"Hello. My name is Dave and I'm an Ephesian."
At the end of December, I was at the Onething Conference in downtown Kansas City, put on by IHOP. As is sometimes the case with me, it has taken about 2 months for the profundity of a word spoken by one of the guest worship leaders to really sink in. The scripture he read was taken from Revelation 2:1-5, as Christ speaks to the church of Ephesus:
"These are the words of him who holds the seven stars in his right hand, who walks among the seven golden lampstands. I know your works, your toil and your patient endurance, and how you cannot bear with those who are evil, but have tested those who call themselves apostles and are not, and have found them to be false. I know you are enduring patiently and bearing up under suffering for my name's sake, and you have not grown weary. But I have this against you: that you have abandoned the love you have at first. Remember the height from which you have fallen! Repent, and do the things you did at first."
There is such a profound difference between saying "no" to the world and saying "yes" to the Kingdom. Discerning false doctrine, calling out phony apostles, even enduring suffering for righteousness' sake - these are not necessarily the same as saying "yes" to loving a man named Jesus. Consider the height from which we have fallen! Consider the gap between being "accurate" and burning in sincere love for one another and for our God!
What have I come to believe about God's intentions for my life? I think (like many) I've come to believe that the Lord is all about demolition. Sin must be crushed in my life. My flesh must be subdued. False doctrine must be exposed. Unbiblical teaching must be uprooted from the church. I must avoid the pitfalls of counterfeit revelation. I must be de-programmed from the world's poisonous rules and ways. I must take every thought captive and tear down every pretension that sets itself against the mind of Christ. "Jesus, come and destroy everything that hinders love in me." In other words, God is all about demolition.
But demolition is only the first step. There is a real Kingdom that needs building, and clearing the forest of my flesh only serves to make room for the building project. It doesn't actually stack any bricks.
I feel like a great part of my life thus far has been about the demolition. It's been a sort of "de-toxing." Rejecting the bondage of the world and the church. Like Ephesus, I've learned to say "no," and I'm hanging on in patient endurance. But when does construction begin? There's a Kingdom to be built in my heart! Tearing down occurs to make room for building up. It's a cycle, and I feel like the Lord has begun to finally lead me into a season where he is building something in me, not just tearing something down.
I find it fascinating that Christ goes on to offer this particular promise to the Ephesian church:
"He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who overcomes I will grant to him to eat of the tree of life in the paradise of God."
At the end of the day, when all has been tested by fire and the chaff is burned away, it's about a feast. We will eat, taste, and participate. We will say yes to an invitation into a Kingdom called "Paradise."
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Half Hearted
I week or two ago I was re-reading part of a wonderful book by John Eldredge called Waking the Dead: The Glory of a Heart Fully Alive. A big theme in the book is the problem of "brokenheartedness." Usually I hear that phrase and just think of being sad, down, depressed, or wounded. But Eldredge observes that the problem is much more literal than that. The biblical language speaks of a heart that is shattered - that was once whole, but now is in many separate pieces. He speaks of little indicators of our brokenness, like the ever popular phrase "part of me wants to, but part of me doesn't." We are not wholehearted. My fractured human frame has many different pieces, pulling in a hundred different directions. I was speaking to a friend once and he expressed this tension in his soul:
"How is it that I can be loving Jesus, totally fascinated and in love with Him, and then literally minutes later find myself cold, dull, and moving away from him in sin and rebellion?"
I feel this tension all the time. In fact, I've seen this tension nearly destroy a close friend. He just couldn't take it anymore - he had no grace for his own inconsistency and his tendency to run away from God time after time after time.
Another author describes Christianity as a medicine which, when taken in a full dosage, cures the most serious disease. But when taken in a half-dose, the medicine actually worsens the sickness and its symptoms. Half heartedness is dangerous - it makes us sick (of ourselves). Still, sometimes it feels like the best we can hope for. The question is, do I really trust Jesus when he says that he desires to heal my brokenheartedness? Do I believe that he is able to make my heart whole again?
For me, this is maybe the hardest tension in knowing Jesus: hearing his high calling on my life, and then venturing out on the journey with an inconsistent, immature, and rebellious heart. It hurts. It hurts even to choose to receive forgiveness, grace, and tenderness. If there's anything that's clear in scripture, it's that Jesus looks at the brokenhearted with compassion, not contempt. And as Eldredge says, "Jesus speaks to absolutely everyone as if they are the brokenhearted. We would do well to trust his perspective on this."
"How is it that I can be loving Jesus, totally fascinated and in love with Him, and then literally minutes later find myself cold, dull, and moving away from him in sin and rebellion?"
I feel this tension all the time. In fact, I've seen this tension nearly destroy a close friend. He just couldn't take it anymore - he had no grace for his own inconsistency and his tendency to run away from God time after time after time.
Another author describes Christianity as a medicine which, when taken in a full dosage, cures the most serious disease. But when taken in a half-dose, the medicine actually worsens the sickness and its symptoms. Half heartedness is dangerous - it makes us sick (of ourselves). Still, sometimes it feels like the best we can hope for. The question is, do I really trust Jesus when he says that he desires to heal my brokenheartedness? Do I believe that he is able to make my heart whole again?
For me, this is maybe the hardest tension in knowing Jesus: hearing his high calling on my life, and then venturing out on the journey with an inconsistent, immature, and rebellious heart. It hurts. It hurts even to choose to receive forgiveness, grace, and tenderness. If there's anything that's clear in scripture, it's that Jesus looks at the brokenhearted with compassion, not contempt. And as Eldredge says, "Jesus speaks to absolutely everyone as if they are the brokenhearted. We would do well to trust his perspective on this."
Monday, February 19, 2007
Sacrifice that Kills Fear
"Lovers may think that they have the highest good, but it is not so. No, love your beloved faithfully and tenderly, but let love to your neighbor be the sanctifier in your covenant of union with God. Love your friend honestly and devotedly, but let love for your neighbor be what you learn from each other in the intimacy of friendship with God! Whatever your fate in romance and friendship, whatever your privation, whatever your loss, the highest still stands: love your neighbor! You can easily find him; him you can never lose. In this sense love is blind. Your neighbor is the absolutely unrecognizable distinction between one person and another; it is eternal equality before God - enemies too have this equality. To love one's neighbor, therefore, means essentially to will to exist equally for every human being without exception."
-Kierkegaard, Provocations (pp. 99-100)
How many times have I withheld from someone in need that which I would gladly have given to a friend? How many times have I been too busy to listen to one who is hurting, but have had all the time in the world to listen to a friend? I am far too inconsistent in my love. There is a fundamental doubt in me - a doubt that by choosing to walk in love, my all-important needs will be met. This is why possessiveness creeps in. This is how circles of self-love are formed. It's time to believe again that the merciful are indeed blessed. Jesus didn't call us to love our neighbor solely because it is the right thing to do, but because it blesses us. I need to stop feeding the idea that loving my neighbor is where "ministry" happens, and that my friendships are where "fellowship" happens. Could it actually be that sacrifice builds me up more than being "ministered to"? It's so biblically crazy it just might work - I just haven't had the courage to try it much.
I heard someone speaking recently about this kind of loving. He described a person who was so busy chasing after the person they wanted to learn from that they missed the person who was chasing behind them. If we could just have the courage to turn around, to do a 180 every once and a while, we would find at least one person chasing us; or at least one neighbor who needs our help. But what keeps us looking ahead? What keeps me from turning around and feeding the needy? It could be a fear that I will become the needy one if I give too much away. But can that happen?
In those precious few moments when I actually manage to love someone who can't love me back, it's amazing how the fear seems to fall by the wayside. It's freedom. I may constantly fear losing a loved one, or being rejected by a friend, but where do those fears disappear to when I am handing out food to the poor or giving clothes to an orphan? Where does the self consciousness go when I'm visiting the elderly? Where is the insecurity when I pray for my enemies? The fear is suddenly and surprisingly gone. Simply by loving my neighbor, I manage to navigate my way through a minefield of fears. This is what is meant when the scriptures say that "perfect love casts out fear." If I am honest, I often feel more afraid with my friends than I do with my "neighbors" - those orphans and widows whom I love and expect nothing in return. I think it's an indication that the love is purer in that place. The more "real" the love is, the less fear enters the equation.
I want the courage to turn from possessiveness and embrace the sort of love that gives freely and is free from fear. It really is better - more enjoyable in the Spirit. Sacrifice really is the safest place. I long to know the Father well enough to walk in the backward ways of the Kingdom. I'm starting to see the way, now it's time to move my feet.
-Kierkegaard, Provocations (pp. 99-100)
How many times have I withheld from someone in need that which I would gladly have given to a friend? How many times have I been too busy to listen to one who is hurting, but have had all the time in the world to listen to a friend? I am far too inconsistent in my love. There is a fundamental doubt in me - a doubt that by choosing to walk in love, my all-important needs will be met. This is why possessiveness creeps in. This is how circles of self-love are formed. It's time to believe again that the merciful are indeed blessed. Jesus didn't call us to love our neighbor solely because it is the right thing to do, but because it blesses us. I need to stop feeding the idea that loving my neighbor is where "ministry" happens, and that my friendships are where "fellowship" happens. Could it actually be that sacrifice builds me up more than being "ministered to"? It's so biblically crazy it just might work - I just haven't had the courage to try it much.
I heard someone speaking recently about this kind of loving. He described a person who was so busy chasing after the person they wanted to learn from that they missed the person who was chasing behind them. If we could just have the courage to turn around, to do a 180 every once and a while, we would find at least one person chasing us; or at least one neighbor who needs our help. But what keeps us looking ahead? What keeps me from turning around and feeding the needy? It could be a fear that I will become the needy one if I give too much away. But can that happen?
In those precious few moments when I actually manage to love someone who can't love me back, it's amazing how the fear seems to fall by the wayside. It's freedom. I may constantly fear losing a loved one, or being rejected by a friend, but where do those fears disappear to when I am handing out food to the poor or giving clothes to an orphan? Where does the self consciousness go when I'm visiting the elderly? Where is the insecurity when I pray for my enemies? The fear is suddenly and surprisingly gone. Simply by loving my neighbor, I manage to navigate my way through a minefield of fears. This is what is meant when the scriptures say that "perfect love casts out fear." If I am honest, I often feel more afraid with my friends than I do with my "neighbors" - those orphans and widows whom I love and expect nothing in return. I think it's an indication that the love is purer in that place. The more "real" the love is, the less fear enters the equation.
I want the courage to turn from possessiveness and embrace the sort of love that gives freely and is free from fear. It really is better - more enjoyable in the Spirit. Sacrifice really is the safest place. I long to know the Father well enough to walk in the backward ways of the Kingdom. I'm starting to see the way, now it's time to move my feet.
Survey Says
Just in case anyone thought that the spiritual climate in the US was "fine," here are some disturbing statistics I came across recently. They're taken from The Barna Group, who has been studying religious trends in the US for quite some time. This particular article dealt with the "12 Most Significant Religious Findings from 2006 Surveys."
Their website has the full stories and is a good read:
(Taken from http://www.barna.org/FlexPage.aspx?Page=BarnaUpdate&BarnaUpdateID=252)
* Three out of every four teenagers have engaged in at least one type of psychic or witchcraft-related activity. Among the most common of those endeavors are using a Ouija board, reading books about witchcraft or Wicca, playing games involving sorcery or witchcraft, having a "professional" do a palm reading or having their fortune told. Conversely, during the past year fewer than three out of every ten churched teenagers had received any teaching from their church about elements of the supernatural.
* Although large majorities of the public claim to be "deeply spiritual" and say that their religious faith is "very important" in their life, only 15% of those who regularly attend a Christian church ranked their relationship with God as the top priority in their life. As alarming as that finding was, its significance was magnified by research showing that on average pastors believe that 70% of the adults in their congregation consider their relationship with God to be their highest priority in life.
* The notion of personal holiness has slipped out of the consciousness of the vast majority of Christians. While just 21% of adults consider themselves to be holy, by their own admission large numbers have no idea what "holiness" means and only one out of every three (35%) believe that God expects people to become holy.
* Most Americans have a period of time during their teen years when they are actively engaged in a church youth group. However, Barna's tracking of young people showed that most of them had disengaged from organized religion during their twenties.
* A comparison of people's faith before and after the September 11 terrorist attack showed that five years after the momentous day, none of the 19 faith measures studied had undergone statistically significant change. Those measures covered aspects such as religious behaviors, beliefs, spiritual commitment and self-identity.
* Relatively few people - just one out of every six - believe that spiritual maturity is meant to be developed within the context of a local church or within the context of a community of faith.
* Seven out of ten parents claim they are effective at developing the spiritual maturity of their children, but the Barna survey among 8-to-12-year-olds discovered that only one-third of them say a church has made "a positive difference" in their life; one-third contend that prayer is very important in their life; most of them would rather be popular than to do what is morally right. In fact, "tweeners" (those ages 8 to 12) deem their family to be vitally important in their life, but just 57% said they look forward to spending time with their family and only one out of every three say it is easy for them to talk to their parents about things that matter to them.
* Barna expects to see a widening gap between the intensely committed and those who are casually involved in faith matters. The difference will become strikingly evident between those who make faith the core of their life and those who simply attach a religious component on to an already mature lifestyle.
Their website has the full stories and is a good read:
(Taken from http://www.barna.org/FlexPage.aspx?Page=BarnaUpdate&BarnaUpdateID=252)
* Three out of every four teenagers have engaged in at least one type of psychic or witchcraft-related activity. Among the most common of those endeavors are using a Ouija board, reading books about witchcraft or Wicca, playing games involving sorcery or witchcraft, having a "professional" do a palm reading or having their fortune told. Conversely, during the past year fewer than three out of every ten churched teenagers had received any teaching from their church about elements of the supernatural.
* Although large majorities of the public claim to be "deeply spiritual" and say that their religious faith is "very important" in their life, only 15% of those who regularly attend a Christian church ranked their relationship with God as the top priority in their life. As alarming as that finding was, its significance was magnified by research showing that on average pastors believe that 70% of the adults in their congregation consider their relationship with God to be their highest priority in life.
* The notion of personal holiness has slipped out of the consciousness of the vast majority of Christians. While just 21% of adults consider themselves to be holy, by their own admission large numbers have no idea what "holiness" means and only one out of every three (35%) believe that God expects people to become holy.
* Most Americans have a period of time during their teen years when they are actively engaged in a church youth group. However, Barna's tracking of young people showed that most of them had disengaged from organized religion during their twenties.
* A comparison of people's faith before and after the September 11 terrorist attack showed that five years after the momentous day, none of the 19 faith measures studied had undergone statistically significant change. Those measures covered aspects such as religious behaviors, beliefs, spiritual commitment and self-identity.
* Relatively few people - just one out of every six - believe that spiritual maturity is meant to be developed within the context of a local church or within the context of a community of faith.
* Seven out of ten parents claim they are effective at developing the spiritual maturity of their children, but the Barna survey among 8-to-12-year-olds discovered that only one-third of them say a church has made "a positive difference" in their life; one-third contend that prayer is very important in their life; most of them would rather be popular than to do what is morally right. In fact, "tweeners" (those ages 8 to 12) deem their family to be vitally important in their life, but just 57% said they look forward to spending time with their family and only one out of every three say it is easy for them to talk to their parents about things that matter to them.
* Barna expects to see a widening gap between the intensely committed and those who are casually involved in faith matters. The difference will become strikingly evident between those who make faith the core of their life and those who simply attach a religious component on to an already mature lifestyle.
Loving with an Open Grip
While I'm inclined to agree with a certain friend of mine who holds the opinion that C.S. Lewis is over-rated, I just finished one of his books that I really enjoyed (and by the way, it's not that we feel that Lewis is bad... just slightly over-celebrated in general).
Anyhow, the book is a novel called Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold. A really great friend of mine recommended it to me years ago, and a few months back I spotted it in a bookstore and took it home for the holidays.
Sparing most of the details, it's an adaptation of the classic myth of Cupid and Psyche, only re-vamped and packed full of Christian symbolism. It's not to the extent of the Narnia books - to where it becomes allegorical - but I like the more subtle, adult feel of the book. You have to dig for the symbolism a little more (unlike his Narnia books where Aslan is always the Christ figure, for example).
The most interesting progression in the book is watching the main character shift in her relationship with her sister. In the beginning, their friendship is healthy and loving, but along the journey envy and rejection creep in until there is no longer love - only a suffocating possessiveness that leads to hurt and misunderstanding. Lewis is quite good at portraying the elusive and gradual nature of the shift from love to jealousy. It's not as if one particular event sealed the deal - but rather a series of small, relatively "minor" things paved the road of rejection.
It's a good reminder of how subtlely our love can change from genuine care for others into a possessive craving to be loved at all costs. It's tough to love in such a way that it is "hands off." To never manipulate a friend's service to you, never claim ownership over another, and never suspiciously demand to see the proof of their friendship to you. That sort of "love" is nothing but a possessive form of mistrust disguised as loyalty.
Lord, keep me from the kind of "loving" that hinders true friendship. Keep me from the kind of "love" that seeks to indebt others into loving be back. Let my love be free of charge (as yours is), trusting in your ability (and desire) to meet my needs.
Anyhow, the book is a novel called Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold. A really great friend of mine recommended it to me years ago, and a few months back I spotted it in a bookstore and took it home for the holidays.
Sparing most of the details, it's an adaptation of the classic myth of Cupid and Psyche, only re-vamped and packed full of Christian symbolism. It's not to the extent of the Narnia books - to where it becomes allegorical - but I like the more subtle, adult feel of the book. You have to dig for the symbolism a little more (unlike his Narnia books where Aslan is always the Christ figure, for example).
The most interesting progression in the book is watching the main character shift in her relationship with her sister. In the beginning, their friendship is healthy and loving, but along the journey envy and rejection creep in until there is no longer love - only a suffocating possessiveness that leads to hurt and misunderstanding. Lewis is quite good at portraying the elusive and gradual nature of the shift from love to jealousy. It's not as if one particular event sealed the deal - but rather a series of small, relatively "minor" things paved the road of rejection.
It's a good reminder of how subtlely our love can change from genuine care for others into a possessive craving to be loved at all costs. It's tough to love in such a way that it is "hands off." To never manipulate a friend's service to you, never claim ownership over another, and never suspiciously demand to see the proof of their friendship to you. That sort of "love" is nothing but a possessive form of mistrust disguised as loyalty.
Lord, keep me from the kind of "loving" that hinders true friendship. Keep me from the kind of "love" that seeks to indebt others into loving be back. Let my love be free of charge (as yours is), trusting in your ability (and desire) to meet my needs.
Freedom to Change Course
I've been bumping into a theme in the books I'm reading and the messages I've heard preached lately. It's the idea of "change-ability."
I was reading some Kierkegaard in the car (during a fantastic road trip from which I just returned), and he had a beautiful passage on the famous bible story involving Abraham, God, and the command to sacrifice Isaac on the altar. He came at it from a pretty unique angle. Usually I think of how hard it was for Abraham to take his son, tie him up on the altar, and pull out the knife. I always imagined the relief that Abraham must have felt when God broke in at the last second and screamed for Abraham to put down the knife and spare Isaac. Kierkegaard, however, turned things around and highlighted how difficult it must have been for Abraham to actually put down the knife. Think of it - Abraham had heard the voice of God, commanding him to sacrifice his son, and then when he set out to complete the divine mission, he hears a voice telling him to stop. How easy it must have been to label the second voice as the tempter's voice instead of God's. Of course, that couldn't be God telling him to turn around at the moment of decision - especially commanding the very thing he naturally wanted to do - to spare his son. But Kierkegaard points out that Abraham was so in-tune with the "present" voice of God that he successfully recognized it as the voice of Jehova and not that of the enemy.
So often, we hear a word from God and run with it... not bothering to wait and see if things will change. Was it really God who told Abraham to kill Isaac? Yes. Was it also God who told Abraham to spare Isaac? Yes. When God speaks, it does not mean that the orders will never change. The same God who said "A" also said "B", only a few hours later. How difficult it is to follow the Unpredictable God. Kierkegaard speaks of Abraham's ability to "retain, even at the last moment, the... agile willingness of an obedient soldier. Such a one, even when he has almost reached his goal, does not mind having to run back again, even if it renders all his running in vain. Oh, this is great!"
Within the same few days, I came across an interesting passage in the gospels where Jesus walks out this ability to change course suddenly. In Luke 22:35-38, Jesus speaks to his disciples before his betrayal.
'And he said to them, "When I sent you out without money belt and bag and sandals, you did not lack anything, did you?"
They said, "No, nothing."
And he said to them, "But now, whoever has a money belt is to bring it along, likewise also a bag, and whoever has no sword is to sell his coat and buy one. for I tell you that which is written must be fulfilled in Me, that 'he was numbered with transgressors'; for that which refers to me has its fulfillment."
They said to him, "Look Lord, here are two swords."
And he said to them, "it is enough."'
Just a few weeks earlier, Jesus had sent his friends out to heal the sick and drive out demons, with only the clothes on their backs. As they followed his instructions, they were supernaturally provided for and "did not lack anything." The formula was working great for their ministry. But now, Everything was different. It's almost as if Jesus was saying, "remember what I told you a few weeks ago? Well, forget it. There's something new I need from you now. Those money bags and belts and swords I had you give away... you might want to get them back. You'll need them soon."
What an inconsistent Shepherd! And yet, there is divine wisdom behind the madness. They had no need of coats and money belts precisely because their message dealt with miraculous healing and deliverance. The favor of the people was on them. Of course the crowds provided the disciples with food and lodging - they were healing the sick all over town! But when Jesus' message began to change from "bring me your sick" to "by the way... I'm God and I have a Kingdom," the favor of man crumbled beneath their feet. When the message became offensive, the crowds began to number the disciples not as "heroes," but as "transgressors" (vs. 37). Jesus knew that in the coming season, when the crowds were offended, the free meals would come to an abrupt halt. Hence, the sudden necessity of a money belt and an extra coat.
Again, the same God that says "A", suddenly turns around and says "B". The reason this is both glorious and annoying is that it makes formulas impossible. Relationship is necessary. The fact that I heard God yesterday has very little to do with my hearing him today. When following Jesus, things change - and they change suddenly. This is difficult! Kierkegaard laments that "when a person has for a long time been saying 'A', then humanly speaking he is rather bothered at having to say 'B'".
With so many twists and turns, how are we supposed to get used to following God? We aren't. God never does the same thing twice. Jason Upton says it well when he stresses that "God is calling for a beautiful people who are unpredictable." Our freedom to change and grow reflects a God who is new every morning. Hans Urs Von Balthasar describes God as "the free and infinite Person who, from the depths of his freedom, can give himself in a way that is ever new, unsuspected and unpredictable." He goes on to say that "the word of God is never something finished, to be surveyed like a particular landscape, but it is something new every moment, like water from a spring or rays of light. And so it is not enough to have received 'insight' and to 'know the testimonies of God' if we do not continually receive and become inebriated by the fountain of eternal light. The beloved's face and voice are every moment as new as if he had never seen them before. No seraph, no saint in all eternity could 'get used' to it."
God's words over our lives are never meant to bind us into a formula or cause our hearts to harden like cement. We need to be running in such a way that we are willing and able to stop on a dime, turn 180 degrees, and begin sprinting wholeheartedly in the new direction, all the while keeping our ears ready to hear the inevitable voice of change.
I was reading some Kierkegaard in the car (during a fantastic road trip from which I just returned), and he had a beautiful passage on the famous bible story involving Abraham, God, and the command to sacrifice Isaac on the altar. He came at it from a pretty unique angle. Usually I think of how hard it was for Abraham to take his son, tie him up on the altar, and pull out the knife. I always imagined the relief that Abraham must have felt when God broke in at the last second and screamed for Abraham to put down the knife and spare Isaac. Kierkegaard, however, turned things around and highlighted how difficult it must have been for Abraham to actually put down the knife. Think of it - Abraham had heard the voice of God, commanding him to sacrifice his son, and then when he set out to complete the divine mission, he hears a voice telling him to stop. How easy it must have been to label the second voice as the tempter's voice instead of God's. Of course, that couldn't be God telling him to turn around at the moment of decision - especially commanding the very thing he naturally wanted to do - to spare his son. But Kierkegaard points out that Abraham was so in-tune with the "present" voice of God that he successfully recognized it as the voice of Jehova and not that of the enemy.
So often, we hear a word from God and run with it... not bothering to wait and see if things will change. Was it really God who told Abraham to kill Isaac? Yes. Was it also God who told Abraham to spare Isaac? Yes. When God speaks, it does not mean that the orders will never change. The same God who said "A" also said "B", only a few hours later. How difficult it is to follow the Unpredictable God. Kierkegaard speaks of Abraham's ability to "retain, even at the last moment, the... agile willingness of an obedient soldier. Such a one, even when he has almost reached his goal, does not mind having to run back again, even if it renders all his running in vain. Oh, this is great!"
Within the same few days, I came across an interesting passage in the gospels where Jesus walks out this ability to change course suddenly. In Luke 22:35-38, Jesus speaks to his disciples before his betrayal.
'And he said to them, "When I sent you out without money belt and bag and sandals, you did not lack anything, did you?"
They said, "No, nothing."
And he said to them, "But now, whoever has a money belt is to bring it along, likewise also a bag, and whoever has no sword is to sell his coat and buy one. for I tell you that which is written must be fulfilled in Me, that 'he was numbered with transgressors'; for that which refers to me has its fulfillment."
They said to him, "Look Lord, here are two swords."
And he said to them, "it is enough."'
Just a few weeks earlier, Jesus had sent his friends out to heal the sick and drive out demons, with only the clothes on their backs. As they followed his instructions, they were supernaturally provided for and "did not lack anything." The formula was working great for their ministry. But now, Everything was different. It's almost as if Jesus was saying, "remember what I told you a few weeks ago? Well, forget it. There's something new I need from you now. Those money bags and belts and swords I had you give away... you might want to get them back. You'll need them soon."
What an inconsistent Shepherd! And yet, there is divine wisdom behind the madness. They had no need of coats and money belts precisely because their message dealt with miraculous healing and deliverance. The favor of the people was on them. Of course the crowds provided the disciples with food and lodging - they were healing the sick all over town! But when Jesus' message began to change from "bring me your sick" to "by the way... I'm God and I have a Kingdom," the favor of man crumbled beneath their feet. When the message became offensive, the crowds began to number the disciples not as "heroes," but as "transgressors" (vs. 37). Jesus knew that in the coming season, when the crowds were offended, the free meals would come to an abrupt halt. Hence, the sudden necessity of a money belt and an extra coat.
Again, the same God that says "A", suddenly turns around and says "B". The reason this is both glorious and annoying is that it makes formulas impossible. Relationship is necessary. The fact that I heard God yesterday has very little to do with my hearing him today. When following Jesus, things change - and they change suddenly. This is difficult! Kierkegaard laments that "when a person has for a long time been saying 'A', then humanly speaking he is rather bothered at having to say 'B'".
With so many twists and turns, how are we supposed to get used to following God? We aren't. God never does the same thing twice. Jason Upton says it well when he stresses that "God is calling for a beautiful people who are unpredictable." Our freedom to change and grow reflects a God who is new every morning. Hans Urs Von Balthasar describes God as "the free and infinite Person who, from the depths of his freedom, can give himself in a way that is ever new, unsuspected and unpredictable." He goes on to say that "the word of God is never something finished, to be surveyed like a particular landscape, but it is something new every moment, like water from a spring or rays of light. And so it is not enough to have received 'insight' and to 'know the testimonies of God' if we do not continually receive and become inebriated by the fountain of eternal light. The beloved's face and voice are every moment as new as if he had never seen them before. No seraph, no saint in all eternity could 'get used' to it."
God's words over our lives are never meant to bind us into a formula or cause our hearts to harden like cement. We need to be running in such a way that we are willing and able to stop on a dime, turn 180 degrees, and begin sprinting wholeheartedly in the new direction, all the while keeping our ears ready to hear the inevitable voice of change.
Invisible Judgments and Rewards
Many times, we think of God's judgments and rewards as external consequences that happen as a result of our sin or our righteousness. But the Lord has begun to show me that many of his judgments and rewards are built into our actions automatically. Sin leads to death - period. Righteousness leads to life - period. The issue of abortion in America is a good example. We usually think of it as a terrible sin which will in time bring God's judgment in a severe, external display (terrorist attacks, natural disasters, economy crash, famine, etc.) While this is biblical and quite possibly true for this nation as well, I love the perspective of Lou Engle. He feels that abortion is not only the sin, but is also the judgment. We are walking under the "punishment" of losing that generation. Every year, 40 million unborn children are murdered in America. Each one is knit together in the womb with purpose, destiny, giftings, callings, and a strategic place in the Kingdom. When we abort, we no longer receive the "words from heaven" in those lives and we miss that generation walking in power and authority on this earth. What is more, we in our upside-down thinking do not consider it to be all that bad ("At least we didn't get dealt another hurricane"). The natural fruit of abortion is a real judgment, and because of our worldly mindset, we barely notice that we are being disciplined. We wait for an external, more obvious punishment. But there is an element of judgment in which God at times simply stands back and lets sin take its toll.
Ezekiel 16:43 paints the picture clearly for Israel:
"'Because you have not remembered the days of your youth but have enraged Me by all these things, behold I in turn will bring your conduct down on your own head,' declares the Lord"
In the same way, the fruits of righteousness are built into obedience and are often automatic in nature. Many times we also view God's rewards as external things (money, ministry growth, full churches on Sunday, miraculous healings, provision, etc.). But the Lord has been revealing to me that I am already experiencing many of his rewards and I do not notice it. For example, if I choose to abstain from sex outside of marriage, my reward is that I don't acquire a sexually transmitted disease. It is also that I have a clean conscience with my wife. Because I refrain from drunkenness, my reward is a clear mind and a life free from alcoholism and liver disease. But in my dullness, I do not even consider these things as rewards. After all, I'm entitled to my health. And the feeling of a clean conscience is only because I've successfully avoided darkness, right? Wrong. They are indeed heavenly rewards. Yet I push them aside and wait for something bigger, flashier, or more tangible.
My attitude is often that if I choose to obey the Lord, he should in some way compensate me for my losses (after all, he knows how much I'm missing out on by choosing to follow him!). This is backwards thinking, and shows that my priorities are not yet Heaven's priorities. Jason Upton once said that "sometimes no compromise means no compensation." I have been chewing on that idea and I want to be able to live in such a way that I appreciate and remember the built-in benefits of salvation (Psalm 103:2). It can be a stumbling block to wait for God to compensate me (with an external blessing) for living rightly. He does not feel pity for me when obedience is a difficult road, because in his sight, my obedience is showering me with rewards - even right now on this earth. But these rewards are quiet ones, and in the materialism of the world they are often unperceived. The quiet "thank you" of the Father is unheard (or if it is heard, it is viewed as somehow not quite enough).
God's love is so consistent and so natural in my life that I don't notice it ninety percent of the time. And He is so humble that he is willing to go unnoticed and continue loving me anyway. I want to learn to love others in that way - not expecting compensation from the people that I choose to serve.
A passage that has been on my mind is Luke 6:32-35.
"If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. And if you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners in order to receive back the same amount. But love your enemies, and do good, and lend expecting nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High; for He Himself is kind to ungrateful and evil men."
This is the humble love of God: to go unnoticed by ungrateful men, and to be patient and content in this kind of love. This invisible love is also what he is calling us to give to others. In his book Provocations, Kierkegaard says that "Love makes itself inconspicuous, especially when it works the hardest." But I am only content to love in this way when I am grateful for the quiet, built-in rewards of righteousness. The only way to be happy in loving people like Jesus loved them (in exchange for indifference, misunderstanding, rejection, and betrayal) is by knowing the affirming smile of the Father as Jesus knew it. The Father encourages me that every time I choose to love sacrificially, I look more and more like Jesus to others, and I actually get to see into His Kingdom more clearly. This is a quiet, internal reward, but it is one worth going after.
Ezekiel 16:43 paints the picture clearly for Israel:
"'Because you have not remembered the days of your youth but have enraged Me by all these things, behold I in turn will bring your conduct down on your own head,' declares the Lord"
In the same way, the fruits of righteousness are built into obedience and are often automatic in nature. Many times we also view God's rewards as external things (money, ministry growth, full churches on Sunday, miraculous healings, provision, etc.). But the Lord has been revealing to me that I am already experiencing many of his rewards and I do not notice it. For example, if I choose to abstain from sex outside of marriage, my reward is that I don't acquire a sexually transmitted disease. It is also that I have a clean conscience with my wife. Because I refrain from drunkenness, my reward is a clear mind and a life free from alcoholism and liver disease. But in my dullness, I do not even consider these things as rewards. After all, I'm entitled to my health. And the feeling of a clean conscience is only because I've successfully avoided darkness, right? Wrong. They are indeed heavenly rewards. Yet I push them aside and wait for something bigger, flashier, or more tangible.
My attitude is often that if I choose to obey the Lord, he should in some way compensate me for my losses (after all, he knows how much I'm missing out on by choosing to follow him!). This is backwards thinking, and shows that my priorities are not yet Heaven's priorities. Jason Upton once said that "sometimes no compromise means no compensation." I have been chewing on that idea and I want to be able to live in such a way that I appreciate and remember the built-in benefits of salvation (Psalm 103:2). It can be a stumbling block to wait for God to compensate me (with an external blessing) for living rightly. He does not feel pity for me when obedience is a difficult road, because in his sight, my obedience is showering me with rewards - even right now on this earth. But these rewards are quiet ones, and in the materialism of the world they are often unperceived. The quiet "thank you" of the Father is unheard (or if it is heard, it is viewed as somehow not quite enough).
God's love is so consistent and so natural in my life that I don't notice it ninety percent of the time. And He is so humble that he is willing to go unnoticed and continue loving me anyway. I want to learn to love others in that way - not expecting compensation from the people that I choose to serve.
A passage that has been on my mind is Luke 6:32-35.
"If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. And if you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners in order to receive back the same amount. But love your enemies, and do good, and lend expecting nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High; for He Himself is kind to ungrateful and evil men."
This is the humble love of God: to go unnoticed by ungrateful men, and to be patient and content in this kind of love. This invisible love is also what he is calling us to give to others. In his book Provocations, Kierkegaard says that "Love makes itself inconspicuous, especially when it works the hardest." But I am only content to love in this way when I am grateful for the quiet, built-in rewards of righteousness. The only way to be happy in loving people like Jesus loved them (in exchange for indifference, misunderstanding, rejection, and betrayal) is by knowing the affirming smile of the Father as Jesus knew it. The Father encourages me that every time I choose to love sacrificially, I look more and more like Jesus to others, and I actually get to see into His Kingdom more clearly. This is a quiet, internal reward, but it is one worth going after.
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