There is something within us that fights to maintain control, and it isn’t completely due to the sin nature with which we are born. God bestows on each person a free will, as sovereign as the law of gravity and about as likely to be divinely overruled. It’s an amazing thing, really—the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, who must restrain his own power so a simple “hello” doesn’t blow me to smithereens, bows to my will and waits patiently for me to submit. He never manipulates, pulls on heartstrings, pushes, prods, or deceives in order to get me to come around to his way of doing it.
For that very reason, Paul urged us to offer ourselves to God:
"Do not offer the parts of your body to sin, as instruments of wickedness, but rather offer yourselves to God, as those who have been brought from death to life; and offer the parts of your body to him as instruments of righteousness" (Romans 6:13).
If we don’t come freely, there’s no point in coming at all. That’s the problem with coercing, forcing, or manipulating people to church “for their own good.” On the other hand, the problem with living sacrifices is that we keep crawling down off the altar! We want to live for God. Then we don’t. Then we do. Then we don’t, mirroring Paul’s quandary in Romans 7.
Controlling people isn’t in a Christian’s job description, but we try to do it nevertheless. Many people, to a certain extent, fall into what Carmen Renee Berry calls the “Messiah Trap” in her book When Helping You Is Hurting Me. We want something done, it depends on us to get it done, and therefore it doesn’t matter whose strings we have to pull in order to make it happen.
Churches are a natural draw for people who, whether consciously or not, seek positions of control. Think about our vocabulary: lord, serve, worship, submit, obey, commandments. For those with a weakness in this area, it is easy to lose sight of whom we are to obey—“God, rather than men” (Acts 5:29b).
As a teenager, I submitted to the spiritual authority of a man who had achieved master manipulator status. Blinded to all but his charisma, charm, and ability to convince me of just about anything, you can well imagine the trouble that resulted from this equation: carnal man with power + impressionable young woman = deception, sin, devastation, guilt, anger.
Perhaps because of that, my antennae are usually very sensitive to manipulation. If I get a whiff of someone trying to pull my strings, I invariably start backing away. But if I’m in a state of spiritual weakness…if my emotional tank is dry…if I’m looking to others to meet my needs rather than to my heavenly Father…I’m still in danger.
But I would have stood anyone down who said I was, in fact, codependent—that psychospeak, vague term that we bandy about when talking about, for the most part, addictions. An alcoholic husband has his own problems, but the wife can easily become another when she lies to cover his lies, makes excuses, hides his abuse of her. That kind of weakness did not…absolutely did not…resemble me.
Sure, I let people use me…aren’t we called to serve? No, I didn’t always regard my own needs as valid…wouldn’t that be selfish?
And then I “just happened” to pick up a copy of Codependent No More, by Melody Beattie, and begin reading. Just the preface convicted me! I saw, like the proverbial light bulb going off over my head, that I had allowed the problems of others—that minister’s lust and control issues, a friend’s anger, a family member’s addiction to pain medications—to control my behavior and responses. My codependency actually fueled the fire. With the family member especially, my attempts to “help” were doing anything but.
Slowly, I’m learning to detach myself from things that are not mine to control, allowing others to fail at times so that they learn to depend to God and not Ellen, realizing that if I’ve sincerely asked someone to forgive me for wrongdoing it isn’t my problem if they choose to withhold forgiveness, feeling free to say “no” whether it hurts someone’s feelings or not. A natural people-pleaser, I’m learning to instead focus on pleasing God—and one thing that pleases him is for me to control my own life under the direction of the Holy Spirit, and neither hold others responsible for my happiness, nor withhold accountability from them when they are hurtful.
We are to offer ourselves to God, not to every person or need or request that comes our way.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Friday, July 10, 2009
July 10, 2009 Lovers or Prostitutes?
The following is an excerpt from an article written by Dr. David Ryser:
A number of years ago, I had the privilege of teaching at a school of ministry. My students were hungry for God, and I was constantly searching for ways to challenge them to fall more in love with Jesus and to become voices for revival in the Church. I came across a quote attributed most often to Rev. Sam Pascoe. It is a short version of the history of Christianity, and it goes like this: Christianity started in Palestine as a fellowship; it moved to Greece and became a philosophy; it moved to Italy and became an institution; it moved to Europe and became a culture; it came to America and became an enterprise. Some of the students were only 18 or 19 years old…and I wanted them to understand and appreciate the import of the last line, so I clarified it by adding, "An enterprise. That's a business." After a few moments Martha, the youngest student in the class, raised her hand. I could not imagine what her question might be. I thought the little vignette was self-explanatory, and that I had performed it brilliantly. Nevertheless, I acknowledged Martha's raised hand, "Yes, Martha." She asked such a simple question, "A business? But isn't it supposed to be a body?" I could not envision where this line of questioning was going, and the only response I could think of was, "Yes." She continued, "But when a body becomes a business, isn't that a prostitute?"
Ryser goes on to say that the class was stunned into silence by the concept Martha introduced because ultimately, the answer to her question is “yes.” Ryser continued to mull it over in the coming weeks and began thinking about the differences in lovers and prostitutes. “Both do many of the same things, but a lover does what she does because she loves. A prostitute pretends to love, but only as long as you pay. Then I asked the question, ‘What would happen if God stopped paying me?”
What if?…not that God’s promises are not sure, not that he does not bless us completely and continually because of his awesome love…but let’s be painfully honest with ourselves. Why do we serve him? Do we receive his blessings as from a loving Father for his children, or do we, at some level, perceive them as wages for our service and obedience? Do we really love God, as he commanded, with our whole hearts, souls, minds, and strengths or do we place conditions? Do we feel we deserve this or that because of what we’ve done for him? If you answer this prayer…if you come through for me…if you’ll just forgive me…
Are you ever disappointed with God? I am. He doesn’t always do what I want! If that disappointment and anger affects my relationship with him, however, I’m the one in trouble. In a marriage, a loving couple can handle disappointment and anger and move beyond it—can we move beyond it where God is concerned or do we curl up within ourselves pouting like small children, refusing to worship or relate to his people or serve because we didn’t get our way? When (not if) this happens, we are behaving not as the lovers of God we are called to be, but as common prostitutes. No money, no action.
Ryser points out that “there are no prostitutes in heaven, or in the Kingdom of God, for that matter, but there are plenty of former prostitutes in both places. Take it from a recovering prostitute when I say there is no substitute for unconditional, intimate relationship with God.”
The Church, perhaps particularly in the United States, is in grave danger of turning the Body of Christ into a business. As individuals we need to stay very soft toward the Holy Spirit, listening for his leading and correction, learning to love wholeheartedly and with abandonment regardless of what we see around us. Corporately, we need to be cautious of trendiness, of taking the truth of the Gospel and trying to make it more marketable to the masses. We can be enterprising (i.e. productive, industrious, doing all things for his glory and in excellence) without turning Christianity into an enterprise.
For the entire article by Ryser, go to www.injesus.com and search for Dr. David Ryser or “The Question that Changed My Life.”
ellenofgillette1@aol.com
A number of years ago, I had the privilege of teaching at a school of ministry. My students were hungry for God, and I was constantly searching for ways to challenge them to fall more in love with Jesus and to become voices for revival in the Church. I came across a quote attributed most often to Rev. Sam Pascoe. It is a short version of the history of Christianity, and it goes like this: Christianity started in Palestine as a fellowship; it moved to Greece and became a philosophy; it moved to Italy and became an institution; it moved to Europe and became a culture; it came to America and became an enterprise. Some of the students were only 18 or 19 years old…and I wanted them to understand and appreciate the import of the last line, so I clarified it by adding, "An enterprise. That's a business." After a few moments Martha, the youngest student in the class, raised her hand. I could not imagine what her question might be. I thought the little vignette was self-explanatory, and that I had performed it brilliantly. Nevertheless, I acknowledged Martha's raised hand, "Yes, Martha." She asked such a simple question, "A business? But isn't it supposed to be a body?" I could not envision where this line of questioning was going, and the only response I could think of was, "Yes." She continued, "But when a body becomes a business, isn't that a prostitute?"
Ryser goes on to say that the class was stunned into silence by the concept Martha introduced because ultimately, the answer to her question is “yes.” Ryser continued to mull it over in the coming weeks and began thinking about the differences in lovers and prostitutes. “Both do many of the same things, but a lover does what she does because she loves. A prostitute pretends to love, but only as long as you pay. Then I asked the question, ‘What would happen if God stopped paying me?”
What if?…not that God’s promises are not sure, not that he does not bless us completely and continually because of his awesome love…but let’s be painfully honest with ourselves. Why do we serve him? Do we receive his blessings as from a loving Father for his children, or do we, at some level, perceive them as wages for our service and obedience? Do we really love God, as he commanded, with our whole hearts, souls, minds, and strengths or do we place conditions? Do we feel we deserve this or that because of what we’ve done for him? If you answer this prayer…if you come through for me…if you’ll just forgive me…
Are you ever disappointed with God? I am. He doesn’t always do what I want! If that disappointment and anger affects my relationship with him, however, I’m the one in trouble. In a marriage, a loving couple can handle disappointment and anger and move beyond it—can we move beyond it where God is concerned or do we curl up within ourselves pouting like small children, refusing to worship or relate to his people or serve because we didn’t get our way? When (not if) this happens, we are behaving not as the lovers of God we are called to be, but as common prostitutes. No money, no action.
Ryser points out that “there are no prostitutes in heaven, or in the Kingdom of God, for that matter, but there are plenty of former prostitutes in both places. Take it from a recovering prostitute when I say there is no substitute for unconditional, intimate relationship with God.”
The Church, perhaps particularly in the United States, is in grave danger of turning the Body of Christ into a business. As individuals we need to stay very soft toward the Holy Spirit, listening for his leading and correction, learning to love wholeheartedly and with abandonment regardless of what we see around us. Corporately, we need to be cautious of trendiness, of taking the truth of the Gospel and trying to make it more marketable to the masses. We can be enterprising (i.e. productive, industrious, doing all things for his glory and in excellence) without turning Christianity into an enterprise.
For the entire article by Ryser, go to www.injesus.com and search for Dr. David Ryser or “The Question that Changed My Life.”
ellenofgillette1@aol.com
Monday, June 29, 2009
June 29, 2009 Hearing God's Will for Yourself
Many things seem uncertain at 18, but the summer I was that illustrious age, I was more certain of one thing than—barring the importance of commitment of Jesus Christ—I’d ever been in my life. It was God’s will for me to marry a young man I hardly knew.
My mother was incredulous—God had told her I’d marry another young man. Not only that, God had told him. But he hadn’t told me.
A week later, we were engaged (with my parent’s blessings). Three months later we were married. Thirty-three years, four children, a son-in-law, three grandchildren, and incredible ups and downs later, we’re still Mr. and Mrs. David Gillette.
All that to say…it’s important to hear the word of the Lord for yourself, and to act upon it.
In 1 Kings 13, we read about a man who should’ve known that. We’re told only that he was a “man of God”—and if you were going to be known for one thing, that’s a good one.
He went to King Jeroboam to deliver the word of the Lord, but it didn’t go well. When the king stretched out his hand, calling for the man’s arrest, his hand shriveled up. Amazing how a useless limb will grab your attention! The king asked the man of God to pray for him, and was healed.
“Come have dinner,” the king said. “I’ll give you a gift.”
“Not even if you offered half your kingdom.” Apparently the Lord had commanded him not to eat or drink until he arrived home by a different route.
Enter a prophet—one would assume another “man of God” with such a title, but even prophets get it wrong occasionally—who’d heard about the drama of the day. He chased the man down, inviting him to a meal. Perhaps he wanted to pick his brain about palace intrigue, or was going through a dry spell and wanted a fill-up for his spiritual tank. The man of God again refused, giving the same reason.
“But I’m a prophet too!” the old prophet said. “An angel told me to bring you home for bread and water!” The man of God let himself be dazzled by prophet’s apparent spiritual maturity, his advanced age, the smoothness and excitement of the lie. An angel…
Amazingly, as the two ate, the word of the Lord came, not to the man of God, but to the lying prophet: “The Lord says that because you defied his word to you, your body won’t be buried in the tomb of your fathers.”
Who worries about his burial place? He’d gotten a word from God to deliver to the king! So he messed up a little…what did it matter where he was buried?
As he traveled that very day, however, a lion killed him on the road. Didn’t eat him, just killed him, then stood there guarding the body. When the prophet heard what happened, he knew right away who the victim was. He retrieved the body, burying the man in his own tomb. “When I die,” he told his sons, “bury me with the man of God, for the words he spoke will come to pass.”
One would hope that he also repented for his part in the tragedy.
The point is that we can easily be swayed by people of position, title, influence, wealth, or academic superiority. The word of God, whether the written logos word in Bible form, or the personal rhema word the Holy Spirit speaks to the heart, is important. When we are certain of its application in our own lives, we need to honor it, regardless of popular opinion.
Commit to a life of obedience, and it becomes God’s job to move mountains to make sure you understand his will… your job to trust and obey.
ellenofgillette1@aol.com Permission to reprint with acknowledgement of source.
Monday, June 15, 2009
June 15, 2009 The High Standard of Honesty
“I hate this problem I’m having with lying,” Phil told the pastor.
“But you don’t hate lying,” the pastor replied.
Point well taken. If we truly hate something, we usually stop. If we tolerate sin in our lives, however, we will search far and wide, high and low, for ways to justify it, skating around the possibility of harsh consequences. As speaker Doug Easterday says, Christians don’t usually fall into sin, we jump into it…like kids jumping into a pile of autumn leaves. Wheee….
It has been said that “A lie does not sacrifice a truth, but THE truth.” The Bible tells us that Satan is a liar and the father of lies (John 8:44). Jesus is called the Truth (John 14:6). “Thou shalt not lie” is one of the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:16). It is obvious, then, that people of faith are to be honest. Honesty isn’t just the best policy; it’s the only policy for Christians. 100% honesty, 100% of the time. No using stamps from the office for personal mail just this once. No “white lie” about one’s whereabouts last Thursday evening.
Is honesty a problem in the church? I dare say it is. Perhaps attendance numbers are inflated on a report, or a sermon is appropriated, word for word, from the Internet without giving honor where it is due (Romans 13:7). Perhaps someone speaks an untruth to avoid hurting someone’s feelings. But when we discover that a brother or sister has lied to us, we feel let down. If he or she lied about that, what else can we not trust?
I used to pride myself (pride being the red flag here) on my honesty. A friend once called me “stupid honest” because he thought my commitment to telling the truth went beyond reason—even when I would get in trouble, when truth would hurt someone, etc. Maybe I told the truth, but I was not a person of truth—in fact, I was quite deceptive in the way I manipulated questions and answers, or followed the letter of the law while ignoring the spirit.
One example from my teenaged years –my parents set a rule that I was not to be alone with my boyfriend at our house or at his house…so we went to his grandmother’s (vacant) house! I could “honestly” say I obeyed the rule, but clearly, honesty was not what was on my mind at the time.
As I’ve walked a little further down the narrow road that keeps getting narrower, the Holy Spirit has shone his light with increasing intensity on that tendency, or at least willingness, to hedge while also teaching me about the difference between facts and truth. The standard hasn’t changed—never changes—but the degree of personal accountability has.
Recently I had a fresh lesson: While in town, I realized that I had a government check of my daughter’s from recent mail which needed cashing. She hadn’t signed it yet, but since I have power of attorney I thought nothing of signing it, then endorsing it with my own name. Everything would have been copacetic had the teller not been so specific. “Did she sign the back?” she asked…quite efficiently. I replied in the affirmative…and beat myself up about all the way home. I tried to rationalize that my daughter wanted the cash, had no problem with my signing it, etc., etc., but the fact that I had been asked, pointblank, and…lied, let’s face it…continued to nag me.
I don’t know about you, but I live with too much external stress I can do nothing whatsoever about, to endure one iota of personally-generated stress I can offload by a simple action. I want a clear conscience—even if the particulars don’t really matter, my heart DOES matter. The next time I was in the bank, I took the teller aside, explained the situation, and apologized. “As a Christian, I believe it’s important to be honest,” I told her, “and I wasn’t completely honest with you.”
Whether she thought I was noble, or stupid, or an alien dropped off from another planet, I have no idea, nor do I really care. Clearing my conscience was for ME (and to please my Father), not for anyone else sake. (Of course, the fact that I work for a church and am known to attend another could have also reflected poorly at a corporate level, as could any wrong action by a particular “Christian” reflect on other Christians in general).
Keep short accounts with God—why let that nagging sensation of wrongdoing have time to fester? We’ll always be learning, always blow it, always have new areas for that Holy Spirit spotlight to shine. The idea is to acknowledge…then act. Over and done with, now on to the next lesson.
The other side of the truth issue? The difference between facts and truth…I’ll leave that for another time.
ellenofgillette1@aol.com
Some portions of this blog first appeared in Baaad Sheep—When God’s People Let You Down by Ellen Gillette (Carepoint Publishing, 2007), ISBN-13:978-0-9792-0893-5.
“But you don’t hate lying,” the pastor replied.
Point well taken. If we truly hate something, we usually stop. If we tolerate sin in our lives, however, we will search far and wide, high and low, for ways to justify it, skating around the possibility of harsh consequences. As speaker Doug Easterday says, Christians don’t usually fall into sin, we jump into it…like kids jumping into a pile of autumn leaves. Wheee….
It has been said that “A lie does not sacrifice a truth, but THE truth.” The Bible tells us that Satan is a liar and the father of lies (John 8:44). Jesus is called the Truth (John 14:6). “Thou shalt not lie” is one of the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:16). It is obvious, then, that people of faith are to be honest. Honesty isn’t just the best policy; it’s the only policy for Christians. 100% honesty, 100% of the time. No using stamps from the office for personal mail just this once. No “white lie” about one’s whereabouts last Thursday evening.
Is honesty a problem in the church? I dare say it is. Perhaps attendance numbers are inflated on a report, or a sermon is appropriated, word for word, from the Internet without giving honor where it is due (Romans 13:7). Perhaps someone speaks an untruth to avoid hurting someone’s feelings. But when we discover that a brother or sister has lied to us, we feel let down. If he or she lied about that, what else can we not trust?
I used to pride myself (pride being the red flag here) on my honesty. A friend once called me “stupid honest” because he thought my commitment to telling the truth went beyond reason—even when I would get in trouble, when truth would hurt someone, etc. Maybe I told the truth, but I was not a person of truth—in fact, I was quite deceptive in the way I manipulated questions and answers, or followed the letter of the law while ignoring the spirit.
One example from my teenaged years –my parents set a rule that I was not to be alone with my boyfriend at our house or at his house…so we went to his grandmother’s (vacant) house! I could “honestly” say I obeyed the rule, but clearly, honesty was not what was on my mind at the time.
As I’ve walked a little further down the narrow road that keeps getting narrower, the Holy Spirit has shone his light with increasing intensity on that tendency, or at least willingness, to hedge while also teaching me about the difference between facts and truth. The standard hasn’t changed—never changes—but the degree of personal accountability has.
Recently I had a fresh lesson: While in town, I realized that I had a government check of my daughter’s from recent mail which needed cashing. She hadn’t signed it yet, but since I have power of attorney I thought nothing of signing it, then endorsing it with my own name. Everything would have been copacetic had the teller not been so specific. “Did she sign the back?” she asked…quite efficiently. I replied in the affirmative…and beat myself up about all the way home. I tried to rationalize that my daughter wanted the cash, had no problem with my signing it, etc., etc., but the fact that I had been asked, pointblank, and…lied, let’s face it…continued to nag me.
I don’t know about you, but I live with too much external stress I can do nothing whatsoever about, to endure one iota of personally-generated stress I can offload by a simple action. I want a clear conscience—even if the particulars don’t really matter, my heart DOES matter. The next time I was in the bank, I took the teller aside, explained the situation, and apologized. “As a Christian, I believe it’s important to be honest,” I told her, “and I wasn’t completely honest with you.”
Whether she thought I was noble, or stupid, or an alien dropped off from another planet, I have no idea, nor do I really care. Clearing my conscience was for ME (and to please my Father), not for anyone else sake. (Of course, the fact that I work for a church and am known to attend another could have also reflected poorly at a corporate level, as could any wrong action by a particular “Christian” reflect on other Christians in general).
Keep short accounts with God—why let that nagging sensation of wrongdoing have time to fester? We’ll always be learning, always blow it, always have new areas for that Holy Spirit spotlight to shine. The idea is to acknowledge…then act. Over and done with, now on to the next lesson.
The other side of the truth issue? The difference between facts and truth…I’ll leave that for another time.
ellenofgillette1@aol.com
Some portions of this blog first appeared in Baaad Sheep—When God’s People Let You Down by Ellen Gillette (Carepoint Publishing, 2007), ISBN-13:978-0-9792-0893-5.
Monday, June 1, 2009
June 1, 2009
I’ve been at battle in the only clump of trees on our property, having built a home on what used to be a tobacco field. One little clump of trees (some old and tall, however), with a pile of bricks from an old chimney and vines of such number that they call to mind Genesis 15’s promise to Abram: "Look now toward heaven, and count the stars, if thou be able to number them...So shall thy seed be...” I chop down one, only to find five more hiding under a branch.
Day One: armed only with a hoe, gardening gloves, and no little amount of anger, I attacked. The result? Three good-sized piles of vines, a broken hoe, and a road map of bleeding scratches on arms and legs.
Day Two: new hoe, new hedge trimmers, suede gloves. Better results, less injuries to hands. Arms and legs show further abuse. A bottle of weed killer held in reserve for drier, less windy conditions.
Day Three: Progress beginning to be evident (i.e. husband noticed).
Day Four: hasn’t happened at time of writing due to other obligations. Strategizing sessions have determined to add knee-high boots to armor, but decision made against burning the suckers out for fear of incinerating “friendlies.”
The enemy? Ironically named smilacaceae, perhaps to lull attackers into a false sense of security, they’re commonly known as cat briers, greenbriers, and a few other names the pastor would probably edit out. At any rate, they make me do anything but smile. Woody, thorny vines, they grow quickly, wrapping around anything available, and would, no doubt, choke out all life were it not for the seasonal interruption of winter that kills them back as well.
The thing is, they look good! Lush, verdant additions to the panorama. As long as you leave them alone, they fill in the empty spaces with greenery at an alarming rate…making the entire area inaccessible to all but the smallest of critters and insects.
A spiritual application cries out to be made.
There are thorny vines in all our lives-- habits, attitudes, patterns, unnecessary activities, even people, who infiltrate the environment, insinuating themselves into our time and energy, robbing us of our power and effectiveness. They may even look helpful and attractive, just as the vines do…from a distance.
Wishing they weren’t there, complaining about their existence, moaning about the should’ve’s and could’ve’s will do diddly-squat to stopping the onslaught. Dancing around them with flip-flops and pitiful cotton gloves will only end up with a bloody mess (our blood, too). Sometimes we need boots. Sharp instruments such as the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. Killer chemicals such as repentance. Righteous anger’s power from the same Spirit which raised Christ from the dead, at work in us.
There is a time for Gentle Jesus, Meek and Mild. But there’s also a time for the unleashing of God’s wrath on what is ungodly and harmful in our lives, even if the cost is personal: “If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away” (Matthew 5:29). Just as I am compelled to attack those vines, so should we be compelled by God’s Spirit to remove the sin and all things counter-productive to his purposes:
“Let us lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfect or of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him, endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12: 1b-2, NRSV).
Total eradication is the goal. Out, out! foul vine.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
May 18, 2009 God Doesn't Owe Us A Thing
Let’s assume that you’re convinced in your mind and heart that God exists. You’ve looked at the data, examined the theories under your mental microscope, and you just can’t get away from it—there is a God, a Creator, an Intelligent Designer, if you will, behind life as we know it. You are now, therefore, stuck.
It’s so painfully simple. If we truly believe that God exists, we must also accept the fact that he can do whatever he wants—he doesn’t need our approval. He doesn’t ask for permission before messing with our stuff. He doesn’t…when you get right down to it…owe us anything. Not a single thing. He’s God. For that reason alone he deserves our obedience. Our worship. Our time. Our bank accounts. Our children. Our thoughts.
He’s GOD. Let that just sink in for a minute.
Simple, I said. Not easy. Give me complex-yet-easy any day. What we have, however, in the whole God-faith arena is simple-but-difficult. We live within a culture where every invention and product is designed to make life less stressful, more self-satisfying. At the same time, our God calls us to follow him in the opposite direction. Counterculture, lay down our lives, suffer, forgive our offenders, praise him when the shit hits the fan. We may complain—we DO complain, and quite loudly at times—but that doesn’t mean we’re any less stuck.
But oh! How anguished, our complaints. How pious, our horror as evil flourishes. When someone we love doesn’t get healed, how we fume. When misunderstood or persecuted, how we pout! Shaking impotent fists at heaven as jobs disappear and marriages disintegrate, we question God’s integrity and fairness. Those are dangerous thoughts, friends, a MRSA infection within the Body of Christ. Take a swab to those words and watch what grows in the Petri dish, a foul stench which at the molecular level mimics Lucifer’s own cry…”I would be god.”
If I were God, no pedophile would molest a child, no war would rage. If I were God, there would be no Aids, no cancer, no homeless. Every baby would be wanted, every worker find a job. If I were God, my son would not be dead.
But I am not God. You are not God. God does exist (it was C. S. Lewis who said it was more important that heaven exists than that any of us reach it)—and he can, absolutely, do whatever he wants. If we’re convinced that God actually has “the whole world in his hands,” we either relinquish the right to explanations and reasons, to receive anything in return… or we meander back and forth between his camp and the world’s, depending on the perceived climate of current circumstances.
We’d have preferred a Calgon Christ to “take me away” from trials and tribulations, God as the ultimate stress-reliever—ignoring biblical passages that warn he’s come to bring a sword. We order bubbles of protection and comfort, and get miffed when he ignores the memo. We’ve grown comfortable with a sliver of God each Sunday. We were raised on Gentle Jesus, Meek and Mild when the reality is a God who is unwavering in his holiness, relentless in his pursuit of us, often inconceivably, unbelievably unfazed by what we want at that particular moment. He never sends out questionnaires to ascertain humankind’s deepest desires. He doesn’t wait for a focus group to voice its opinions. He has no respect for the boundaries we place around people or nations or hearts, nor for the boxes in which we keep trying to put him. He’s God! No matter what happens. Gotta’ love him (we’re commanded) but if you’ve never faced a situation in which you also hate him…wait for it. It’ll come.
We want, so desperately, for it to be about us, but it isn’t. It never will be. Yes, God promises to bless, love, protect, etc. But we cling to his promises like magic formulas, not realizing that earthly eyes aren’t sharp enough for the fine print, the unspoken addendum to every one of them from Genesis to Revelation that says, in effect, “unless I choose otherwise.” We pray “Thy will be done” and then whine when it is.
It’s time we look both heaven and hell squarely in the eye and say, “Give it your best shot—I’m still God’s. Though he slay me, yet will I serve him.” If we don’t praise him and follow him at our point of desperation, then… when the sun comes out and the birds are singing, …our praises may fall on divinely deaf ears.
It’s so painfully simple. If we truly believe that God exists, we must also accept the fact that he can do whatever he wants—he doesn’t need our approval. He doesn’t ask for permission before messing with our stuff. He doesn’t…when you get right down to it…owe us anything. Not a single thing. He’s God. For that reason alone he deserves our obedience. Our worship. Our time. Our bank accounts. Our children. Our thoughts.
He’s GOD. Let that just sink in for a minute.
Simple, I said. Not easy. Give me complex-yet-easy any day. What we have, however, in the whole God-faith arena is simple-but-difficult. We live within a culture where every invention and product is designed to make life less stressful, more self-satisfying. At the same time, our God calls us to follow him in the opposite direction. Counterculture, lay down our lives, suffer, forgive our offenders, praise him when the shit hits the fan. We may complain—we DO complain, and quite loudly at times—but that doesn’t mean we’re any less stuck.
But oh! How anguished, our complaints. How pious, our horror as evil flourishes. When someone we love doesn’t get healed, how we fume. When misunderstood or persecuted, how we pout! Shaking impotent fists at heaven as jobs disappear and marriages disintegrate, we question God’s integrity and fairness. Those are dangerous thoughts, friends, a MRSA infection within the Body of Christ. Take a swab to those words and watch what grows in the Petri dish, a foul stench which at the molecular level mimics Lucifer’s own cry…”I would be god.”
If I were God, no pedophile would molest a child, no war would rage. If I were God, there would be no Aids, no cancer, no homeless. Every baby would be wanted, every worker find a job. If I were God, my son would not be dead.
But I am not God. You are not God. God does exist (it was C. S. Lewis who said it was more important that heaven exists than that any of us reach it)—and he can, absolutely, do whatever he wants. If we’re convinced that God actually has “the whole world in his hands,” we either relinquish the right to explanations and reasons, to receive anything in return… or we meander back and forth between his camp and the world’s, depending on the perceived climate of current circumstances.
We’d have preferred a Calgon Christ to “take me away” from trials and tribulations, God as the ultimate stress-reliever—ignoring biblical passages that warn he’s come to bring a sword. We order bubbles of protection and comfort, and get miffed when he ignores the memo. We’ve grown comfortable with a sliver of God each Sunday. We were raised on Gentle Jesus, Meek and Mild when the reality is a God who is unwavering in his holiness, relentless in his pursuit of us, often inconceivably, unbelievably unfazed by what we want at that particular moment. He never sends out questionnaires to ascertain humankind’s deepest desires. He doesn’t wait for a focus group to voice its opinions. He has no respect for the boundaries we place around people or nations or hearts, nor for the boxes in which we keep trying to put him. He’s God! No matter what happens. Gotta’ love him (we’re commanded) but if you’ve never faced a situation in which you also hate him…wait for it. It’ll come.
We want, so desperately, for it to be about us, but it isn’t. It never will be. Yes, God promises to bless, love, protect, etc. But we cling to his promises like magic formulas, not realizing that earthly eyes aren’t sharp enough for the fine print, the unspoken addendum to every one of them from Genesis to Revelation that says, in effect, “unless I choose otherwise.” We pray “Thy will be done” and then whine when it is.
It’s time we look both heaven and hell squarely in the eye and say, “Give it your best shot—I’m still God’s. Though he slay me, yet will I serve him.” If we don’t praise him and follow him at our point of desperation, then… when the sun comes out and the birds are singing, …our praises may fall on divinely deaf ears.
May 4, 2009 Spiritual Warfare
“For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in God for pulling down strongholds, casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ, and being ready to punish all disobedience when your obedience is fulfilled.” 2 Corinthians 10:3-6 (NKJV)
The phrase “spiritual warfare” is no newcomer to the Christian vocabulary. The reality of a spiritual world we cannot see with human eyes was written of in the Old Testament, the New Testament, and ever since, from Tertullian to Frank Peretti. Angels, including the fallen angels we call demons, exist and have existed since before Creation—they haven’t simply disappeared because modern theology became uncomfortable with them.
Two forces—vastly unequal in power—are engaged in warfare to which we are usually oblivious. It is good vs. evil, yes, but our adversary, the devil, is a created being, unlike God. His cohorts represent a mighty army, but one that is pitifully outnumbered—only a third of the angels fell from heaven with Satan, leaving two-thirds on the side of holiness and righteousness.
In addition, New Testament teachings tell us how to use prayer and fasting to combat the enemy in our own lives and in the lives of others. We have authority in the name of Jesus. We have the “full armor of God” Paul wrote about in Ephesians 6.
Stronger army, better weapons, a foe defeated at Calvary—so why do we continue to have so many problems? We act like fresh recruits, instead of seasoned warriors, when we war according to the flesh—using what we do and say and can see and hear—instead of engaging our Spirit-renewed minds.
You’ll notice that in Ephesians 6, Paul doesn’t mention anything to cover our backs. One of the reasons is that we should be on the offensive against the enemy, not constantly reacting to his threats and attacks.
According to the above passage, our MO (mode of operation) is three-fold: pull down strongholds (spiritually), cast down arguments (sometimes verbally, sometimes by the testimony of our lives), and bring every thought into captivity. There is nothing passive about any of those areas, but it is the last battlefield I personally find the most challenging.
We’ve heard “the battle is in the mind” so many times it’s loses its potency, but the very real spiritual battle we are in every day takes place first and foremost inside of us. The enemy whispers sweetly and incessantly, planting seeds of lust, jealousy, anger, doubt, fear, anxiety, hatred. When we dwell on such thoughts, the seeds grow quickly.
Instead, let us take every thought from the enemy captive, rendering it powerless against us. Let us answer with scripture, even as Jesus did in the wilderness (see Mark 4). And let us always remember how much Satan and his sniveling companions tremble at the very name of Jesus and despise to hear him praised and worshipped.
The next time he comes against you in your thoughts (as he did with me one day recently while driving, an incredible onslaught of impurity that was so obvious I knew it wasn’t just my own weaknesses) or sends demons of mechanical failure (as he did with me at work this week when the copier refused to work) try crying out to Jesus—audibly—and speaking words of worship and adoration into the atmosphere.
Two-thirds of the angels in all of creation are handling the big, unseen agenda, but we need to do our part at the grunt level. “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you” (James 4:7 NRSV).
As my mother would say, “Hallelujah three times, and amen twice.”
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