Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Just Above The Nail Scar
To every soul who has struggled to believe God loves them. To those who fear his love is mediocre. To each heart who feels unworthy of any love he gives--mediocre or grandiose. To the heart too scared to believe how important they are, too scarred to understand how he sees their potential in spite of their mess. To each of you who think his love will give out halfway through the pursuit of your tempestuous heart. Please know this...
When you were just a seed in your mother's womb, God loved you. As he pumped your heart's first beat, he smiled. As he counted out fingers and toes, put that dimple in your cheek, and painted your eyes, he made big plans for all that you and he could accomplish together. And although he looked down through time and knew you wouldn't always choose him, he loved you still.
As the blessed event of your birth took place, God's heart swelled with love and pride in the person you had potential to become. His hope and faith in your ability to overcome your circumstances, inadequacies, and inabilities never faltered. No matter how many times you failed or dropped the ball, his love remained steady and strong.
Then, one day, your world crashed down around you. Peer pressure was too strong. The pull of the crowd too overwhelming. You walked away from the path he had chosen for you. In no time you found yourself a prisoner in a lifestyle you hated. You felt alone. You knew he'd left.
In your desolation, you turned to your vices. The drinking only helped for a few hours. The drugs helped only for the height of the high. The cutting helped only until the pain wore off. The parties, the sex, the wildness distracted you only temporarily. The weight of your sin weighed heavily on your shoulders. In desperation, you thought to gain freedom by ending your life. All was lost. You knew you were hopeless, helpless, useless.
You were wrong. If you could see him, through your bleary eyed high, he'd still be right beside you. His love burns with an intensity that never dies. It chases you down the dark canyons of your life, patiently waits in the shadows of every bad decision, hoping against hope you'll let Jesus love you instead of trying everything else.
See, regardless what you've heard, Calvary was not the culmination of God's love. As his love flowed down at Calvary, it burned a path to each of our souls. It chases us through time. Follows us to the dark alleys of our lives. Searches out our hiding places. Touches our shoulder in the moment of indecision. His love is steady, certain, consistent. His love didn't end at Calvary, it blossomed there. In love, his blood wrote your name on the palm of God.
What does that mean? What does it mean to have your name tattooed on God's hand? It means that you are eternally loved. You can't get high enough, drunk enough, promiscuous enough, broken enough to be unloved by God. It means that he will hunt you down to love you. It means you are never forgotten, never abandoned, never alone. You are too important for that. It means this--when you are busy chasing your next high, dealing your next deal, fingering your next blade, if you take time to glance behind you, you'll see Jesus, his hand outstretched. And if, in spite of your intense pain, your grubby hands reach out, clasp his hand, and look closely, your bleary, burning, tear filled eyes will see your name inked into his palm.
How do I know? Can I prove it? Sure can. The Bible says so in Isaiah 49:14-16. The people of Israel, not unlike us, had given up on themselves, thought they had been forgotten by God, that he'd forsaken them. They likely deserved both. So do we. But, thankfully, God doesn't always give us what we deserve. In verse 15 he says that although your mother, that one so close to you, may forget you, God will not. He'll never forget you. (v.15) He can't, because your name is engraved in his palm. (v.16)
Your name is indelibly inked on the palm of the only one who can make peace out of the chaos of your life. The only one who cares enough to still be around when everyone else has gone. The answer to your prayers, the fulfillment of your dreams, the hope you thought elusive, can all be found in the one whose palm bears your name...engraved just above the nail scar.
THAT'S how much he loves you.
Thursday, July 16, 2015
To The Churches Of America Write...
Dear American churches,
Over the past several years I have spent countless hours watching your obvious spiritual decline. It has been both painful and horrifying to watch you blindly hurtle down the path of least resistance. Indeed, your demise appears to be hastening as if following a schedule of self destruction you are duty bound to keep. Although not all of your members fall into this category, the number of inductees into the Indifference Hall of Fame increases daily. And even if numbers are up and churches are larger, true religion is conspicuously lacking.
Recently, while contemplating your plight, I thought to wonder what John, the writer of Revelation, would have written to you, the churches of America. Admittedly, my mind went down more than one rabbit hole. The offenses are many and not small. Where would I start on today's church? What could possibly be said to turn you in the right direction? In a moment of clarity, I ask God what HE would say to you. His answer was simple, immediate, and echoed the words he spoke so long ago to Simon Peter, "Lovest thou me?" (John 21:15-17)
I am horrifically appalled that God has to ask. I am embarrassed that He doesn't recognize you. I am deeply pained that your love has dwindled to the point it is no longer obvious. You are recognizable as many things, but lovers of Christ is not one of them. True love for Christ means adherence to his laws, respect for his Word, and love for the lost. It means that God is the center of your life, not simply a part of it. It is true devotion. But it is not something that is obvious in your halls today.
Somewhere along the way you have drifted. You seem to have forgotten the snap of the whip, the prick of the thorns, the weight of the cross, the pain of the nails. You have become indifferent to the extravagant price Jesus paid that you might gain Heaven. You have become blase in your devotion. Like the ancient churches in Revelation 2 and 3, you have given yourself over to formalism, half-heartedness, and misplaced self-righteousness. False doctrines have knocked, shown a good face, and you were drawn aside. Many of you claim to be alive but are dead because, like the church of Ephesus, you have left your first love. (Revelation 2:4)
In short, your lack of love for God has left you in the same dire straights as the church of Laodicea. John had some very strong words for them. He called them half-hearted, backslidden, indifferent, and self-righteous. He said they were unpalatable because they were neither hot nor cold. (Revelation 3:15-17) He could pen those same words to you. You are lukewarm. You are undesirable. You are tasteless. You are unattractive--both to God and the unchurched. So we are back to the question, "Do you love God?" At all?
Sadly, too many of you cannot positively answer that question. Anymore, the search for those who truly love Him is reminiscent of Abraham's search for righteous souls in Sodom--not even 10 can be found. (Genesis 18:32) There are hundreds of sanctuaries across America that will fill to overflowing on Sunday morning to perform a social ritual and, although the music may work your emotions and the preacher say something touching, true love toward God will be dismally absent. It is in these services, if one but looks, you will see Christ walking the aisles, tears in his sad eyes, nail-scarred hands outstretched, gently yet urgently imploring, "Do you love me?"
How about it, church? Do you love him?
It is not enough to gather on Sunday, sing some songs, sit through some preaching then run off to the mall, the ball game, the pool. It is not enough to go on a mission trip or write a check to charity. Loving God means keeping his commandments when no one else is doing it. It means calling sin, sin, when everyone else is willing to rewrite the Bible. It means loving others indiscriminately, remembering that we are all sinners condemned to death if not for grace. Loving God means resting in the promises of his Word, sharing his love, mercy, and grace, and living in the knowledge that Heaven awaits the faithful. (Revelation 2:10)
So close your eyes. Picture your church sanctuary. It is Sunday morning. The pews are full. When the time comes to start the service, there is no music, no cheerful greeting from the pulpit, no responsive reading. You look to the front wondering why they are running late. You have things to do after service and need to check this box. Then you see him, standing in the middle of the stage. You've never seen someone look so sad. Whispers go through the audience. No one knows who he is or what he's doing. As the crowd quiets, he holds out his hands, palms up. Because you are in your holy seat, right next to the stage, you see terrible scars across his hands. In the back of your mind recognition is struggling to be born. Then, across the suffocating silence you hear his whisper, "Do you love me?"
Do you love him? Is it evident, or does he have to ask?
Over the past several years I have spent countless hours watching your obvious spiritual decline. It has been both painful and horrifying to watch you blindly hurtle down the path of least resistance. Indeed, your demise appears to be hastening as if following a schedule of self destruction you are duty bound to keep. Although not all of your members fall into this category, the number of inductees into the Indifference Hall of Fame increases daily. And even if numbers are up and churches are larger, true religion is conspicuously lacking.
Recently, while contemplating your plight, I thought to wonder what John, the writer of Revelation, would have written to you, the churches of America. Admittedly, my mind went down more than one rabbit hole. The offenses are many and not small. Where would I start on today's church? What could possibly be said to turn you in the right direction? In a moment of clarity, I ask God what HE would say to you. His answer was simple, immediate, and echoed the words he spoke so long ago to Simon Peter, "Lovest thou me?" (John 21:15-17)
I am horrifically appalled that God has to ask. I am embarrassed that He doesn't recognize you. I am deeply pained that your love has dwindled to the point it is no longer obvious. You are recognizable as many things, but lovers of Christ is not one of them. True love for Christ means adherence to his laws, respect for his Word, and love for the lost. It means that God is the center of your life, not simply a part of it. It is true devotion. But it is not something that is obvious in your halls today.
Somewhere along the way you have drifted. You seem to have forgotten the snap of the whip, the prick of the thorns, the weight of the cross, the pain of the nails. You have become indifferent to the extravagant price Jesus paid that you might gain Heaven. You have become blase in your devotion. Like the ancient churches in Revelation 2 and 3, you have given yourself over to formalism, half-heartedness, and misplaced self-righteousness. False doctrines have knocked, shown a good face, and you were drawn aside. Many of you claim to be alive but are dead because, like the church of Ephesus, you have left your first love. (Revelation 2:4)
In short, your lack of love for God has left you in the same dire straights as the church of Laodicea. John had some very strong words for them. He called them half-hearted, backslidden, indifferent, and self-righteous. He said they were unpalatable because they were neither hot nor cold. (Revelation 3:15-17) He could pen those same words to you. You are lukewarm. You are undesirable. You are tasteless. You are unattractive--both to God and the unchurched. So we are back to the question, "Do you love God?" At all?
Sadly, too many of you cannot positively answer that question. Anymore, the search for those who truly love Him is reminiscent of Abraham's search for righteous souls in Sodom--not even 10 can be found. (Genesis 18:32) There are hundreds of sanctuaries across America that will fill to overflowing on Sunday morning to perform a social ritual and, although the music may work your emotions and the preacher say something touching, true love toward God will be dismally absent. It is in these services, if one but looks, you will see Christ walking the aisles, tears in his sad eyes, nail-scarred hands outstretched, gently yet urgently imploring, "Do you love me?"
How about it, church? Do you love him?
It is not enough to gather on Sunday, sing some songs, sit through some preaching then run off to the mall, the ball game, the pool. It is not enough to go on a mission trip or write a check to charity. Loving God means keeping his commandments when no one else is doing it. It means calling sin, sin, when everyone else is willing to rewrite the Bible. It means loving others indiscriminately, remembering that we are all sinners condemned to death if not for grace. Loving God means resting in the promises of his Word, sharing his love, mercy, and grace, and living in the knowledge that Heaven awaits the faithful. (Revelation 2:10)
So close your eyes. Picture your church sanctuary. It is Sunday morning. The pews are full. When the time comes to start the service, there is no music, no cheerful greeting from the pulpit, no responsive reading. You look to the front wondering why they are running late. You have things to do after service and need to check this box. Then you see him, standing in the middle of the stage. You've never seen someone look so sad. Whispers go through the audience. No one knows who he is or what he's doing. As the crowd quiets, he holds out his hands, palms up. Because you are in your holy seat, right next to the stage, you see terrible scars across his hands. In the back of your mind recognition is struggling to be born. Then, across the suffocating silence you hear his whisper, "Do you love me?"
Do you love him? Is it evident, or does he have to ask?
Monday, June 1, 2015
Whispering Hope
My grandfather was a wonderful man. He loved God and he loved us. We all knew it. We didn't have to ask. He left me wonderful memories when he went to Heaven. One of my favorites is how he would ask me to play the old song, "Whispering Hope," for him. I remember him crowding onto the piano bench beside me and singing along in his lovely, raspy voice. He probably never realized he taught me that song. Or that he taught me some other things as well.
The greatest lesson Grandpa didn't know he was teaching me was in those three words I so often heard him whisper, "Jesus, help us." It didn't seem to matter where he was or what was happening. In the dining room as he sat down to look at the mail, the living room as he lowered himself into his easy chair, in a thoughtful moment when nothing else was being said...always, "Jesus, help us." As a child I thought it was odd. It made me just a bit uncomfortable. I couldn't figure it out. What was he so concerned about? Why did he keep whispering those words? Belatedly, I understood. Grandpa was whispering hope.
Hope that his children would keep the faith--Jesus, help us.
Hope that his grandchildren would hunger and thirst after righteousness--Jesus, help us.
Hope that the country he fought to preserve would somehow find its way back to God--Jesus, help us.
Hope, no matter the circumstances, in the only person who would never let him down--Jesus, help us.
Admittedly, I find myself whispering those same words throughout the day. "Jesus, help us." Raising kids is no picnic. Keeping things balanced is no cake walk. Doing as much as I can for as many as I can is pretty much impossible. And I haven't even started to think about the things that trouble me concerning society, the current social brand of Christianity, or the other pressing issues of our day. Sometimes, in the midst of it all, I can only whisper, "Jesus, help us."
I whisper these words because I lack strength. (Psalm 31:24) Because He's been there in the darkest hours of my soul. (Psalm 42:5) Because I've proven Him true over and over again. (Psalms 71:5, 7b) Because he is looking out for me. (Psalm 33:18) And because, in all the turmoil of life, true happiness lies in help from his hand and hope in his promises. (Psalm 146:5)
So today I'm whispering hope. Hope to you for your circumstances, your cares, your concerns. Hope in the God who refuses to write you off (Isaiah 42:16), who loves you more than himself (John 3:16), and who will rush to your aid the moment you whisper those words of hope, "Jesus, help us". (Jeremiah 33:3)
I will never forget my Grandfather for the life he lived, the love he gave and the lesson he taught through a favored song and a whispered prayer. And I will never forget my Heavenly Father for the life he lived, the love he bestows every day and the lessons he teaches every time my burgeoning hope dares whisper, "Jesus, help us."
Be Blessed.
The greatest lesson Grandpa didn't know he was teaching me was in those three words I so often heard him whisper, "Jesus, help us." It didn't seem to matter where he was or what was happening. In the dining room as he sat down to look at the mail, the living room as he lowered himself into his easy chair, in a thoughtful moment when nothing else was being said...always, "Jesus, help us." As a child I thought it was odd. It made me just a bit uncomfortable. I couldn't figure it out. What was he so concerned about? Why did he keep whispering those words? Belatedly, I understood. Grandpa was whispering hope.
Hope that his children would keep the faith--Jesus, help us.
Hope that his grandchildren would hunger and thirst after righteousness--Jesus, help us.
Hope that the country he fought to preserve would somehow find its way back to God--Jesus, help us.
Hope, no matter the circumstances, in the only person who would never let him down--Jesus, help us.
Admittedly, I find myself whispering those same words throughout the day. "Jesus, help us." Raising kids is no picnic. Keeping things balanced is no cake walk. Doing as much as I can for as many as I can is pretty much impossible. And I haven't even started to think about the things that trouble me concerning society, the current social brand of Christianity, or the other pressing issues of our day. Sometimes, in the midst of it all, I can only whisper, "Jesus, help us."
I whisper these words because I lack strength. (Psalm 31:24) Because He's been there in the darkest hours of my soul. (Psalm 42:5) Because I've proven Him true over and over again. (Psalms 71:5, 7b) Because he is looking out for me. (Psalm 33:18) And because, in all the turmoil of life, true happiness lies in help from his hand and hope in his promises. (Psalm 146:5)
So today I'm whispering hope. Hope to you for your circumstances, your cares, your concerns. Hope in the God who refuses to write you off (Isaiah 42:16), who loves you more than himself (John 3:16), and who will rush to your aid the moment you whisper those words of hope, "Jesus, help us". (Jeremiah 33:3)
I will never forget my Grandfather for the life he lived, the love he gave and the lesson he taught through a favored song and a whispered prayer. And I will never forget my Heavenly Father for the life he lived, the love he bestows every day and the lessons he teaches every time my burgeoning hope dares whisper, "Jesus, help us."
Be Blessed.
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
The Beauty of Burden Bearing
A few months ago a dear friend invited me to attend a Bible study at her church. Had it been a knitting club, I would have declined. However, a Bible study I could do. It was a wonderful study on the book of Colossians that ended before we had scratched the surface. We learned so many things. God holds all things together. The wonderful mystery that is Christ in us, the hope of glory. The beauty of being kind, showing love, and raising families that represent Christ. Oddly, the greatest thing I learned was not in the passages that make up Colossians.
On the last day of the study, in the midst of a spectacular spiritual battle, I sat there and listened as the other ladies spoke about what the study had meant to them. We all had found something personal therein. I couldn't decide what to share. All I could think about was the heat of the battle I was in and how to endure. When my turn came, I did something I have never, not once in my life, done. I looked at those ladies of God, dissolved in tears and admitted to being so deep in a spiritual battle that I felt like giving up, throwing in the towel, walking away. Alas, all was not lost. I found in their midst encouragement to go on, prayers added to my own, and Bible passages I had forgotten existed. More importantly, I learned the beauty of Galatians 6:2, "Bear ye one another's burdens..."
I find it interesting that the Apostle Paul simply said to bear one another's burdens. He offered no limitations, no caveats, no exclusions. There's no mention of ignoring those who don't attend your church, don't dress the same way, or who don't share your views on every possible doctrine. No, just a simple instruction to come alongside, encourage, pray for, lift up our fellow Christians no matter who, where, or what they are.
The ladies in that Bible study were a lovely example of this passage. In the midst of my own confusion and trouble, they shared with me their strength and I was encouraged to continue. Thus, I began to contemplate why we don't come to one another in honest need as much as we should--if at all. Why don't we just walk in to Sunday School, church, Bible study, or small group and express our burdens so we can all encourage one another, pray for one another, and bear one another's burdens? Why not? At a time when there are support groups for every imaginable life issue, what's stopping us?
Some would say that we are too proud, too cowardly, too much in denial to admit we are struggling. And they might be right. Personally, I think the problem is deeper. I think experience, either our own or another's, has shown us that we will rarely receive the outpouring of grace I received. So we hold back in abject terror. Hold back because we are terrified to be judged. Condemned. Ridiculed. Outcast. Gossip fodder. Our fragile broken hearts couldn't bear another blow, so we hide. Hide our hearts, our wounds, our scars. We hide behind a smiling face, a breezy answer, a carefree laugh. We hide from the very people who should be our safe places, our confidants, our prayer warriors, our encouragers, our friends.
And why aren't we those things to one another? Why, when we are on the mountain top dancing in the sun, singing lustily, why don't we look back down the mountain, remember from whence we came, and reach out a helping hand to the one who is struggling? Why do we think we can overlook a basic command like, "Bear ye one another's burdens.." and still keep doing our own very selfish victory dance, ignoring the soul that is wavering? Shame on us! There is no excuse.
But there is time to change. For all parties involved--both the encouragers and those who need encouraged. It's time to drop all the pretense and be totally honest. Admit that, even if you are soaring among the spiritual eagles right now, you've travelled through a valley where the shadow of death loomed around every boulder, in every darkened orifice. Admit that, although you have experienced the mountain top, the valley is extremely real to you right now, the path dark, your reserves failing. Admit that it's okay to be in either place--although we certainly prefer one to the other. These admission bring with them the freedom to be our true selves no matter what. They urge us to pray one for another no matter which place we currently stand. They call us to unite in faith, pray for one another, confess our faults to one another, encourage one another, and be healed. They encourage us to band together in Christian love and banish the voice of the Enemy, one strengthening tie at a time.
So I'm hoping you'll join me in trying something new. I'd like to make this an interactive blog post. If you have something encouraging to say that's helped you along the journey, post it in the comments below. If you are struggling with something and need prayer, post that too. You don't have to leave details, you'll be prayed for no matter what. Feel free to share your burdens, your praise, your prayers, your faith. Most of all, know this from someone who understands the feeling that the valleys are more prolific than the mountain tops--I have slogged through countless deep, murky valleys, trudged across some horrifically drab and lonely plains, white knuckled up some astonishingly steep inclines, danced in some glorious meadows, and bellowed from some phenomenal mountaintops, but I have never, ever been in one of those places alone. The Lord has been with me through every one. Wherever you are right now, he is there too. (Psalm 139; Psalm 23; Joshua 1:5,9; Isaiah 43:1-3)
On the last day of the study, in the midst of a spectacular spiritual battle, I sat there and listened as the other ladies spoke about what the study had meant to them. We all had found something personal therein. I couldn't decide what to share. All I could think about was the heat of the battle I was in and how to endure. When my turn came, I did something I have never, not once in my life, done. I looked at those ladies of God, dissolved in tears and admitted to being so deep in a spiritual battle that I felt like giving up, throwing in the towel, walking away. Alas, all was not lost. I found in their midst encouragement to go on, prayers added to my own, and Bible passages I had forgotten existed. More importantly, I learned the beauty of Galatians 6:2, "Bear ye one another's burdens..."
I find it interesting that the Apostle Paul simply said to bear one another's burdens. He offered no limitations, no caveats, no exclusions. There's no mention of ignoring those who don't attend your church, don't dress the same way, or who don't share your views on every possible doctrine. No, just a simple instruction to come alongside, encourage, pray for, lift up our fellow Christians no matter who, where, or what they are.
The ladies in that Bible study were a lovely example of this passage. In the midst of my own confusion and trouble, they shared with me their strength and I was encouraged to continue. Thus, I began to contemplate why we don't come to one another in honest need as much as we should--if at all. Why don't we just walk in to Sunday School, church, Bible study, or small group and express our burdens so we can all encourage one another, pray for one another, and bear one another's burdens? Why not? At a time when there are support groups for every imaginable life issue, what's stopping us?
Some would say that we are too proud, too cowardly, too much in denial to admit we are struggling. And they might be right. Personally, I think the problem is deeper. I think experience, either our own or another's, has shown us that we will rarely receive the outpouring of grace I received. So we hold back in abject terror. Hold back because we are terrified to be judged. Condemned. Ridiculed. Outcast. Gossip fodder. Our fragile broken hearts couldn't bear another blow, so we hide. Hide our hearts, our wounds, our scars. We hide behind a smiling face, a breezy answer, a carefree laugh. We hide from the very people who should be our safe places, our confidants, our prayer warriors, our encouragers, our friends.
And why aren't we those things to one another? Why, when we are on the mountain top dancing in the sun, singing lustily, why don't we look back down the mountain, remember from whence we came, and reach out a helping hand to the one who is struggling? Why do we think we can overlook a basic command like, "Bear ye one another's burdens.." and still keep doing our own very selfish victory dance, ignoring the soul that is wavering? Shame on us! There is no excuse.
But there is time to change. For all parties involved--both the encouragers and those who need encouraged. It's time to drop all the pretense and be totally honest. Admit that, even if you are soaring among the spiritual eagles right now, you've travelled through a valley where the shadow of death loomed around every boulder, in every darkened orifice. Admit that, although you have experienced the mountain top, the valley is extremely real to you right now, the path dark, your reserves failing. Admit that it's okay to be in either place--although we certainly prefer one to the other. These admission bring with them the freedom to be our true selves no matter what. They urge us to pray one for another no matter which place we currently stand. They call us to unite in faith, pray for one another, confess our faults to one another, encourage one another, and be healed. They encourage us to band together in Christian love and banish the voice of the Enemy, one strengthening tie at a time.
So I'm hoping you'll join me in trying something new. I'd like to make this an interactive blog post. If you have something encouraging to say that's helped you along the journey, post it in the comments below. If you are struggling with something and need prayer, post that too. You don't have to leave details, you'll be prayed for no matter what. Feel free to share your burdens, your praise, your prayers, your faith. Most of all, know this from someone who understands the feeling that the valleys are more prolific than the mountain tops--I have slogged through countless deep, murky valleys, trudged across some horrifically drab and lonely plains, white knuckled up some astonishingly steep inclines, danced in some glorious meadows, and bellowed from some phenomenal mountaintops, but I have never, ever been in one of those places alone. The Lord has been with me through every one. Wherever you are right now, he is there too. (Psalm 139; Psalm 23; Joshua 1:5,9; Isaiah 43:1-3)
Thursday, March 19, 2015
Lest We Forget
A few months ago I received an e-mail about a boat adrift on our community lake. Attached was a photo of a sad looking, yet still floating, vessel desperately in need of love and care. Not being the owner, I paid little heed. A second notice came informing us that some kind soul had corralled and fastened the boat to one of the docks, but the boat was still waiting to be claimed--would the owners please step forward. Finally, a third decree arrived issuing a date by which retrieval of the vessel must occur. If left unclaimed, it would be added to the fleet of boats held for use by association members. Apparently it ended up there. I've thought little about it for several months. Then I read the book of Hebrews.
Honestly, I read the book of Hebrews for the second time in a row. In a different translation. Because God told me to. And now I'm thinking about that boat again. Why? Because I read Hebrews 2:1 in the New King James Version. "Therefore we must give the more earnest heed to the things we have heard, lest we drift away." Lest we forget to whom we belong. Lest we forget for what we stand. Lest we forget to live like it.
Forgetting is so easy. We settle in to our relationship with God. We get comfortable, complacent. And we quickly forget the mire from whence we came. We forget who we used to be. We block out the ugly, the mean, the sin. We start to view ourselves as good people, deserving of Heaven, better than we really are. We forget that we are who we are because we have been bought back. We forget that we are children of God, bought with a price--a staggeringly high price at that. (I Corinthians 7:23) Remember Calvary? Remember the pain, the suffering, the thorns? Remember the abandonment of the Father? (Matthew 27:46) Remember that he has realms of angels at his command but he chose to stay? (Matthew 26:53) Remember it was for you, so you don't have to live in that dark hole of your sin anymore? (Romans 5:8) It's easy to forget, but we are so much better off if we remember.
Remembering helps us not forget for what we stand. It's not easy. Society wants us to forget our standards, our morals, our faith. Society wants us to be like it. Shamelessly drifting, tarnished by willfulness, untethered from our original moorings. Everyone seems to be forging their own path, picking and choosing their favorite bits of Scripture, tossing out those they dislike. But we must not forget what we stand for and that we take that stance because the one who loves us more than his own Son paid a huge price so we have something truly fulfilling in which to anchor our souls. (Hebrews 6:19)
Remembering helps us live like we know whose child we are. God's children exude different things than those who aren't. Confidence that we are loved beyond measure radiates from our being. Knowledge that the same measure of love is available for every person makes us treat one another with grace, respect, love. Compassion like Jesus showed the people who so desperately needed him fills our being as we look at the lost society around us. (Matthew 9:36) Our hearts yearn to save them all and we go out of our way to show them that Jesus paid the price for them. Remembering makes us better neighbors, friends, co-workers. Remembering makes us whole. (Ephesians 4:20-32)
So look around you. Do you remember where you are on the big lake we call life? Are you securely fastened to your original moorings or have the storms of peer pressure, the chanting voices of disillusionment, the flippancy that permeates our culture wreaked havoc on your soul? Have you drifted? Have you forgotten that you were bought with a price? (I Corinthians 7:23) Have you managed to mimic Peter--in word or deed? (Luke 22:54-62) Are you still recognizable as God's child? Do you still recognize yourself?
I find great joy that I can type this next sentence--greater joy that it is true. Even if you don't recognize yourself, God does. Remember the prodigal son? (Luke 15:11-32) He had to be a charming bucket of nastiness walking down that road to his father. Pig swill. Pig sweat. Pig stench. No bath. It didn't stop the reunion. We are no different. We drift. We fail. We reek of our own willfulness. But God recognizes us. He claims us, draws us close, cleans us up, and secures the mooring we left behind. Amazing love. Unfathomable grace. Horrifically undeserving humanity. The scale seems uneven. Yet through the selfless sacrifice of Jesus we receive reconciliation with God and the right to cry "Abba Father." Why would we ever want to drift from that?
Honestly, I read the book of Hebrews for the second time in a row. In a different translation. Because God told me to. And now I'm thinking about that boat again. Why? Because I read Hebrews 2:1 in the New King James Version. "Therefore we must give the more earnest heed to the things we have heard, lest we drift away." Lest we forget to whom we belong. Lest we forget for what we stand. Lest we forget to live like it.
Forgetting is so easy. We settle in to our relationship with God. We get comfortable, complacent. And we quickly forget the mire from whence we came. We forget who we used to be. We block out the ugly, the mean, the sin. We start to view ourselves as good people, deserving of Heaven, better than we really are. We forget that we are who we are because we have been bought back. We forget that we are children of God, bought with a price--a staggeringly high price at that. (I Corinthians 7:23) Remember Calvary? Remember the pain, the suffering, the thorns? Remember the abandonment of the Father? (Matthew 27:46) Remember that he has realms of angels at his command but he chose to stay? (Matthew 26:53) Remember it was for you, so you don't have to live in that dark hole of your sin anymore? (Romans 5:8) It's easy to forget, but we are so much better off if we remember.
Remembering helps us not forget for what we stand. It's not easy. Society wants us to forget our standards, our morals, our faith. Society wants us to be like it. Shamelessly drifting, tarnished by willfulness, untethered from our original moorings. Everyone seems to be forging their own path, picking and choosing their favorite bits of Scripture, tossing out those they dislike. But we must not forget what we stand for and that we take that stance because the one who loves us more than his own Son paid a huge price so we have something truly fulfilling in which to anchor our souls. (Hebrews 6:19)
Remembering helps us live like we know whose child we are. God's children exude different things than those who aren't. Confidence that we are loved beyond measure radiates from our being. Knowledge that the same measure of love is available for every person makes us treat one another with grace, respect, love. Compassion like Jesus showed the people who so desperately needed him fills our being as we look at the lost society around us. (Matthew 9:36) Our hearts yearn to save them all and we go out of our way to show them that Jesus paid the price for them. Remembering makes us better neighbors, friends, co-workers. Remembering makes us whole. (Ephesians 4:20-32)
So look around you. Do you remember where you are on the big lake we call life? Are you securely fastened to your original moorings or have the storms of peer pressure, the chanting voices of disillusionment, the flippancy that permeates our culture wreaked havoc on your soul? Have you drifted? Have you forgotten that you were bought with a price? (I Corinthians 7:23) Have you managed to mimic Peter--in word or deed? (Luke 22:54-62) Are you still recognizable as God's child? Do you still recognize yourself?
I find great joy that I can type this next sentence--greater joy that it is true. Even if you don't recognize yourself, God does. Remember the prodigal son? (Luke 15:11-32) He had to be a charming bucket of nastiness walking down that road to his father. Pig swill. Pig sweat. Pig stench. No bath. It didn't stop the reunion. We are no different. We drift. We fail. We reek of our own willfulness. But God recognizes us. He claims us, draws us close, cleans us up, and secures the mooring we left behind. Amazing love. Unfathomable grace. Horrifically undeserving humanity. The scale seems uneven. Yet through the selfless sacrifice of Jesus we receive reconciliation with God and the right to cry "Abba Father." Why would we ever want to drift from that?
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
What's For Dinner?
Do you really believe God cares about the little things in your life? Do you? We all say we do. When something horrific or monumental is happening, we claim faith in the passages that say your hairs are numbered (Luke 12:7), the sparrows are seen when they fall (Matthew 10:30), and the lilies are gloriously clothed by His hand (Luke 12:27-28). We staunchly submit faith that if God cares about those small things, then surely he is in control of what is happening in our lives. We may even claim them when we lose our car keys, misplace our watch, or some other smaller thing. And, to our credit, we give thanks appropriately, but what about those things that seem too insignificant to even mention? You know those things you just assume God doesn't have time to hear about? Your haircut? Your fashion sense? Your cleaning routine? Your menu? Really. What if we truly believed God cares what's for dinner?
This thought came to me on a cold, icy morning as I was struggling with my stressors, mentally listing all the things I have to do, musing about how the household runs only through my genius.(Maybe we'll address vanity one day!) I felt crazy overwhelmed. And a voice just seemed to whisper this thought to me, "Do you think God doesn't care what's for dinner?" Well, that set me back a step. Does he? Does he care about these little things that I just assume he doesn't? Let's see. He took the time to whisper that question in my ear. He took the time to adjust the number of hairs on my head after a handful came out with my brush this morning. And he gave me the wherewithal to fill the bird feeder outside before the cold snap so the little birdies (sparrows and more) would have a few grains of something that wasn't frozen. Yes, I absolutely believe he cares what's for dinner.
I believe God cares what we put in our physical bodies. (No, this is not a diet post, I promise!) I spend hours poring over recipes and cookbooks trying to come up with good, healthy, enticing meals for my family. Often, we are on the run so much that it slips. I need to work on that. If our bodies are the temple of God, we need to do a better job caring for them. Would YOU want to live in a rundown house? More importantly, is it good stewardship of the body God gave you to treat it unhealthily? Not likely.
What about dinner for your soul? Are you scrimping on the meat and looking only for the milk? That's a problem. (Hebrews 5: 13-14) Milk is great, but it doesn't carry all the nutrients you need to thrive. And that's the goal, isn't it? We should thrive spiritually. The good news is, all you need to thrive is a Bible and your prayers. Bible reading and prayer will feed your soul and make it strong. But you need to spend more than just two minutes at it if you want to grow strong. And I challenge you to read the whole Bible--not just the easy, pleasing bits. Slog through the "hard books". I remember reading the book of Joel one time and actually saying to God, "I'm trying, but I need something here." Guess what? I got it. Curious? Go read the book of Joel and see what's there. Go find meat for your soul because God absolutely cares what's for dinner!
I know this is an unusual post. I rarely, if ever, write on the fly...which is exactly what's happened here. But I wanted to share this here for my own good and hopefully yours too. May we remember that whatever decision we have to make--from our hair color, your necktie choice, the dinner menu, or that fourth cup of coffee--God is supremely interested in every aspect of our lives. (I Peter 5:7, Psalm 55:22) Let's go out and live like it!
And, by the way, what's for dinner??
This thought came to me on a cold, icy morning as I was struggling with my stressors, mentally listing all the things I have to do, musing about how the household runs only through my genius.(Maybe we'll address vanity one day!) I felt crazy overwhelmed. And a voice just seemed to whisper this thought to me, "Do you think God doesn't care what's for dinner?" Well, that set me back a step. Does he? Does he care about these little things that I just assume he doesn't? Let's see. He took the time to whisper that question in my ear. He took the time to adjust the number of hairs on my head after a handful came out with my brush this morning. And he gave me the wherewithal to fill the bird feeder outside before the cold snap so the little birdies (sparrows and more) would have a few grains of something that wasn't frozen. Yes, I absolutely believe he cares what's for dinner.
I believe God cares what we put in our physical bodies. (No, this is not a diet post, I promise!) I spend hours poring over recipes and cookbooks trying to come up with good, healthy, enticing meals for my family. Often, we are on the run so much that it slips. I need to work on that. If our bodies are the temple of God, we need to do a better job caring for them. Would YOU want to live in a rundown house? More importantly, is it good stewardship of the body God gave you to treat it unhealthily? Not likely.
What about dinner for your soul? Are you scrimping on the meat and looking only for the milk? That's a problem. (Hebrews 5: 13-14) Milk is great, but it doesn't carry all the nutrients you need to thrive. And that's the goal, isn't it? We should thrive spiritually. The good news is, all you need to thrive is a Bible and your prayers. Bible reading and prayer will feed your soul and make it strong. But you need to spend more than just two minutes at it if you want to grow strong. And I challenge you to read the whole Bible--not just the easy, pleasing bits. Slog through the "hard books". I remember reading the book of Joel one time and actually saying to God, "I'm trying, but I need something here." Guess what? I got it. Curious? Go read the book of Joel and see what's there. Go find meat for your soul because God absolutely cares what's for dinner!
I know this is an unusual post. I rarely, if ever, write on the fly...which is exactly what's happened here. But I wanted to share this here for my own good and hopefully yours too. May we remember that whatever decision we have to make--from our hair color, your necktie choice, the dinner menu, or that fourth cup of coffee--God is supremely interested in every aspect of our lives. (I Peter 5:7, Psalm 55:22) Let's go out and live like it!
And, by the way, what's for dinner??
Monday, February 9, 2015
Buying Love
I have recently become deeply intrigued by the Old Testament
story of Hosea and Gomer. The reason
eludes me. Perhaps it’s because I embody the phrase “hopeless romantic”, always
rooting for the “happily-ever-after”, severely disappointed when it fails to
occur. Maybe it’s because I’m just as
appalled as you are that God told Hosea to marry a prostitute. (Yep, it’s right
there in Hosea chapter 1.) Most likely it’s because I am completely overwhelmed,
totally astonished, and unendingly humbled by the epic tale of God’s intense
love toward horrifically unworthy humanity.
Seriously, Hosea must have been just as appalled as us when God said, “Go marry a woman of
whoredom.” (Hosea 1:2, paraphrase mine) I wonder if Hosea did a double take. Sort of a, “What!?!” Yet no matter how odd
the command seemed, he does it. He marries
Gomer. They have children together--and
I’m starting my happily-ever-after dance--only to have Gomer throw it all away
and return to her former lifestyle. What?!? What could she possibly be
missing? Insecurity? Uncertainty? I am
deeply disappointed by her lack of staying power. I had hoped for more.
As angry as I am that Gomer bolted,
my pique is calmed and soothed by the beautiful response of Hosea. In spite of his anger, hurt, dismay, he does something worthy of residence in the great annals of romance. Working with divine inspiration on his side, he
pulls out the most stunning response imaginable. Hosea goes out and buys her
back. You read that right. He BOUGHT her back. Amazing. Inspiring. The epitome of grand romance. But it’s the
imagery that really catches my attention.
It takes a
minute for it to fall in place, but I see it.
Israel is Gomer. They had strayed so far from God, continually playing fast
and loose with grace. They have no
staying power. They keep walking away.
He could dump them, allow them to be eradicated, or annihilate them himself and
create new people who would do exactly as they should. But he doesn’t. He’s not even interested in
doing that. His love for those
particular people is too intense, too overwhelming. His longing for them is too deep. His desire for them is too powerful for him
to abandon them. So he doesn’t. He keeps
holding out an olive branch, hoping they’ll grab hold. (Hosea 6:1, 14:1-7)
The story
echoes with familiarity. Deeply saddened, I realize that I too, am Gomer—not
the prostitute, but the one who has no staying power. I am guilty of playing
fast and loose with God. Filled with self-contempt, I admit that I deserve to
reap the whirlwind (Hosea 8:7). I deserve to reap iniquity. (Hosea 10:13)
Awestruck, I find that God has bought me back. In spite of what I deserve for
past indiscretions, the enormous God of the universe has chosen to extend
mercy. He has chosen to love me freely. (Hosea
14:4) Suddenly, I am the leading lady in the greatest romance I will ever
know.
Simple words
fail to properly express how I feel about this revelation. I deserve so much less. I was a hot mess. Yet God loved me so intensely that he chased
me down, followed me into the dark alleys of my life, whispered love words in
my ear, and sang a song of forgiveness so sweet it won my heart. Unrestrained love cascaded over my broken
soul, healed my self- inflicted wounds, and made me whole. Mercy, grace, and the greatest love I’d ever
known.
How about you? Do you see yourself
in Gomer? You should. Everyone is guilty of sin, of playing games, of turning
aside for something so much less than what God has to offer. (Romans 3:23) You
are no different. Like all of us, you are undeserving of his love, his grace, his
redemption. Perhaps you have purposely opted out. Yet, in spite of your
shenanigans, the great God of the Bible who created the world, turned water to
wine, healed the leper, and gave sight to the blind is unfalteringly,
unfathomably, unerringly in love with mankind.
No matter where you’ve been, what you’ve done, or how many times you’ve
ditched your staying power. You are the
object of his desire, his deepest love, his greatest choice.
Need
proof? See it at Calvary where your sins—that list of things that should count against
you—are nailed to his cross and forever wiped away. (Colossians 2:13-14) Hear
it in the words he whispers, “Come unto me all who are weary and heavy laden
and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28) Know it as you cast your road ravaged self on
his mercy, bathe your bruised heart in his love, and recognize the undeniable
truth that you are complete in him. (Colossians 2:10) In an act of achingly intense love, Jesus
chose to buy you back when no one else would have given a dime for your redemption. Because he is enamored with you, you were worth everything he had. And he gave it so that you could feel his love. Will you love him in return?
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