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.

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.”

April 20, 2009 Don't Shoot the Messenger

Matthew 4:17, 23-25 New Revised Standard Version
From that time Jesus began to proclaim, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near." …Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. So his fame spread throughout all Syria, and they brought to him all the sick, those who were afflicted with various diseases and pains, demoniacs, epileptics, and paralytics, and he cured them. And great crowds followed him from Galilee, the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea, and from beyond the Jordan.

You may have heard the term “don’t shoot the messenger,” which has its roots in ancient times. Without mail, Internet, or phones, runners were used to convey messages back and forth between power centers. These swift bearers of news were prohibited from reading the sealed messages they carried—if their job was, in fact, to deliver bad news, it was entirely possible that they would be slain at the other end!

Some people just don’t respond to ill tidings very well.

Jesus, on the other hand, preached only good news: the kingdom of heaven has come near. God loves you. You are forgiven. Be healed! Yet even then, ruling powers killed him because his message didn’t fall in line with what they wanted people to believe.

Fortunately for us, when The Messenger was taken, he left behind a small army of others to take the good news into the world. We have the awesome privilege to be part of that army if we so choose. Aren’t you glad we have good news to share, instead of gloom and doom?

My boss, Bill Goodnight, pastor of Lillington Presbyterian Church, was in a near-tragic car accident just a month ago. That was bad news! Very bad news. But as information of the awesome power of God at work in his body was given to me—initially, on a daily basis—I had the privilege of sending out email updates to an ever-increasing list of folks who wanted to know how to pray for Bill and his family.

Several people took the time to call or email me back, thanking me for the updates. Think about that for a minute: I had nothing to do with the information given. It was not my medical care that was responsible for Bill’s dramatic improvement. Decisions regarding his health were completely out of my hands. I was far removed from every detail concerning him…but I got to spread the good news, and it was a joy. .I was so grateful to have good news to share!

How difficult it must be to have to tell a loved one that someone has died, that there was an ambush in Iraq, that the cancer was just too widespread, that the operation was a success but the patient never woke up. The people who must share these things may well be, as I have been, completely removed from the actual situation, simply conduits of information. But having good news to share, rather than bad, makes all the difference in the world.

We who follow Jesus choose to take on the task of being conduits of information about him. We should always be ready to answer those who question our hope and beliefs (1 Peter 3:15). We are to speak the word of God with both boldness and humility. And of course to speak it, we must know it, study it, let it sink down into our minds and hearts so that we know that we know that we know…

Since Jesus was hated for his message, there may be times when we are hated too. Unlike Jesus, we will invariably misrepresent the truth at times, or fail to communicate it clearly. It’s important to remember that we’re just messengers—whether the truth is received or not isn’t our responsibility. We learn about the kingdom of heaven, we share it the best we are able, then we leave the results to the King.

April 6, 2009 The Narrow Path

As young Christians, new in our walks with God, full of enthusiasm and devotion, we may look at the verse in Matthew that talks of the “narrow way” we’re on (7:14) and envision a picturesque path winding through verdant meadows. The path is narrow, but the view on either side is pleasant. “God’s in his heaven and all’s right with the world” (from the Gospel according to Robert Browning).

And then it changes.

Years pass. We mature by microscopic increments, unable to gauge discernible progress, yet accepting in faith that it is actually taking place. Just as subtly the path change. Leg muscles ache from the incline. When did those rocks get there?

In places, the path winds around a mountainside, where loose pebbles threaten to cause our feet to slip. No mossy bank if we fall, either—that’s a precipice over the side! Staying on the path seems not so much a faith-maintaining plan, as a life-saving mission.

And it just keeps changing.

Looking back at the early years of our marriage—so much of our relationship with the Lord can be compared to the earthly relationship of husband and wife (see Ephesians 5)—and it made me think of the narrow path I’d followed there.

Marrying at 18, I wanted to be the perfect wife. Not a great wife. Not a good wife.…perfection was the goal, and I was naïve enough to see it as an attainable one. By the time I was 26, I had four children and wanted to be the perfect mother too!

Oh, how my husband and children would laugh to read those words today.
Because there is a very fine line between striving for personal excellence and demanding excellence from everyone around us…between achieving godly goals and acquiring ungodly pride. I was responsible for too many stubbed toes, dragging loved ones along, occasionally watching a friend fall off the precipice while I determinedly kept my eyes on the summit.

And I realized, as I thought, that that narrow road mentioned previously has become more like that “fine line” in other ways as well. Choices that used to be simple, painted in stark whites and blacks (“That is a sin, so I must avoid it.”) are increasingly more intricate in shades of grays—go to that meeting or watch television with my husband, who’s been working so hard? A credible case can often be made for either side. Which is why we must learn to hear the Spirit’s voice and obey it, regardless of what our minds tell us (see Isaiah 30:21).

At times, walking with God (or at least trying to walk with him—it’s soooo easy to take our eyes off him, just for a split-second, and then spend days…weeks…months! catching up)—takes us around and around a mountain until we actually learn our lesson and get to move on…but instead of a better path with a nicer view, we find ourselves facing an even greater challenge.
I don’t know about you, but there are days when I’d like to trade in this tightrope I’m inching along on for something a little wider—say, the Autobahn. In a Mercedes convertible. Going 100 miles an hour. And then I remember where I’m headed.

“Now this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent” (John 17:3, New International Version).

The road to Life is narrow—so narrow we’ll surely fall unless we lean against God, who said he would never leave us or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5). It’s dangerous—so dangerous we’ll never survive unless we let him carry us through the valley of the shadow of death (Psalm 23:4). It’s difficult, requiring our muscles to work harder, grow stronger.

There is a series of gory movies called “Final Destination” (1-4) in which teens get killed under strange circumstances. Their “final destination” is a gruesome death. For Christians, our “final destination”—the end of the path—is literally the opposite. We’re on our way to real, eternal, never-ending life and the perfection that is only attainable when we see Jesus face to face (1 John 3:2).

It isn’t about how fast we run it, or how spiritual we look, or whether our particular path seems uneventful compared to the ones we’ve heard others talking about. It’s about knowing who we’ll see at journey’s end.

March 23, 2009 Bible Sound Bytes

We’re used to sound bytes: Just do it. Have it your way. It takes a village to raise a child. Sound bytes don’t always sum up important truths very well, but God saw fit to include a few in the Bible.

Because love is the fulfillment of the Law, God might have just told Moses to tell the children of Israel “Love one another”—which would have taken 4 seconds instead of 40 days. Jesus did tell his disciples that the greatest commandment was to love the Lord with all their heart, soul, mind, and strength and to love their neighbors as themselves…a statement that covers a lot of ground. It’s the ultimate “take-away” statement. If we get that, and get it into our hearts so that we begin to live it out on a daily basis, we’ve gotten it all.

There are a few other all-encompassing passages:
Micah 6:8 He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you… To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.
What is good? What does God require? He tells us, plain and simple. Act with justice. Show mercy. Walk in humility.
Ecclesiastes 12:13 Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.
Why are you on the earth? What is your purpose, your duty? An entire industry has been created surrounding the 40 Days of Purpose teaching, and here it is in a scriptural nutshell: fear God and obey him.

Mark Twain is credited with saying, “It ain't the parts of the Bible that I can't understand that bother me, it is the parts that I do understand.” People argue about the finer points of theology, eschatology, philosophy, the jots and tittles of every word, get their academic knickers in a twist over obscure passages and possible interpretations. But most of the Bible is quite clear. Painfully clear, I would say. And we have no excuse for not putting it into practice. Reasons…there are always reasons…but no excuse.

We might prefer a more specific Bible with a complete index to look up the appropriate response to, say, a co-worker who asks for our views on the rapture or the best particular procedure for disciplining a five-year-old who clogs the toilet with Star Wars figures. Why do I feel this way today? How can I make that person forgive me? We want quick fixes, but life as a follower of Jesus is a process, not a single point in time.

Ever wonder why children enjoy cartoons so much? Cartoons show and tell the story without getting bogged down in details. In a way, the Bible does the same thing, in a way. We aren’t told every detail about life, but we’re given the story of what God wants. Be loving. Be just. Be humble.
Just do it.

February 23, 2009 Giving

Have you ever heard the expression “too heavenly minded to be any earthly good”? I’ve used it myself—not about myself, however. Strangely, I’m not aware of anyone thinking that I was so focused on spiritual matters, so wrapped up in worship, that I was losing my effectiveness in the here and now, getting-down-to-nuts-and-bolts, nitty gritty level of existence. I need to work on that!

Of course with God, there is always a balance. Proverbs tells us that the weights and measures are His (Proverbs 16:11)…in other words, sometimes His balance looks, to the natural eye, out of balance, but that’s okay. We should not judge others, or even ourselves, when God is at work. He may indeed want an emphasis on one particular aspect of our life with Him that seems, to those observing, overdone, out of balance, “no earthly good”.

My husband David, for example, became a Christian about three years before we met. He’d been raised in the church, had “gone forward,” even been baptized, but there had never been a heart commitment or life change. When he experienced this in his twenties, there was such a thirst for God that he took a year off from work, immersing himself in Bible study and prayer. Family and friends may have been tempted to shake their heads at a young man in his most productive years, “losing” so much income, but that year provided an unshakeable foundation on which the Lord could build a dwelling place for His Spirit.

Currently, our church is involved in a teaching series on giving, stewardship, and the reality of our spiritual and (in comparison to the rest of the world) material riches. To someone just popping in for a random Sunday, there may be the temptation to say, “Oh, this is just the same-old same-old cry for money that all churches seem to have. Forget it!”

The reality is, our basic attitude toward money—is it ours to do with as we please or are we stewards, blessed by God and expected to behave responsibly with His riches?—is fundamental to our relationship with God. Jesus said, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:21). God wants our hearts to be right with Him—such an enormous price was paid for them—and it is apparently impossible for that to happen without a biblical view of money management.

In our formative years as Christians, we were privileged to be part of a church that emphasized generosity and giving. “You can’t out-give God” was heard frequently, lived out around us, proved time and time again in our own lives. The amount of money we were able to put into Kingdom service while raising four children on one income—the feast-or-famine income from construction in south Florida—without health insurance, even, was not possible when you wrote it out on paper, but with God, all things are possible (Matthew 19:26).

It takes a step of faith, especially if the concept of giving sacrificially is new, to trust God with “our” finances, but life with Him is simply one step of faith after another, isn’t it? Based on personal experience and more importantly, the word of God, I guarantee that you can life a better life on 90% of your income than on 100%. And by the way, that standard 10% tithe will only be the beginning. If you commit yourself to giving as God leads you to give, you will be blown away by what He does in you and through you.

Someone may even accuse you of being “too heavenly minded,” but they will be wrong. When we are obedient to God, our effectiveness on earth always increases too.

February 9, 2009 Trials,Tribulations & MRSA

The year we lived in India, three-year-old Adam burned his arm on a hot iron--nothing too serious at the start. Then a boil appeared near the burn, which I attributed to the poor air and water quality. The six of us slept on mats on the floor, Adam by my side. Soon I developed a boil as well. Mine would clear, Adam would get another. His would clear, and then mine would erupt, and so on for months. Eventually everyone in the family had had at least one boil, mine for some reason being the largest, most numerous, and causing the most problems.

In terms of severity, I had come off relatively easy by comparison to Job (I never scraped myself with a broken shard of pottery—tempting, but no). In number, however, we were too close for comfort. Literally from my head to my feet, small painful boils—a noxious staph infection—popped up with alarming regularity. A round of antibiotics seemed to take care of them until we returned to the United States. Months later, perhaps a year even, a boil appeared on one of the most painful areas possible—my hand. A nurse urged me to get treatment, warning that with little room for the infection to spread, I could otherwise lose the hand altogether. Yuck!
When one round of medicine didn’t knock the latest outbreak out of my system, a dermatologist put me on long-term antibiotics. Three months of that and nary a boil showed up since.

Until last week. High enough on a leg that sitting became very. Very. Uncomfortable. My nurse practitioner said she’d treat it like MRSA, an antibiotic-resistant strain of staph. No big deal—except that my infant brother died from a staph infection forty-nine years ago. Except that my job calls for me to sit for several hours a day. Except that David was counting on me to help him with renovations when I came home in the afternoons. Except that I felt awful, given to chills and fits of tears. I took a day off and tried to remain horizontal, holding hot compresses to my leg, generally feeling sorry for myself, and watching more television than I’ve ever done in my life.

I also revisited the poetry of Asaph (Psalms 73-83) in my state of woe. What an encourager he must have been. Over and over he questions the state of the world, the seeming success of the ungodly, the desperation of his own people, yet inevitably there comes a line something like “But you, oh God…” followed by accounts of his glory and might and faithfulness.

Trials come and go. Western Christianity has been spoiled and lulled into complacency by the idea that we alone are immune to the tribulation others endure today around the globe. We’ve bought into a kind of “Calgon Christianity”—Jesus, take me away! Take me away from ugliness, pain, ….discipline.

According to Hebrews 12:11, all discipline seems painful at the time but “later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it” (Hebrews 12:11, NRSV; emphasis mine).Apparently we can fail to receive the intended benefit if we fail to receive the training. Not a good idea.

If there’s a lesson to be learned from the painful red place on my leg, I definitely want to get it the first time around the ole’ discipline mountain. Do I want every trace of sin out of my life as badly as I want to be rid of all traces of this infection? Does it serve as a reminder to prevent becoming so physically drained that my body is unable to fight germs? Or perhaps, like Asaph, I need to remember that despite the things we must endure in this life (and a boil certainly isn’t the worst thing any of us has faced) “But you, oh God…”

He is still God. Still on the throne. Still awesome in power and holiness. Still in control. Still my King and Lord.