Are you familiar with the magic trick of pulling the cloth off the table and nothing moves, breaks or falls off the table? Great attention getter....if you can pull it off (no pun intended...okay...just a tad). The trick is similar to juggling. For the experienced practitioner, the challenge is how many items can you juggle and/or how many different items can you juggle. For the less experienced, the challenge is: what can you afford to drop. I jokingly tell people at work: "I can juggle, the question is do you want the Fostoria Crystal or the Corelle Ware to hit the floor?".
I think we sometime view our Christianity as a juggling act or tablecloth pulling act. If we don't perform the trick correctly and we break something, we want to yell at the magician who taught us the trick. I understand the physics and science of juggling and tablecloth pulling but I don't try either trick with breakable objects. I'm not that skilled. I have a great deal of respect and appreciation for those who can perform either trick.
Christian life is very much a juggling act: worshiping a magnificent, unbounded God, getting "pulled" off the table by life; slapped in the face by illness, disease, or death; dreams crushed or delayed. Some might think it offensive to question God about life events such as a father being taken from a daughter; death of a spouse due to an aggressive, terminal illness; a failed crop that was supposed to provide financial benefit.
I do not have a rock solid, verifiable, concrete answer to why "bad" things happen to Christians other than Christians live in a sinful world. Yes, I know that might be considered a cheesy, easy out answer. What I do know, by personal experience, is God is always with you listening to your heart, mind, and voice. God doesn't take offensive when you question why. Think about this for a moment: God freely gave His Son to die a horrible, painful death for His creation. Don't you think God is touched by our illness, suffering, and losing a loved one?
Yes, it is difficult to wake up day after day when your life has been touched by illness, suffering, death, or broken dreams. Acknowledging who has allowed you to wake up and have another day of life makes getting up possible. I believe one of the greatest witnesses a Christian has is their response to life's challenges. Do you get angry and ticked off and then stay that way? Do you get upset, yell and scream, and then turn to God for guidance, support, and endurance?
There a two women, Mrs. T and Mrs. N, in my church who are, to me, examples of asking God for guidance, support and endurance. Mrs. T has been in remission from breast cancer for several years but the cancer has recently returned in her bones. Mrs. T always seems to have a pleasant spirit even on her "bad" days when the cancer is bothering her. My thought is: if Mrs. T can get up each day and present a pleasant spirit in spite of the pain and disease, so can I.
The other woman, Mrs. N, has lupus and is in some degree of pain most of the time. She is also an encouragement when I look at her: she always seems to have a smile on her face or presents a pleasant spirit through her pain. Mrs. N causes me to view my problems as insignificant compared to daily being in pain.
From listening to their testimony, I know each has a security that God is in control and will take care of them either by providing them the strength to daily participate in life or provide them a painless life with Him. I'm sure, based on human nature, each has their days when they get discouraged and feel they have been "pulled off the table". Their pleasant spirit seems to indicate they don't "stay on the floor". Instead, each asks God for strength to live another day, witness to another person, love their spouse one more day and give a kind word to a stranger. Last but not least each acknowledges God is in control and is the daily provider of their strength, endurance and life.
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
God, failure and the 'ouch' moment
American society seems to place a heavy emphasis on success. There are championship contests: World Series, Super Bowl, NCAA Final Four. We have indictors of success: large homes, fancy cars, big SUVs, expensive clothes. But is success really defined by having the most, the biggest, or the most expensive?
How about failure? If one does not have a Super Bowl ring, 3000+ sq. ft. house, Mercedes SUV, or Christian Dior, are you a failure? Or do you have a different standard for measuring success? Does God have a standard for determining success?
Would we consider Moses, Solomon or Job a success? What about Peter, Thomas, or Paul? One could pick any person from the Bible and ask this question after reading about the individual. Given the broad spectrum of people mentioned in the Bible, it would seem God has a very different standard for determining success or failure.
Saturday evening, Pagus presented the "Splendor and Holiness" seminar. The Pagus Event Staff had worked to find and secure a facility based on their faith in God and purchased ad time from the leading, local Christian radio station serving the audience Pagus would like to reach. The staff worked to create quality, professional looking promotional material about Pagus and the seminar. The staff devoted several days to in-person contact with area churches instead of mailing the promo material. The Pagus volunteer staff came Saturday evening to support the seminar by taking on the small but important jobs. All was ready! Open the doors, let the masses come and bask in the presentation of God's Splendor and Holiness!
Cue the chirping crickets.
Pagus had scheduled, promoted, and planned for a successful seminar based on their belief in God's leadership. Not as many people showed up as planned for; too many handouts printed, and a large venue filled with a handful of people. One of the presenters, at 5 minutes after the scheduled start time, said "This is an ouch moment". The director of the venue encouraged the Pagus staff to give the presentation since "every\thing was paid for". The presentation was given and the stage with its red velvet curtain provided an impressive back drop for the volunteer videographers to capture the presentation.
Did Pagus fail or did God provide success? From a human viewpoint, Pagus failed since the required number of attendees to break even did not appear, hours had been invested in feet-to-the-ground promotion, the radio ad did not produce anticipated results and the beautiful Broken Arrow PAC was wasted on a handful of people.
What is not seen is the number of people who will potentially be witnessed to by Pagus moving forward with what they believe is God's direction for Pagus. What about the contacts made during in-person promotion? What about the networking potential of the radio sales manager? What about the pastors who expressed an interest in having Pagus speak at their church? What about the potential for the video to touch people?
The potential for God to use each of us is unlimited because we cannot understand how He will take our perceived failure and create success for Himself. Let me throw out a Biblical example or two: Job, Paul, Peter, Thomas. As humans, we have difficulty with limiting a limitless God. We like things to be solid, touchable, and definable. All properties opposite of who and what God is considering He created the heavens from nothing just by speaking.
How about failure? If one does not have a Super Bowl ring, 3000+ sq. ft. house, Mercedes SUV, or Christian Dior, are you a failure? Or do you have a different standard for measuring success? Does God have a standard for determining success?
Would we consider Moses, Solomon or Job a success? What about Peter, Thomas, or Paul? One could pick any person from the Bible and ask this question after reading about the individual. Given the broad spectrum of people mentioned in the Bible, it would seem God has a very different standard for determining success or failure.
Saturday evening, Pagus presented the "Splendor and Holiness" seminar. The Pagus Event Staff had worked to find and secure a facility based on their faith in God and purchased ad time from the leading, local Christian radio station serving the audience Pagus would like to reach. The staff worked to create quality, professional looking promotional material about Pagus and the seminar. The staff devoted several days to in-person contact with area churches instead of mailing the promo material. The Pagus volunteer staff came Saturday evening to support the seminar by taking on the small but important jobs. All was ready! Open the doors, let the masses come and bask in the presentation of God's Splendor and Holiness!
Cue the chirping crickets.
Pagus had scheduled, promoted, and planned for a successful seminar based on their belief in God's leadership. Not as many people showed up as planned for; too many handouts printed, and a large venue filled with a handful of people. One of the presenters, at 5 minutes after the scheduled start time, said "This is an ouch moment". The director of the venue encouraged the Pagus staff to give the presentation since "every\thing was paid for". The presentation was given and the stage with its red velvet curtain provided an impressive back drop for the volunteer videographers to capture the presentation.
Did Pagus fail or did God provide success? From a human viewpoint, Pagus failed since the required number of attendees to break even did not appear, hours had been invested in feet-to-the-ground promotion, the radio ad did not produce anticipated results and the beautiful Broken Arrow PAC was wasted on a handful of people.
What is not seen is the number of people who will potentially be witnessed to by Pagus moving forward with what they believe is God's direction for Pagus. What about the contacts made during in-person promotion? What about the networking potential of the radio sales manager? What about the pastors who expressed an interest in having Pagus speak at their church? What about the potential for the video to touch people?
The potential for God to use each of us is unlimited because we cannot understand how He will take our perceived failure and create success for Himself. Let me throw out a Biblical example or two: Job, Paul, Peter, Thomas. As humans, we have difficulty with limiting a limitless God. We like things to be solid, touchable, and definable. All properties opposite of who and what God is considering He created the heavens from nothing just by speaking.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Redeeming the Past
There are some memories that we lock away in the deepest part of ourselves. Memories too dark and traumatic to ever see the light of day, so we ignore them, push them a little deeper into ourselves and hope that no one can see. Hope that no one will ever guess that this one moment captured so pristinely in our minds but so carefully concealed touches every part of who we are, influences every decision that we make, and haunts even our happiest moments, stealing its beauty.
All of us have a memory like this, a childhood trauma – a death, a lose, abuse, or maybe even something we have done in our weaker moments. It is our greatest shame, and our deepest hurt. It seems as if our lives are divided as to what came before and what comes after. And while we may push it aside, it waits quietly in the wings waiting to leap from its rickety cage and destroy all that we have tried to build.
We try to deny that this one moment has become our defining moment. We tell ourselves that it had nothing to do with our choice to take the safe route home, avoided that relationship, or picked our college major, but it did. It always does.
We hate it for that reason, not just for the pain that it caused in that instance, but for every time we bow before it as if it happened earlier this morning. Knowing that our odd choices and decisions can never be fully explained, even to those who love us, because then we would have to admit what happened, share with another that piece of ourselves that even we can’t love. So we hide, hide from those who love us, hide from ourselves, and hope to God, He really can’t see everything.
And that’s the problem, we know that at some point, somewhere, someone is going to see right through our façade, and it scares us to death. So we live our whole lives afraid, afraid and angry. Hoping that our anger, our shell of self sufficiency, or self sacrifice, is enough to keep people just far enough away we will never be forced to deal with the issue we refuse to admit exists.
And that’s the problem, it is all about ourselves. We try to fix it alone in the dark. We hope that another self help book shoved under the edge of our mattresses will hold the key, help us create another or better cage. We think that we need to take care of this our self, that it only affects our self, and that it will all be okay with a little more self discipline, self punishment, self mutilation. Anything, as long as we can keep any one from finding out.
I can write this way because I have my own stock pile of memories, things that I did, things that were done to me. I know firsthand how they cripple us, eating away at our hopes and dreams, preventing us from reaching out to help another because we don’t even feel worthy to do that. What I did or what was done to me, doesn’t matter. Fill in the blanks with your own list for now, and perhaps one day, over a cup of coffee, I will share.
The point is the particular memory doesn’t matter. It never has. All that matters is it was enough to leave a mark on your soul. And as long as we make it our life’s goal to cover up that mark, we are denying the power of God to redeem all things to his glory. Oh, we can say we have great faith, live a life that seems to demonstrate our maturity and dependence on the Lord, but it’s all a lie and we are living a faithless life.
So how do move into a life that declares that God is faithful and capable of redeeming anything that we freely release to him? We learn how to stop hiding. We find people we can trust, and we tell them our story – every horrifying detail. We tell them the worst of what have experienced, the worst of what we have done, and we stop trying to control the consequences. We let God take care of that.
I won’t lie to you. It is the scariest thing you will ever do. You will feel bare and vulnerable. Your voice will give out, and you will convince yourself no one will ever love you if you say a word. Your head will feel as if it is going to split open like an overripe melon, all your ideas spilling like rotten pulp onto the ground. It will hurt. You will be able to feel the memory being extracted from your being, like a colossal splinter leaving your heart, and somewhere along the way, the nausea will set in. And the voices in the back of your head, the ones you have relied on for so long to keep you safe will tell you to run, not today, do it later, you need more time.
The thing is, our God deserves the highest honor we can give him. And like so many God things, this one seems so backwards to our human minds, so we give him our worst. Our worst moment, our worst pain, our worst shame. It makes no sense but this is the beauty of who He is. Because this amazing God takes all of it and redeems it, turning it into something beautiful and amazing. Our stories are transformed, becoming the reason to praise, becoming the promise of hope for others who once thought they were alone. And as we experience His healing, it our story, our testimony that becomes the means through which we participate in His redemption of not only ourselves, but the world.
All of us have a memory like this, a childhood trauma – a death, a lose, abuse, or maybe even something we have done in our weaker moments. It is our greatest shame, and our deepest hurt. It seems as if our lives are divided as to what came before and what comes after. And while we may push it aside, it waits quietly in the wings waiting to leap from its rickety cage and destroy all that we have tried to build.
We try to deny that this one moment has become our defining moment. We tell ourselves that it had nothing to do with our choice to take the safe route home, avoided that relationship, or picked our college major, but it did. It always does.
We hate it for that reason, not just for the pain that it caused in that instance, but for every time we bow before it as if it happened earlier this morning. Knowing that our odd choices and decisions can never be fully explained, even to those who love us, because then we would have to admit what happened, share with another that piece of ourselves that even we can’t love. So we hide, hide from those who love us, hide from ourselves, and hope to God, He really can’t see everything.
And that’s the problem, we know that at some point, somewhere, someone is going to see right through our façade, and it scares us to death. So we live our whole lives afraid, afraid and angry. Hoping that our anger, our shell of self sufficiency, or self sacrifice, is enough to keep people just far enough away we will never be forced to deal with the issue we refuse to admit exists.
And that’s the problem, it is all about ourselves. We try to fix it alone in the dark. We hope that another self help book shoved under the edge of our mattresses will hold the key, help us create another or better cage. We think that we need to take care of this our self, that it only affects our self, and that it will all be okay with a little more self discipline, self punishment, self mutilation. Anything, as long as we can keep any one from finding out.
I can write this way because I have my own stock pile of memories, things that I did, things that were done to me. I know firsthand how they cripple us, eating away at our hopes and dreams, preventing us from reaching out to help another because we don’t even feel worthy to do that. What I did or what was done to me, doesn’t matter. Fill in the blanks with your own list for now, and perhaps one day, over a cup of coffee, I will share.
The point is the particular memory doesn’t matter. It never has. All that matters is it was enough to leave a mark on your soul. And as long as we make it our life’s goal to cover up that mark, we are denying the power of God to redeem all things to his glory. Oh, we can say we have great faith, live a life that seems to demonstrate our maturity and dependence on the Lord, but it’s all a lie and we are living a faithless life.
So how do move into a life that declares that God is faithful and capable of redeeming anything that we freely release to him? We learn how to stop hiding. We find people we can trust, and we tell them our story – every horrifying detail. We tell them the worst of what have experienced, the worst of what we have done, and we stop trying to control the consequences. We let God take care of that.
I won’t lie to you. It is the scariest thing you will ever do. You will feel bare and vulnerable. Your voice will give out, and you will convince yourself no one will ever love you if you say a word. Your head will feel as if it is going to split open like an overripe melon, all your ideas spilling like rotten pulp onto the ground. It will hurt. You will be able to feel the memory being extracted from your being, like a colossal splinter leaving your heart, and somewhere along the way, the nausea will set in. And the voices in the back of your head, the ones you have relied on for so long to keep you safe will tell you to run, not today, do it later, you need more time.
The thing is, our God deserves the highest honor we can give him. And like so many God things, this one seems so backwards to our human minds, so we give him our worst. Our worst moment, our worst pain, our worst shame. It makes no sense but this is the beauty of who He is. Because this amazing God takes all of it and redeems it, turning it into something beautiful and amazing. Our stories are transformed, becoming the reason to praise, becoming the promise of hope for others who once thought they were alone. And as we experience His healing, it our story, our testimony that becomes the means through which we participate in His redemption of not only ourselves, but the world.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Remembering How it Felt
A long time ago, in a land far far away, someone important to me made an insightful observation. He said that I never really thought about something until I wrote it down and I never really felt anything until I painted it out. I took it as a compliment, and I think that he meant it as such, but over the past few days I have been thinking about this part of me that needs to create. The part of me that finds its voice in the written word and painted image.
In truth it is a part of me that has only been expressed in random bits and pieces. Yes, I write this blog and I journal like it is my last life line to sanity, but it has been years since I have given myself the freedom to paint. There was a time in my life when I could pick up a brush and lose days in front of a canvas. I would stand before the clean white surface and answer its challenge with alternating fury and compassion. I would command the colors to bend and blend to my will. I would fight back the elements of chaos that tried to steal the clarity of the image and I would bring a whole new reality in existence with my finger tips.
I would later awaken, soiled brush in hand, to stare at the marvel I had birthed and wonder how I could have ever created such a thing. Sometimes in blissful amazement, at others in grim acceptance, and still at other times with horror.
But there came a season in my life when my painting became the object of scorn. The time I spent lost in this fabulous and terrifying place was resented by another person very important to me, so I stopped. I packed away all my brushes and tried to ignore the paintings that begged to painted. I visited occasionally, but that is all I allowed myself. A visit, a few hours, a carefully doled out period of time when I thought it was safe, when I knew I was in no danger of losing myself to the process. Eventually, I stopped even this. It was far too painful and never satisfying, merely a bleak reminder of what I had left behind.
As life continued, I had to worry about providing for my children. Survival depended on constant vigilance and every drop of energy had to be poured into making a living, going to school, or some pretense of housekeeping. Painting just demanded too much. So my brushes sat in the cabinet, safely out of sight, but never out of mind.
Today, I am wrestling with if it is time to open that door, like the wardrobe that leads to Narnia will I find a way home? Will I want to find a way home? How many years will pass here and there? Will you know me when I return?
Another friend of mine once asked me how I could write about art and its place in Christian theology if I wasn’t doing art. It’s a valid question. At the time, I had resigned myself to the idea that maybe I just had enough of the artistic bent to give me insight into the situation but was really meant to pursue it beyond that. I still have no desire to be an artistic success. The politics of the art world leave me apathetic, not even caring if I am commercial success, but I am learning to admit that I love the process of creating. I love the feel of the brushes in my hand and how they drag across the canvas. I am finding that my love this act is far less intellectual than I had allowed myself to believe.
It is visceral and elemental. A feeling that springs from somewhere so deep in my gut that I can not determine its source. More than a compulsion, and greater than an appetite, it is truly something that defines me as a person. It defines how I perceive this world and my place in it. It is the medium through which I define my reality and experience this life more fully.
And yet, it is the part of me that I fear the most. It is the part of me that I have yet to fully tame, and paces back and forth in my heart and mind like the lion behind steel bars. I worry when I think of releasing it, and I fear what it shall mean for me and my family. Not because I think there is anything “bad” in it, but rather it is probably the most powerful piece of who I am, lending it strength and infusing every other part of me it touches.
But it is the part of me that knows my Creator the best. It is that little bit of who I am knows the majesty and beauty of a God who decided to create a world of wonders with his voice. It when I am lost in this world of being so completely that it leaks out onto a page or canvas that I understand why he needed to speak the words that gave us life. And I am realizing that hiding from this part of me is just another way of hiding from him.
There is a piece of all of us that reflects our creator beautifully and perfectly. Where we know something about him so intimately that no one else may ever share in that revelation. It is the strongest and purest part of who we are, and it is powerful. Often intimidating the bravest of us, but what greater honor can we give him than offering it up to him?
In truth it is a part of me that has only been expressed in random bits and pieces. Yes, I write this blog and I journal like it is my last life line to sanity, but it has been years since I have given myself the freedom to paint. There was a time in my life when I could pick up a brush and lose days in front of a canvas. I would stand before the clean white surface and answer its challenge with alternating fury and compassion. I would command the colors to bend and blend to my will. I would fight back the elements of chaos that tried to steal the clarity of the image and I would bring a whole new reality in existence with my finger tips.
I would later awaken, soiled brush in hand, to stare at the marvel I had birthed and wonder how I could have ever created such a thing. Sometimes in blissful amazement, at others in grim acceptance, and still at other times with horror.
But there came a season in my life when my painting became the object of scorn. The time I spent lost in this fabulous and terrifying place was resented by another person very important to me, so I stopped. I packed away all my brushes and tried to ignore the paintings that begged to painted. I visited occasionally, but that is all I allowed myself. A visit, a few hours, a carefully doled out period of time when I thought it was safe, when I knew I was in no danger of losing myself to the process. Eventually, I stopped even this. It was far too painful and never satisfying, merely a bleak reminder of what I had left behind.
As life continued, I had to worry about providing for my children. Survival depended on constant vigilance and every drop of energy had to be poured into making a living, going to school, or some pretense of housekeeping. Painting just demanded too much. So my brushes sat in the cabinet, safely out of sight, but never out of mind.
Today, I am wrestling with if it is time to open that door, like the wardrobe that leads to Narnia will I find a way home? Will I want to find a way home? How many years will pass here and there? Will you know me when I return?
Another friend of mine once asked me how I could write about art and its place in Christian theology if I wasn’t doing art. It’s a valid question. At the time, I had resigned myself to the idea that maybe I just had enough of the artistic bent to give me insight into the situation but was really meant to pursue it beyond that. I still have no desire to be an artistic success. The politics of the art world leave me apathetic, not even caring if I am commercial success, but I am learning to admit that I love the process of creating. I love the feel of the brushes in my hand and how they drag across the canvas. I am finding that my love this act is far less intellectual than I had allowed myself to believe.
It is visceral and elemental. A feeling that springs from somewhere so deep in my gut that I can not determine its source. More than a compulsion, and greater than an appetite, it is truly something that defines me as a person. It defines how I perceive this world and my place in it. It is the medium through which I define my reality and experience this life more fully.
And yet, it is the part of me that I fear the most. It is the part of me that I have yet to fully tame, and paces back and forth in my heart and mind like the lion behind steel bars. I worry when I think of releasing it, and I fear what it shall mean for me and my family. Not because I think there is anything “bad” in it, but rather it is probably the most powerful piece of who I am, lending it strength and infusing every other part of me it touches.
But it is the part of me that knows my Creator the best. It is that little bit of who I am knows the majesty and beauty of a God who decided to create a world of wonders with his voice. It when I am lost in this world of being so completely that it leaks out onto a page or canvas that I understand why he needed to speak the words that gave us life. And I am realizing that hiding from this part of me is just another way of hiding from him.
There is a piece of all of us that reflects our creator beautifully and perfectly. Where we know something about him so intimately that no one else may ever share in that revelation. It is the strongest and purest part of who we are, and it is powerful. Often intimidating the bravest of us, but what greater honor can we give him than offering it up to him?
Monday, January 17, 2011
Just One of Those Days
Well, it has been one of those mornings. The kids have decided their teacher is a cruel taskmaster doling out far too many assignments and not enough grace. And since yelling at the teacher is forbidden, yelling at each other will have to do. Lydia called Lauren a name that I can’t record here. Lauren screamed at Lydia for not doing something right, in all honesty I am not for sure what it is because my ears don’t register screams or whining. It’s a survival skill I picked up years ago and one that drives my girls insane.
I wish I could say that all the drama is pointless and squash it dead in its tracks, but since I haven’t figured out a way to stop it, I look for ways to redeem it. I have learned that when I look at my girls I can see myself, and each day they show me something new in them, I find that that same quality is within me. They just have the guts to let it out.
I realized this morning, as they yelled at each other from across the house, that I am like that. They really aren’t mad at each other, and would probably find a way to entertain themselves, if I had not dared to interfere in their lives. You see, they are really mad at me. Ultimately, at least in this small sphere, I set the terms, control the circumstance, and I have the authority to compel the other one into submission. And since life is being so devastatingly unfair and they cannot persuade me to make it otherwise, they have to spew at something and who better than a sibling?
I wonder if God ever has the urge to lock himself in the bedroom and sneak a cigarette when I behave this way? You know, the days when I could entertain myself just fine but he chooses to make other plans on my behalf, or more specifically, he has something to teach me. The days when I know he is just not being fair and I truly believe my life would be just great if he would make that other person behave.
Because I know that even though my children can throw a fit, my fits are far more dramatic and possess a distinctive flair that they have yet to develop. I have far more ammunition – I mean justification, for seeing myself as the victim. After all, I have been put upon, oppressed, mistreated, and abused. I have witnessed a world full of evil and I know that it is out to get me. I have to stand up for myself, demand that my rights be observed, and fight to make my voice heard. My hurts, my needs, my disappointments, and frustrations need to be vindicated. Evil must be punished, and I . . . uh, I mean, good must prevail.
Wow, that felt good. Too bad it’s all a load of garbage.
The hard truth is I have no rights. Not at the deepest level. No one owes me anything, least of all God. Every bit of goodness, peace, and joy I experience comes as a gracious gift from his love for me. I can’t earn a gift, and I can’t perform well enough to merit his love. It is something I accept with joy and hopefully, at least sometimes, with the proper humility. Any importance or significance I have is found in the fact that he created me in his image and he loves me.
But sometimes, I forget. I look around and the world is not as I would have it and I grow impatient. I see people screwing it up, making mistakes from ignorance or laziness. I can never do what I want to do when I want to do it because there is always someone there making demands, wanting my attention or my time. I get frustrated and I want to scream at them to all go away, leave me alone so that I can just love my God and put on my pretty Christian face. It’s their fault I get ugly. It’s their fault I lose my temper and have to yell, stomp my feet, and make a spectacle of myself.
But deep down in my heart, I know they aren’t the ones I am mad at. They are just people, in the same boat I am in. They don’t control their fate any more than I control mine. We all have to deal with the fact that other people have their own agendas, get in our way, and just generally annoy us. But we all know there is another one who is in control who can change the circumstance, fix the terms, and has the authority to compel everyone into submission. He’s the one I am really mad at, because after all he needs to make things work out for me. And though I may be yelling at the rest of the world, I am also yelling loud enough so I know he will hear.
Thankfully, I now know the other side of that equation. I know he doesn’t take away all the obstacles because he is teaching me something that I will one day appreciate. I know he lets the other person get in my way because he loves them as much as he loves me. He doesn’t always bust my butt when I deserve it, and his ears will hear me again when I can learn to stop screaming. And sometimes, us kids just need to work it out amongst ourselves. He loves me enough to do all this for us simply because we are his children.
I wish I could say that all the drama is pointless and squash it dead in its tracks, but since I haven’t figured out a way to stop it, I look for ways to redeem it. I have learned that when I look at my girls I can see myself, and each day they show me something new in them, I find that that same quality is within me. They just have the guts to let it out.
I realized this morning, as they yelled at each other from across the house, that I am like that. They really aren’t mad at each other, and would probably find a way to entertain themselves, if I had not dared to interfere in their lives. You see, they are really mad at me. Ultimately, at least in this small sphere, I set the terms, control the circumstance, and I have the authority to compel the other one into submission. And since life is being so devastatingly unfair and they cannot persuade me to make it otherwise, they have to spew at something and who better than a sibling?
I wonder if God ever has the urge to lock himself in the bedroom and sneak a cigarette when I behave this way? You know, the days when I could entertain myself just fine but he chooses to make other plans on my behalf, or more specifically, he has something to teach me. The days when I know he is just not being fair and I truly believe my life would be just great if he would make that other person behave.
Because I know that even though my children can throw a fit, my fits are far more dramatic and possess a distinctive flair that they have yet to develop. I have far more ammunition – I mean justification, for seeing myself as the victim. After all, I have been put upon, oppressed, mistreated, and abused. I have witnessed a world full of evil and I know that it is out to get me. I have to stand up for myself, demand that my rights be observed, and fight to make my voice heard. My hurts, my needs, my disappointments, and frustrations need to be vindicated. Evil must be punished, and I . . . uh, I mean, good must prevail.
Wow, that felt good. Too bad it’s all a load of garbage.
The hard truth is I have no rights. Not at the deepest level. No one owes me anything, least of all God. Every bit of goodness, peace, and joy I experience comes as a gracious gift from his love for me. I can’t earn a gift, and I can’t perform well enough to merit his love. It is something I accept with joy and hopefully, at least sometimes, with the proper humility. Any importance or significance I have is found in the fact that he created me in his image and he loves me.
But sometimes, I forget. I look around and the world is not as I would have it and I grow impatient. I see people screwing it up, making mistakes from ignorance or laziness. I can never do what I want to do when I want to do it because there is always someone there making demands, wanting my attention or my time. I get frustrated and I want to scream at them to all go away, leave me alone so that I can just love my God and put on my pretty Christian face. It’s their fault I get ugly. It’s their fault I lose my temper and have to yell, stomp my feet, and make a spectacle of myself.
But deep down in my heart, I know they aren’t the ones I am mad at. They are just people, in the same boat I am in. They don’t control their fate any more than I control mine. We all have to deal with the fact that other people have their own agendas, get in our way, and just generally annoy us. But we all know there is another one who is in control who can change the circumstance, fix the terms, and has the authority to compel everyone into submission. He’s the one I am really mad at, because after all he needs to make things work out for me. And though I may be yelling at the rest of the world, I am also yelling loud enough so I know he will hear.
Thankfully, I now know the other side of that equation. I know he doesn’t take away all the obstacles because he is teaching me something that I will one day appreciate. I know he lets the other person get in my way because he loves them as much as he loves me. He doesn’t always bust my butt when I deserve it, and his ears will hear me again when I can learn to stop screaming. And sometimes, us kids just need to work it out amongst ourselves. He loves me enough to do all this for us simply because we are his children.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
I'm still surprised after all these years
Recently I have experienced a life event associated with work. The event requires me to exercise my faith in God's ability to provided. This past Sunday our pastor presented 2 excellent sermons on faith: "What Faith Knows" based on Mark 4:35-41 and "Faith by Example" from Luke 22:31-34. These sermons were exactly what I needed at the moment.
I don't know why I'm surprised that God would speak through someone to provide words of comfort and encouragement. I find I'm still surprised that God still speaks to me personally even after hearing so many beneficial sermons. I'm sure others experience this surprise.
It is not surprising that God cares for each and every believer. This is a characteristic of His being and nature. His word clear states God is concerned about our well-being. A classic example is Matthew 6:25-34. What about God's provision for His people in the wilderness? Think about it for at least a second: sandals that don't wear out, enough food to feed all the people provided each morning, and water from a rock.
I hope I never get to where I'm not surprised how God takes care of us. I think that would be stop me from being thankful and appreciative of God's care.
Author's note: In case your interested in the major points of the 2 sermons. The sermon titles and point titles are from the pastor. The wording is from my notes.
What Faith Knows Mark 4:35-41
I don't know why I'm surprised that God would speak through someone to provide words of comfort and encouragement. I find I'm still surprised that God still speaks to me personally even after hearing so many beneficial sermons. I'm sure others experience this surprise.
It is not surprising that God cares for each and every believer. This is a characteristic of His being and nature. His word clear states God is concerned about our well-being. A classic example is Matthew 6:25-34. What about God's provision for His people in the wilderness? Think about it for at least a second: sandals that don't wear out, enough food to feed all the people provided each morning, and water from a rock.
I hope I never get to where I'm not surprised how God takes care of us. I think that would be stop me from being thankful and appreciative of God's care.
Author's note: In case your interested in the major points of the 2 sermons. The sermon titles and point titles are from the pastor. The wording is from my notes.
What Faith Knows Mark 4:35-41
- God cares - God cares about your daily "stuff"
- God can - Deep faith knows God can handle "it"
- God controls - Faith knows God is in control even if we don't
- Pray for another's faith - Jesus prayed for Peter
- Encourage another's faith - Jesus encouraged Peter to strength others
Monday, April 5, 2010
Disturbing Bible Stories
If you study your Bible very long one of the things that you will find is there are certain stories that can be rather disturbing. Stories that can make you wonder how well you understand this person we call God, and even some that can make you wonder if we really know Him at all.
For me one of those stories is the story of Uzzah. Many of us don’t remember the name, but most of know his tale. He was one of the men who was trying to return the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem. He was following the orders of his king, when the wagon transporting the Ark hit a bump in the road and the Ark began to topple, Uzzah did what I think anyone of us would do. He put his hand out to save the Ark, and God struck him dead.
As a child, this story really bothered me, and when I would ask people, “Why?” The answers were never satisfying. It just did not make sense to me that he would be punished for trying to do the right thing. Okay, sure, David was going about it all wrong. He messed up royally, no pun intended, but Uzzah was just following orders. Doing what the man in charge had instructed him to do. It wasn’t his fault that David got it wrong, and I kept seeing myself in Uzzah’s place. As the one who had to do what they were told, who saw a disaster in the making and tried to stop it, and still got in trouble.
Even as I got older, it still bugged me. How does this happen? How can a person be punished for trying to do the right thing? It didn’t seem just or loving. It didn’t line up with my understanding of who God is. So I tried to ignore the story. It is easier that way, just act like the hard parts of the Bible don’t exist, and presto, your theology can remain simple, easy, and comfortable.
The thing is you don’t learn when you do that. Failing to ask the hard questions means you never get the great answers. Sure the process may hurt, and you may find that some of the things you once believed about God need to be reevaluated, tweaked, or even scrapped. It’s okay. It doesn’t mean God is any less God. It means you are growing up. Just like when we stop to consider our parents as adults and not simply as a child. They are still our parents, but we can begin to appreciate more of who they are.
Even later in life when I returned to the story, I began to see some things I had missed before. One of those things was Uzzah wasn’t a nobody. He wasn’t some ignorant worker who did not know better. The Ark had been kept at his father’s house, so he probably already knew a thing or two about how it should be treated. He had been chosen to be close to the Ark, a position of honor, probably for this very reason. So this leaves us with the question, if he knew so much, why did he allow the king to make such a horrendous mistake?
Why didn’t he speak up? Remind David of the proper protocol, refuse to be involved when he saw things were not being done according to God’s will? Was he seduced by the honor offered by the king? Was he worried about offending David? Or did he hope that good intentions would be sufficient?
Now when I read the story, I wonder when in my life have I been Uzzah? Willing to cut corners, go with the flow, or hide behind the excuse “I was only doing what I was told”? Have I ever been bought off by recognition and honor, because I let myself believe that good intentions made up for disobedience? Or am I just being lazy or fearful?
We will all be confronted with times when someone will ask us to do something we know isn’t right. In that moment we will have to decide whether the prestige of such request outweighs our reverence for the things of God. In my life, I pray that I am willing to speak up, or decline to be involved, when I face these times. I pray that I have the grace to do it with compassion and mercy but with a firmness of conviction that will not allow me to be swayed from my intent to honor the King.
It isn’t always easy. People don’t always respond well to being corrected, and sometimes in our fervor people can be irritated by those they believe stand in their way. We can lose out on the perks, be seen as trouble makers, and even shunned by people who fail to understand our hearts. And make no mistake, it can hurt, but Uzzah lost his life because he kept quiet. He died because he failed to take a stand. I don’t want to be that person.
And as someone who is in leadership, I would hope that my people would speak up. Correct me if they see that I am wrong. David grieved over Uzzah’s death, as a good leader should. His purpose of returning the symbol of God’s glory to people was delayed, and he had to stand before his people aware that he had failed them as a leader. Everyone knew that he shared in the responsibility to for Uzzah’s death. That is just one place I never want to be.
So let Uzzah’s story be reminder, there are times to find our backbone, use our voice, and share our knowledge. And there are times when we need to hear from those in our lives that may know something we don’t. It really could be a matter of life or death.
For me one of those stories is the story of Uzzah. Many of us don’t remember the name, but most of know his tale. He was one of the men who was trying to return the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem. He was following the orders of his king, when the wagon transporting the Ark hit a bump in the road and the Ark began to topple, Uzzah did what I think anyone of us would do. He put his hand out to save the Ark, and God struck him dead.
As a child, this story really bothered me, and when I would ask people, “Why?” The answers were never satisfying. It just did not make sense to me that he would be punished for trying to do the right thing. Okay, sure, David was going about it all wrong. He messed up royally, no pun intended, but Uzzah was just following orders. Doing what the man in charge had instructed him to do. It wasn’t his fault that David got it wrong, and I kept seeing myself in Uzzah’s place. As the one who had to do what they were told, who saw a disaster in the making and tried to stop it, and still got in trouble.
Even as I got older, it still bugged me. How does this happen? How can a person be punished for trying to do the right thing? It didn’t seem just or loving. It didn’t line up with my understanding of who God is. So I tried to ignore the story. It is easier that way, just act like the hard parts of the Bible don’t exist, and presto, your theology can remain simple, easy, and comfortable.
The thing is you don’t learn when you do that. Failing to ask the hard questions means you never get the great answers. Sure the process may hurt, and you may find that some of the things you once believed about God need to be reevaluated, tweaked, or even scrapped. It’s okay. It doesn’t mean God is any less God. It means you are growing up. Just like when we stop to consider our parents as adults and not simply as a child. They are still our parents, but we can begin to appreciate more of who they are.
Even later in life when I returned to the story, I began to see some things I had missed before. One of those things was Uzzah wasn’t a nobody. He wasn’t some ignorant worker who did not know better. The Ark had been kept at his father’s house, so he probably already knew a thing or two about how it should be treated. He had been chosen to be close to the Ark, a position of honor, probably for this very reason. So this leaves us with the question, if he knew so much, why did he allow the king to make such a horrendous mistake?
Why didn’t he speak up? Remind David of the proper protocol, refuse to be involved when he saw things were not being done according to God’s will? Was he seduced by the honor offered by the king? Was he worried about offending David? Or did he hope that good intentions would be sufficient?
Now when I read the story, I wonder when in my life have I been Uzzah? Willing to cut corners, go with the flow, or hide behind the excuse “I was only doing what I was told”? Have I ever been bought off by recognition and honor, because I let myself believe that good intentions made up for disobedience? Or am I just being lazy or fearful?
We will all be confronted with times when someone will ask us to do something we know isn’t right. In that moment we will have to decide whether the prestige of such request outweighs our reverence for the things of God. In my life, I pray that I am willing to speak up, or decline to be involved, when I face these times. I pray that I have the grace to do it with compassion and mercy but with a firmness of conviction that will not allow me to be swayed from my intent to honor the King.
It isn’t always easy. People don’t always respond well to being corrected, and sometimes in our fervor people can be irritated by those they believe stand in their way. We can lose out on the perks, be seen as trouble makers, and even shunned by people who fail to understand our hearts. And make no mistake, it can hurt, but Uzzah lost his life because he kept quiet. He died because he failed to take a stand. I don’t want to be that person.
And as someone who is in leadership, I would hope that my people would speak up. Correct me if they see that I am wrong. David grieved over Uzzah’s death, as a good leader should. His purpose of returning the symbol of God’s glory to people was delayed, and he had to stand before his people aware that he had failed them as a leader. Everyone knew that he shared in the responsibility to for Uzzah’s death. That is just one place I never want to be.
So let Uzzah’s story be reminder, there are times to find our backbone, use our voice, and share our knowledge. And there are times when we need to hear from those in our lives that may know something we don’t. It really could be a matter of life or death.
Monday, March 22, 2010
When God Does the Dishes
Waiting makes me sick, not in some abstract way, but in a very real gut wrenching, stomach twisting way. I am not talking about waiting in line or waiting on traffic. I am talking about waiting to see how things are going to turn out, how things are going to be accomplished. I want all the facts in my hand, and I want to arrive at a brilliant conclusion.
It’s the limbo that drives me crazy. It is what keeps me awake at nights and causes me to say and do stupid things. I have this thing in my brain that says if you talk about a problem long enough it will all work out. The thing is sometimes I just need to shut up and see how things are going to turn out. But like I said, I hate waiting. Talking seems to offer me at least the illusion of being proactive in the situation, (that should be read as “in control of the situation”, the other way just sounds better), when all I am really doing is muddying the waters.
Now God is faithful, and He has a way of taking our flaws and working them over. Usually this means He is going to provide us with lots of opportunities to get it right, which really means He is going to give us lots of opportunities to fail. And I tend to make the most of these chances, which means I usually fail in creative and new ways.
I am having to learn that God’s time is not my time. I keep telling Him if He would speed things up a bit I could get so much more done, but He has yet to take my advice, go figure. I know that is Sunday School lesson 101, but there is a huge difference in remembering and knowing. I know that He has it all under control and He will take care of me, but I hate the fact that His perfect way of doing things means I am left twisting in the wind a little too often to suit my tastes.
Honestly, it is probably a good thing that I was not one of the people walking around the walls of Jericho. I don’t think I could have kept my mouth shut for seven days. About the third time around, I would have been looking for a pick axe because I would have been sure that Joshua misheard the directions and we needed to be busy doing something more productive than waiting on God. By the fourth time around, I would have probably trying to get Joshua to stop and explain all that nonsense to me one more time. And the fifth time, I would at least be sure that I was scuffing away little more sand from the base of wall with each step, if I hadn’t decided to wash my hands of the whole thing.
Fortunately for me, God hasn’t called me to undergo such a grueling ordeal. Right now we are working on the small stuff. I let Him dry my dishes. He takes forever, but eventually He gets the job done. And let me tell you it is torture. No matter how much I nag Him, He never picks up the pace, but I am getting better.
Learning to wait isn’t about trying to slip into some comatose state of being. It is about finding out how deep your trust really goes. It is about learning how to separate the things you are responsible for from the things that you aren’t. It is about finding that balance between sheer laziness and finding peace in the midst of the unknown. It is about acknowledging He is God and you aren’t.
For me it is the ultimate position of surrender. It is not restful or serene. It is an act of sheer will most of the time. Not because I don’t think God can handle it, but rather I think I can handle it better. I don’t like turning loose of control, real or perceived. I like to think that my actions are what affect change, that somehow God can’t get it done without me. It is a time where I have to put down my pride and my own sense of accomplishment. At these times I have to lay aside all the attributes that my friends usually praise me for so that He can receive the glory.
I have to step out of the spot light for a moment and stand in awe of Him. I need to experience the wonder of what He can do apart from me, and if the Grand Canyon is any indication He’s got it covered in ways that I can only begin to imagine. And if I need to talk about it that’s okay too, as long as I take my conversation to Him. He understands I am impatient, and sometimes I think He even finds the quality a little endearing, but He knows that I need to learn how to simply be with Him. Because that is right where He wants me, there at His side witnessing what He wants to accomplish in my life.
It’s the limbo that drives me crazy. It is what keeps me awake at nights and causes me to say and do stupid things. I have this thing in my brain that says if you talk about a problem long enough it will all work out. The thing is sometimes I just need to shut up and see how things are going to turn out. But like I said, I hate waiting. Talking seems to offer me at least the illusion of being proactive in the situation, (that should be read as “in control of the situation”, the other way just sounds better), when all I am really doing is muddying the waters.
Now God is faithful, and He has a way of taking our flaws and working them over. Usually this means He is going to provide us with lots of opportunities to get it right, which really means He is going to give us lots of opportunities to fail. And I tend to make the most of these chances, which means I usually fail in creative and new ways.
I am having to learn that God’s time is not my time. I keep telling Him if He would speed things up a bit I could get so much more done, but He has yet to take my advice, go figure. I know that is Sunday School lesson 101, but there is a huge difference in remembering and knowing. I know that He has it all under control and He will take care of me, but I hate the fact that His perfect way of doing things means I am left twisting in the wind a little too often to suit my tastes.
Honestly, it is probably a good thing that I was not one of the people walking around the walls of Jericho. I don’t think I could have kept my mouth shut for seven days. About the third time around, I would have been looking for a pick axe because I would have been sure that Joshua misheard the directions and we needed to be busy doing something more productive than waiting on God. By the fourth time around, I would have probably trying to get Joshua to stop and explain all that nonsense to me one more time. And the fifth time, I would at least be sure that I was scuffing away little more sand from the base of wall with each step, if I hadn’t decided to wash my hands of the whole thing.
Fortunately for me, God hasn’t called me to undergo such a grueling ordeal. Right now we are working on the small stuff. I let Him dry my dishes. He takes forever, but eventually He gets the job done. And let me tell you it is torture. No matter how much I nag Him, He never picks up the pace, but I am getting better.
Learning to wait isn’t about trying to slip into some comatose state of being. It is about finding out how deep your trust really goes. It is about learning how to separate the things you are responsible for from the things that you aren’t. It is about finding that balance between sheer laziness and finding peace in the midst of the unknown. It is about acknowledging He is God and you aren’t.
For me it is the ultimate position of surrender. It is not restful or serene. It is an act of sheer will most of the time. Not because I don’t think God can handle it, but rather I think I can handle it better. I don’t like turning loose of control, real or perceived. I like to think that my actions are what affect change, that somehow God can’t get it done without me. It is a time where I have to put down my pride and my own sense of accomplishment. At these times I have to lay aside all the attributes that my friends usually praise me for so that He can receive the glory.
I have to step out of the spot light for a moment and stand in awe of Him. I need to experience the wonder of what He can do apart from me, and if the Grand Canyon is any indication He’s got it covered in ways that I can only begin to imagine. And if I need to talk about it that’s okay too, as long as I take my conversation to Him. He understands I am impatient, and sometimes I think He even finds the quality a little endearing, but He knows that I need to learn how to simply be with Him. Because that is right where He wants me, there at His side witnessing what He wants to accomplish in my life.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Halt the presses! I made a mistake.
Yes, go on and enjoy it. It may be the only time you see or hear those words from me, but I did. I made a mistake.
Well over a year ago, a cowboy walked into the place where I was working. I looked him over and sized him up pretty quick. He was quiet, took some care in his appearance, and used the word “ma’am” when he spoke to me. All in all a nice guy, who was able to carry on an amusing conversation when he came in. I liked him, but he was a little too clean cut for my tastes, a little too nice. But through a weird series of events, I found out that he isn’t quite what I thought he was. Amazing how quick a Harley can realign your perception of a fellow.
Now we all know that it isn’t right to label people right off the bat. Our mama’s taught us different, or at least she should have tried, but we do. And if it is not bad enough that we do it with people, most of us have a tendency to do it with God. He shows up at the church we attend. He’s kinda quiet, he wears a suit and tie, and he says “ma’am” when he speaks to us. We smile and nod when he talks. His conversations are amusing, entertaining even. He says and does nothing objectionable, but we can’t really work up any type of real excitement about him either. He is just too nice, a little too clean cut, but let me tell you right now, if that is how you see him, you have made a mistake.
You see we think we know this guy called God. We gave him the once over at the door, and we thought we sized him up right. We’ve thought we figured him out. We know how to describe Him. God is love. God is good. God is kind, forgiving, and a million other things made up of puppies and rainbows.
But let me tell you a secret, the person you have figured out is the most boring person on earth. There is no fascination to be found in them. You can’t get excited about who they are and what’s left to discover about them. And until you realize that there is wonder and beauty in walking through the mystery you just won’t take the time to get to know him better.
So maybe it is time that we stopped “knowing” who God is. Maybe we should take a moment to develop a relationship and see what he has to show us. Because he is so much more than our clichés, and he is so much more interesting than the person we thought we knew. It is what makes him infinite. There is always something new to discover, some new exciting bit of information waiting to be revealed, but as long as we are content with our definitions we fail to see how amazing he truly he is.
For some of us, the idea that we may have made a mistake is scary. We like the nice guy God who fits well into our boxes and categories. There is no risk, no danger, and no adventure waiting to be experienced. It is how we protect our hearts, pretending like we know it all, putting nice neat little labels on him so we know the proper response without ever having to feel the emotion. Because a God who can stir our hearts, arouse our passion is a God who can compel us to move in ways that can be terrifying.
Knowing him changes us, because as we realign our understanding of him we have to realign our understanding of who we are. We have to admit that we made a mistake when we sized him up too quickly. We have to confront the reasons why we dismissed him out of hand, and learn some things that aren’t always too pleasant to learn about ourselves. This is the purpose of knowing him, to become more conformed to his image, to be who he created us to be, people full of life, ready to live an adventure shared with him, but we can’t do that until we are realize that he is the adventure.
Does mean that God isn’t loving, kind, good, or compassionate? No, it just means that all of those things go beyond our definition and understanding. He is all of what we know him to be, but he is so much more. So we get the chance to know him, and that only comes through experiencing him. And each experience we share should challenge us to greater levels of faith, deeper expressions of love, and leave us standing in awe of who he truly is.
So the next time you start feeling comfortable with God, maybe even a little bored by him, you might want to take a peek into the garage, because there’s a sweet Harley waiting to be taken for a ride and who knows where it will take you.
Well over a year ago, a cowboy walked into the place where I was working. I looked him over and sized him up pretty quick. He was quiet, took some care in his appearance, and used the word “ma’am” when he spoke to me. All in all a nice guy, who was able to carry on an amusing conversation when he came in. I liked him, but he was a little too clean cut for my tastes, a little too nice. But through a weird series of events, I found out that he isn’t quite what I thought he was. Amazing how quick a Harley can realign your perception of a fellow.
Now we all know that it isn’t right to label people right off the bat. Our mama’s taught us different, or at least she should have tried, but we do. And if it is not bad enough that we do it with people, most of us have a tendency to do it with God. He shows up at the church we attend. He’s kinda quiet, he wears a suit and tie, and he says “ma’am” when he speaks to us. We smile and nod when he talks. His conversations are amusing, entertaining even. He says and does nothing objectionable, but we can’t really work up any type of real excitement about him either. He is just too nice, a little too clean cut, but let me tell you right now, if that is how you see him, you have made a mistake.
You see we think we know this guy called God. We gave him the once over at the door, and we thought we sized him up right. We’ve thought we figured him out. We know how to describe Him. God is love. God is good. God is kind, forgiving, and a million other things made up of puppies and rainbows.
But let me tell you a secret, the person you have figured out is the most boring person on earth. There is no fascination to be found in them. You can’t get excited about who they are and what’s left to discover about them. And until you realize that there is wonder and beauty in walking through the mystery you just won’t take the time to get to know him better.
So maybe it is time that we stopped “knowing” who God is. Maybe we should take a moment to develop a relationship and see what he has to show us. Because he is so much more than our clichés, and he is so much more interesting than the person we thought we knew. It is what makes him infinite. There is always something new to discover, some new exciting bit of information waiting to be revealed, but as long as we are content with our definitions we fail to see how amazing he truly he is.
For some of us, the idea that we may have made a mistake is scary. We like the nice guy God who fits well into our boxes and categories. There is no risk, no danger, and no adventure waiting to be experienced. It is how we protect our hearts, pretending like we know it all, putting nice neat little labels on him so we know the proper response without ever having to feel the emotion. Because a God who can stir our hearts, arouse our passion is a God who can compel us to move in ways that can be terrifying.
Knowing him changes us, because as we realign our understanding of him we have to realign our understanding of who we are. We have to admit that we made a mistake when we sized him up too quickly. We have to confront the reasons why we dismissed him out of hand, and learn some things that aren’t always too pleasant to learn about ourselves. This is the purpose of knowing him, to become more conformed to his image, to be who he created us to be, people full of life, ready to live an adventure shared with him, but we can’t do that until we are realize that he is the adventure.
Does mean that God isn’t loving, kind, good, or compassionate? No, it just means that all of those things go beyond our definition and understanding. He is all of what we know him to be, but he is so much more. So we get the chance to know him, and that only comes through experiencing him. And each experience we share should challenge us to greater levels of faith, deeper expressions of love, and leave us standing in awe of who he truly is.
So the next time you start feeling comfortable with God, maybe even a little bored by him, you might want to take a peek into the garage, because there’s a sweet Harley waiting to be taken for a ride and who knows where it will take you.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Job, John the Baptist, and Hospital Gowns. Any questions?
If we have one flaw as Christians, I would have to say it isn’t nominal faith, habitual sin, or even hypocrisy. It is something that goes so deep within us that we do not even see it for the problem it is. Maybe it is because our problem is also our greatest strength. One of those double edged sword dilemmas and one we really don’t know how to address. So we ignore it, build barriers and blinds to keep us from getting to close to it, and politely steer people away from it when we can.
The problem is we have the answer to everything, and I mean that quite literally. We know the answer to all of life’s difficulties, the mysteries of the universe, the meaning of life, the purpose of evil . . . we know the answer to it all. Issues and concerns that have razed the mind of the greatest thinkers the world has ever known and we have the answer.
The problem is we don’t know as much as we think we do. Yes, we have the answer – his name is Jesus, but we don’t know what he does, we don’t understand what he does, and we certainly cannot answer every question that life throws at us. Unfortunately, most of us don’t know how to make this distinction.
We get so comfortable having the answer that we forget to ask the important questions. We don’t say, “Hey, Jesus, I don’t get this. Life isn’t making sense, and I really need some answers.” We mutter to ourselves and assure our friends that we are just having faith like it is some mantra that will ward off the doubt and confusion that can haunt our souls.
Don’t get me wrong. There are some things in life that will always be a matter of faith. For these things there will be no easy explanations. For those things we cling to the knowledge that Jesus does love us and he is there in the midst of lives working out his plans and purposes. For some things we need to rest in that assurance, but when did we get the idea that faith meant not asking the question?
John the Baptist once sent his disciples to ask Jesus if he was the Messiah or should he look for another, and a lot of people have criticized John’s doubts. However, what we often miss is that John did the right thing. He had a question. He had a concern, and who wouldn’t? Here he had baptized Jesus, proclaimed him to be the chosen one of God, lived a life dedicated to showing the people that God’s promises were being fulfilled in this person of Jesus, but at this point John was rotting in jail cell and there would be no great escape for him.
John had guts. Nothing in his life had been easy, he chose to go where God led him, live the life that would most effectively demonstrate God’s intentions for a nation. He didn’t take the easy road, and even in this question he showed his courage to confront the issues in his life that did not make sense to him. He had a question, a valid one, and he asked the right person.
He realized he had more to learn, and was not content to simply have blind faith. He knew that as man he needed answers, and sometimes we are in the same situation. Life doesn’t make sense and we have doubts, but we push them aside as if they did not exist, act like we are okay with what is happening to us, but really we are quietly dying inside trying to avoid our fear. Our fear that our faith is inadequate or maybe even the fear that even God doesn't have a "good" answer, or worse, that God takes some sort of sadistic glee in our agony. We confuse denial with faith and feel holy about it.
Asking the questions doesn’t mean that we are entitled to an answer. God doesn’t owe it to us, and that is not what I am saying, but when we ask the questions we open the door to learn more. We take down the defenses and make way for true relationship. A relationship where I can be honest enough to say, “My faith is weak, and I don’t understand you. I love you, but I don’t get this. Can you help me understand?” Sometimes the answer is, “Because I’m Daddy and I said so.” Other times the answer is greater than we imagined, and have not because we asked not.
Job had a lot of questions when his life fell apart, and he confronted God, even accusing God of being unjust. He presented his questions to the One who had the answers, and he wasn’t shy about declaring his hurt feelings. Chapter after chapter of his story is Job’s protest, and his honest language with God is a challenge for God to vindicate his actions. He asked why this was allowed to happen, but God never answers Job’s question. He simply shows up. Job gets to experience God’s presence in his life. And after all, isn't experiencing God what faith is all about?
Having the Answer is the greatest gift we could have ever been given, but Jesus is not a band-aid to be slapped on over our wounds. He is the Great Physician and great physicians examine and probe the aches and pains. They get to know their patient as we wear those rather drafty hospital gowns. Asking the question is kind of like that revealing yourself in whole new way to the one who has the cure, opening the door to presence so that we can experience him. And those list of problems so many people site with Christianity, nominalism, sin, and hypocrisy, all begin to heal as we experience him.
So ask your questions. He’s big enough to handle them.
The problem is we have the answer to everything, and I mean that quite literally. We know the answer to all of life’s difficulties, the mysteries of the universe, the meaning of life, the purpose of evil . . . we know the answer to it all. Issues and concerns that have razed the mind of the greatest thinkers the world has ever known and we have the answer.
The problem is we don’t know as much as we think we do. Yes, we have the answer – his name is Jesus, but we don’t know what he does, we don’t understand what he does, and we certainly cannot answer every question that life throws at us. Unfortunately, most of us don’t know how to make this distinction.
We get so comfortable having the answer that we forget to ask the important questions. We don’t say, “Hey, Jesus, I don’t get this. Life isn’t making sense, and I really need some answers.” We mutter to ourselves and assure our friends that we are just having faith like it is some mantra that will ward off the doubt and confusion that can haunt our souls.
Don’t get me wrong. There are some things in life that will always be a matter of faith. For these things there will be no easy explanations. For those things we cling to the knowledge that Jesus does love us and he is there in the midst of lives working out his plans and purposes. For some things we need to rest in that assurance, but when did we get the idea that faith meant not asking the question?
John the Baptist once sent his disciples to ask Jesus if he was the Messiah or should he look for another, and a lot of people have criticized John’s doubts. However, what we often miss is that John did the right thing. He had a question. He had a concern, and who wouldn’t? Here he had baptized Jesus, proclaimed him to be the chosen one of God, lived a life dedicated to showing the people that God’s promises were being fulfilled in this person of Jesus, but at this point John was rotting in jail cell and there would be no great escape for him.
John had guts. Nothing in his life had been easy, he chose to go where God led him, live the life that would most effectively demonstrate God’s intentions for a nation. He didn’t take the easy road, and even in this question he showed his courage to confront the issues in his life that did not make sense to him. He had a question, a valid one, and he asked the right person.
He realized he had more to learn, and was not content to simply have blind faith. He knew that as man he needed answers, and sometimes we are in the same situation. Life doesn’t make sense and we have doubts, but we push them aside as if they did not exist, act like we are okay with what is happening to us, but really we are quietly dying inside trying to avoid our fear. Our fear that our faith is inadequate or maybe even the fear that even God doesn't have a "good" answer, or worse, that God takes some sort of sadistic glee in our agony. We confuse denial with faith and feel holy about it.
Asking the questions doesn’t mean that we are entitled to an answer. God doesn’t owe it to us, and that is not what I am saying, but when we ask the questions we open the door to learn more. We take down the defenses and make way for true relationship. A relationship where I can be honest enough to say, “My faith is weak, and I don’t understand you. I love you, but I don’t get this. Can you help me understand?” Sometimes the answer is, “Because I’m Daddy and I said so.” Other times the answer is greater than we imagined, and have not because we asked not.
Job had a lot of questions when his life fell apart, and he confronted God, even accusing God of being unjust. He presented his questions to the One who had the answers, and he wasn’t shy about declaring his hurt feelings. Chapter after chapter of his story is Job’s protest, and his honest language with God is a challenge for God to vindicate his actions. He asked why this was allowed to happen, but God never answers Job’s question. He simply shows up. Job gets to experience God’s presence in his life. And after all, isn't experiencing God what faith is all about?
Having the Answer is the greatest gift we could have ever been given, but Jesus is not a band-aid to be slapped on over our wounds. He is the Great Physician and great physicians examine and probe the aches and pains. They get to know their patient as we wear those rather drafty hospital gowns. Asking the question is kind of like that revealing yourself in whole new way to the one who has the cure, opening the door to presence so that we can experience him. And those list of problems so many people site with Christianity, nominalism, sin, and hypocrisy, all begin to heal as we experience him.
So ask your questions. He’s big enough to handle them.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Coffee, Mice, God, and other good things
Define the word “good.” Take some time and really think about what this word means to you.
Did you think of your favorite food? A person that you love? An enjoyable pastime? A place where you had moment of joy? How do you define “good”?
Maybe you immediately added “for you” to the word, and your image was vitamins, exercise, or going to church. Is this the right way to define “good”?
This question puzzles me. I like good things and I believe the things I like are good. So if I don’t like something it is “bad”, and I stay away from it. For me good is a cold Mountain Dew and Snickers bar first thing in the morning, followed by cup after cup of coffee so strong a mouse could trot across it without sinking. Good is sushi with a friend, a great road trip, and an intriguing book. Bad is the dentist, diet pop, and fast food burgers. Bad is aerobics, Will Farrell movies, and being alone on a Saturday night.
We all have our list of good and bad things. I just have to wonder how often our definitions are in conflict with the people around me. My ex-roomate hates Mountain Dew, the peanuts in a Snickers bar make Nathan break out, and the thought of drinking my coffee makes David shudder. So are these things good?
The Bible talks a lot about the things that are good. We talk about how all things work together for good, for those who love God and are called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28). So what is this good that all things are working together for?
Is it stuff I like? Things you like?
Or are we depending on our definition a little too much? Are we being just a little narcissistic when we read this verse and treat it like our own personal guarantee that all things are going to be good? What if the definition goes farther than what we like? Or even what is good for us? What if good is something bigger than a single individual?
There was once a man who called Jesus “good Teacher.” Jesus responded with only God is good. (Matthew 19:17) Wait a minute. . . if we accept Jesus’ definition of good, then we have to totally reevaluate how we define the word. It stops being about the things I do or don’t like, and becomes about the things God likes.
And what does God like? The answer is easy really. Paul gives it away in the next verse of Romans – that we be conformed to the image of his Son, that he may be the first born of many. Good isn’t about whether not we like something, it isn’t even about eating our spinach, it’s about becoming more like our savior.
Good is about having a relationship with the only one who is truly good. Paul isn’t writing us a promise that we like all the things about the process of becoming conformed to Jesus’ image, he is reminding us that all the hard stuff is worth it. He encouraging us not to become embittered with the process and remember where we are heading – deeper into relationship with a God who loves us.
So the next time someone tells you to have a good day, watched a good movie, or that they just read a really good book, stop to ask yourself is it good? Really?
Did you think of your favorite food? A person that you love? An enjoyable pastime? A place where you had moment of joy? How do you define “good”?
Maybe you immediately added “for you” to the word, and your image was vitamins, exercise, or going to church. Is this the right way to define “good”?
This question puzzles me. I like good things and I believe the things I like are good. So if I don’t like something it is “bad”, and I stay away from it. For me good is a cold Mountain Dew and Snickers bar first thing in the morning, followed by cup after cup of coffee so strong a mouse could trot across it without sinking. Good is sushi with a friend, a great road trip, and an intriguing book. Bad is the dentist, diet pop, and fast food burgers. Bad is aerobics, Will Farrell movies, and being alone on a Saturday night.
We all have our list of good and bad things. I just have to wonder how often our definitions are in conflict with the people around me. My ex-roomate hates Mountain Dew, the peanuts in a Snickers bar make Nathan break out, and the thought of drinking my coffee makes David shudder. So are these things good?
The Bible talks a lot about the things that are good. We talk about how all things work together for good, for those who love God and are called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28). So what is this good that all things are working together for?
Is it stuff I like? Things you like?
Or are we depending on our definition a little too much? Are we being just a little narcissistic when we read this verse and treat it like our own personal guarantee that all things are going to be good? What if the definition goes farther than what we like? Or even what is good for us? What if good is something bigger than a single individual?
There was once a man who called Jesus “good Teacher.” Jesus responded with only God is good. (Matthew 19:17) Wait a minute. . . if we accept Jesus’ definition of good, then we have to totally reevaluate how we define the word. It stops being about the things I do or don’t like, and becomes about the things God likes.
And what does God like? The answer is easy really. Paul gives it away in the next verse of Romans – that we be conformed to the image of his Son, that he may be the first born of many. Good isn’t about whether not we like something, it isn’t even about eating our spinach, it’s about becoming more like our savior.
Good is about having a relationship with the only one who is truly good. Paul isn’t writing us a promise that we like all the things about the process of becoming conformed to Jesus’ image, he is reminding us that all the hard stuff is worth it. He encouraging us not to become embittered with the process and remember where we are heading – deeper into relationship with a God who loves us.
So the next time someone tells you to have a good day, watched a good movie, or that they just read a really good book, stop to ask yourself is it good? Really?
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Dissecting God? Or the Monty Python Approach to Bible Study
If you have ever tried to study the Bible you have probably found that reading the Book doesn’t always offer immediate answers to all that ails you. I know many Christians who have become discouraged trying to glean and understand the truth as it applies to their lives. And too often many of us Christians have been guilty of prescribing Bible study as a magic cure all. We prescribe the correct dosage of verses while ignoring that sometimes simply reading the book is not enough. But if we are honest I think there are times when all of us have looked at this book and wondered what we were missing. It is as if someone forgot to give us our secret decoder ringer, because nothing seems to apply to our particular circumstance.
So how do we avoid this feeling? How do we get the most out of this book that is to be central to our lives? How do we steer clear of the guilt we sometimes feel when our daily Bible studies seem dry and pointless? Is it us? Are we too dense? Flat out stupid?
First off, don’t sweat it. All of us have been there, and if we say we find wonderful revelations that speak directly to our souls each time we open the word – well, we’re lying. There are going to be days when the Bible seems like any other book, it isn’t but it can sure seem that way sometimes. If we aren’t careful that sense of not “getting it” will send us into a spiral of guilt and self condemnation that we make us avoid our Bibles up.
Second, let me offer you a few tools that most Christians don’t utilize. The first one is a method of Bible study used in the rabbinic schools. Many rabbis taught that the Bible should not be studied alone, and they established a method of study where the Bible was studied in pairs. The verses were read and then discussed. There is something that happens in talking it out. The words become more than a story, more than something that happened thousands of years ago, and the truths of the scriptures are come alive. It isn’t some magical process. It is how we are wired as human beings.
Stop for a second and think about your favorite movie. You probably saw it with someone you care about, you probably discussed it with your friends, and even spontaneously quote random lines from it. Something as common as a movie takes on a new significance if you share it with someone. Even movies you may not particularly enjoy watching become memorable if you share it with the right people – think Monty Python.
So buddy up. Find someone to talk about the Bible. Get their perspective, share yours, and search out the answers for any questions you might have. I am not advocating doing away with all individual study of the Bible, but there is strength in numbers, use it.
The second method is imaginative reading. Don’t just blow threw a passage. Stop and really think about what if it were you standing at the base of Mount Sinai, confronted by the lions, or watching the locusts swarm across the Egyptian sky? Put yourself in the scene, and not as someone who knows the end of the story. Really think about how you feel if you were experiencing that event.
Set the stage in your mind with as much vivid detail as you can. Find some pictures of the land, some recreations of homes, caravans, and market places. Feel the sand in the wind as the breath of God divided the waters of the Red Sea, hear the pounding hooves of Pharaoh’s army swooping in behind you, clutch your trembling child in your arms, and wonder if you will survive this moment. Experience the fear, the loss of your home, the terrible unknown before you, and be there.
The rabbis taught that by experiencing the emotions of a Biblical moment you were preparing your heart to meet the challenges of your life. If you could see yourself as present in a Biblical event and think of how you would have reacted than you would be better prepared to live out your faith in this time. I mean after all once you live through the conquest of Canaan suddenly rush hour doesn’t seem so bad.
The point is you have to take the time to think about what you are reading it. If you are just plowing through it because it is the right thing to do, it is going to become meaningless pretty quick. We aren’t engaging in relationship, we are being superstitious, and we are missing the whole point.
In our goal driven society these approaches feel rather strange at first – like we goofing off or day dreaming when we should be studying. Well, here’s the good news, God is not a geometry problem we have to figure out. The test is not going to be whether or not you can work the formula. It is going to be over whether or not you have a relationship with Him, and in relationship we have the opportunity to know someone, not dissect them.
So how do we avoid this feeling? How do we get the most out of this book that is to be central to our lives? How do we steer clear of the guilt we sometimes feel when our daily Bible studies seem dry and pointless? Is it us? Are we too dense? Flat out stupid?
First off, don’t sweat it. All of us have been there, and if we say we find wonderful revelations that speak directly to our souls each time we open the word – well, we’re lying. There are going to be days when the Bible seems like any other book, it isn’t but it can sure seem that way sometimes. If we aren’t careful that sense of not “getting it” will send us into a spiral of guilt and self condemnation that we make us avoid our Bibles up.
Second, let me offer you a few tools that most Christians don’t utilize. The first one is a method of Bible study used in the rabbinic schools. Many rabbis taught that the Bible should not be studied alone, and they established a method of study where the Bible was studied in pairs. The verses were read and then discussed. There is something that happens in talking it out. The words become more than a story, more than something that happened thousands of years ago, and the truths of the scriptures are come alive. It isn’t some magical process. It is how we are wired as human beings.
Stop for a second and think about your favorite movie. You probably saw it with someone you care about, you probably discussed it with your friends, and even spontaneously quote random lines from it. Something as common as a movie takes on a new significance if you share it with someone. Even movies you may not particularly enjoy watching become memorable if you share it with the right people – think Monty Python.
So buddy up. Find someone to talk about the Bible. Get their perspective, share yours, and search out the answers for any questions you might have. I am not advocating doing away with all individual study of the Bible, but there is strength in numbers, use it.
The second method is imaginative reading. Don’t just blow threw a passage. Stop and really think about what if it were you standing at the base of Mount Sinai, confronted by the lions, or watching the locusts swarm across the Egyptian sky? Put yourself in the scene, and not as someone who knows the end of the story. Really think about how you feel if you were experiencing that event.
Set the stage in your mind with as much vivid detail as you can. Find some pictures of the land, some recreations of homes, caravans, and market places. Feel the sand in the wind as the breath of God divided the waters of the Red Sea, hear the pounding hooves of Pharaoh’s army swooping in behind you, clutch your trembling child in your arms, and wonder if you will survive this moment. Experience the fear, the loss of your home, the terrible unknown before you, and be there.
The rabbis taught that by experiencing the emotions of a Biblical moment you were preparing your heart to meet the challenges of your life. If you could see yourself as present in a Biblical event and think of how you would have reacted than you would be better prepared to live out your faith in this time. I mean after all once you live through the conquest of Canaan suddenly rush hour doesn’t seem so bad.
The point is you have to take the time to think about what you are reading it. If you are just plowing through it because it is the right thing to do, it is going to become meaningless pretty quick. We aren’t engaging in relationship, we are being superstitious, and we are missing the whole point.
In our goal driven society these approaches feel rather strange at first – like we goofing off or day dreaming when we should be studying. Well, here’s the good news, God is not a geometry problem we have to figure out. The test is not going to be whether or not you can work the formula. It is going to be over whether or not you have a relationship with Him, and in relationship we have the opportunity to know someone, not dissect them.
Monday, December 14, 2009
What is worship?
Recently I had a "church" experience that caused me to think "What is Worship?". A church member was going to play an offertory on the piano with an accompaniment CD and words displayed on the video screen. When it was mentioned it might not be possible to have the words displayed, the piano player said, "I just want a worship experience". My thought was: "I guess before there were video screens and accompaniment CDs, no worship experience was possible".
In light of this experience, I believe my question is significant: What is Worship? To have a worship experience, is it required to have video screens, CD tracks, computers and other 21st century equipment? Can worship be achieved with only a Bible? What about without a Bible?
As with salvation, worship is a uniquely personal experience. The word seems to have become a punitive delimiter to determine if a believer has experienced God during a church service - "If you didn't have a worship experience, you didn't experience God today".
Worship is a very broad, expansive term that each person must define and experience for themselves. Worship may be experienced alone, in a small group or a large congregation. Worship is encountering God where you are and having a personal interaction with God.
Worship can be as simple as experiencing a dramatic sunset "painted" by the Creator. A song that captures your Christian experience can lead to worship. Worship can be following Christ's lead to minister to non-believers in need.
As with attempting to define God, it is not easy to put a boundary around worship.
In light of this experience, I believe my question is significant: What is Worship? To have a worship experience, is it required to have video screens, CD tracks, computers and other 21st century equipment? Can worship be achieved with only a Bible? What about without a Bible?
As with salvation, worship is a uniquely personal experience. The word seems to have become a punitive delimiter to determine if a believer has experienced God during a church service - "If you didn't have a worship experience, you didn't experience God today".
Worship is a very broad, expansive term that each person must define and experience for themselves. Worship may be experienced alone, in a small group or a large congregation. Worship is encountering God where you are and having a personal interaction with God.
Worship can be as simple as experiencing a dramatic sunset "painted" by the Creator. A song that captures your Christian experience can lead to worship. Worship can be following Christ's lead to minister to non-believers in need.
As with attempting to define God, it is not easy to put a boundary around worship.
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