches).
Recently I attended a series of lectures. The man from my church was describing what we believe. He was making distinctions between the "non-negotiables" and the matters of opinion. I was agreeing with his description of the fundamentals of faith. A man from another church stood up and said, "We don't spend a lot of time thinking about theology. We just tell people about Jesus." Zing. He wasn't being mean or arrogant; he was genuinely puzzled by our focus.
I've heard a lot of people talk about "the worship wars" that have caused such pain over the past decade or two. I've seen good, kind people become outraged and demand that their way is the right way to "do church."
Perhaps there is a reason the New Testament doesn't give us a specific set of rules for the right way to DO CHURCH. We all know that the text does not specify a capella singing or instrumental worship. It doesn't tell us how large or how small a church body should be. It doesn't outline the rules for Bible classes or sermons or when the prayers should appear in the order or worship. In fact, it doesn't mention an "order of worship." :-)
I believe that when God inspired scripture, he gave us all the important stuff, so I have to conclude that how we do church wasn't high on his list.
Perhaps it's because we aren't supposed to do church at all....... we are supposed to be church. Now, the next step is to unpack all that THAT means.
A few months ago I read The Irresistable Revolution. It fueled my thoughts about church. You see, I've been convinced for some time that there is something out of kilter with the church of 2008. Not just your church or my church, but church (I'm spreading my arms to indicate all churches).
Recently I attended a series of lectures. The man from my church was describing what we believe. He was making distinctions between the "non-negotiables" and the matters of opinion. I was agreeing with his description of the fundamentals of faith. A man from another church stood up and said, "We don't spend a lot of time thinking about theology. We just tell people about Jesus." Zing. He wasn't being mean or arrogant; he was genuinely puzzled by our focus.
I've heard a lot of people talk about "the worship wars" that have caused such pain over the past decade or two. I've seen good, kind people become outraged and demand that their way is the right way to "do church."
Perhaps there is a reason the New Testament doesn't give us a specific set of rules for the right way to DO CHURCH. We all know that the text does not specify a capella singing or instrumental worship. It doesn't tell us how large or how small a church body should be. It doesn't outline the rules for Bible classes or sermons or when the prayers should appear in the order or worship. In fact, it doesn't mention an "order of worship." :-)
I believe that when God inspired scripture, he gave us all the important stuff, so I have to conclude that how we do church wasn't high on his list.
Perhaps it's because we aren't supposed to do church at all....... we are supposed to be church. Now, the next step is to unpack all that THAT means.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
He provides
Every Sunday at our church there is a segment called "Kids Giving to Kids." It is a special time when the children of the congregation are encouraged to give money to help children who are not as fortunate as they are.
Each Sunday in the middle of our scripted, carefully planned worship service, there is a brief period of utter chaos. After depositing his coins, a four-year old forgets the way and wanders up the wrong aisle, looking for familiar faces. A three-year-old girl squeals with joy as she runs to offer her dollar bill. There is noise and irratic movement and disorder. And we love it.
This morning as I looked around the room, I saw a Dad providing coins to his children so that they could participate. The children were so excited to be able to give. Obviously, they don't have money of their own; they trusted their dad to provide what they needed in order to make their offering.
I have always loved the name for God Abraham used: Jehovah Jirah, the Lord provides.
In Exodus, God told Moses how to construct the Tabernacle. After Moses told the people what was needed, they came forward, giving their gifts: precious metals, colored threads, and all sorts of things that could be used in the construction. In Exodus 35, all of the men and the women -- each who was willing -- made a freewill offering to God. They gave what they had.
In each case, God had provided the things the Israelites had. And because the people had the things, they could feel the joy of participation in the work God had called them to do. Because the Father was generous to them, they were, in turn, able to contribute.
In much the same way, we are given good gifts from God so that we can share what we have. Just as the dad provided coins to his children this morning, our God provides what we need to be able to participate in what he has called us to do.
What a wonderful glimpse of a loving Father.
Each Sunday in the middle of our scripted, carefully planned worship service, there is a brief period of utter chaos. After depositing his coins, a four-year old forgets the way and wanders up the wrong aisle, looking for familiar faces. A three-year-old girl squeals with joy as she runs to offer her dollar bill. There is noise and irratic movement and disorder. And we love it.
This morning as I looked around the room, I saw a Dad providing coins to his children so that they could participate. The children were so excited to be able to give. Obviously, they don't have money of their own; they trusted their dad to provide what they needed in order to make their offering.
I have always loved the name for God Abraham used: Jehovah Jirah, the Lord provides.
In Exodus, God told Moses how to construct the Tabernacle. After Moses told the people what was needed, they came forward, giving their gifts: precious metals, colored threads, and all sorts of things that could be used in the construction. In Exodus 35, all of the men and the women -- each who was willing -- made a freewill offering to God. They gave what they had.
In each case, God had provided the things the Israelites had. And because the people had the things, they could feel the joy of participation in the work God had called them to do. Because the Father was generous to them, they were, in turn, able to contribute.
In much the same way, we are given good gifts from God so that we can share what we have. Just as the dad provided coins to his children this morning, our God provides what we need to be able to participate in what he has called us to do.
What a wonderful glimpse of a loving Father.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Alive
Occasionally I like to post things I read that catch my interest. Here's an excerpt from Hearing God by Dallas Willard:
"What is life? In all its various levels and types, life is power to act and respond in specific kinds of relations. For example, a cabbage has certain powers of action and response and a corresponding level of life. There is a difference between a cabbage that is alive and one that is dead, thought the dead one still exists. This can also be said of a snail or a kitten.
"But a live cabbage can make no response to, say, a ball of string. That is precisely because of the kind of life that is in it. Though alive as a cabbage, it is dead to the realm of play. Similarly, a kitten playing with the string can make no response to numbers or poetry, and in that sense the kitten is dead to the realms of arithmetic and literature. A live cabbage, though dead to one realm (that of play) is yet alive to another -- that of the soil, the sun and the rain. The situation is similar with the kitten.
"Human beings were once alive to God. They were created to be responsive to and interactive with him. Adam and Eve lived in a conversational relationship with their Creator, daily renewed. When they mistrusted God and disobeyed him, that cut them off from the realm of the Spirit. Thus they became dead in relation to it -- much as a kitten is dead to arithmetic. God had said of the forbidden tree, "in the day you eat of it you shall die" (Gen 2:17). And they did.
"Biologically they continued to live, of course. But they ceased to be responsive and interactive in relation to God's cosmic rule in his kingdom. It would be necessary for God to confer an additional level of life on them and their children, through "being born from above," (Jn 3:3) in order for them once again to be alive in God, to be able to respond toward him and to act within the realm of the Spirit."
"What is life? In all its various levels and types, life is power to act and respond in specific kinds of relations. For example, a cabbage has certain powers of action and response and a corresponding level of life. There is a difference between a cabbage that is alive and one that is dead, thought the dead one still exists. This can also be said of a snail or a kitten.
"But a live cabbage can make no response to, say, a ball of string. That is precisely because of the kind of life that is in it. Though alive as a cabbage, it is dead to the realm of play. Similarly, a kitten playing with the string can make no response to numbers or poetry, and in that sense the kitten is dead to the realms of arithmetic and literature. A live cabbage, though dead to one realm (that of play) is yet alive to another -- that of the soil, the sun and the rain. The situation is similar with the kitten.
"Human beings were once alive to God. They were created to be responsive to and interactive with him. Adam and Eve lived in a conversational relationship with their Creator, daily renewed. When they mistrusted God and disobeyed him, that cut them off from the realm of the Spirit. Thus they became dead in relation to it -- much as a kitten is dead to arithmetic. God had said of the forbidden tree, "in the day you eat of it you shall die" (Gen 2:17). And they did.
"Biologically they continued to live, of course. But they ceased to be responsive and interactive in relation to God's cosmic rule in his kingdom. It would be necessary for God to confer an additional level of life on them and their children, through "being born from above," (Jn 3:3) in order for them once again to be alive in God, to be able to respond toward him and to act within the realm of the Spirit."
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Goes on ahead
It had been a while since I had looked deeply at the John 10 good shepherd passage, so when the speaker mentioned it, I turned to the gospel with interest. Within that chapter, Jesus teaches:
Then I thought: How comforting to think about my shepherd going on head of me! What an interesting thought that any place I go, he has already gone there.
Like the scouts that went on ahead of the wagon train, finding river crossings and passes through the mountains and sources of water....... which sounds a lot like Psalm 23, doesn't it? ........ my shepherd goes on ahead of me, seeking green pastures, right paths, and the way through the valley of the shadow.
He goes on ahead into what is unknown to me, and it's not just physical locations. He goes on ahead into my tomorrows to prepare things for me. I don't know what awaits me there, but he does -- he's already been there. I am bound by time. He is not.
When I am awake in the middle of the night, worrying what if . . . and speculating on how things might go wrong, my anxiety is unnecessary because my shepherd has already gone on ahead of me and scouted out the territory. He has visited my tomorrow and my next week and can guide me today with absolute certainty.
There is no guesswork involved in his leading because he has gone on ahead and identified the pitfalls...... maybe cleared some of the path for me so that I won't lose my way, maybe set up some barriers to keep me away from the cliff's edge.
Perhaps when I find myself complaining about how difficult my journey seems, I should remember that he has gone on ahead of me and take note of the cairns he has set up for me.
I realize with some guilt that I've had a mental picture of myself as an intrepid trailblazer moving forward with only my own wits to protect me. I guess I have known that my shepherd was with me -- but maybe I have pictured him as just being along for the ride. Now I see how mistaken that is!
Perhaps I'll see my journey with different eyes now.
But wait. What was the rest of that scripture? and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. Ah.......my part of the equation. And a part that isn't so easy for me sometimes.
But I think knowing that he is going on ahead somehow makes it easier to be a good follower. I'll let you know . . .
"The watchman opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice."The part that caught my ear this time was the "goes on ahead of them" part. I began to think about the pillar of cloud/fire that preceded the children of Israel in the desert.
Then I thought: How comforting to think about my shepherd going on head of me! What an interesting thought that any place I go, he has already gone there.
Like the scouts that went on ahead of the wagon train, finding river crossings and passes through the mountains and sources of water....... which sounds a lot like Psalm 23, doesn't it? ........ my shepherd goes on ahead of me, seeking green pastures, right paths, and the way through the valley of the shadow.
He goes on ahead into what is unknown to me, and it's not just physical locations. He goes on ahead into my tomorrows to prepare things for me. I don't know what awaits me there, but he does -- he's already been there. I am bound by time. He is not.
When I am awake in the middle of the night, worrying what if . . . and speculating on how things might go wrong, my anxiety is unnecessary because my shepherd has already gone on ahead of me and scouted out the territory. He has visited my tomorrow and my next week and can guide me today with absolute certainty.
There is no guesswork involved in his leading because he has gone on ahead and identified the pitfalls...... maybe cleared some of the path for me so that I won't lose my way, maybe set up some barriers to keep me away from the cliff's edge.
Perhaps when I find myself complaining about how difficult my journey seems, I should remember that he has gone on ahead of me and take note of the cairns he has set up for me.
I realize with some guilt that I've had a mental picture of myself as an intrepid trailblazer moving forward with only my own wits to protect me. I guess I have known that my shepherd was with me -- but maybe I have pictured him as just being along for the ride. Now I see how mistaken that is!
Perhaps I'll see my journey with different eyes now.
But wait. What was the rest of that scripture? and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. Ah.......my part of the equation. And a part that isn't so easy for me sometimes.
But I think knowing that he is going on ahead somehow makes it easier to be a good follower. I'll let you know . . .
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Not grasped
I was searching through some old books this morning, looking for something for an upcoming class. I picked up my copy of My Utmost for His Highest, a classic daily devotional by Oswald Chambers, first published in 1935. I have always loved this book, and I return to it every few years. I turned to the words for May 17.
In the meditation for today, Chambers writes that prior to the transfiguration, Jesus lived a normal, but perfect life for a man. From the transfiguration through the ascension, Chambers says, Jesus's life was altogether substitutionary, unfamiliar to us. Transfiguration, Gethsemene, the cross, the resurrection, ascension. It was a wholly different and absolutely holy time.
"The transfiguration was completed on the Mount of Ascension," writes Chambers. "If Jesus had gone to heaven directly from the Mount of Transfiguration, He would have gone alone. He would have been nothing more to us than a glorious Figure. But He turned His back on the glory, and came down from the mountain to identify Himself with fallen humanity."
Turned his back on the glory . . . that set me thinking of Philippians 2.
I've always read that Philippians passage in light of Jesus' birth. That is, he did not consider his position in heaven with God something to be held on to, but became a man, was born into this world. He came to earth and looked like us.
Now I wonder if that passage might also be considered in light of Jesus' transfiguration. He did not consider being glorified on the mountaintop something to cling to. He did in fact turn from the transfiguration, from the radiance, from the immediate presence of God and decend from the mountaintop, back down into our world with its pain and brokenness. He came down and looked again like a normal man.
That makes me think that humbling himself/emptying himself (as some translations say) was not a one-time decision/action. It makes me think that Jesus might have had many opportunities to "grasp his equality with God" and each time might have humbled himself, turning his back on his own glory.
Maybe he had to reject his equality with God every time he was tempted to use his powers -- with the devil in the dessert, when the Jewish leaders mocked him, when he hung on the cross and could have called ten thousand angels.
We know that Jesus often went alone to the mountain to pray. I've wondered if he was transfigured each time, but it was not reported because no one was there to see it. If so, then he would have turned from glory over and over when he returned to his work with the disciples.
What an interesting glimpse of Christ's generous self-sacrifice.
In the meditation for today, Chambers writes that prior to the transfiguration, Jesus lived a normal, but perfect life for a man. From the transfiguration through the ascension, Chambers says, Jesus's life was altogether substitutionary, unfamiliar to us. Transfiguration, Gethsemene, the cross, the resurrection, ascension. It was a wholly different and absolutely holy time.
"The transfiguration was completed on the Mount of Ascension," writes Chambers. "If Jesus had gone to heaven directly from the Mount of Transfiguration, He would have gone alone. He would have been nothing more to us than a glorious Figure. But He turned His back on the glory, and came down from the mountain to identify Himself with fallen humanity."
Turned his back on the glory . . . that set me thinking of Philippians 2.
"Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself and became obedient to death --
even death on a cross!
I've always read that Philippians passage in light of Jesus' birth. That is, he did not consider his position in heaven with God something to be held on to, but became a man, was born into this world. He came to earth and looked like us.
Now I wonder if that passage might also be considered in light of Jesus' transfiguration. He did not consider being glorified on the mountaintop something to cling to. He did in fact turn from the transfiguration, from the radiance, from the immediate presence of God and decend from the mountaintop, back down into our world with its pain and brokenness. He came down and looked again like a normal man.
That makes me think that humbling himself/emptying himself (as some translations say) was not a one-time decision/action. It makes me think that Jesus might have had many opportunities to "grasp his equality with God" and each time might have humbled himself, turning his back on his own glory.
Maybe he had to reject his equality with God every time he was tempted to use his powers -- with the devil in the dessert, when the Jewish leaders mocked him, when he hung on the cross and could have called ten thousand angels.
We know that Jesus often went alone to the mountain to pray. I've wondered if he was transfigured each time, but it was not reported because no one was there to see it. If so, then he would have turned from glory over and over when he returned to his work with the disciples.
What an interesting glimpse of Christ's generous self-sacrifice.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Do this (part two)
Not long ago I wrote about the fact that when God instructs me to do certain things, it isn't really because he needs my help. Like my grandmother and mother, he likely has in mind to teach me, grow me through my doing of the task. I mentioned two tasks (intercessory prayer and the great commission) as examples.
Last Sunday I heard an excellent lesson on the Good Samaritan. About halfway through, I recognized a parallel principal -- God doesn't need us to take care of our neighbors; He can certainly bless them without our help -- but our God invites us to be neighborly so that we will learn to be more like Him.
He calls us to "love our neighbors as ourselves" so that we can be conformed to the image of Christ. He teaches me to care about others -- not just for their benefit, but for my benefit. My reshaping. My change of heart.
God isn't just being a taskmaster when he calls me to do things; he is coaching me, training me for my good.
I have long wondered at God's amazing ability to create what I call 360-degree blessing, working things together for good for everyone involved in something. Now I'm awed by his ability to create 360-degree benefits -- benefits to those I serve and benefits in me as I serve. Totally cool.
Understanding this helps me know the nature of God a bit better and changes my perspective on the things he has asked me to do.
I remember when I was in school how frustrated I felt when I could see no earthly reason to be learning a formula or fact. Once I understood how the learning could be used, my attitude about learning changed.
Similarly, God's commands have sometimes seemed abstract and unrelated to my life. When I see, however, that his commands have purpose -- how arrogant of me to think they didn't! -- my attitude about his instruction is changed. Obedience and trust grows when I remember that he is working for my good, my remolding (like that potter in Jeremiah).
Last Sunday I heard an excellent lesson on the Good Samaritan. About halfway through, I recognized a parallel principal -- God doesn't need us to take care of our neighbors; He can certainly bless them without our help -- but our God invites us to be neighborly so that we will learn to be more like Him.
He calls us to "love our neighbors as ourselves" so that we can be conformed to the image of Christ. He teaches me to care about others -- not just for their benefit, but for my benefit. My reshaping. My change of heart.
God isn't just being a taskmaster when he calls me to do things; he is coaching me, training me for my good.
I have long wondered at God's amazing ability to create what I call 360-degree blessing, working things together for good for everyone involved in something. Now I'm awed by his ability to create 360-degree benefits -- benefits to those I serve and benefits in me as I serve. Totally cool.
Understanding this helps me know the nature of God a bit better and changes my perspective on the things he has asked me to do.
I remember when I was in school how frustrated I felt when I could see no earthly reason to be learning a formula or fact. Once I understood how the learning could be used, my attitude about learning changed.
Similarly, God's commands have sometimes seemed abstract and unrelated to my life. When I see, however, that his commands have purpose -- how arrogant of me to think they didn't! -- my attitude about his instruction is changed. Obedience and trust grows when I remember that he is working for my good, my remolding (like that potter in Jeremiah).
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Imitations
We are surrounded by varied models for institutions. We all know how to "do" a library, a gas station, a school, and so on. There are certain expected behaviors, certain patterns of interaction associated with each institution.
Church, on the other hand, is so fundamentally different from all other experiences. I wonder if it takes effort on our part to keep church different. I wonder if we sometimes slip into other more familiar earthly models -- accidentally, subliminally.
Church as a Bank -- the place where we keep our faith safe, stored away in a safety deposit box, where we can occasionally visit it, take it out, admire it, and then leave it inside the church walls where it will be uncorrupted by the world.
Church as a Convenience Store -- the place where we can zip in from time to time to replenish our supply of encouragement, fill up our tank of God's love so that we can function in the world for a few more days.
Church as a Theater -- a place to go for a good show, where we can see people who have their act together, who know God, leading a worship service, where spectators can draw near to a relationship that someone else has with God.
Church as a Country Club -- a place to meet good people, a safe place to enjoy social gatherings where they will accept and include anyone.
I'm not condemning anyone; I'm looking inward. I see these tendencies in myself, and I recognize that I need to discipline my thinking to keep my perspectives about church in line not with my daily earthly experiences and interactions, but in line with biblical descriptions.
Church is not just another institution vying for time on my calendar. I want to strip away my unconsciously formed definitions and thinking patterns to understand more clearly the wonder of the Body of Christ.
Church, on the other hand, is so fundamentally different from all other experiences. I wonder if it takes effort on our part to keep church different. I wonder if we sometimes slip into other more familiar earthly models -- accidentally, subliminally.
Church as a Bank -- the place where we keep our faith safe, stored away in a safety deposit box, where we can occasionally visit it, take it out, admire it, and then leave it inside the church walls where it will be uncorrupted by the world.
Church as a Convenience Store -- the place where we can zip in from time to time to replenish our supply of encouragement, fill up our tank of God's love so that we can function in the world for a few more days.
Church as a Theater -- a place to go for a good show, where we can see people who have their act together, who know God, leading a worship service, where spectators can draw near to a relationship that someone else has with God.
Church as a Country Club -- a place to meet good people, a safe place to enjoy social gatherings where they will accept and include anyone.
I'm not condemning anyone; I'm looking inward. I see these tendencies in myself, and I recognize that I need to discipline my thinking to keep my perspectives about church in line not with my daily earthly experiences and interactions, but in line with biblical descriptions.
Church is not just another institution vying for time on my calendar. I want to strip away my unconsciously formed definitions and thinking patterns to understand more clearly the wonder of the Body of Christ.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Do this
When I was a kid, my grandmother occasionally made taffy. When she did, she always made me help do the pulling. My grandmother was small, and I assumed that making taffy was just too hard for her to do alone.
When I was a little older, my mother agreed to make me a new dress. I was allowed to pick the fabric, and I got to search through the giant Simplicity book and choose a dress pattern. Back at the house, she made me cut out the many pieces of the tissue-paper pattern. I assumed that she didn't have time to do it.
At the time, I thought they were just making me help with their work. In hindsight, however, I now realize that they didn't really need my help at all. In fact, they could have finished much sooner without my "help."
Now I realize that there were two reasons for my assignments: (1) they were shaping my character, teaching me attitudes about work -- teaching me that any payoff usually requires a little elbow grease, that I was not entitled to something for nothing, and that participation in the work makes the finished product sweeter, and at the same time, (2) they were enjoying my company, enjoying the time spent together.
Recently the subject of prayer has bobbed up in classes, Bible studies, and newly published books. As I have reconsidered prayer, and particularly intercessory prayer, I've reflected that God really doesn't need me to tell him where the needs are. He certainly already knows the circumstances, and since He knows and loves the people I am praying for, He is not going to refuse to help them if I fail to word a prayer on their behalf. Why then am I called to intercessory prayer?
When I was a little older, my mother agreed to make me a new dress. I was allowed to pick the fabric, and I got to search through the giant Simplicity book and choose a dress pattern. Back at the house, she made me cut out the many pieces of the tissue-paper pattern. I assumed that she didn't have time to do it.
At the time, I thought they were just making me help with their work. In hindsight, however, I now realize that they didn't really need my help at all. In fact, they could have finished much sooner without my "help."
Now I realize that there were two reasons for my assignments: (1) they were shaping my character, teaching me attitudes about work -- teaching me that any payoff usually requires a little elbow grease, that I was not entitled to something for nothing, and that participation in the work makes the finished product sweeter, and at the same time, (2) they were enjoying my company, enjoying the time spent together.
Recently the subject of prayer has bobbed up in classes, Bible studies, and newly published books. As I have reconsidered prayer, and particularly intercessory prayer, I've reflected that God really doesn't need me to tell him where the needs are. He certainly already knows the circumstances, and since He knows and loves the people I am praying for, He is not going to refuse to help them if I fail to word a prayer on their behalf. Why then am I called to intercessory prayer?
Consider a different matter: Jesus gave us what is sometimes called the "great commission," instructing us to go and make disciples. We know that God can reach people without our help. (See Romans) God can speak through a burning bush or a donkey. Conversion can happen on the Road to Damascus. Certainly, I am not an integral part of the operation.
Why am I called to these assignments? My God is capable of accomplishing his will without my help. (I wonder if, like my grandmother and mother, He could do it faster without me!) What is the purpose of instructing me to pray for others and go to others?
Perhaps God's purposes are also much like those of my grandmother and mother. Perhaps God plans good work in advance for me -- not because He can't do it without me -- but because he is teaching me, reshaping me, molding me to be different, to be more like his Son. In intercessory prayer, he is teaching me concern for those around me. He is taking my prayer spotlight off myself and putting on someone else. In taking my faith to others, I am taught selfless love for the souls of others. He is teaching me to imitate Jesus.
Yes, he can use my frail little efforts on behalf of others, but he can also use my frail little efforts to make me different. He gave me the task, and I assumed that the beneficiaries of my work were those others.
Lately, I've been more and more aware that changes are also happening in me. Flying back from Kazakhstan, I was struck by the fact that I was blessed by acting on the great commission. After praying intently for others, I was amazed to realize that my relationship with God had grown in the process. When I set out with the motive of blessing others and being obedient to God, I grew.
Oh, and then there is that second reason I mentioned when I spoke of my grandmother and mother. Can it be that God invites me to partner with Him because he enjoys relationship with me, enjoys time spent together, enjoys the shared task? If that is true, then carrying out the tasks he has given me changes radically -- from dutiful obedience -- to an act of joy and companionship.
I was slow catching onto what my grandmother and mother were doing. Looks like I am still slow catching on . . .
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Hungry?
Because of the way our bodies are constructed, we need food every day. I've joked often that at our house, we are always planning the next meal, eating, or talking about what we just ate!
In scripture, however, food is a favorite metaphor for our relationship with God.
Moses explained to the Israelites, "He humbled you, causing you to hunger and then feeding you with manna, which neither you nor your fathers had known, to teach you that man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord."
Isaiah heard God say, "Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare." Jeremiah said, "When your words came, I ate them; they were my joy and my heart's delight." (15:16)
Jesus taught, "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled."
In the gospel of John, we learn that after Jesus miraculously fed the five thousand, the people intended to "come and make him king by force." They searched for him and eventually followed him to Capernaaum, where they quizzed him about what miracles he would do next and mentioning the manna that came from heaven.
Jesus was not impressed by their obvious interest in more free food. He told them, "It is not Moses who has given you bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world." (32-33)
And then even more clearly: "I am the bread of life. Your forefathers ate the manna in the desert, yet they died. But here is the bread that comes down from heaven, which a man may eat and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world." (48-51)
This conversation finally led many to turn back and no longer follow him. They weren't looking for God, they were seeking a free lunch. I'm afraid I am often like that: so focused on daily human things that I fail to see God's better offer.
Over and over, God tries to tell us that physical sustenance is far surpassed by the spiritual sustenance we have by being in relationship with Him. Our bodies crave food, but in an even more important way, our spirits crave God and his Word.
We have learned to listen to our physical bodies on matters of health; we need to learn to listen to our spirits on matters of the soul. Deep calls to deep, as the psalmist says.
God will sustain us, feed us, breathe life into us if we will receive it. I need to develop my taste for spiritual food. I need to never miss an opportunity for a meal. I need to fill my soul with what will make me grow strong.
Lord, make me hungry for you!
In scripture, however, food is a favorite metaphor for our relationship with God.
Moses explained to the Israelites, "He humbled you, causing you to hunger and then feeding you with manna, which neither you nor your fathers had known, to teach you that man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord."
Isaiah heard God say, "Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare." Jeremiah said, "When your words came, I ate them; they were my joy and my heart's delight." (15:16)
Jesus taught, "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled."
In the gospel of John, we learn that after Jesus miraculously fed the five thousand, the people intended to "come and make him king by force." They searched for him and eventually followed him to Capernaaum, where they quizzed him about what miracles he would do next and mentioning the manna that came from heaven.
Jesus was not impressed by their obvious interest in more free food. He told them, "It is not Moses who has given you bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world." (32-33)
And then even more clearly: "I am the bread of life. Your forefathers ate the manna in the desert, yet they died. But here is the bread that comes down from heaven, which a man may eat and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world." (48-51)
This conversation finally led many to turn back and no longer follow him. They weren't looking for God, they were seeking a free lunch. I'm afraid I am often like that: so focused on daily human things that I fail to see God's better offer.
Over and over, God tries to tell us that physical sustenance is far surpassed by the spiritual sustenance we have by being in relationship with Him. Our bodies crave food, but in an even more important way, our spirits crave God and his Word.
We have learned to listen to our physical bodies on matters of health; we need to learn to listen to our spirits on matters of the soul. Deep calls to deep, as the psalmist says.
God will sustain us, feed us, breathe life into us if we will receive it. I need to develop my taste for spiritual food. I need to never miss an opportunity for a meal. I need to fill my soul with what will make me grow strong.
Lord, make me hungry for you!
Friday, March 28, 2008
Covenant God
My God is a covenant-making God.
He initiates this action because He cares for me.
He is not forced into a bargaining position. He is not negotiating with me to gain something -- because there is nothing I can offer. The covenant doesn't better his position or give him leverage.
When I think about God's covenants, none of my human understandings of deal-making apply. None of the game-playing or strategizing or maneuvering are involved when God establishes a covenant with me.
God extends an offer to me. He suggests that He will take a defined set of actions; he suggests that I should take certain actions. That sounds straight-forward, doesn't it?
But this is where it gets astounding...... God keeps his part of the covenant whether I hold up my end of the bargain or not! His good actions are not contingent on me doing what I'm supposed to do.
God is faithful to his promises regardless of my reliability.
My God is not only a covenant-making God, but also a covenant-keeping God.
Amazing.
He initiates this action because He cares for me.
He is not forced into a bargaining position. He is not negotiating with me to gain something -- because there is nothing I can offer. The covenant doesn't better his position or give him leverage.
When I think about God's covenants, none of my human understandings of deal-making apply. None of the game-playing or strategizing or maneuvering are involved when God establishes a covenant with me.
God extends an offer to me. He suggests that He will take a defined set of actions; he suggests that I should take certain actions. That sounds straight-forward, doesn't it?
But this is where it gets astounding...... God keeps his part of the covenant whether I hold up my end of the bargain or not! His good actions are not contingent on me doing what I'm supposed to do.
God is faithful to his promises regardless of my reliability.
My God is not only a covenant-making God, but also a covenant-keeping God.
Amazing.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Maintenance
When you exit the parkway and turn into my neighborhood, there is a pretty entrance that features a boulevard-type center area between the opposing lanes of traffic.
For many years, the spring's first wildflowers bloomed there. Each year the crop increased, and the flowers grew more numerous. One year the blooms were extraordinarily bountiful, and I enjoyed them so much that I remarked on them to several friends.
As development in our area continued and all the vacant places in the neighborhood were replaced by residences, the homeowners along that stretch of road banded together to take better care of the common areas along the road.
No longer were there unsightly weeds in the right-of-way. Trees were planted at prescribed intervals along the way. The neighborhood's entry way took on a manicured look. Very upscale.
I appreciated the orderliness of the new maintenance activities during the summer and fall, but when spring rolled around, I realized with a start that there were no wildflowers!
The well-intentioned regularly-scheduled maintenance had eliminated the spontaneous beauty of the spring flowers. What a trade-off! I mourned the loss of those unplanned, unregimented blossoms, and I was further saddened to think that most of my neighbors were unaware of what they were missing.
Then I wondered how often we do this sort of thing. How often to we humans bustle around, taking control, taking care of everything around us, busily making things "better" -- only to "maintain" ourselves out of a blessing God has in store.
I think about my daily approach to life. I have appointments, errands, responsibilities so tightly scheduled, that there is no room for spontaneity of any sort. I imagine that if a burning bush showed up in front of me, I would probably breeze right by it on my way to my next calendar item. I wonder if the Spirit's whispering is lost in the noise of cell phone conversations.
Surely there is a way to be responsible, be productive, be efficient -- but still leave room for God to be God . . . ?
Leaving room . . . I guess that's the idea of meditation, of quiet time, of prayerful listening.
For many years, the spring's first wildflowers bloomed there. Each year the crop increased, and the flowers grew more numerous. One year the blooms were extraordinarily bountiful, and I enjoyed them so much that I remarked on them to several friends.
As development in our area continued and all the vacant places in the neighborhood were replaced by residences, the homeowners along that stretch of road banded together to take better care of the common areas along the road.
No longer were there unsightly weeds in the right-of-way. Trees were planted at prescribed intervals along the way. The neighborhood's entry way took on a manicured look. Very upscale.
I appreciated the orderliness of the new maintenance activities during the summer and fall, but when spring rolled around, I realized with a start that there were no wildflowers!
The well-intentioned regularly-scheduled maintenance had eliminated the spontaneous beauty of the spring flowers. What a trade-off! I mourned the loss of those unplanned, unregimented blossoms, and I was further saddened to think that most of my neighbors were unaware of what they were missing.
Then I wondered how often we do this sort of thing. How often to we humans bustle around, taking control, taking care of everything around us, busily making things "better" -- only to "maintain" ourselves out of a blessing God has in store.
I think about my daily approach to life. I have appointments, errands, responsibilities so tightly scheduled, that there is no room for spontaneity of any sort. I imagine that if a burning bush showed up in front of me, I would probably breeze right by it on my way to my next calendar item. I wonder if the Spirit's whispering is lost in the noise of cell phone conversations.
Surely there is a way to be responsible, be productive, be efficient -- but still leave room for God to be God . . . ?
Leaving room . . . I guess that's the idea of meditation, of quiet time, of prayerful listening.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Prayer and Time
Foundation thoughts: God created this world, with its oxygen and all kinds of food to sustain His creatures. He also created gravity for us. And He created time for us. He provided the safety of boundaries for me, and I understand the rules, the limitations of life on earth.
God exists outside of those things he made for my living environment. He's bigger than that. I am from the earliest moments a limited creature. For instance, I can't be in two places at the same time. God is outside those structures. He exists outside of time, for example, so he is not bound by the linear days/months/years that I know. God can see my entire lifespan in a single glance. I, of course, can only see it a day at a time.
Imagine this scenario: I pray for something on January 1. God answers immediately, granting my prayer and determining that the thing I've prayed for will take place November 25. I asked; He answered. It's a done deal. However, because of my limitations, I won't see His answer to my prayer for almost a year.
So here's the question: what does my mindset look like from January 1 until November 25 ?
#1 -- Do I get frustrated with God because I don't see an immediate response to my prayer? I confess that my 2008 American mindset is skewed toward immediate gratification in all areas of my life.
#2 -- Do I pray faithfully (like the widow petitioning the judge) for two weeks or six weeks or twelve weeks before I declare that the bible's teachings are a crock? After all, the Bible says that we have not because we ask not. The Bible says ask and we shall receive, knock and the door shall be opened. The Bible says pray and believe that God will answer. I often assume that the scripture implies a quick turnaround.
#3 -- Do I believe that God responds immediately, but the answer may not be visible to me until later? Practically speaking, how do we live faithfully for the eleven months until we see the hard evidence of God's faithfulness to us? This is a fundamental challenge to those of us who strive to live by faith, but are plagued by that little voice that whispers, 'you are an idiot to believe!'
On several very obvious occasions in my life I have prayed fervently to God, asking him to work his power in a situation. In one case the answer came five years later. In another case the problem was resolved seven months down the road.
In those instances, do I believe that God took no action, and things finally just worked themselves out? Do I believe that God just didn't get around to responding to my prayers until later? Or do I believe that God took action immediately on my behalf and that due to my own limitations in time, I didn't see God's work until it happened later in my life?
Perhaps this thinking sheds some light on the scripture, "Therefore, I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours." (Mark 11.24)
If I believe that God always answers my prayers immediately (whether I see the answers today or years later), that changes the way I approach him, that changes the way I deal with my circumstances during the gap from January 1 until November 25.
I can KNOW that God has heard and answered my prayer. I can know that I will see God's answers bye and bye; I can "wait on the Lord." It is a lifestyle that is characterized by faith that God is powerful, keeps His promises, and works all things together for my good.
God exists outside of those things he made for my living environment. He's bigger than that. I am from the earliest moments a limited creature. For instance, I can't be in two places at the same time. God is outside those structures. He exists outside of time, for example, so he is not bound by the linear days/months/years that I know. God can see my entire lifespan in a single glance. I, of course, can only see it a day at a time.
Imagine this scenario: I pray for something on January 1. God answers immediately, granting my prayer and determining that the thing I've prayed for will take place November 25. I asked; He answered. It's a done deal. However, because of my limitations, I won't see His answer to my prayer for almost a year.
So here's the question: what does my mindset look like from January 1 until November 25 ?
#1 -- Do I get frustrated with God because I don't see an immediate response to my prayer? I confess that my 2008 American mindset is skewed toward immediate gratification in all areas of my life.
#2 -- Do I pray faithfully (like the widow petitioning the judge) for two weeks or six weeks or twelve weeks before I declare that the bible's teachings are a crock? After all, the Bible says that we have not because we ask not. The Bible says ask and we shall receive, knock and the door shall be opened. The Bible says pray and believe that God will answer. I often assume that the scripture implies a quick turnaround.
#3 -- Do I believe that God responds immediately, but the answer may not be visible to me until later? Practically speaking, how do we live faithfully for the eleven months until we see the hard evidence of God's faithfulness to us? This is a fundamental challenge to those of us who strive to live by faith, but are plagued by that little voice that whispers, 'you are an idiot to believe!'
On several very obvious occasions in my life I have prayed fervently to God, asking him to work his power in a situation. In one case the answer came five years later. In another case the problem was resolved seven months down the road.
In those instances, do I believe that God took no action, and things finally just worked themselves out? Do I believe that God just didn't get around to responding to my prayers until later? Or do I believe that God took action immediately on my behalf and that due to my own limitations in time, I didn't see God's work until it happened later in my life?
Perhaps this thinking sheds some light on the scripture, "Therefore, I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours." (Mark 11.24)
If I believe that God always answers my prayers immediately (whether I see the answers today or years later), that changes the way I approach him, that changes the way I deal with my circumstances during the gap from January 1 until November 25.
I can KNOW that God has heard and answered my prayer. I can know that I will see God's answers bye and bye; I can "wait on the Lord." It is a lifestyle that is characterized by faith that God is powerful, keeps His promises, and works all things together for my good.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
An evolving congregation
A congregation is an ever-growing, ever-changing living thing.
God is constantly at work, adapting us to do His Will,
Calling us to respond to what is needed at the time.
Like the clay that the potter gently and skillfully remolds (Jer 18),
God is continually at work in us, among us, and through our church
Re-forming us to be the useful tool He needs for His current work.
Our task is not to mourn the loss of members who had a certain skill,
Our task is to discover what skills God has introduced by way of new members
Or is developing as new blessings within our present church family.
A cherished ministry runs into a dead end and can’t continue.
Do we focus on reviving it, or do we look for the open doors and
The beaconing hand showing us tomorrow’s opportunity?
Celebrating what God has done in us is always a right thing to do.
Honoring our Father for the ways He has blessed us brings glory to Him.
Remembering his tender hand and constant presence is refreshing.
But as we look back, let’s not be fixated on the shape of our history.
Let us not yearn for the past. Let us instead look to the future with joy
And invigorated faith, knowing that our God is mighty and He is able.
Our God is not the Has Been – He is and will always be the I AM.
God is constantly at work, adapting us to do His Will,
Calling us to respond to what is needed at the time.
Like the clay that the potter gently and skillfully remolds (Jer 18),
God is continually at work in us, among us, and through our church
Re-forming us to be the useful tool He needs for His current work.
Our task is not to mourn the loss of members who had a certain skill,
Our task is to discover what skills God has introduced by way of new members
Or is developing as new blessings within our present church family.
A cherished ministry runs into a dead end and can’t continue.
Do we focus on reviving it, or do we look for the open doors and
The beaconing hand showing us tomorrow’s opportunity?
Celebrating what God has done in us is always a right thing to do.
Honoring our Father for the ways He has blessed us brings glory to Him.
Remembering his tender hand and constant presence is refreshing.
But as we look back, let’s not be fixated on the shape of our history.
Let us not yearn for the past. Let us instead look to the future with joy
And invigorated faith, knowing that our God is mighty and He is able.
Our God is not the Has Been – He is and will always be the I AM.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Three-in-One
Lately I've been asking people if they have read The Shack by William P. Young.
If you haven't read it yet, I recommend it. It's a fairly quick read -- unless you stop often like I did to stare off into space.
For me, it was necessary to allow "staring time" for the cognitive processing of the big concepts being explored. There was a lot of examine: do I agree with this? do I disagree, and if I do -- do I really disagree or is it simply unfamiliar?
Perhaps my favorite part is the depiction of the three aspects of the one, holy God. I was surprised, as Mack was, when he spoke to one and the other two knew what had been said. Not a complicated concept -- but one worth contemplating a bit.
I think my discussions of the trinity have always centered on function or roles & responsibilities. I'm not sure I've thought much about the day-to-day interaction of the three.
I also loved the description of the relationship shared by God, Son, and Spirit. The easy banter, the warm approval and support, the absolute agreement was refreshing. They had no need of hierarchy, no one in charge -- because they shared the same goals, same love -- same mind.
It is an arresting picture of relationship and the triune God.
If you read the book, let's talk.
If you haven't read it yet, I recommend it. It's a fairly quick read -- unless you stop often like I did to stare off into space.
For me, it was necessary to allow "staring time" for the cognitive processing of the big concepts being explored. There was a lot of examine: do I agree with this? do I disagree, and if I do -- do I really disagree or is it simply unfamiliar?
Perhaps my favorite part is the depiction of the three aspects of the one, holy God. I was surprised, as Mack was, when he spoke to one and the other two knew what had been said. Not a complicated concept -- but one worth contemplating a bit.
I think my discussions of the trinity have always centered on function or roles & responsibilities. I'm not sure I've thought much about the day-to-day interaction of the three.
I also loved the description of the relationship shared by God, Son, and Spirit. The easy banter, the warm approval and support, the absolute agreement was refreshing. They had no need of hierarchy, no one in charge -- because they shared the same goals, same love -- same mind.
It is an arresting picture of relationship and the triune God.
If you read the book, let's talk.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Imagination, part two
There it is again: the word imagination in something I'm reading.
This time, however, the imagination is cast in a cautionary light. This time the writer is warning about the role of imagination in drawing us away from God.
Here's the concept: when you think about the future, when you imagine what tomorrow may hold, it is easy to let human fears intrude. How often has that happened to me! It's the "what-if" syndrome. It's that scary-in-the-middle-of-the-night anxiety.
I've noticed that when I am in that mode, I never dream up rosy outcomes. No! Somehow the worst-case-scenario always seems most likely when I'm awake at 3 a.m.
So, the caution is this: if imagination is paired with fear, it rarely leads to a closer faith-walk with God. In fact, when our fears loom large, they seem to obscure God completely!
What I take from this post and the one prior is that our imagination is neutral -- neither all good, nor all bad. It's the combinations that are important. (Imagination plus fear: bad. Imagination plus deep knowledge of scripture: good.)
Like most things in this life, there is a choice involved. Let's strive for that "disciplined imagination" and the benefits it offers.
This time, however, the imagination is cast in a cautionary light. This time the writer is warning about the role of imagination in drawing us away from God.
Here's the concept: when you think about the future, when you imagine what tomorrow may hold, it is easy to let human fears intrude. How often has that happened to me! It's the "what-if" syndrome. It's that scary-in-the-middle-of-the-night anxiety.
I've noticed that when I am in that mode, I never dream up rosy outcomes. No! Somehow the worst-case-scenario always seems most likely when I'm awake at 3 a.m.
So, the caution is this: if imagination is paired with fear, it rarely leads to a closer faith-walk with God. In fact, when our fears loom large, they seem to obscure God completely!
What I take from this post and the one prior is that our imagination is neutral -- neither all good, nor all bad. It's the combinations that are important. (Imagination plus fear: bad. Imagination plus deep knowledge of scripture: good.)
Like most things in this life, there is a choice involved. Let's strive for that "disciplined imagination" and the benefits it offers.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Imagination
Lately I've noticed that many of my favorite writers have used the word "imagination" in the course of writing about prayer, worship, and relationship with God.
At first, finding that word in that context startled me, even disconcerted me.
I've always thought of my imagination as unreliable, given to 'flights of fancy' and characterized by my own 'wild imaginings.' I've always categorized my imagination as the opposite of the facts -- and therefore unreliable.
These writers -- all excellent Bible students themselves -- have forced me to struggle with what they are saying, invited me to reconsider these ideas. They seem to be acknowleging that our imaginations were created by God, that our imaginations can add value to our prayers, our meditation, our time spent with God.
Because imagination can be subjective, fictional, skewed, I don't think it can be the only ingredient in our search for spiritual growth, but I wonder if our imaginations might make the difference in our understanding God more fully. Our imaginations might be where the spark happens that reveals God not as a two-dimensional being, but as having three- or more dimensions.
Perhaps my imagination is where the Holy Spirit whispers His deeper understandings of scripture. Perhaps my imagination is where God makes his presence in my daily life more noticable. . . where the words on the page of my Bible become alive for me.
Is there such a thing as a "disciplined imagination" (or is that an oxymoron?) -- that is, an imagination that works within the framework of Biblical text ? An imagination that doesn't just take off on its own strange journey about God, but draws on the Bible for guidance and then grows from there ?
I think my experience says yes.
At first, finding that word in that context startled me, even disconcerted me.
I've always thought of my imagination as unreliable, given to 'flights of fancy' and characterized by my own 'wild imaginings.' I've always categorized my imagination as the opposite of the facts -- and therefore unreliable.
These writers -- all excellent Bible students themselves -- have forced me to struggle with what they are saying, invited me to reconsider these ideas. They seem to be acknowleging that our imaginations were created by God, that our imaginations can add value to our prayers, our meditation, our time spent with God.
Because imagination can be subjective, fictional, skewed, I don't think it can be the only ingredient in our search for spiritual growth, but I wonder if our imaginations might make the difference in our understanding God more fully. Our imaginations might be where the spark happens that reveals God not as a two-dimensional being, but as having three- or more dimensions.
Perhaps my imagination is where the Holy Spirit whispers His deeper understandings of scripture. Perhaps my imagination is where God makes his presence in my daily life more noticable. . . where the words on the page of my Bible become alive for me.
Is there such a thing as a "disciplined imagination" (or is that an oxymoron?) -- that is, an imagination that works within the framework of Biblical text ? An imagination that doesn't just take off on its own strange journey about God, but draws on the Bible for guidance and then grows from there ?
I think my experience says yes.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
"Misuse of Prayer"
From Ole Hallesby's book titled Prayer, copyright 1931 --
"From the very beginning we approach prayer with a grave misconception. Our selfishness knows no bounds. In more or less naive self-love we look upon everything in our environment with which we come in contact as our agencies, as things which exist for our sakes, as something for us to make use of and utilize to our own advantage. We think and act as though everything, inanimate things, plants, animals, human beings, even our own souls, were created for the purpose of bringing gratification to our selfish desires.
"And we make no exception of God.
"As soon as we encounter Him, we immediately look upon Him as another means of gaining our own ends."
----
"From the very beginning we approach prayer with a grave misconception. Our selfishness knows no bounds. In more or less naive self-love we look upon everything in our environment with which we come in contact as our agencies, as things which exist for our sakes, as something for us to make use of and utilize to our own advantage. We think and act as though everything, inanimate things, plants, animals, human beings, even our own souls, were created for the purpose of bringing gratification to our selfish desires.
"And we make no exception of God.
"As soon as we encounter Him, we immediately look upon Him as another means of gaining our own ends."
----
Hallesby notes that our prayers tend to become a long list of 'what I want God to do for me.'
He goes on to cite Matt 20:20-23 and the request made by the mother of James and John as "a typical example of misunderstood, misused, and unanswered prayer."
But, Hallesby points out, although the other apostles were indignant in the face of this wrong kind of request, Jesus was not offended. Jesus gently said no and offered teaching and improved understanding.
I suspect that I very often pray for wrong things, with wrong attitudes. I know that I don't have the mind of Christ, and I suffer from a limited, self-centered view of the world.
For those reasons, I am comforted by Hallesby's contention that when I fail to pray appropriately, Jesus is not angry or offended.
I welcome His continued instruction and patient reshaping of my prayer life.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
In the Presence of the King
I've written before about how I struggle to understand the Biblical references to kings and kingdoms. Since those things (kings and kingdoms) are outside my experience, I sometimes find it hard to use them to understand God.
This morning we taught the story of Esther to a middle school class. At the climax of the drama, Esther must enter the presence of the king -- without an invitation. It took a great deal of courage on Esther's part to do this seemingly simple act.
In fact, she sent this note to her uncle, "Go, gather all the Jews who are in Susa, and fast for me. Do not eat or drink for three days, night and day. I and my maids will fast as you do. When this is done, I will go to the king, even though it is against the law. And if I perish, I perish."
Q. What's all the fuss about?
A. It was against the law for ANYONE (including the queen) to show up uninvited to see the king. The penalty for such impudence was death.
I don't know all the reasons for this rule. I assume that the king didn't want whatever he was doing interrupted by mere subjects. And possibly there were security issues related to this rule. (Guards could be given a straightforward order: kill anyone who goes past HERE.)
I also assume that part of what set the king apart from commoners was his Presence. He was king and his presence was exalted -- and therefore, not to be taken lightly.
So, Queen Esther had to muster up considerable bravery to approach the king. She was literally taking her life in her hands and relying totally on the king's mercy. (And this king had already gotten rid of one queen!)
What does this teach me about my God?
For one thing, it teaches me not to take His invitation to approach him lightly! It's a big deal to be given carte blanche to enter His throne room anytime.
After all, my God is much more important, much more worthy of being treated with respect than any earthly king. He is a million times more honorable.
And yet, he encourages me to approach him.
What an amazing blessing I have received to be able to call His name, get His attention, and count on His willingness to accept me into His presence.
This morning we taught the story of Esther to a middle school class. At the climax of the drama, Esther must enter the presence of the king -- without an invitation. It took a great deal of courage on Esther's part to do this seemingly simple act.
In fact, she sent this note to her uncle, "Go, gather all the Jews who are in Susa, and fast for me. Do not eat or drink for three days, night and day. I and my maids will fast as you do. When this is done, I will go to the king, even though it is against the law. And if I perish, I perish."
Q. What's all the fuss about?
A. It was against the law for ANYONE (including the queen) to show up uninvited to see the king. The penalty for such impudence was death.
I don't know all the reasons for this rule. I assume that the king didn't want whatever he was doing interrupted by mere subjects. And possibly there were security issues related to this rule. (Guards could be given a straightforward order: kill anyone who goes past HERE.)
I also assume that part of what set the king apart from commoners was his Presence. He was king and his presence was exalted -- and therefore, not to be taken lightly.
So, Queen Esther had to muster up considerable bravery to approach the king. She was literally taking her life in her hands and relying totally on the king's mercy. (And this king had already gotten rid of one queen!)
What does this teach me about my God?
For one thing, it teaches me not to take His invitation to approach him lightly! It's a big deal to be given carte blanche to enter His throne room anytime.
After all, my God is much more important, much more worthy of being treated with respect than any earthly king. He is a million times more honorable.
And yet, he encourages me to approach him.
What an amazing blessing I have received to be able to call His name, get His attention, and count on His willingness to accept me into His presence.
Monday, January 21, 2008
An Extrapolating Faith
Extrapolate (ek-strap'eh-late) v. 1. Mathematics. To estimate for values of the argument not used in the process of estimation; broadly, to infer (a value or values) from known values 2. To infer or estimate (unknown information) by extending or projecting known information.
It occured to me this morning that God calls us to have what I have labeled an "extrapolating faith."
Look back at the Israelites. They were slaves in Egypt. Moses appeared on the scene asking Pharoah to let the people go, and God brought ten different plagues to convince Pharoah that he was up against the supremely powerful God Almighty. In the last plague, God provided a way to ensure that the death angel would pass over Israelite houses, protecting their firstborns.
The Israelites were granted permission to leave (taking all sorts of riches with them) and arrived at the Red Sea where they realized that the Egyptian army was closing in on them. The Red Sea was on one side and the charging war-ready chariots on the other.
We find it easy to criticize the Israelites' lack of faith when they complain to Moses about their plight. We say that they have just seen God's power demonstrated in the plagues. Why weren't they able to faithfully rely on Him now? I think we are being pretty hard on them.
Think about it. The miracles they had seen did not include protection from a vicious group of warriors. They were in a position that required what I am calling "extrapolating faith." They had to remember what God had done in one set of circumstances and infer that He could act in this new circumstance.
The same is true in the new testament. The disciples saw Jesus heal the sick. They knew that He could make bodies well. Then one day when it was time for a meal, they couldn't figure out how to feed thousands of people. We chuckle knowingly at their dimness.
But what about Jesus healing people would cause the disciples to automatically jump to the idea that He would provide food on such a grand scale? I sympathize with them. He was calling them to see His power in healing circumstances and trust that his power would apply in other circumstances.
And isn't that what we are called to do? Each of us knows the Bible accounts of God's action. Each of us can recall the miracles in Biblical history. We are told to remember. To help us remember, God instituted memorials such as Passover, the ebenezer, the Lord's Table.
But we are called to more than remembrance. We are called to a higher faith than just trusting that He will do what He has done before. We are invited to extrapolate. We are encouraged to remember what God has done in those circumstances and infer that He will act in power in our own different circumstances.
It's not an easy leap. It isn't based on logic; it's a matter of faith -- Faith not just that He will do what He's done before, but faith that He will continue to astound us, finding paths where we see none and working solutions we discount as impossible.
We are called to see examples of His specific power and extrapolate an understanding of His unlimited power, examples of His specific acts of grace and extrapolate an understanding of His eternal, unbounded love, examples of His relationship with people in the Bible and extrapolate an expectation of the rich relationship He offers me.
An extrapolating faith.
It occured to me this morning that God calls us to have what I have labeled an "extrapolating faith."
Look back at the Israelites. They were slaves in Egypt. Moses appeared on the scene asking Pharoah to let the people go, and God brought ten different plagues to convince Pharoah that he was up against the supremely powerful God Almighty. In the last plague, God provided a way to ensure that the death angel would pass over Israelite houses, protecting their firstborns.
The Israelites were granted permission to leave (taking all sorts of riches with them) and arrived at the Red Sea where they realized that the Egyptian army was closing in on them. The Red Sea was on one side and the charging war-ready chariots on the other.
We find it easy to criticize the Israelites' lack of faith when they complain to Moses about their plight. We say that they have just seen God's power demonstrated in the plagues. Why weren't they able to faithfully rely on Him now? I think we are being pretty hard on them.
Think about it. The miracles they had seen did not include protection from a vicious group of warriors. They were in a position that required what I am calling "extrapolating faith." They had to remember what God had done in one set of circumstances and infer that He could act in this new circumstance.
The same is true in the new testament. The disciples saw Jesus heal the sick. They knew that He could make bodies well. Then one day when it was time for a meal, they couldn't figure out how to feed thousands of people. We chuckle knowingly at their dimness.
But what about Jesus healing people would cause the disciples to automatically jump to the idea that He would provide food on such a grand scale? I sympathize with them. He was calling them to see His power in healing circumstances and trust that his power would apply in other circumstances.
And isn't that what we are called to do? Each of us knows the Bible accounts of God's action. Each of us can recall the miracles in Biblical history. We are told to remember. To help us remember, God instituted memorials such as Passover, the ebenezer, the Lord's Table.
But we are called to more than remembrance. We are called to a higher faith than just trusting that He will do what He has done before. We are invited to extrapolate. We are encouraged to remember what God has done in those circumstances and infer that He will act in power in our own different circumstances.
It's not an easy leap. It isn't based on logic; it's a matter of faith -- Faith not just that He will do what He's done before, but faith that He will continue to astound us, finding paths where we see none and working solutions we discount as impossible.
We are called to see examples of His specific power and extrapolate an understanding of His unlimited power, examples of His specific acts of grace and extrapolate an understanding of His eternal, unbounded love, examples of His relationship with people in the Bible and extrapolate an expectation of the rich relationship He offers me.
An extrapolating faith.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Eyes of the Heart
In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul tells his friends that he prays that the eyes of their hearts may be enlightened or opened. (1:18)
Isn't that an interesting concept: the eyes of our hearts.
Not the physical eyes of our bodies that see physical things around us -- lamps, chairs, trees, birds. . . but the "eyes of our hearts" that can discern deeper things, spiritual matters, eternal truths.
Jesus talked about people who have eyes but don't see. It's entirely possible to have 20/20 vision but not be able to see the truths of the Bible. It was possible for people to go out of their villages to see Jesus but not see who he was/is. It's possible for people today to see Jesus as an historical figure but not see him as Lord of life.
Think about the two on the road to Emmaus, who didn't recognize Jesus as they walked along with him. They saw a man, a traveling companion, but they didn't see him as Jesus -- until their eyes were opened.
In the beatitudes, we are told that the pure in heart will see God. I believe that this promise refers not to physical sight, but to that sight that discerns more than physical things, the ability to see God at work in our everyday experiences.
I love the old testament story about Elisha's servant who is afraid of the huge enemy army that has surrounded them. From my viewpoint, the servant has reason to panic -- he sees a large number of bad guys, armed to the teeth and intent on doing harm to him and the prophet. All human logic was on the side of the servant and his apparently justified fears.
But Elisha comforts him and prays that God will open his eyes so that he can see. God grants this prayer, and the servant sees the hills filled with horses and chariots of fire. Then he understands what Elisha meant when he had said, "Those who are with us are more than those who are with them." 2 Kings 6
The same is true for us. When we look at circumstances with our physical eyes and our human logic, we are fearful. When we focus on the difficulties that surround us, it is easy to lose heart. That's why the Hebrews writer tells us to fix our eyes on Jesus. (12:2)
These are the eyes of our heart. These are the eyes of faith. These are the eyes that God can open to recognize his son and to assure our confidence, our hope.
This gives wonderful meaning to the words of the song we often sing . . . "Open the eyes of my heart, Lord, open the eyes of my heart! I want to see you. I want to see you . . . "
Isn't that an interesting concept: the eyes of our hearts.
Not the physical eyes of our bodies that see physical things around us -- lamps, chairs, trees, birds. . . but the "eyes of our hearts" that can discern deeper things, spiritual matters, eternal truths.
Jesus talked about people who have eyes but don't see. It's entirely possible to have 20/20 vision but not be able to see the truths of the Bible. It was possible for people to go out of their villages to see Jesus but not see who he was/is. It's possible for people today to see Jesus as an historical figure but not see him as Lord of life.
Think about the two on the road to Emmaus, who didn't recognize Jesus as they walked along with him. They saw a man, a traveling companion, but they didn't see him as Jesus -- until their eyes were opened.
In the beatitudes, we are told that the pure in heart will see God. I believe that this promise refers not to physical sight, but to that sight that discerns more than physical things, the ability to see God at work in our everyday experiences.
I love the old testament story about Elisha's servant who is afraid of the huge enemy army that has surrounded them. From my viewpoint, the servant has reason to panic -- he sees a large number of bad guys, armed to the teeth and intent on doing harm to him and the prophet. All human logic was on the side of the servant and his apparently justified fears.
But Elisha comforts him and prays that God will open his eyes so that he can see. God grants this prayer, and the servant sees the hills filled with horses and chariots of fire. Then he understands what Elisha meant when he had said, "Those who are with us are more than those who are with them." 2 Kings 6
The same is true for us. When we look at circumstances with our physical eyes and our human logic, we are fearful. When we focus on the difficulties that surround us, it is easy to lose heart. That's why the Hebrews writer tells us to fix our eyes on Jesus. (12:2)
These are the eyes of our heart. These are the eyes of faith. These are the eyes that God can open to recognize his son and to assure our confidence, our hope.
This gives wonderful meaning to the words of the song we often sing . . . "Open the eyes of my heart, Lord, open the eyes of my heart! I want to see you. I want to see you . . . "
Monday, January 14, 2008
Approved
Some months ago I was buying books in my favorite book store. I handed the books to the clerk who scanned them into the cash register and then nodded to me to swipe my credit card through the device on my side of the counter.
After I swiped my card, I stood idly gazing at the device, waiting patiently for the series of steps that would comprise the transaction. Then the word APPROVED appeared on the diminuative screen.
I suppose that on most days I wouldn't have paid much attention to the fact that some authority somewhere had granted me permission to spend too much money on the armload of books I had gathered.
On that particular day, however, the word APPROVED spoke deep into my heart. I was stunned by the eternal, all-encompassing acceptance that filled me, "pressed down, shaken together, and overflowing."
Somehow, God's inescapable love for me echoed through my consciousness. It was rich and thick and almost tangible, and I glanced at the clerk and the other shoppers, thinking that surely they too were aware of God's message. It was hard to believe that they were oblivious.
Only when the people around me smiled back at me, did I realize that I was beaming. Only then, did I take note of the light-hearted, joyous feeling welling up from inside me. I am accepted. I am okay.
Suddenly, nothing else mattered.
God has chosen me. When I respond to His outstretched hand, I am approved. I'm imperfect, but I am accepted on the basis of the Christ's perfection.
And not only am I approved, accepted, acknowledged . . . I am invited into the family. I am adopted and made an heir. Not only am I accepted today, but I have a brilliant future ahead.
What an amazing blessing.
After I swiped my card, I stood idly gazing at the device, waiting patiently for the series of steps that would comprise the transaction. Then the word APPROVED appeared on the diminuative screen.
I suppose that on most days I wouldn't have paid much attention to the fact that some authority somewhere had granted me permission to spend too much money on the armload of books I had gathered.
On that particular day, however, the word APPROVED spoke deep into my heart. I was stunned by the eternal, all-encompassing acceptance that filled me, "pressed down, shaken together, and overflowing."
Somehow, God's inescapable love for me echoed through my consciousness. It was rich and thick and almost tangible, and I glanced at the clerk and the other shoppers, thinking that surely they too were aware of God's message. It was hard to believe that they were oblivious.
Only when the people around me smiled back at me, did I realize that I was beaming. Only then, did I take note of the light-hearted, joyous feeling welling up from inside me. I am accepted. I am okay.
Suddenly, nothing else mattered.
God has chosen me. When I respond to His outstretched hand, I am approved. I'm imperfect, but I am accepted on the basis of the Christ's perfection.
And not only am I approved, accepted, acknowledged . . . I am invited into the family. I am adopted and made an heir. Not only am I accepted today, but I have a brilliant future ahead.
What an amazing blessing.
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