Homebound By Starlight

It's the season for wishes.  Everyone makes them.  Wishes for new cars, new toys, new lives. Seems everyone wishes for something different, something new, or someone with whom to share that new thing.  I'm not much different.  I too wish for something I don't have, will never have.  I wish the Luke 2 account had more details. 

Who were those shepherds?  Did they own the sheep or just guard them?  Were they young?  Old?  Male?  Female?  Did they wish they were somewhere, anywhere besides that hillside that night?  Were they longing for the coming Messiah?  Or had they given up the wait, lost the longing, forgotten the forthcoming deliverance?  I wish I knew.

But maybe it's best I don't.  Not knowing allows my mind to conjure so many more scenarios.  Like, what if those shepherds weren't all boys and men?  We always seem to assume they were, but what if the untold story went like this?

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It was tax season in Bethlehem and our sweet little town was a bustling madhouse. People filled every nook and corner.  Or so I'd heard.  It's not like I was allowed to go see for myself.  No, that would make it possible for me to meet people--hopefully men--and that would never do as far as my parents were concerned.  But my brothers could go.  They could travel in from the outskirts of town and see the crowds, meet people, have a life.  The girls, though, they must be sheltered, hidden, and wed to complete strangers their father's deemed appropriate.  It was completely unfair!  I may be female but was in no need of such irritating coddling. 

 

I could go on and on (and often did) about the absurdity of the situation, but mental activity was wasted on that endeavor.  So, even as I bemoaned my female status, my mind was conjuring up a way to make a visit somewhere, anywhere and meet people--preferably men. 

And then I had it.  Literally.  As I did laundry, I realized I had my youngest brother's cloak in my hands.  Perfect.  We were about the same size.  Yep.  The plan became clearer. 

 

I bundled the cloak away with my things all the while plotting out the rest of the day's activities and going about them much more lightheartedly than usual.  I wonder if anyone noticed.  Oh, well.  Tonight I would actually get to meet people, even if those people were just other shepherds.  This would be fantastic!

 

It was horrible.  The cloak was longer, heavier, and more cumbersome than I realized. Probably because he needed to use it to carry lambs from time to time. Why didn't I think of that?  By the time I was able to sneak out of the house, it was darker than I anticipated and I could only hope I would stumble across the other shepherds before becoming a midnight snack for some ferocious beast. Wonder why that never crossed my mind?  And it was colder than I ever thought it would be.  I should have worn more clothing underneath the cloak. Hindsight may be clearer than foresight, but it is absolutely not warmer!

Of even greater concern was the fact that if I got in too much light from the fire or spoke without thinking to lower my vocal register, the other shepherds would immediately know I was an interloper.  As far as plans go, it was stellar.  Execution of the plan?  Only the outcome could tell if it was worth it.  I could only hope.

 

Eventually, I arrived at the small fire where the shepherds and sheep were gathered. It was a miracle I found them.  Even I didn't realize how much of a miracle it was.  The ones who were awake seemed surprised to see me but didn't question me too closely.  Thank goodness. I wished I could get closer to the fire.  Alas, the risk was too great since one of those sleeping shepherds was my oldest brother.  Discovery by him would be a fiasco!  I chose instead to sit against a nearby tree, study my surroundings, and silently revel in my cunning plan. 

 

Then brother number one woke up.  Oh, this was going to be bad.  The brothers never came out with the sheep together.  Of course, one helpful friend decided to immediately inform him that his younger brother had joined them.  How did he immediately know it was me?  And what kept the top of his head from just exploding right off as he realized the foolish risk--his words, not mine--I had taken in coming out to the field in the middle of the night? We'll never know the answer to that exploding head question because at that moment a rescuing angel appeared.

 

Literally.  I was rescued from a lecture by an angel that appeared in the night sky.  We were too terrified to be mad.  As we huddled together for safety and stared upward in awe, the angel told us not to be afraid.  He also said the Savior had been born in our normally sleepy, currently crazy little town.  Just as my mind was trying to think where a babe would safely be born in the mess that was our town at tax season, the angel told us.  He was in a stable, in the straw of a manger, wrapped only in old rags on a night that was freezing my hair. 

 

At that moment, a million (maybe more or less as my counting isn't so good when I'm struck with awed terror) angels joined him and they all broke into a beautiful rendition of "Glory to God".  And then, just like they came, they were gone.  We stared at each other for just a moment, then by common agreement abandoned the sheep and headed into Bethlehem.  This we had to see. 

 

We came to a halt some time later, panting and gasping for breath. As far as we'd run, we were still stopped more by the sudden realization that we didn't know exactly where to find the babe than by the exertion. There were a zillion stables in Bethlehem and not one owner would want to be wakened in the middle of the night by prowlers in his stable.  I flopped back on the grass in an attempt to replenish the air in my lungs more effectively and that's when I saw it.  A huge, bright star sitting in the sky.  I'd never seen it before and since staring at the stars was something even girls were allowed to do, I'd done a lot of it.  I instantly knew the star was our guide.

 

Once again we took off in the direction of the guiding star.  And things started to look more and more familiar.  Yep, we were headed to our very own stable.  So much for sneaking back in before daylight. But then we got there and that little boy in the manger stole my heart.  He was so little, so perfect and the stable was filled with feelings of peace and homecoming.  Not just a feeling of being home, but of being in the presence of the one with whom you belong.  I didn't understand it all, but I knew in my heart that he truly was the Savior, the Son of God.  I had found the boy for whom I searched, the man that would make my life fulfilled.  I was home. 

 

And that's my story.  I set out on an adventure to meet and choose my man, my way, on my terms.  And I did.  And he brought me home.  Home to my family.  Home to fulfillment.  Home to him.

 

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So this Christmas, I wish you love, peace, and joy.  I wish for you to find your fulfillment, your contentment, your definition in the baby found in the manger that night. I wish for you to allow him to be your home.

Merry Christmas!

 







 



If Only We Believed

          I find myself increasingly concerned with the lack of faith exhibited by many Christians today. Oh, we still believe God can heal, forgive, bring jobs, and send financial help.  Our problem is that we don't seem to have faith that he can bring back the fire of the Holy Spirit in our churches.  More alarming is the fact that we seem to be fine with that.  We look around at all the larger than life issues going on in our world and fail to believe that God can bring back wayward people, change horrific outcomes, and bring back the revivals of which we've only read.  Immobilized with fear over current events, we hunker down in self preservation.  We contemplate our next move like a chess player going for the tournament win.  We forget to pray.  We forget to trust.  We get locked in a spiritual holding pattern.  And we stop believing that faith in God can change it all.
        

         The truth is, we are a bunch of finite humans trying to measure the ability of an infinite God. We are trying to determine what his next move will be instead of asking his next move to be the one thing we need the most.  Revival.  We are desperate for it.  Our souls are dry, barren places that need the promised water poured on them. (Isaiah 44:3) Our world needs us to be revived, because we still have work to do here.  Thus it behooves us to ponder this, what if we reclaimed the faith that brings revival?

            I spend a lot of time thinking about this, and when I do, this is what I see...  Our faith unleashes intense, burning revivals that completely change lives.  Our churches burst at the seams every Sunday.  Our pews are empty because the power and glory of God are so real among us that we can’t keep off our feet.  I can almost hear the shouting, the praising.  It's Heaven on earth.  No one watches the clock. No one sneaks out early.  No one leaves without a blessing.

            Because we live every week in joyous anticipation of the following Sunday, our communities see Christian change—then experience it.  We take back our city, our state, our country for Jesus. The headlines of the news are no longer a list of alleged injustices, but the amazing revivals that are sweeping the land.  Faith in God is no longer the exception, but the rule.  Our hearts are inexhaustible wells of faith, peace, and love.

            If you’ve read this far and find yourself snorting in derision because revivals like this aren't going to happen in our day, stop reading.  Put your Bible on the shelf—or donate it to someone who will use it—and tell God you don’t believe his promises, his power, or his purpose.  For me, I know and fully believe these things: Jesus Christ is always the same, (Hebrews 13:8) the God who spread Pentecostal fire on the people in Acts (Acts 2) is still able to do it for us,  and the circumstances of our world have not shortened his hand nor rendered him incapable.  If your God isn’t big enough to send worldwide revival, then you are serving the wrong God. 

            In Mark 9:17-27, we find the account of a distraught father whose son is on the brink of destruction.  Desperate to see his child delivered from the evil spirit that inhabited him, he brings his son to the  disciples only to find them unable to help him.  In an effort born of helpless distress and intense desire, he came to Jesus, begging for a miracle.   Jesus looks at him and says, "If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth." (v.23,KJV)  The father can hardly believe his ears.  Simply believe?  What if it doesn't work?  What if his faith is misplaced?  But he's out of options and soon will be out of time.  So he musters what faith he can find in his soul, casts it on Jesus, and gets a miracle.

          Are we so different from that father?  Are we any less desperate for a miracle?  Are we willing to settle for a faithless form of Godliness that tricks ourselves but no one else? Or is our faith, our belief in the power of God, enough to pull us back from the brink?  You already know the answer; our saving grace comes only through unwavering faith in our omnipotent God.  The God who promised that nothing was impossible if we only believe.

       So tell me, do you believe?

 

 

Fire Burn...Cauldron Bubble

     Have you ever come to the last page of a fascinating, intriguing, hang-on-every-word book only to feel cheated that it didn't continue?  Did you spend a few minutes reflecting on the story, the plot, the characters and considering what you read?  Did you leave your easy-chair with a smile on your face, knowing that you couldn't pick up another book just then because nothing could possibly compare to what you had just read?  I know that feeling!  I recently finished reading the book of Acts.

     As I read Acts 28 and realized the book was finished, I was overwhelmed by disappointment. I had been ripped off.  The story wasn't over.  It couldn't be.  I wanted to read more healings, more divine intervention, more prayer, more faith, more fire, more Pentecost.  It was not to be.  I felt lost.  I didn't know where to turn next.  With 65 other books from which to choose, not one called out to me.  I couldn't let it go.  My mind kept going back to why it ended that way.  I had spent 28 lovely days wrapped up in the events of Acts.  I hungered to have that same fire of God and see it in my world. I contemplated the enormity of having enough faith in God--enough of God himself in me--to bring healing to others through his name.  But my hunger and contemplation did not mask the fact that I was frustrated and a little irritated that the book had ended before I was ready to quit reading. 

     Finally, the light pierced through the fog of frustration clouding my brain. I had an epiphany.  The book of Acts was never intended to end.  All the praying and waiting, the faith and believing, the patience and persevering that culminated in the reward of Pentecost (Acts 1-2) was never supposed to be just an historical account, a one time thing.  All the praying, preaching, and church building were never supposed to end.  Acts was only intended to be the beginning; we are supposed to be its continuation. 

     It was a shocking revelation for, in that moment, I realized that we have completely, horrifically, inexcusably dropped the ball.  We have failed to keep the fire of Acts burning in our hearts, our churches, our world.  You see, it is not enough to read the Bible every day, pray a prayer, attend church.  To simply habitually do those things is cheating ourselves and everyone around us.  It is to tell God that we aren't interested in having all of him.  We aren't interested in his fire, his presence, his power.  It is simply to settle for a form of Godliness instead of seeking desperately for the real thing. It is, tragically, to decline Pentecost. 

     And who can afford to do that?  Not I.  I am not okay without Pentecost.  The dry tinder of my soul continually cries out for the fire of the Holy Spirit that burns away the chaff and leaves only that which exudes Christ.  I am hungry, my spirit clamors for Pentecost.  I am desperate for what it accomplishes in me--the faith, the confidence, the fire. I am ineffective without it--a lamp without a flame.  I am helpless with the wanting. I want God's fire to burn so fiercely in me that the cauldron of my soul bubbles up and flows over into the world--a light in a dark place.  I want Pentecost in my heart that I may share it with those around me.  I am nothing without it.

     Are you okay without Pentecost?  Are the accounts in Acts just stories to you?  Is your God still big enough to light a raging, unquenchable fire in your soul? 

     If your desire for God doesn't consume you, if your need for Pentecost has gone cold, if you can't fathom the burning fire of the Holy Spirit visiting your church this Sunday, then you need to go read the book of Acts.  Really read it. Immerse yourself in it. Allow yourself to imagine what it would have been like to experience it then.  Imagine what it would be like to experience it now.  And understand that you can.  The same God who sent the fire of Pentecost to burn in the hearts of the early church is alive and working today. He hasn't changed and he wants to give us Pentecost.  He wants to set our hearts on fire.  He wants our souls to bubble up, overflow, and change the world. 

     So may we not be lax.  May we realize that Pentecost was not intended to be a one-time thing.  May we truly believe the acts of Acts were never supposed to end.  May we, in taking up the torch, bow before God and sincerely beg, "Fire burn and cauldron bubble." And may we experience Pentecost. 




**I don't know if God will ever lead me to write on this topic again, but that doesn't mean he isn't leading someone else to do so.  If you are hungry to continue finding God's fire, swing over to https://encontrandofuego.blogspot.com and read the musings of a man deeply consumed with finding, kindling, and feeding the fire of God.  Blessings!

The Busyness of Being Still

     When was the last time you were intentionally still? How about the last time your mind blocked out the rat race and sat calmly?  What about your spirit?  Has there been a time recently when your spirit has purposely cast it's cares at the foot of the cross and rested in stillness?  Why not? If you read Psalms 46:10 you will find the command that is quite possibly the most difficult to obey.  It simply says, "Be still and know that I am God..."

     For humanity, this is easier said than done.  We are caught up in a precariously balanced schedule of work, school, errands, ballet, soccer, et cetera, et cetera.  Each activity is carefully planned to fall at a precise time so the schedule works flawlessly.  Sadly, all our meticulous planning leaves no time to simply be silent, be still.  We race around planning and doing, solving and stewing in an attempt to prevent this or orchestrate that.  If we stop and check, we realize that we have double booked--right over God's appointment.  And why?  Does all the doing bring us peace?  Does all the stewing and strategizing make us feel less stressed?  Do any of these things fill the "God space" in our souls?  Do we realize the answer to these questions , if answered honestly, is, "No"?

     Apparently not.  Perhaps it's because we haven't tried being still.  Perhaps we haven't really gotten to know God enough to comprehend what he's saying here.  We haven't skipped the gym to spend time with God.  We haven't cancelled the football party to have a prayer meeting.  We haven't said "no" to the new committee at work in order to have time to simply sit still, unclutter our mind, settle our spirit, and know that God is God.

     I have recent personal experience with learning to be still. You see, I had become burdened with a pile of concerns I simply didn't need to worry about.  Some of them weren't even my issues. They would pop up the minute I started to pray and derail my thoughts.  They followed me through the day, hounding each step and wreaking emotional havoc.  They kept my spirit troubled, my heart distressed. In the midst of it all, I repeatedly heard the words, "Be still", echoing in my head.  So I took some time one morning, read the Bible, prayed, blocked out everything else, stilled my spirit, and allowed God to be God.  The pile of "stuff" dissipated.  My spirit healed.  My heart mended.  My faith grew.  My God and I were one again.  And now I consistently hear the whispering in my heart urging me, "Be still..."  When things are out of my control, "Be still."  When I'm frustrated, anxious, terrified, "Be still."  When all I can do is trust, "Be still."

     The truth is, our human efforts are simple and often ineffective.  Our worrying accomplishes nothing.  Our strategizing may or may not pan out.  But our God is a sure thing.  He is our refuge and strength in trouble. (Psalms 46:1)  He knows the path before us. (Job 23:10)  He has the answers we have no hope of conjuring on our own. (Isaiah 55:8-9)  He has promised to be a helper who never leaves or forsakes.  (Hebrews 13:5-6)  And he is readily available when you simply be still and let God be God.

     In I Kings 19:11-13, Elijah looks for God in the wind, an earthquake, and a fire, but finds him only in the still, small voice that followed.  If he had been raging, he would have never heard it.  Neither will you.  So halt the craziness of your schedule.  Carve out an appointed time with God.  Stop talking.  Stop worrying.  Stop plotting.  Just stop.  And immerse yourself in the busyness of being still.

     Be still and know that God is God.

Selfish Saints

          About two weeks ago, I read an intriguing diatribe on American missionaries and missionaries to America. The author raised the question of why Americans feel the need to travel overseas to risky, unhealthy places to do missionary work when horrible conditions and unimaginable atrocities greet us each day on our own doorstep. Personally, I understand and fully support those God has called to foreign missions.  The call of God is, or should be, impossible to ignore.  However, not unlike the author, I fail to comprehend why American Christians who do not feel called to foreign missions fail to hear the call to be missionaries at home. 

          I wonder why.  Why are there no missionaries to America?  Are all the Christians blind to the starvation, disease, disregard for human life, and desperate need for Jesus around them?  Do they assume that because there is a church on every corner every citizen knows Jesus?  And do they truly believe that the only ones called to seek the lost are those called to third world countries?  Of course not.

          With news channels running in every imaginable place, magazines and newspapers lining waiting rooms and checkout stands, and the wonderful invention of the Internet we are more aware of what is going on around us than ever before.  The law of averages assures us that not every citizen knows Jesus--or even about him.  And if we were to be really honest with ourselves, we would have to admit the issue isn't that we don't feel called, but that we don't want to go out and actively seek the lost because we have other things we would rather be doing.

          And that's the answer.  We are selfish saints.  People who don their self righteous robes and assume that because they sing in the choir and serve on the church board they have done their part for the Kingdom.  If a lost soul wanders in to church service on Sunday, that's wonderful, but there is no inclination to go out and labor to truly influence people for Jesus Christ.  We are more fascinated with the temporal than the eternal, happy to keep the precious story of life changing redemption to ourselves rather than share it.  Yes, our churches are full of selfish saints. 

          Perhaps today's special variety of Christian hasn't read the passage that says, "...He that winneth souls is wise." (Proverbs 11:30 KJV)  Maybe the newer Bible translations don't read that way.  Or perhaps the blanket command, "Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel..." (Mark 16:15 KJV) doesn't truly apply.  Perhaps, when it's all said and done, we really are simply selfish saints who don't want to dirty our hands on the unwashed masses.  Perhaps we are too scared of being seen socializing with those whose reputation is less sterling than ours.  Maybe, just maybe, we selfishly love ourselves, our lifestyles, our things more than we love those who need Jesus. 

          It's enough.  We are getting nothing done.  The cycle must be broken.  The selfishness must end.  We must stop living as if nothing but ourselves, our families, and our social circles exist.  We must start living for eternity.  We must heed the call. We must be missionaries.

          But what does 21st century soul winning look like?  How do we do that in a society that has changed so much since the days of knocking on doors with the Good News and passing out tracts?  How do we show someone they need Jesus in a world of political correctness?  How do we show them what knowing Jesus looks like? Try this. Put down the  electronics and get off the couch.  Get out of your house, out of your social circle, out of your comfort zone.  Go out and do what Jesus did. 

          Feed people--remember the loaves and fishes that fed 5,000? (John 6)  Visit the sick--imagine being the blind man healed when Jesus took time to stop and visit. (Luke 18)  Have dinner with outcasts--think Zaccheus. (Luke 19)  Offer words of spiritual life to those who ask even though they may not immediately heed them--consider the rich young ruler. (Mark 10)  Weep over your country, your state, your city, your world. (Luke 19:41)  Give of yourself.

          Sadly, selfish saints can't do any of this.  You can't win souls by being self-absorbed.  You can't selfishly hoard your time, resources, or energy.  You can't.  You don't dare, because you have been called. So get out there.  Socialize.  Evangelize.  Be faithful.  Be consistent.  (II Timothy 4:2)  Be selfless.  Be a saint of the true variety.  Knowing this, "He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." (Psalms 126:6 KJV)

          Heaven will be filled with the fruit of selfless service.  How full will it be from your labors?

Jesus Is Praying For You

     Recently, while enduring yet another spectacular spiritual battle, I came across the passage in Luke 22 where Jesus discusses with Simon Peter his vulnerability to Satan's attacks and reveals that Peter would eventually deny even knowing Jesus.  The story of Peter's denial is quite familiar, but the preceding verses are the ones that really caught my attention.  In Luke 22:31-32, Jesus says to Peter, "...Satan hath desired to have you...but I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not:..." (KJV)  I needed those words that day.  I need them every day.
 
     I am often in a spot similar to Peter.  Satan tirelessly attempts to convince me that God has abandoned me.  He beats up one side of my soul and then the other.  The battle seems endless.  The outcome means everything to both of us.  There are no tied scores, only wins and losses.  My strength wanes.  My faith grows threadlike. My courage dwindles to barely an ember.  On my own I don't have the energy to pull out a win. In a final push to emerge victorious, I throw a glance over my shoulder, searching for aid.  With enormous elation and nearly palpable relief I realize that reinforcements have been there all along.  Jesus was already there.  Before the battle started, Jesus was praying for me.  He was interceding on my behalf that in this moment my faith, though stretched to the minutest thread, would continue to hold.  And it did.  I am fiercely relieved to say with the Apostle Paul, "...I have kept the faith." (II Timothy 4:7 KJV)  But I can only say that because Jesus, who could be doing so many other things, took the time to pray for me.

     He doesn't have to, you know.  There are a lot of things in this world that seem so much more important, so much more in need of God's attention. Praying for me seems like such an insignificant thing to do in the face of rampaging epidemics, bloody wars, horrifying crime, or disreputable politics.  It's humbling.  I mean so much to him that he makes sure to go before me and cover my future in prayer.

     It's not just me.  For 12 years I've been sending my son to a different state to visit his father for weeks at a time.  My mind flashes with the horrible things that can happen to children, the ways teenagers can be pulled in the wrong direction, the lack of a strong Christian influence.  Immobilizing terror begins to set in and then I remember that Jesus is already there ahead of him, loving him more than I do, praying for him, and helping him fight his battles.  Does it eliminate the concern?  No.  But the terror is replaced with peaceful trust that the God who loves me too much to let Satan have me, loves my child just as much.  Jesus is praying for him too.

     And you are just as important as me and my children.  You are the bird specially fed by God's hand, the field lily clothed more beautifully than kings, (Luke 12:24, 27) the apple of God's eye avenged by his hand (Zechariah 2:8-9).  You are imperative to the Kingdom.  You are special.  You are precious.  You are not alone.  Jesus is praying for you. 

     However, like Peter and I, you are also immensely vulnerable to Satan's attacks.  His desire to have you is an all consuming fire that endlessly drives him to fight for you.  He will do anything to get you.  In the middle of your normalcy something will spring up to distract you, pull you away, or tempt you to change direction  You are powerless on your own.  You have no strength.  You are incapable of deflecting Satan's advances by yourself.  Yet you are immeasurably blessed because Jesus sees the battle before it happens and has already prayed a preemptive prayer on your behalf. The strength you need to defeat Satan is already there, you just have to tap into it.  Victory comes through the knowledge that, in spite of all the other things he could be preoccupied with, Jesus is praying for you.  That is how important you are to him. That's how much he loves you.  (Romans 8:34-35, 37-39)

     So the next time you are surrounded by Satan's traps and think you'll never make it out alive, remember this--Jesus is praying for you, your family, your needs, your future.  He never stops.  Know it.  Believe it.  Rest in it.  (Romans 8:34)  His prayers mean you can find infinite strength in your moment of weakness, amazing comfort when you are beset by life's trials, and blessed peace in the midst of your storms.  What phenomenal love toward such undeserving individuals.  Comfort.  Strength.  Hope.  Peace.  All because the God of the past and present has already been to the future and covered your path with prayer. 

No Looking Back

You may find it amazing to know that I consistently have to tell my teenaged child to watch where he is walking.  Seriously.  Why does he try to look behind him while walking forward?  It always ends badly.  People get trampled, his feet get tangled up and he falls, he randomly walks into things.  You would think that after a couple of these episodes he would have figured it out.  I am still patiently (or not so much) awaiting this event.  Hopefully he will soon realize that looking backward throws up roadblocks and halts his forward momentum.

Sound familiar?  Not the part about my son.  The part where we forget that looking back isn’t such a great idea.  What good can come from looking at the past, reconsidering our shortcomings, or just casting a longing glance over our shoulder at the way things used to be?  What exactly do we miss about the past or do we still long to hold onto? Where there are always great memories to cherish and intense gratefulness for where Jesus has brought us from, constant looking back indicates a state of longing for what used to be.  It’s hazardous to your health, not just physically and emotionally, but spiritually as well.

Because of that, it behooves us to remember the little passage in Luke 17:32 that simply says, “Remember Lot’s wife.”  You know the story. (Genesis 18-19) Angels go into Sodom and Gomorrah hours before their demise to rescue Abraham’s nephew, Lot, and his family.  The angels of God miraculously hold back the evil residents of Sodom, allowing the family to escape the coming judgment.  As Lot, his wife, and his daughters are escorted from the city by their Heavenly rescuers, the angels tell them to run for their lives and issue the specific mandate, “Don’t look back.”  It seems so simple.  Just keep looking forward, keep walking, don’t look back.  Yet Lot’s wife couldn’t keep from glancing back.  And at what?  Sodom and Gomorrah were so horrible, so depraved that God could not find even ten righteous people in them. (Genesis 18:32) What was so glamorous about those towns that she was willing to throw her life away for one last glance? 

It’s easy to judge Lot’s wife because we know what happened to her in the end, she looked back and became a pillar of salt. (Genesis 19:26) It’s not so easy to look at ourselves and see the same thing, the same backward glance, the same desire to hold on to something from our past. And it’s just as deadly for our souls as it was for her life.  Jesus tells us that “No man, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God”. (Luke 9:62 KJV) If you are looking back you aren't ready to go forward. Your heart’s not completely interested in what’s ahead of you. That means something you hold more dear is behind you.  It means you are willing to give up the promise of the future with God for an un-promised re-run of moments past. It means something else is more important than Jesus. It begs the question, “What’s behind you that’s more important than getting to Heaven?”

What’s holding you back?  What's stopping you from starting? An old habit? Ungodly friends? A questionable lifestyle?  Maybe it’s a situation you failed to forgive.  Maybe there’s some bitterness, anger, pain you don’t want to let go.  What’s got your attention?  What’s tempting you to throw your faith overboard, toss Heaven out the window?  Is it worth it?  Is it worth eternal punishment? Is it more exciting than an eternal reward? Is it more important to you than seeing Jesus face to face? 

When I was a child, there was a common statement, “I don’t want to miss Heaven for the world.”  I have no idea who coined the phrase, or where it might have originated.  I don't recall ever knowing, but I know this—I don’t want to miss Heaven for the world!  There’s nothing here that is more alluring, more exciting, or more important than getting to Heaven and seeing Jesus.  I hope you feel the same way.  I hope your eyes are fixed steadfastly forward.  I hope that with the Apostle Paul and me you can honestly say, “…Forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:13-14 KJV) No looking back.  No turning back.  Just “straight on ‘til morning”.

  

Closets of the Heart

           What’s in your heart?  I mean, what’s really in your heart?  You know, back behind all the pretty, appropriate stuff you want people to see.  Way in the back, where you’ve got the door with three locks firmly closed and bolted.  What’s in there? Why is it closed up?  What are you hiding? Do you even remember? When was the last time you looked in there?  Most importantly, have you ever let Jesus look in there?

            As Elihu, one of Job’s supposed friends, is waxing eloquent in an attempt to prove that Job has erred against God, he makes a statement that is imperative for every unopened closet of the heart. Elihu says, “…it is meet to be said unto God…that which I see not teach thou me: if I have done iniquity, I will do it no more.” (Job 34:31-32 KJV) The concept brought me up short.  Do we truly not know our own hearts?  Turns out the answer is “no.”  We hide things from ourselves, fail to call ourselves on our own sins, and excuse uncontrolled anger and hate under the guise that if we direct it at something God hates then it’s okay.  We whip out a measuring stick and use it on everyone except ourselves, consistently pretending to be a never-ending fount of virtue even if our words and actions don't live up to it. Well, I say enough with the hiding and skulking around. You can’t sneak your way into Heaven. It’s time to let God show us what he sees in our hearts.  And time to let him clean it out. 

            The fact is, heart closets collect things. Past hurts. Injustices, both real and imagined. Frustrations, embarrassments, disagreements, upsets. We stash them all in the closet and they become a mosh pit of nastiness.  They stew and fester becoming enormous vats of anger, hurt, bitterness, jealousy and hate.  We hang on to them so long that it becomes easier to just close and bolt the door and hope no one notices rather than haul them out and deal with them. Or perhaps we think we have dealt with them because they seem to be under control. But while they may stay dormant for a period of time, they will eventually erupt into our words, actions, and attitudes.  For some reason, even then, we tend to push them back in and add another lock to the door.  I don’t know why.  Really, who wants to hang on to that mess?  And who truly believes they can hide it from God?

            You can’t. He sees everything. (Proverbs 15:3) You can’t hide it from those around you either.  It seeps out. In Matthew 12:34, Jesus says that our mouths spew out what our hearts are hiding.  If we speak hate, then hate inhabits our hearts.  If we speak love, then love dwells within.  And it’s not just in what we say either.  It’s in how we act.  Are you showing hate or love to others?  Are you shunning or welcoming the lost?  Do remember the words of Matthew 7:20-21 that say your actions will tell whether or not you are truly of God and that not everyone who says “Lord, Lord” will make it to Heaven? If Jesus doesn’t saturate your life, your words, and your actions then perhaps you need to check into where he’s really living.

 See, Jesus wants your whole heart.  He won’t accept less. And since Galatians 5:22-23 tells us that the fruits of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, meekness, goodness, faith and temperance, it’s pretty easy to determine what should be found in our hearts and evident in our lives. Satan wants your whole heart too, but he’s willing to take any corner he can get because he just needs a space to get things brewing. And that’s how all those other things, like envy, strife, wrath, and hatred get started. (Galatians 5:19-21) Be aware, the two sides can’t coexist. They won’t.  Either you love or you hate. You must choose...God or Satan. (Matthew 6:24)  You can’t have one residing in the living room and one hiding out in the closet.  It just won’t work.

 So, I ask you again, what’s in your heart?  Are you willing to check it out?  Can you take Jesus in every crevice, corner, and closet? Does the light and love of Jesus fill your heart? Or are you busy installing lock number three? If you are, don't waste your time. Ecclesiastes 12:14 says God will reveal and judge every secret thing, so you might as well open that closet and let God clean it out today.  You’ll be nothing but better for the cleansing. 

The Empty Tomb Is…Full?

           Have you ever wondered how it felt to travel to the tightly sealed, closely guarded tomb of the man you believe to be the Christ only to find it open and empty?  The Luke 24 account describes the women who had come to fragrance the tomb as being “much perplexed” (v. 4), but, considering human nature, it seems there would have been some other emotions as well.  What did they feel?  Fear?  Awe?  Joy?  Did it sink in right away that their faith was not misplaced?  And did they notice that the tomb, though empty of Jesus’ body, held more than those old burial linens?  Did they notice that the empty tomb was full?

            They had just come through the worst day of their lives.  Their best friend, the man they had walked with, talked with, learned from, and leaned on had been brutally ripped from their lives.  They could do nothing to change it.  Their hearts were shattered. If their belief was true, He was the Son of God. The world was now forever changed. They entered the tomb only to find it empty and their hearts leapt in their chests.  As they stared at one another in anxious amazement, two men in white appeared and queried why they were there.  Before they could respond, the men spoke those words that the women desperately hoped for and would forever echo through the annals of time, “He is not here, but is risen.” (Luke 24:6)  It was as they believed.  He was The Savior.  And though his body wasn’t there, the tomb wasn’t empty. It was full.  Full of promise, hope, grace.  Full of love and redemption.  Full of proof.

            You see, the empty grave means everything.  Jesus rose from the dead.  It proves everything he said is true.  It proves everything he did was an act of Almighty God. It means God is a God of mercy—remember the thief on the cross. (Luke 23:39-43) It means God is a God of grace—ask the woman washing Jesus’ feet with precious ointment. (Luke 7:44-48) It means God is a God of unlimited power—consider the man delivered of the unclean spirit who claimed to be “Legion”. (Mark 5:2-14) It means every healing truly happened; every sinful heart that asked was cleansed.  It means that hope, help, and healing are available to all.  It means salvation is free.  It means unlimited love, unending grace. 

That empty grave means God’s not dead.  It means that the God who spun the earth for the very first time, who created you in his image, who sent his Son to earth as a baby and offered him up as a sacrifice for your sin and mine is still alive and working.  His hand isn’t shortened, his ear isn’t heavy, he hasn’t stopped performing miracles, and his grace hasn’t run out.  It means all those events recorded in the Bible are real and true.  It means we serve a living, resurrected Savior. 

            This Easter, I hope you consider the fullness of the empty tomb. Reconnect with the reality of grace. Cast your confidence in the living God who offers you his pardon, his peace, his presence.  And remember, because the Savior's body isn't there, everything you need is.  The empty tomb means you can have full life in Christ.   Accept it.  Believe it.  And when I say to you, “He is risen.” May you respond with a resounding, “He is risen, indeed.” 

           What does the fullness of the empty tomb mean to you?

Finding Discontent

Finding Discontent

Matthew 5:6

Since the dawn of time humanity has scrambled for the elusive feeling of contentment.  Eve was evidently discontent with her level of knowledge, so when she found the fruit of the forbidden tree would make her wiser, she ate it. The Children of Israel thought contentment was in getting what they wanted, in their way, on their timetable. So they decided to do their own thing instead of God’s and ended up wandering the desert.  We are not so very different.  Our selfish “now” society continues to believe that contentment can be bought, finagled, or earned.  So the discontented search for contentment rages on.  Adults are constantly striving for it.  Kids think they are entitled to it.  For some ridiculous reason, everyone seems to think contentment is found in possessions, social status, money or fame. 

Have you ever stopped to ask yourself, “How content am I?” and followed up with, “In what does my contentment lie?” If we are honest, we realize that contentment does not come from staggering piles of possessions, the number of friends on your Facebook page, or the respectful adulation of your peers. If we look hard enough, we may even realize that being content isn’t always best. Recently, when posed with the question myself, I realized that, although I may be content with my material possessions, I am indeed consumed with voracious discontent.   It is consistent.  It is persistent. And it is resistant to the things that try to dull it, eradicate it, or distract it. It is not the possessions kind of discontent. No, it’s the holy kind.  The kind of discontent that caused Jacob, as he wrestled with the angel of God at Penial (Genesis 32:26) to cry out, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”

An interesting story, that. In the Genesis 32 account, it tells us that Jacob, after his meeting with Esau, sent his family, servants, and belongings across the brook and stayed alone through the night. During the night an angel came and wrestled with and at (v.22-24) nearly dawn, the angel said, “Let me go.  It’s nearly day break.” And Jacob said (pardon my paraphrase), “Nope. Not without a blessing.”  And he got one.  Do you ever feel that way?  When you feel spiritually dry, complacent, lacking zeal, do you hit your knees and say to God, “I’m not done here until you move in me, change me, bless me.”  Do you find yourself filled with holy discontent? 

 I often do.  I hope you do too.  I find myself consistently praying the words of David in Psalm 63:8, “My soul follows hard after thee…”  The words speak of hot pursuit.  Unwavering determination.  Intense hunger.  Earlier in the same Psalm David verbally paints how he is seeking God, how his soul thirsts for God, how he longs for God as a man parched in the desert.  These word pictures embody the concept of holy discontent. It is not mediocre Christianity.  It is not a “ho-hum” attitude about God.  It is not a secondary activity.  It is a constant desire, an intense thirst, a consuming hunger for more of God.  It’s seeking him and finding him, and then seeking him more.  It is never having enough, never being close enough; it is following hard after God.

We should all be so desperately discontent.  It is paramount to our Christian walk.  When we start to feel content with where we are spiritually, we let up.  The zeal lessens.  Complacency sets in. The things of life—even the good, appropriate things—crowd in and we are in extreme danger of drifting off course. For me, holy discontent is the path to contentment. When I am discontent with where I am spiritually, I am consistently seeking God, drawing closer to him, growing in him, and allowing him to make me the Godly person he wants me to be.  In seeking after Godliness, I find contentment.

In I Timothy 6, the Apostle Paul tells Timothy not to listen to those who do not preach the true doctrine of Jesus Christ unto godliness.  Along with a list of things these individuals are incorrect about, they believe that gain equals godliness.  Sounds familiar….things really haven’t changed! But then Paul writes in verse 6, “Godliness with contentment is great gain…” and in verse 8 he goes on to state that if you have food and clothing, you should be content.  It means that we should be constantly striving to maintain and increase godliness in our lives, be grateful for what we have, and ultimately remember that the search for contentment outside of Godliness is a treasure-less search.  Holy discontent keeps us urgently seeking God’s face, constantly striving to have more of Jesus, and regularly praying, “I will not let you go until you bless me.”

Have you been there?  Have you found yourself spiritually dry, lacking joy, complacent?  Have you suddenly realized the zeal is gone?  Did you look up and notice that you weren’t in that special place discussed in Psalm 91:1 where it says, “…He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High, shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty?”  Did you drift a little off course?  Did you get out of His shadow?  I’ve been there.  We all have.  The question is this, when you realized you were off course did you find yourself filled will holy discontent?  And did you rush to Jesus and beg a blessing? 

My inward questioning about my contentment made me realize that my holy discontent was not confined to my own spirituality. I am discontent with things I see around me. You are too.  I hear people all over the place discussing politics, education, drugs, gangs, poverty and myriad other annoyances about our world. What do you see in this world that makes you feel discontent?  Homelessness? Immorality?  Abuse? Let me tell you what I see. I see people lost in sin and degradation.  Wanderers looking for hope, help, home.  I see physically destructive teens, kids on drugs, and eight year old gang members.  I see people who have given up on themselves because no one made the effort to believe in them and bolster their courage.  I see addicts, prostitutes, abusers.  I see wasted years. I see prisons overflowing with individuals who have made bad choices.  I see hate, violence, anger, prejudice. 

These are not the most appalling things I see.  For just on the outside fringes of these clusters of wandering souls, I see churches content to stay outside the fray.  I see parishioners in their Sunday finery who are all too happy to continue their “us four and no more” mentality.  They sit in church and give lengthy diatribes on how awful things are and how surely the end must be nigh, but then they go merrily off to lunch, or Grandma’s house, or the grocery store and never stop to think of how many souls would be eternally lost if it all ended today. I see no movement to do anything about it.  I see no burden for the lost.  I see no outreach.  I see no one willing to sacrifice their time or resources to make a difference.

I am shocked that they would be so complacent about missing out on what I know to be a fantastic reward.   Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, I did a couple years at a Bible college in the heart of Cincinnati, Ohio.  From our windows, up on that hill, you could pretty much see the “Over the Rhine” area—the place where the city had attempted to corral its “untouchables”.  It was while there that I had some of the most rewarding service moments of my life.  We passed out tracts, had several downtown missions where we held Sunday services, and, my personal favorite, a jail ministry. One of the staff members also served as a chaplain at the county jail.  I was blessed to be part of his team of service workers.  We visited the jail every Sunday morning and held services on different floors.  Some Sundays I would continue with him in the afternoon and evening when we would visit individuals who had requested a private visit with the chaplain.  All of it altered my view, but those individual visits changed my life. 

In those visits, we saw those people as just that—people.  Lost?  For sure. But still people. We sat there and talked and prayed with an AIDS ridden prostitute, a drug addict mother, white collar offenders, and everyone in between. Each was loved, valued, ministered to and prayed over.  That chaplain taught me the most important lesson of my life.  We are all just people, no matter what we are, what we have done, or where we’ve been.  We are all desperately loved by God.  And we are all commanded by God to love one another—no exclusions.  No prejudice. No hate.  No anger. So when I look out and see that we are not indiscriminately reaching out to gather the lost, I am overwhelmed with holy discontent. 

I wish I could rejoin that group of ministers at the Hamilton County Justice Center.  Sadly, I cannot.  But I can do something where I am.  So can you.  We just have to decide to do it. If your excuse is “I don’t know what to do”…ask God to show you.  If your excuse is “I don’t know where to serve”…ask God to guide you.  If you don’t feel a particular burden to serve…ask God to give you one.  Don’t just fill a pew, mark your time, and think you won’t be held responsible for not fulfilling your part of Jesus’ command in Mark 16:15, “Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.” 

            And don’t be deceived into thinking that he only meant go out to other places besides America.  For some, it does mean that. For all, it means go out of your comfort zone, out of your social circle, out of your way to make sure that everyone has the opportunity to meet Jesus, to know his love, and to experience forgiveness for sins.  You are a missionary.  You can see people dying around you.  You can see a world full of sin.  Don’t just sit and bemoan the state of society.  Don’t just wallow in holy discontent—get off your duff and do something!

            That’s really the crux of it all, isn’t it? Do something!!  When you feel discontent with where you are spiritually—and I hope you do often—do something about it.  Read more Scripture.  Read some Philip Yancey, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Brennan Manning, Joyce Meyer.  Spend more time in prayer.  Pray for a blessing, but don’t stop there.  Pray for the people in the accident you saw on the way home from work.  Pray for the homeless guy on the corner. Pray for the kids who visit the local youth center today.  Pray for people who think they don’t need prayer.  Then go out and do something for Jesus. Be about the Father’s business. Follow the command of Luke 19:13, and occupy till He comes. 

            I hope we do it.  May we refuse to settle for smoldering coals.  May we be consumed by fires of holy discontent that burn so brightly, so hotly that we are forced closer to Jesus, more deeply burdened for our fellow man, and constantly challenged to do more, be more than we ever have before.  May we, like the Apostle Paul, “Press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God…” (Philippians 3:14)  May we be laborers together with Christ.  May we always be filled with holy discontent. May we hear its call and respond with Samuel, “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.”

 What is your holy discontent urging you to do?  Will you do it? 

       

    

**This is a message I presented at my church, posted here as promised for those who could not make it...and for anyone else whom God chooses to touch through it.  Blessings. 

           

...And Just In Case You Missed It…

           I hope when you read this month’s blog post, you truly believed in the depths of your soul that Jesus loves you.  I hope you have spent the time between now and then resting in the knowledge of that love.  I hope the Devil has been trounced at his little game of whispering lies about how unlikely it is that Jesus loves you.  But just in case you didn’t believe it when you read it, or the glow has started to fade, I’d like to share with you the experience I had only a short time after I posted that blog.

            After posting, I decided to read the Crucifixion/Easter story as written in each of the Gospels.  Sort of a comparison so I didn’t miss anything. I started with Matthew 26.  I read about the woman who washed Jesus’ feet, about the disciples following Jesus’ commands to secure a place for Passover.  I read about the Passover supper and how Judas confirmed that he was the one who would betray Jesus.  I continued on through Peter’s indignant response that he would never deny Christ.  I followed them into the Garden of Gethsemane and went with Jesus as he begged the Father to find another form of redemption for mankind.  The disciples slept through it.  I heard the words of Jesus as he accepted God’s will for man’s redemption.  My stomach tied in knots.

            And then it happened.  A multitude led by Judas arrived on the scene.  They were carrying swords and spears as though expecting a horrendous fight. (As if they were any match for the Son of God should he choose to put up a fight!)  Judas came forward, called Jesus “Master”, and kissed him.  And just like that, the ultimate act of betrayal was done.

 In that moment, I hate Judas for what he is doing.  And though I’ve read them before, I am thoroughly startled by Jesus’ next words, “Friend, wherefore art thou come?” (Matthew 26:50 KJV) Seriously?  Friend?  It’s not like Jesus didn’t know why he was there.  He wasn’t caught off guard.  Would it not be more appropriate, more honest to yell “Traitor”?  Or better yet, strike him mute, or leprous, even just reduce his credibility. Doesn’t he deserve some sort of horrific punishment?  But no, out of a heart of unwavering love Jesus calls him “Friend”. 

            By this point, tears are flowing freely down my cheeks as I am completely overwhelmed by how much Jesus loves us.  When we have thrown propriety to the wind, tossed our integrity overboard, or smothered our conscience for the 9 millionth time, Jesus still looks at us with love and calls us “Friend”. How amazing is that!! 

            So there you have it, in case you missed it the first time…Jesus loves you.  Read the story in Matthew 26, see yourself in Judas’ spot, hear Jesus call you “Friend”, and know with abiding assurance…yes, Jesus loves you!!

A Season of Love

The season of Lent is once again upon us.  For many, it is a time of obligatory self-denial, often used as a method for extinguishing unwanted habits.  It seems to be a common practice to give up food items—chocolate, daily mochas, or soda. Others deny themselves time on social networking, video games, or television programs.  Where it is likely that giving up these things for the Lenten season would be helpful, if the thing you choose to sacrifice doesn’t draw you closer to Jesus, then it’s just another tradition, and what’s the point of that?

 It seems that Lent would be better observed by taking the time to truly comprehend Calvary.  Not the pain—we’ve got a handle on that.  Not the humiliation—we can identify with that.  Not the suffering, the mocking, the torture.  No, all of Calvary is rooted in one simple thing—Heavenly love for unlovable humanity.   

Nearly two decades ago, I sat alone in the enormous sanctuary of a church I had attended only a handful of times. The congregation was large.  I knew no one.  It was Communion Sunday.  They served the elements in the pews, passing them down the rows from one parishioner to the next. The lovely pastor, a dear Irish man, asked that as we passed the first element of Communion to the individual beside us, we would quietly say to that soul, “Jesus loves you.”  I will never forget that service, the whispers from every corner of that sanctuary saying, “Jesus loves you”, or the fact that in that moment I understood Calvary better than ever before.  It wasn’t about the wood, or the nails, or the spear.  It was about immense, exquisite, unfathomable love from God toward us.   

            There was no other way to show this kind of love.  When praying on the Mount of Olives, shortly before Judas betrayed him, Jesus’ begged the Father, “…If thou be willing, remove this cup from me…” (Luke 22:42 KJV)  To my human mind, he had every right to back out.  Seriously.  He spent 33 years on earth with people who treated him despicably, refused his teachings, and ultimately hunted him down and gleefully put him to death.  He would have been well within his rights to say, “Father, these people aren’t worth it.”  But he didn’t.  Instead, he paid the ultimate price for the souls of people who may or may not choose him and in a grand exhibition that no one could miss he paved the way to Heaven for all humanity.  Oh, yes, Jesus loves you.

            In that same service, the pastor instructed us that as we passed one another the second element of Communion, we should say to one another, “I love you.”  I didn’t understand it then. Perhaps I was too young. I have a stronger grasp of it now.  When we truly believe that Jesus loves us, it changes our lives.  Our confidence increases and we feel compelled to live out Jesus’ command saying “…Love thy neighbor as thyself...” (Mark 12:31 KJV)  And we should do that.  Every person who crosses our path should be treated as beloved by God, because they are.  Our lives should be vibrant proof that we unreservedly believe Jesus’ loves us and that we wholeheartedly believe he loves others too.  When we truly believe we are loved by Jesus, we find security in that love and it becomes impossible to not pass it on.

            So as we are preparing to celebrate the Lent and Easter season, it is imperative that we emphasize the concept to ourselves--Jesus loves you.  Dwell on it.  Be strengthened by it.  Love one another because of it.  It should become our Lenten vow.  Instead of foregoing dessert, eschewing caffeine, or restricting your social networking usage, vow to spend five minutes a day pondering how much Jesus loves you and then spend the rest of the day showing him how much you reciprocate his love by showing love toward others.  Compliment a stranger.  Help someone in need.  Refuse the gossip grapevine.  Live God’s love out loud. The rewards would be fantastic, phenomenal…eternal. 

            May we do just that.  May we resist the forces that attempt to convince us that we are too bad, too weird, too crazy to be loved and may we curl up in the knowledge that Jesus loves us—unrestrainedly, unabashedly, unreservedly.  Jesus is wildly, madly, deeply in love with us.  May we truly believe it and may we live it out in wild abandon.  May Lent be our season of love.

Candy Store Christianity

            I am a lover of all things candy.  It’s a lifelong fascination.  From penny candies to elegant chocolates, hard candies to luscious caramel, I have found few to hate and many to love.  The appeal of a candy store is overwhelming.  I have fond childhood memories of visiting stores with entire aisles dedicated to the display of brightly wrapped and colored candy where I could mix and match my own special bag.  Half the joy was being able to choose only what I wanted and leave behind those I found less enjoyable.  In a recent moment of contemplation, it was impossible to miss the comparison between my candy shopping and today’s brand of Christianity.

            The concept of Christianity in today’s world is so different than the one that was prevalent when I was a child.  Back then we believed the Bible was the indisputable Word of God, meaning that we believed it all.  Heaven and hell.  Faith and doubt.  Sin and salvation.  Every miracle.  Every promise.  Every commandment.  God said it and that settled it.  We sought God and found him.  Not a Band-Aid for our conscience, but true repentance in faith rewarded with salvation and honest change.  I still subscribe to these beliefs. 

            Society does not.  Today’s special brand of Christianity seems to be the candy store shopping variety.  They pick and choose what they want to believe, cast in doubt the things they can’t explain, completely leave out the parts that make them uncomfortable, and busily “interpret” words Jesus spoke although the original meaning was crystal clear. Beware. This is candy store Christianity and the Bible is not a Pick-A-Mix event.  Treating it as such has led many to the same place as the church of Laodicea referenced in Revelation 3—neither hot nor cold, simply lukewarm Christians.  Or perhaps better stated, they have a form of Godliness, but lack the true spirit thereof. (II Timothy 3:5)  Whatever the case, it has weakened today’s churches and, in turn, today’s society.

 The damage is terrifying.  As the general public attempts to conform the Bible to society our churches fall apart, our values disintegrate, confusion reigns, and Satan has a heyday.  Young adults, heady and haughty with their newly acquired adulthood, are being blown about by all the differing opinions about God’s Word.  Some of them abandon it altogether.  Others create their own beliefs concerning its legitimacy. The few who hold to its absolute truth are often rejected by their peers.  Sadly, many of the older adults who should be leading the charge to salvage true Christianity are busy rewriting it to be more palatable. Society spirals downward and, while everyone remarks about how out of hand things are, they fail to make the connection between this spiraling event and the decided turn from true Christianity to the candy store variety. 

There is grave cause for concern because, whether we choose to believe it or not, the Bible is true from start to finish. None of Jesus’ instructions began with “If you feel like it” or ended with “Just kidding”.  The Ten Commandments may have been written in Old Testament times, but they are still wholly in effect.  Every. Single. One.  The Bible is still the high road.  Being unpopular doesn’t negate its truth.  Re-interpretations do not change its original purpose.  And the only way to get to Heaven is still through that one door—Jesus Christ. 

            I want to make it to Heaven.  Honestly, I want everyone to make it to Heaven.  But there is no back entrance; you have to go through the main door, Jesus Christ (John 10:9).  And to get through the main door, you have to believe in Jesus, accept him into your heart, and base your life in the eternal, irrefutable, unchangeable truth of the Bible. You can’t sneak in the back door, you can’t ride the wave of someone else’s experience, you can’t let society determine your Christianity, and you absolutely can’t make it on your own. 

            So don’t be deceived.  Don’t be driven about with every doctrine that comes along.  Read your Bible.  Know what it says. Believe it. Like the Psalmist, follow hard after God. (Psalms 63:8) Resist the forces of Satan that consistently try to draw you aside. Purpose in your heart to live true Christianity and firmly state with Joshua, “…as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” (Joshua 24:15) Only after these things will we be able to reclaim our families, our churches, our society for Jesus Christ.

            And may we do just that. May we leave behind the candy store Christianity and cleave to Christ alone.  May he make us Christians in every possible way.  May our lives distinctly portray our choice.  Most of all, may we take back our world for Christ.