Walking Out the One Anothers

We are continually learning what it means to be the church. But the idea of living in community, for the sake of the community, is a good place to start.

Easier said than done.

We all like the idea of community. We have all seen what happens in those rare moments when a community rallies around a cause and "makes a difference." However, living in community--not just in times of great tragedy or in the wake of a disaster, but in day to day, ordinary, life--is a whole different ball game. And it is both harder and easier than I had imagined. It is also, I believe, the life to which we have been called.

You know all of those "one anothers" in the Bible?

Love one another

Serve one another

Submit to one another

Encourage one another

Confess your sins to one another

Pray for one another

Be at peace with one another

Wash one another's feet

Be devoted to one another

Accept one another

Admonish one another

Wait for one another

Greet one another

Bear one another's burdens

Bear with one another

Do not lie to one another

Consider one another more important than yourselves

Comfort one another

Build up one another

Seek after that which is good for one another

Stimulate one another to love and good deeds

Do not speak against one another

Be hospitable to one another

Have fellowship with one another

Living in community provides daily opportunity for me to practice these things. I'm not talking about living in A community. We all do that. And that does provide opportunity to do these things as well. But I'm talking about living IN community.

What's the difference? Three things: solidarity, proximity, and intentionality. We are not one family trying to do these things in our neighborhood. Instead, we have planted a small community of believers (2 families and 2 singles) within an existing community to BE the church in and for that community.

Solidarity--we are a community of believers with a shared vision
Proximity--we all live walking distance from each other and from the church
Intentionality--we are taking these "one anothers" seriously in how we interact with each other and the broader community.

There is so much talk and rhetoric out there in the world about what it means to be a person or a community of faith. But the God who came to dwell among us invites us to also be incarnate in our world, embodying all that He taught us. I'm pretty convinced that the world can not be reached through brilliant arguments and well worded statements of faith alone. I'm pretty convinced that unless and until we are embodying those arguments and statements, we are just clanging cymbals.

The truth is, the lost people around me simply don't care about going to heaven or to hell. Such ideas are too foreign to their experience and world view. But when they see the "one anothers" being lived out in their midst--THAT, they want. And when I can simply explain that THAT is but a foretaste of heaven, the reality for which we were created, then I have something to share that they want to hear. Then the arguments have some merit. This is where effective evangelism is happening in our context.

There is no one way or model for this to happen. So as I share a peek into how that is being played out here in Old Lyon, please do not think that I am saying that this is the only way. It is one way.

In our desire to have a building that not only housed our weekly worship services and daily prayer meetings, but was open to the community all week long, we landed on the idea of opening a shared workspace facility, where we rent desks to self-employed or independent people in need of office space. From 8 am - 6 pm, M-F, the building functions as a Co-Working Venue. But from 7-7:45 am and 6-6:30 pm, M-F, we have prayer meetings in that same space. The people who rent space are invited (but certainly not required) to participate. But they understand that the space is shared with a church and that such activities will be part of the weekly rhythms. We also have our weekly services (called Happy Hour) at 5 pm on Sunday evenings.

No matter the day or the hour, we practice the "one anothers." There are four or five of us who are both church members and co-workers, and so as we go to the "office" to do our work (for me, sermon writing, conference prep, networking, coaching) we have the joy and privilege of interacting with our broader community on a day to day basis: loving, serving, speaking truth, sharing joy, practicing hospitality, spurring good deeds. We're living this stuff out both inside and outside of church walls because this church's walls extend into the community.

Again, this is both easier and harder than I imagined it would be. Easier because it is organic. I am not having to contrive ways to interact with people from the community. I am not having to create "outreach" events or manipulate conversations. We live out our faith with those who work alongside us. But it's harder because I can't compartmentalize and there are no clear boundaries. Sometimes I don't want to "serve one another" (i.e. clean the office) or "have fellowship with one another" (i.e. stop my work to engage in a meaningful conversation). And I am finding myself faced with how challenging these "one anothers" are if we actually try to live them out in our regular daily lives.

But when we get it right...oh the beauty and the rapture we experience. God is present all the time, but there is a sense of His manifest presence among us when we live this out by His strength and for His glory.

Yesterday was one of those days for me. But since this post is getting a bit long, I'll save that story for another day. 

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What's Chasing You?

And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4: 19

Paul wrote these words to the Philippians, after they had sent him a financial gift. He knew that the gift he had received would have created needs for the Philippians--they had given out of poverty, not abundance. I imagine it was hard for Paul to accept such a gift. In fact, he might have been tempted to return it, except that he had great faith in God's generosity. 

ALL YOUR NEEDS

It's quite a promise. And as I was reflecting on this verse this morning, I was reminded of Psalm 23, which concludes with a similar sentiment.

Surely your goodness and love will follow me

    all the days of my life

The word that is translated "follow" is actually a hunting term that means to chase or pursue. In other words, the goodness of God--his love and his provision--are  not things that I need to chase after, they are things that chase after me. Or as Matthew put it, they are simply '"added" to my life as I seek hard after God. 

But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.

Matthew 6:33

So I had to ask myself if I believe this promise that Paul makes to the Philippians. Do I chase after the blessings or the blesser? Because while it may seem that these two are connected, the pursuit of one will lead me in the opposite direction of the other. I cannot chase both.

If I chase the blessings, I may catch a few of them, but chances are I'll miss both the Kingdom and His righteousness. But if I chase the blesser, I will not only find the Kingdom, I'll find the King. And if I find the King, what else could I possibly need? Does a child starve when her dad is the King? Does she wander about in rags? Is she floundering through life without  mission or pupose? Surely not! 

And yet, I chase the blessings.

I don't really trust that God is enough, that Christ is sufficient, and that I will be satisfied in Him alone. I say I believe those things, but I live like I don't. 

When finances are limited, I stop being generous. When time is limited, I stop being available. When positions are limited, I vie for a place. When options are limited, I lobby for my way. I spend my energy fighting for the things that Jesus gives away for free. As I chase these things, I am chased by worry, fear, and doubt--all of which tell me that I am never going to have enough, do enough, or be enough. 

In my pursuit of worldly riches, I am impoverished of the riches of his glory. 

When I pursue Jesus, all the rest is "added." The still waters and calm pastures. The paths of righteousness. The restoration of my soul. These are the things that are chasing me when I chase after the blesser instead of the blessings.

So if you want to know what you are really chasing after, all you have to ask yourself is "What's chasing me?" Are you hounded by worry or overcome by peace? Are you running from scarcity or overtaken by abundance? Are you trying to escape isolation or drowning in love? 

What's chasing you?

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Holy Fear

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom,

And the knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.

Proverbs 9:10

“There is no fear of God before their eyes.”

Romans 3:18

I suppose it is should not shock me that a world so lacking in reverent fear of God would also be suffering from a serious deficiency of wisdom. 

After my last blog post, my sister pointed out that perhaps the problem isn't fear, but misplaced fear. The Bible is clear: those of us who live by grace through faith in the saving work of Christ should be set free from every sort of fear, save one--the righteous and holy fear of the living God. 

This is a fear that reminds us that God is God, and we are not. It is a fear that keeps us humble, grateful, and hungry for justice. It is a fear that refuses to forget that there will be a day of reckoning. And it is a fear spurs us on to love and good deeds as the "out-working" of our salvation.

And while I believe we are invited to experience the lavish riches of God's grace, convinced that we can neither earn nor improve upon its merits, I wonder if we haven't wandered from the work that His grace is meant to accomplish in and through us. We delight so deeply in the love of God--as well we should, but have we neglected his Holiness in the process? The point of our salvation is not to give us a nice, cozy, happy life for all eternity. The point of our salvation is to make us into the image of Christ for the glory of God and the sake of the world. And this is to be done with a level of fear and trembling!

So then, my beloved, just as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your salvation with fear and trembling;  for it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure.

Philippians 2:12-13

Thankfully, the work is not ours alone. Paul reminds us that it is GOD who is at work in me. But it is precisely because God is at work in me that I should have a sense of holy fear. 

This idea is more easily understood if we put it in human terms. Imagine that your boss was always standing right behind you at work, listening to every phone call, reading every email, viewing every website you visit, watching every game you play, seeing every eye-roll, hearing every sigh. Imagine that this boss is actually eager to see you succeed (not fail!), but that she also has a better understanding of the company's vision, strategy, and goals than you do. In fact, she's the CEO, the CFO, and the Board of Directors all rolled into one. So she's offering you input along the way, feeding you helpful hints, and making sure you have every resource that you could possibly need at your fingertips so that you can do the job that you were hired to do. Might the presence and provision of your superior change the way you work? Of course it would! Because with that type of boss, you'd have both a sense of security that you couldn't fail (grace) and an eagerness to please the one who gave you the job (fear). 

So I agree, a big part of our problem is misplaced fear. We are often too worried about all of the stuff that God has under control (safety, provision, resources) and not concerned enough about the call that God has given us (do justly, love mercy, walk humbly). 

He has shown you, O man, what is good;

And what does the Lord require of you

But to do justly,

To love mercy,

And to walk humbly with your God?

Micah 6:8

Jesus exemplified this charge, proclaiming the year of jubilee by working justice on behalf of the oppressed, by extending mercy to the masses (which he saw as helpless and harassed), and by living in constant, humble, submission to the Father. This is where the fear of God and the freedom from all other fears converge. 

If I fear being treated unjustly and don't fear God, I won't be free to seek justice. The Bible teaches that the justice of God is found when I relinquish my rights ("Why not rather be wronged?" I Cor. 6:7), relinquish my possessions ("Go and sell all that you have and give to the poor" Mark 10:21), and relinquish my power ("For God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong" I Cor. 1:27). 

If I fear being treated unkindly and don't fear God, I won't love mercy, I'll tend towards cruelty. The Bible teaches that the mercy of God is given to the undeserving ("He saved us, not on the basis of deeds which we have done in righteousness, but according to His mercy" Titus 3:5), the mercy of God is limitless ("His mercies never come to en end" Lam. 3:22), and that mercy is found in giving it away ("Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy" Matt. 5:7).

And if I fear being overlooked and I don't fear God, I won't walk humbly with my God, I'll seek to elevate myself. The Bible teaches that the way up is down, ("Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and He will lift you up" James 4:1) and that I should seek what is best for others ("...each of you should, in humility, be moved to treat one another as more important than yourself" Phil 2:3). 

As I decide NOT to fear anything except GOD, I will become an agent of His justice and a lover of His mercy. Only then will I be humble before him, eager to work to please Him. 

Tying this to the last post, then, I suppose I need to ask myself, "What would it look like to put a fear of God at the heart of gun debate?"  "What would it look like to put a fear of God at the heart of the immigration debate?" "What would it look like to put a fear of God at the heart of the Black Lives Matter movement?"  How do I, a follower of Christ, engage my culture on each of these issues in a way that exemplifies a right and holy fear of God without giving any room to fear of another kind? These are good questions, and again, I'm not sure I know the answers. But I want to wrestle with these thoughts and seek the peaceable wisdom of God so that I might discern His good, pleasing, and perfect will. 

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Where's the Fruit?

Are you a disciple of Jesus Christ?

Where is your proof?

Disciples don't get club cards for their key chains. They don't have T-shirts with "Fishers of Men" logos. They don't get special name tags or wrist bands. So how are we known? What evidence do we have?

It turns out Jesus did give us a calling card. He said it so plainly we easily miss it. The proof is in the fruit.

 My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit, and so prove to be My disciples. 

John 15:8 NASB

Let's be clear, fruit is not a requirement for salvation, but it IS evidence of discipleship. 

Why? 

Because according to John 15 (and like a bazillion other verses) if I am a disciple of Jesus Christ, the Spirit of God lives in me. The very God who created the universe cannot dwell in a living human being without leaving traces of His presence. Those traces of His presence are called "fruit." 

Sometimes fruit manifests itself through our character:

 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness,self-control; against such things there is no law. 

Galatians 5:22-23

And sometimes the fruit manifests itself through our actions:

For this reason also, since the day we heard of it, we have not ceased to pray for you and to ask that you may be filled with the knowledge of His will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so that you will walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, to please Him in all respects, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God...

Colossians 1:9-10

But the point is, there is fruit. Or there should be. And if there isn't fruit, we should be alarmed.

And maybe we are. But what is our response?

I think that I go into problem solving mode. I read books and go to conferences and scour the web to find Five Quick Fixes for Fruitlessness or Seven Easy Steps to See More Fruit. These "helpful" resources often talk about things that we think we can do to in order to produce fruit in our lives, to prove that we are true disciples. They tell us how to improve bad soil, how to protect ourselves against lousy weather, or how to deal with pest problems. I roll up my sleeves and get to work, missing one very  important point: IT'S NOT MY JOB TO PRODUCE THE FRUIT. 

I'm only called to bear the fruit!  

God produces the fruit. And everything I need in order to bear fruit comes from the vine. If I'm connected to the vine, I WILL bear fruit. If I'm connected to the vine, I can't NOT bear fruit. So I can't blame the soil, the weather, or the bugs. The only reason Jesus gives for fruitlessness is disonnectedness. Therefore the only solution is to abide in Christ.

 I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing. 

John 15:5

But me? I would rather be pulling weeds or spraying fertilizer. These things are so much easier to do than just abide.

Why? Because "abiding" is never done. I can never check it off of my checklist, because it has to be lived 24/7/365. We can't achieve it, we can't obtain it, we can't complete it. We can only live it. Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day. 

In fact, if I'm not bearing fruit, it is likely because I'm busy doing things that I think will produce fruit and forgetting to abide in Christ. I get impatient with the process, and like a kindergartener who buried a bean in paper cup full of soil, I grow weary with the waiting. 

It's important to pay attention to fruit. Not just to prove we are disciples, but to know if we are abiding. The funny thing is, I'm not sure I even know what it looks like and feels like to abide. I'm better at being busy. I'm learning to abide. I have a long way to go, but here are three ways that I attempt to "abide in Christ" each day. 

1. Silence: I begin every day with 10-20 minutes of silence. I sit still, in the presence of God, and I say nothing. I let my swirling thoughts quiet down, and I wait on the Lord. I don't read anything, I don't have music on, I don't pray, I don't write. I just listen. And whether God speaks or not is less important than the fact that I have spent time with Him. Abiding in very literal sense. 
2. Community: I take time to pray with others. Together, we abide in Christ by reading His word, singing His praises, confessing our sins, and seeking His guidance. For some reason, I used to see abiding as a solitary endeavor, but clearly if we are to do it all the time, then we need to be able to abide in community as well. 
3. Slowing: I'm active and decisive. I like to go fast. In so doing, I often rush ahead of the Spirit, trying to produce fruit. For some of you, you will need to pick up the pace to keep in step with the Spirit. Me? I need to slow down. When I purposefully match my steps to His, then in all that I do, I abide.

All of these are hard for me. And all of these are good for me. And the promise is sure: IF I abide, the fruit is guaranteed. If I abide I can't NOT bear fruit.  And when I bear it, it is so completely holy, so perfect, so pure, that it proves that God lives in me. 

Then I know I'm a disciple.

What fruit are you bearing these days? How do you abide in Christ?  

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Does my work matter?

So it came about when Moses held his hand up, that Israel prevailed, and when he let his hand down, Amalek prevailed. 

Exodus 17:11

Moses stands on top of a hill, observing the battle. He's not in the battle, so to speak, but watching from a safe distance. Joshua is the one who's in the fray, leading the army in the fight. 

But Moses notices that when he raises his hands (in which he is holding the Staff of God), the Israelites dominate, and when he lowers his hands, the Israelites lose. Suddenly Moses is not just a distant oberver, but one who is affecting the outcome of the battle. 

What is going on here? Does God's power to help the Israelites really depend on Moses' stance? If God is, indeed, the omnipotent God of the universe, why in the world would Moses be required to do these hilltop aerobics? 

I've been thinking a lot about this story, wondering what it teaches about God's work and my work. I'm fairly Reformed in my theology, believing that God in sovereign over all; yet, stories like this tell me that God somehow invites, values, and even depends on human participation. 

It's the phrase "depends on" that makes me cringe--that challenges my theology. If God is truly sovereign, then can He depend on His own creation to enact His own will? Not must He, but can He?

Something in me really prefers to think of God as acting outside of and apart from human participation. Life just feels safer that way. I like the theology that lets me believe that everything depends on God and nothing depends on me. This is the only way that things can turn out right, right?

But Moses had to raise His hands.

And when Moses gets tired, God doesn't say, "No problem, Mo! I gotcha covered. Thanks for doing your little bit, but the hand business was just a gimmick to make you feel needed. Take a break, rest your weary arms, and I'll clean up this mess on my own." Moses is not let off the hook, even when the job exceeds his abilities. This is where Aaron and Hur come in.

But Moses’ hands were heavy. Then they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it; and Aaron and Hur supported his hands, one on one side and one on the other. Thus his hands were steady until the sun set.

Exodus 17:12

The task that God gives Moses to do is too hard for Moses to do alone. So he has to get help. And in the end, the Israelites win. 

Why? Because God was with them. And because God worked through them. Time and time, throughout scriptures, we see this same phenomenon: God enacts His will through human participation. He's sovereign, so he doesn't HAVE to do it that way. But He's sovereign, so He CAN do it that way. 

And I think God is still choosing to enact His will through human participation. Which means that the way I spend my life matters. What I do and say matters. The things that seem small and insignificant are impacting lives and winning (or losing) battles. 

God is depending on me.

Dang, that sounds blasphemous for some reason. Why would God depend on creatures that He knows are flawed and broken and weak? Sounds like risky business to me! If I were God...

Yes, if I were God, I would do everything myself. Then I could be sure that things would be done perfectly.

But God, who is perfect, does not seem to need perfection from me. He chooses to depend on my imperfect participation. In fact, messy human participation is an overarching theme in God's great story--from Abraham to Jacob to Moses to Rahab to Ruth to David to Jonah to Peter to Martha to Paul. None of them did God's work perfectly. All of them participated imperfectly. Yet, all of their works have been woven into the story that continues still today.

So as I ponder the story of Moses and the battle of the Amalekites, I'm discovering some things that apply to my life and the way that God is asking me to participate in His work in the world: 

1. The importance of self-awareness: Moses was aware of his stance, and the impact that his stance was having on the situation. Am I aware of my stance in any given situation? Do I pay attention to how that stance is affecting other people or the circumstances in which we find ourselves?
2. The importance of community: Moses was unable to complete his task on his own. It had nothing to do with his willingness or his obedience, he simply did not have the strength he needed. He had to depend on others. When God invites me to participate in His work, do I take a Lone Ranger approach, or do I follow God's lead and choose to depend on others? Do I, like God, eagerly invite the participation of broken people? Will I value participation over perfection?
3. The importance of intercession: Moses held his ground as an intercessor, he didn't run into the battle himself when things looked bleak. I can be tempted to try to get involved in battles that are not mine to fight. Often my role, like Moses', is to watch and pray, not go and fix! This is a place of great faith, believing that God will act in response to my prayer; trusting that holding vigil might be my best contribution to a victory.
4. The importance of praise: At the end of the battle, Moses built an altar, naming it "The Lord is My Banner." Moses did not mistake his own participation for the reason that Israel was victorious. As Moses lifted up God, the Israelites won. The power for victory is only ever present when God is present and lifted up. Can I fully participate in God's work without seeking the glory for the outcome? Do I remember that God is always the perfector? And do I praise Him for every victory?

Moses built an altar and named it TheLord is My Banner. Exodus 17:15

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Silence is Golden

I am failing at my goal to blog twice a week. I'm struggling to blog twice a month. But given how many words are spilled onto the web every day, it's hard to imagine that my failure to contribute to the noise could posibly be missed. In fact--it might be appreciated. Yes, "Silence is golden, golden." It's a commodity that seems to have lost its value in our world. If I had any brains, I'd end this post right there.

Yeah, we all knew that wasn't going to happen!

I feel  the need to verbalize what I am learning about shutting up.

In the course of one day, I managed to rudely correct the same person twice. Both times the correction was not over something important or even relevant. The errors were teeny tiny. They were not critical to the information being shared. They need not have had any attention at all directed at them. They should have been overlooked. I should have shut my trap. Silence, while actively listening to the real heart of the speaker, would have been the most loving response.

Me? I interrupted with corrections. I stopped the flow a perfectly engaging story to quibble over non-essentials. Non-essentials that I didn't even really care about. Why? Why did I open my mouth?

I spoke before I thought. I blurted out something without even considering how my interjection would not only be rude, but might also have belittled the speaker. I did it without even recognizing what I had done.

And then I went running.

And while I was running, the two scenes (which happened within a 12 hour span) were replayed in my mind back to back. I saw myself as an outsider looking in--I saw petty, shrill, superior me. Yuck. Sin doesn't look so bad from the inside looking out. But when I see it from the outside looking in, it's repulsive. My heart sank. For the rest of my run, I let myself feel the sadness of God over how I had treated one of His own.

While I quickly repented of my bad behavior, and while I have had the opportunity to ask for forgiveness both from God and from the beautiful young woman I interrupted, I realize that the sin God has revealed to me goes deeper than I'd like to think. This isn't an isolated incident, it's a nasty habit.  A habit from which I want to be healed. In fact, I shudder to think how many of you are nodding your heads as you read, thinking, "Yeah, Jenn, that's been an issue for a while! Are you just now figuring it out?" Yeah. I'm suppose I'm a slow learner.

So once again, for yet another reason, I'm learning to hold my tongue. To ask, "Is it necessary?" before I speak. To consider if my words will build up or tear down before I hammer them out of my mouth. To see the beauty of silence. Yes, much love can be spoken in silence.

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Because You Say So

"Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch."

Simon answered, "Master, we've worked hard all night and haven't caught anything. But because you say so, I will let down the nets."

When they had done so, they caught such a large number of fish that their nets began to break.

Luke 5: 4-6

Sometimes Jesus asks us to do things that defy our intelligence and our experience.

Simon was a fisherman. He knew how to fish, he knew where to fish, and he knew when to fish. He had done everything that he knew to do, but for some reason, on this particular day, it hadn't worked.
Oh well, it was time to mend the nets and call it quits. Surely there'd be fish tomorrow.

Jesus has a different plan. After having comandeered Simon's boat so that he might teach the crowds who were at the beach that morning, he encourages Simon to give it another go.

Now? In  broad daylight? Now? After getting skunked all night? Now? When I'm weary and ready to go home? Really, Jesus? Are you sure?

Simon expressed his doubts. And I imagine Jesus heard them, but he was unmoved. His gaze was certainly resolute, perhaps he raised his eyebrows, and waited. So Simon says, "But because you say so, I will let down the nets."

It didn't make sense. It seemed to be an exercise in futility. And even though Simon was sure it wouldn't work, he did what Jesus asked. Because Jesus said so.

It's easy to do what Jesus asks when it makes sense. It's easy to obey when we understand why. It's easy to follow a Jesus who leads us in predictable patterns. It's easy to trust a Savior who respects human logic. But I'm not sure this is the picture of Jesus that the Bible paints.

Jesus asks lame men to get up and walk.

Jesus tells Peter to get out of the boat.

Jesus allows a prostitue to wash his feet with her hair.

Jesus takes time away from a busy ministry schedule to interact with little children.

Jesus calls Judas his friend.

Jesus dines with sinners.

Jesus beckons Lazarus from the grave.

Jesus rarely does what is "normal" or "expected." And he invites his followers to walk as he walked.

To notice the broken people. To stoop to the lowly. To befreind the betrayers. To speak life to the dying. To cast out our nets where no fish have been found, because he says so.

So here's the question: "What is Jesus saying?"

What is he saying to you, today? What is he asking you to do? Does it seem absurd? Crazy? Irresponsible? Unnecessary? And will you do it, just because he says so?

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Watch and Pray

Sometimes (and I hate to admit this), but sometimes I doubt the goodness of God.

I know that God is good, and believe it on an intellectual level. But at a heart level, I can be overwhelmed by the suffering, the evil, and the insurmountble challenges that we face as a society. I can start to wonder why a good God would allow such tragedies to unfold, seemingly silent.

And when I look at my own life, small and insignificant as it is, I also have deep disappointments with God. Hopes have been dashed, questions unanswered, desires unmet. I'm not talking about my desire for a Porsche. I'm talking about my desire to see people come to faith, to be healed, and to grow in grace. Why would a good God let those desires languish?

Then, as if to give the lie to my own sentiments, this God in question throws me a lifeline.

One of my professors from George Fox (MaryKate Morse) was a speaker at Urbana this year, and because I appreciate her wisdom and spiritual insights, I watched her message on YouTube. She was speaking to this very idea, and she based her insights on the story of Jesus and his disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane.

There, on the eve of what must have been the discples most disappointing day ever, Jesus gives them these instructions:

“Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation.”

 In the face of questions, doubts, and general bewliderment, the discples were told to do two things. Watch and pray.

As I listened to MaryKate and considered these instructions, I realized that when I watch, I am not trying to fix or control, but I am expectant. I watch because I believe the story isn't finished. I watch because I think something is going to happen. Watching is a way of hoping, and hope is the opposite of despair.

Next I realized that when I pray I am not turning a blind eye to the problems of this world, but I am engaging them. I pray because I believe Someone will answer. I pray because I know a God who is able. Praying is a way of choosing faith, and faith is the opposite of doubt.

The reason that Jesus asks his disciples to watch and pray is NOT so that their circumstances change. The reason Jesus asks his disciples to watch and pray is so that they will not fall into temptation.

And what is that temptation?

MaryKate suggested that it is the temptation the believe that God is not good.

The things that the disciples would witness over the next few hours were going to put them to the test. They were going to question everything they thought they knew about God. And in that dark and desperate place, they would face the same temptation that I face when evil and suffering abound. They would be tempted to question the goodness of God.

Watching and praying...putting hope and faith into action, are antidotes against such a temptation.

And so this is my new routine, my firm decision, my resolution. I actually made a list of the places in my life where I long to see the goodness of God. And as those things creep into my mind, usually in the form of disappointment or doubt, I choose to watch and pray. I do not know what God will do, or how he will answer. I'm sure that Friday night, as Jesus hung on the cross, the disciples probably felt like their watching and praying had been for naught.

But did they keep watching and praying anyway? Even when all seemed lost? Did they hold on to the two final instructions that Jesus had given?

I want to hold on, even when all seems lost. And I think I can, because I know something that the disciples didn't know.

I know what happened on Sunday.

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Dealing with Feelings

How often the Pslamist questions his own soul.

"Why so downcast, Soul?" he asks.

The psalmist is engaging in Spiritual Formation, that long and arduous process of taming the soul. The psalmist doesn't ignore feelings or explain them away. The psalmist is not rationalizing emotions, but attending to them for the hope of tranformation. The psalmist is being made into the likeness of Christ, and emotions play a role.

What? Wait a minute...aren't emotions suspect? They can't be trusted. They lag along as the caboose of the train--it's facts that fuel the engine of faith. At least that's what the tract taught me.

But the psalmist disagrees. The Psalms are laden with emotion, full of desire, anger, joy, disappointment, fear, doubt, and love. Passionate, crazy love. These emotions are given voice, processed, analyzed, and incorporated into the spiritual journey.

Reason and logic came to rule in the time of the great Greek philosophers, and in some ways, they are still ruling today. Believers have bought into these ideas to the point where emotions are no longer allowed to do their work in us, and this, my friends, is a shame.

Sure, emotions must be redeemed through the faith journey--they are far from pure and holy in our broken and fallen state. But neither are our thoughts, reasonings, or knowledge pure and holy apart from God.

Like the psalmist, I am learning to address my emotions, to invite them into the conversation, to ask God to shine His light on them and refine them in His fire, that they, too, might be subject to His rule and useful to His Kingdom.

"Why so downcast, Soul?"

When I am sad, I listen to my soul. Sometimes the sadness reveals an inordinate attachment, a misaligned love, or a selfish longing. I give those to God, and He helps me to reorder my affections. But sometimes the sadness reveals a holy longing, a divine grief, or a righteous desire. I give those to God, too, and He helps me to move forward in faith.

"Why so happy, Soul?"

When I am happy, I  also need to listen to my soul. Sometimes the happiness reveals an inordinate attachment, a misaligned love, or a selfish longing. I give those to God and He helps me to reorder my affections. But sometimes the happiness reveals a satisfaction in Christ, a celebration of beauty, a righteous longing fulfilled. I give those to God, too, and He helps me to move forward in faith.

The thing is, if these emotions are left unexamined, they can become destructive rather than constructive. Not all positive emotions are good, and not all negative emotions are bad. Discernment is critical to the process.

One thing I've noticed since I started paying more attention to my emotions, is that Jesus was often led by his emotions. More often than anything, Jesus is moved to heal or to help by compassion. Not reason. Not justice. Compassion. The only holy, perfect human was led by holy and perfect emotions. As we become more like him, might we also be able to let emotions have a greater bearing on how we live, on what we say, and on what we do?

I think that we live in a time when we NEED to feel more. And I think that until the church learns to let spirituality infuse reason and emotion, we will not be able to love and care for each other as God intended. We were made in the image of a passionate God. I want to be a person who rightly reflects His passions.

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He Saved Me

Ezekiel 16 is not exactly a G-rated chapter of the Bible. In fact, it's rather scandalous. But for some reason, I find myself drawn to it. I'm both inspired and repulsed by the images. I'm both challenged and comforted by the message. It reveals something of God that I think I've watered-down.

I'm starting to realize that we might not actually like God as He really is, so we clean Him up for church. We pick and choose the images of God we want to keep, and we ignore the rest.

Gentle Shepherd--Good! Keep it. Paint it. Hang it in the nursery!

Jealous Lover--Bad! Skip over those verses.

Faithful Father--Good! Use it. Sing it. Write books about it!

Angry Ruler--Questionable. Keep it in the Old Testament. Gloss over it.

Just Judge--Good! Preach it. Exegite it! Use it to evangelize!

Proponent of Social Justice--Sketchy! Too focused on the world. We care more about saving souls.

And while it's a struggle to understand what God says about Himself, it's almost impossible to accept what God says to be true about US. About ME. The tuth is too shocking, too harsh, too raw, so we sugar-coat it to make it more palatable. And again, we pick and choose the images.

Lost sheep--Good! Sweet and fluffy. Poor thing just wandered off. He couldn't really help it.

Cheap Whore--Yeah, that's not so pretty. Let's not talk about that one.

Salt of the Earth--Good! Yes, we are change agents, we add spice, we purify the earth. Yea, us!

Enemies of God--Well, that seems a bit harsh...

Children of God--Good! I like it. One, big, happy, family.

Wretches--I'm not sure that's fair. I'm not perfect, but I'm no wretch!

Ezekiel 16 begins with Jerusalem being represented as an abandoned baby:

4 As for your birth, on the day you were born your navel cord was not cut, nor were you washed with water for cleansing; you were not rubbed with salt or even wrapped in cloths. 5 No eye looked with pity on you to do any of these things for you, to have compassion on you. Rather you were thrown out into the open field, for you were abhorred on the day you were born.

Last year in my Old Testament class I learned that the ancient Hebrew custom was that a baby was not considered "alive" until the father chose to adopt it. If the father rejected a baby, the baby could be left in an open field to die. So the Lord is telling Jerusalem that it was not even considered worthy of life from its very birth. But then he goes on to say this:

6 “When I passed by you and saw you squirming in your blood, I said to you while you were in your blood, ‘Live!’ Yes, I said to you while you were in your blood, ‘Live!’" 

God, in this admonition to "live" has adopted Jerusalem. The baby does nothing to earn this right of life. The baby is a mess. "Abhorred." Squirming in its own blood. Until God gives it life.

God bends down. God has compassion. God shows mercy. God loves and cares for the unwanted child. God bestows every possible blessing. And still, God is rejected.

This is the human condition. This is the reality of our corruption. Our sinfulness is not something that we do every now and then, it's not a blemish on our skin. Our sinfulness is woven through our nature, apart from Christ it is the essence of who we are.

When we don't get that--when we don't grasp the depths of our depravity, we miss out on being able to appreciate the enormity of the grace that we have been given. We love when Paul talks about being transformed from "glory to glory." We forget that John wrote about receiving from Christ "grace upon grace."

Over and over we are told not to forget who we were before we met Jesus. What we are apart from grace. And this rememberence is not meant to shame us. It is meant to hold us. To hold us in that place of awe for the God who stooped down "while we were in our blood"..."while we were yet sinners." For the one who clothed us in His righteousness, because even our very best is like "filthy rags."

The fact is, we want to be worthy. I want to be worthy. I want to be a child of God because I'm lovable. Because I'm cute. Because I'm good. I don't want to think of myself as a discarded baby. I want to think of myself as somehow, in at least some small way, worth being saved. Can't I please play some part in my own salvation?

Does the bloody baby play a role?

When I was replete with sin, as I lay squirming in my own blood, I still bore the image of God. God has graced humanity with His image, and by giving us His own reflection, He placed in each human being an innate worthiness. A worthiness rooted in Himself.

So while I don't play a role in my own salvation, I know that He deems me worthy. So worthy that He sent His only son. In Jesus, the father says, "Live!"

And with that Word of Life, I am recreated. The old, bloody baby is gone, the new has come. But as I live into that reality of who I am in Christ, I stand in awe of the one who rescued me from certain death. Not by works of righteouness that I have done, but according to His mercy, He has saved me.

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I'm the Problem

Another shooting. Another tragedy. And from what I can observe, those who have national level platforms are not turning towards each other in desperation, aching to find a solution. Instead they've quickly set up their camps and and have started lobbing bombs of their own.

And we wonder why there is so much violence?

When will we finally turn towards? When will we stop pointing fingers and blaming? Where are the leaders that refuse to accuse everyone else of causing the problem? Where are the ones who will finally stand up and say, "I'm the problem! It's my fault!"

Where are the Daniels and Nehemiahs? Who will tear their clothes in repentance, confessing their sins and the sins of the nation?

No one?

Really?

As long as we see the problem as "out there" instead of "in here," we will not find peace.

Years ago the London Times ran an essay contest where they asked people to respond to the question, "What's Wrong With the World?" The great theologian G. K. Chesterton wrote this famous response:

Dear Sir,

I am.

Yours,
G. K. Chesterton

I see many Christians postulating that the problem is that our country has turned its back on God, that we as a nation have turned away from him. I think that still makes it someone else's problem. With this approach the Christian takes exception--everyone else, the worldly, humanistic Americans are at fault. This is far from the humble reply of Chesterton, who owned the sickness himself.

The great leader Nehemiah, when he hears that Jerusalem lies in ruin, doesn't point fingers and say, "Why can't those Israelites get it together?" No. He counts himself among the guilty, praying, "I confess the sins we Israelites, including myself and my father's family, have committed against you."

Including myself. Nehemiah wasn't even living in Jerusalem at the time, and yet, he counted himself among the guilty.

Church, this is not the time to stand up and point fingers. Praying for our country IS a valuable thing. But God has been clear since the beginning of time that faith without works is dead. Nehemiah prayed, and then he went to Jerusalem to build a wall. What else will we do?

Psalm 34:14 says to "seek peace and pursue it."

Hint: Neither insisting on the importance of gun rights nor proclaiming the need for greater gun control are means of seeking peace and pursuing it. They are exactly the opposite. When we cannot humble ourselves enough to come together to find a solution we are not seeking peace, we are prolonging violence.

The old hymn says, "Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me."

Who will be bold enough to question their own stance? Who will dare to imagine that their current point of view might be flawed? Who might be creative enough to imagine that the solution is beyond the current set of proposed possibilities? Who is courageous enough to turn towards those who have an opposing view and listen, not with the intent to refute, but with the desire to learn?  If we all continue to believe that our current way of thinking is holy, right, and good, then we will, each one, miss the conviction of the Holy Spirit that might reveal where we are wrong. And we are wrong. Every one of us.

What is wrong with the world?

I am.

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About that...

There is this great story in the Gospel of Luke when the disciples are traveling with Jesus to Jerusalem. It is getting dark, and Jesus sends a few of them ahead to a Samaritan village where they plan to spend the night. But it turns out the Samaritans didn't want to play host to Jesus. The Bible tells us, "the people there did not welcome him."

The disciples are angry, indignant, and self-righteous at this turn of events. They even offer to "call down fire from heaven to destroy them." The disciples feel threatened by the Samaritan's rejection, but Jesus? Not so much. In fact, Jesus is more bothered by his disciples' response to the rejection. The disciples want to rebuke the Samaritans, but Jesus rebukes his disciples.

You see, Jesus never expected the world to love and accept him. Rejection doesn't surprise him. It doesn't even offend him. It's us who take offense. And in our offense, we often sin. We miss the mark. We miss the point.

Do you get where I'm going with this? Yes, I'm talking about the stupid cups. And all of the other things over which American Christians will agonize in the coming months. In trying to make Jesus the point of the season, how very often we miss the point ourselves. 

We have got to stop acting offended or surprised when earthly powers, businesses, and governments don't welcome Jesus. Heck, he was born in a barn to show us that he was going to be an outsider from the get-go! It's not our job to make the world love him. It's our job to love a world that hates him. It's not our job to call down fire from heaven every time we think that Jesus has been forced out of the picture. It's our job to offer grace and mercy to bring Jesus back into the picture.

Think before you post, people. Ask yourself, "Am I calling down fire from heaven?" And if you are, remember how Jesus responded to his disciples when they did the exact same thing. 

 When the disciples James and John saw this, they asked, “Lord, do you want us to call fire down from heaven to destroy them?” But Jesus turned and rebuked them.

Luke 9: 54-55

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...and the meditation of my heart

This morning, as I sat with the Lord, Psalm 19:14 came to mind:

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart

    be acceptable in your sight,

    O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

It's a familiar Psalm, and one that I often pray. And I often pray it because, well, let's face it, the words of my mouth get me into a lot of trouble. At best, I'm painfully direct, and at worst I'm disrespectful and self-righteous. Sometimes the things that come out my my mouth offend my very own ears, so I'm sure that they are not acceptable in the sight of the Lord. Nevertheless, redemption is woking its way to my tongue, and little by little, I find myself speaking with greater care. 

This morning, I was drawn to the second phrase of this prayer: "and the meditation of my heart." As I am learning to submit to the Spirit-lead censorship of my speech, I am becoming more aware of the thought patterns from which my words proceed. Are my thoughts, my inner musings, my mental tapes pleasing to God? Are they acceptable in His sight?

Oh how I long for sanctification to seep beyond behavior modification and move deep into the inner-workings of my heart and my mind! Jesus once reprimanded the Pharisees because they had perfected their outward allegiance to the Law without having surrendered the motives of their hearts. He tells them that they are like cups that are clean on the outside but dirty on the inside. 

The Psalmist was insightful with this prayer. It's not simply what comes out of us that matters. God sees my thoughts. And that's an interesting use of words, isnt it? The Paslmist doesn't ask for his words and thoughts to be acceptable in God's hearing, but in God's sight. For God, words are visible. Just as the WORD took on flesh and dwelt among us. 

God isn't simply hearing my thoughts, He's seeing my thoughts. What does He see today?

Does He see a troubled, anxious child, fretting over things despite her Father's promise to meet her every need? Or does He see a content daughter, fearless, and hopeful for the future?

Does He see unkind thoughts towards another that He deeply loves? Or does He see compassion, generosity of spirit, and grace?

Does He see scheming and calculating over a problem that seems insurmountable? Or does He see a confident faith that rests secure in every circumstance?

Father, I want my thoughts to be acceptable to you. When my mind is spinning out of control, when I'm stewing over an issue, when I'm angry and hurt, will you turn my heart to you so that the things I think are pleasant for you to see. And when I'm filled with excitement, resting in Your peace, or overflowing with gratitude, take joy, my King, in what you see. 

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