I’ve been learning a lot lately about the importance of peace-making; it’s a dirty, thankless job that I’d rather leave to others. If only the Bible wasn’t stuffed with instructions for us to be agents of peace. Like this one, courtesy of Paul: “Do all that you can to live in peace with everyone.” That’s from Romans 12:18. I looked it up in four different translations, but it says the same thing in all of them: do everything you can to live in peace with all people. Yikes. “Everything I can” sounds like a lot. That sounds like I might have to work at it, or give something up, or suffer. Yech.
I had some practice with this recently after a meeting where someone was out of sorts and hurt feelings got slung around, and it was my responsibility (as a church staff member!) to intervene. Generally, my instinct is to squish people who are wrong, since I’m not a sweet and merciful person. (I’ve had this conversation with friends about what superpower we’d each like to have, and they often pick something like being able to fly or having x-ray vision … if I had a superpower, it would be to shoot conviction out of my eyeballs at people, to make them sorry for the wrong they have done, to make them repent. Yeah, I know, that’s a little scary. So, anyway…)
This is an email I exchanged with a friend after that meeting:
“It’s hard to demonstrate love and service toward those who are disrespectful of us and others, and I have done exactly what you did during the meeting! I am a big one for rolling my eyes! It is so hard for me to instead think of how I can serve that person, but I am slowly learning. I always want to strike them down with the truth and make them shape up, but God is teaching me that truth never appears without its bosom buddies, love and humility. Clearly God is coaching me on how to speak in love, humility and truth. It’s like it says in Proverbs 24:26 -- “An honest answer is like a kiss of friendship.” How often do I give a brutally honest answer that no one would mistake for friendship or a kiss? More like a sucker punch! But I’m learning that my honesty must be like a kiss, the way I would kiss a beloved friend.”
Sometimes I surprise myself. Despite my tendency for brutal honesty, I’m learning that truth never shows up, biblically, without love and humility to keep it company. Jesus and Paul are great examples for us … truth in one hand, grace in the other. It’s a good start to living in peace.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
“What Love Looks Like”
I was reading yesterday in Micah and started to think about how often God sacrifices on our behalf in order to rescue us. Like most prophetic books in the Old Testament (“visionary” literature), Micah talks about how the Israelites had started down some bad paths that would lead them to bad ends. But then! Always the “but” in the prophets … but if you return to the wise path, the safe path, God’s path, he will deliver you from all your bad choices. He will rescue you and honor you and provide for your children. He will work in your bad circumstances so that things turn out better than you could have hoped. And all you have to do is turn your heart toward him.
(Does this seem controlling to you? Do it my way or you’ll suffer? Consider this: God’s way is the right way. The best way. The honest way. The good way. Which necessarily means, if you subscribe to Western thought, that the other way is not honest, not good, not right. It stands to reason that if you do what’s good, good things happen to you. If you do what’s bad, bad things happen to you. In my opinion, that’s a good system. And, by the way, God is going beyond that by offering to rescue these people who have already gone the wrong way and done bad things and have hurt others. He’s offering to rescue them from their own bad choices.)
So all this rescue and redemption got me thinking about how God always takes the initiative in making peace with us. In rescuing us from our own bad choices. I got to thinking about the Garden of Eden, the first big story in the Bible, when Adam and Eve eat the apple … the first bad choice … and they understand that they have sinned. They willfully chose to go their own way instead of going the way God directed them.
So what does God do? He takes one of the creatures he’s loving sculpted with his own hands, a living, breathing expression of his love and delight, and sacrifices it to cover his people. He takes the skin of an animal and makes clothes to cover Adam & Eve’s nakedness. The first time God sacrifices to cover us. Even in the very beginning, we can’t escape it … God is giving up of himself to reach out to us and protect us … just one example of what love looks like.
(Does this seem controlling to you? Do it my way or you’ll suffer? Consider this: God’s way is the right way. The best way. The honest way. The good way. Which necessarily means, if you subscribe to Western thought, that the other way is not honest, not good, not right. It stands to reason that if you do what’s good, good things happen to you. If you do what’s bad, bad things happen to you. In my opinion, that’s a good system. And, by the way, God is going beyond that by offering to rescue these people who have already gone the wrong way and done bad things and have hurt others. He’s offering to rescue them from their own bad choices.)
So all this rescue and redemption got me thinking about how God always takes the initiative in making peace with us. In rescuing us from our own bad choices. I got to thinking about the Garden of Eden, the first big story in the Bible, when Adam and Eve eat the apple … the first bad choice … and they understand that they have sinned. They willfully chose to go their own way instead of going the way God directed them.
So what does God do? He takes one of the creatures he’s loving sculpted with his own hands, a living, breathing expression of his love and delight, and sacrifices it to cover his people. He takes the skin of an animal and makes clothes to cover Adam & Eve’s nakedness. The first time God sacrifices to cover us. Even in the very beginning, we can’t escape it … God is giving up of himself to reach out to us and protect us … just one example of what love looks like.
Friday, December 19, 2008
“Green Acres,” part two
I have to add this bit about heaven, even though it has to do with kids instead of grass and lions. Someone said to me the other day, “May he come today!”, referring to Christ’s return. I smiled and nodded, but inwardly cringed, “Oh no! I’m not ready. I want to see my nephews grow up.”
Then I realized how absurd a notion that was.
Imagine my beloved nephews growing up to be men in the very presence of God. How awesome would that be? I pray for them to grow up loving Jesus, to be holy and strong and to honor God. Imagine growing up where there was nothing to stop you from doing that … no pain, no evil, no horror. Just love and peace and the presence of God, walking with you in the garden. Or along the streets of gold, if you prefer not to muddy your shoes.
What I would give to have my nephews grow up in God’s presence. I’m ready for Jesus to come today.
Then I realized how absurd a notion that was.
Imagine my beloved nephews growing up to be men in the very presence of God. How awesome would that be? I pray for them to grow up loving Jesus, to be holy and strong and to honor God. Imagine growing up where there was nothing to stop you from doing that … no pain, no evil, no horror. Just love and peace and the presence of God, walking with you in the garden. Or along the streets of gold, if you prefer not to muddy your shoes.
What I would give to have my nephews grow up in God’s presence. I’m ready for Jesus to come today.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
“Green Acres”
I was talking with a friend last week about heaven. He said he has always thought of wide-open space, of glittering hardscapes and fortified walls. He said, “I’ve never thought of green.”
I always think of heaven as a big garden, next to a big field, next to a big grove with a crick. Lots of green, with trees and grass and goats and bears and lions and lambs (and probably my childhood dog, Zachie). My friend and I were talking about John’s sermon (you can check out my church at fellowshiptoday.com) and I mentioned that the tree of life from the Garden of Eden will reappear in heaven, according to Revelation, and heaven has to have grass for the goats and lions to eat.
He looked at me like I was a little nuts. So I told him he could look forward to his previously deceased pets probably being there, too, and the look of skepticism deepened. I had to show him Isaiah 11, where the prophet talks about Jesus and heaven. It says, “In that day the wolf and the lamb will live together; the leopard will lie down with the baby goat… The lion will eat hay like a cow... Nothing will hurt or destroy…”
In Romans 8, Paul writes, “For all creation is waiting eagerly for that future day ... Against its will, all creation was subjected to the curse [of sin]. But with eager hope, all creation looks forward to the day when it will join God’s children in glorious freedom from death and decay. For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.”
And listen to what David says in 1 Chronicles 16: “Let the heavens be glad and the earth rejoice! Let the sea and everything in it shout his praise! Let the fields and their crops burst out with joy! Let the trees of the forest rustle with praise, for the Lord is coming…”
The prophets love to talk about how creation knows its Creator: “The mountains and hills will burst into song, and the trees of the field will clap their hands,” Isaiah 55:12.
And then there’s Jesus, who in Luke 19:40 says that if his people keep quiet, the rocks and stone will cry out in praise of him.
And, when God took the opportunity to make anything out of nothing, what did he make? What did he lovingly craft and rejoice over and call very good? Earth. Plants, trees, grass and the cows and lions to eat it. He made dogs and cats and birds and bears and flowers, and everything lived in peace and harmony, without death or destruction. So why wouldn’t he include his beloved creation in heaven? Why would he not redeem all of his creation? Why wouldn’t he save everything he made? If the stones and trees (and certainly donkeys, according to Numbers 22) know who he is and wait eagerly for his return, why would he leave them out? Why would he not rescue that which he loves?
I always think of heaven as a big garden, next to a big field, next to a big grove with a crick. Lots of green, with trees and grass and goats and bears and lions and lambs (and probably my childhood dog, Zachie). My friend and I were talking about John’s sermon (you can check out my church at fellowshiptoday.com) and I mentioned that the tree of life from the Garden of Eden will reappear in heaven, according to Revelation, and heaven has to have grass for the goats and lions to eat.
He looked at me like I was a little nuts. So I told him he could look forward to his previously deceased pets probably being there, too, and the look of skepticism deepened. I had to show him Isaiah 11, where the prophet talks about Jesus and heaven. It says, “In that day the wolf and the lamb will live together; the leopard will lie down with the baby goat… The lion will eat hay like a cow... Nothing will hurt or destroy…”
In Romans 8, Paul writes, “For all creation is waiting eagerly for that future day ... Against its will, all creation was subjected to the curse [of sin]. But with eager hope, all creation looks forward to the day when it will join God’s children in glorious freedom from death and decay. For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.”
And listen to what David says in 1 Chronicles 16: “Let the heavens be glad and the earth rejoice! Let the sea and everything in it shout his praise! Let the fields and their crops burst out with joy! Let the trees of the forest rustle with praise, for the Lord is coming…”
The prophets love to talk about how creation knows its Creator: “The mountains and hills will burst into song, and the trees of the field will clap their hands,” Isaiah 55:12.
And then there’s Jesus, who in Luke 19:40 says that if his people keep quiet, the rocks and stone will cry out in praise of him.
And, when God took the opportunity to make anything out of nothing, what did he make? What did he lovingly craft and rejoice over and call very good? Earth. Plants, trees, grass and the cows and lions to eat it. He made dogs and cats and birds and bears and flowers, and everything lived in peace and harmony, without death or destruction. So why wouldn’t he include his beloved creation in heaven? Why would he not redeem all of his creation? Why wouldn’t he save everything he made? If the stones and trees (and certainly donkeys, according to Numbers 22) know who he is and wait eagerly for his return, why would he leave them out? Why would he not rescue that which he loves?
Monday, December 15, 2008
“Forgiveness and the City”
So I saw this movie the other day, which will remain unnamed so that you don’t (wrongfully) judge me for watching it. See how I look out for you?
Anyway, it’s about friendships and relationships and love. In this movie, a husband cheats on his wife and she leaves him. They’re separated and sharing custody of their son, and he wants to get back together but she can’t bear to even speak to him because of how he has betrayed her. This, I think, is a perfectly fine reaction to a cheating spouse.
So this woman is hurting, and in her hurt, says something devastating to her friend. The friend is wounded enough to not want to talk to her, and refuses to do so for three days. Then the friend leaves her house and the woman is sitting there, waiting for her. Let’s call the woman “Miranda” and the friend “Carrie,” just so you can keep this straight.
Miranda says, Carrie, I can’t stand this. It’s driving me crazy. I’m so sorry I hurt you, you’re my best friend. You can’t shut me out. You HAVE to forgive me.
And Carrie looks at her and says, You say I have to forgive you after three days, but it’s been six months and you still won’t forgive Steve (let’s call the husband “Steve”).
Miranda says, It’s not the same thing.
Carrie says, It’s forgiveness.
To which I say, “Daaaaanngg.”
She’s right.
It’s forgiveness.
How can we, who have been forgiven beyond our own capability to make things right, deny those who ask for it? How can we be so selfish to cling to our own hurt or insult or whatever instead of freely giving that which has already been given to us by God?
Later in the movie, the wife goes to counseling with her husband and he says, I broke a vow, but she did too: she left. She didn’t stay through the “for worse,” she didn’t stay until “death do us part.” (I have to admit I never thought about that part of it. I figured once the marriage was “broke” that gave the other spouse the okay to break it further. But maybe it’s not “broke” as long as you’re still married. Maybe because someone sins against me, it doesn’t give me the right to sin against them.) The wife asks how she can be sure he’ll never cheat again, and the counselor says, You can’t. You can’t be sure he’ll never commit another indiscretion, and you (the husband) can’t be sure she’ll ever really forgive you. The question isn’t “how can you be sure,” the question is, “do you want to make this marriage work?”
I’m no longer in the movie-review business, but movies like this make me wish I was. Who would have thought such an excellent lesson (only one of many) would come from a movie with “City” in the title?
Anyway, it’s about friendships and relationships and love. In this movie, a husband cheats on his wife and she leaves him. They’re separated and sharing custody of their son, and he wants to get back together but she can’t bear to even speak to him because of how he has betrayed her. This, I think, is a perfectly fine reaction to a cheating spouse.
So this woman is hurting, and in her hurt, says something devastating to her friend. The friend is wounded enough to not want to talk to her, and refuses to do so for three days. Then the friend leaves her house and the woman is sitting there, waiting for her. Let’s call the woman “Miranda” and the friend “Carrie,” just so you can keep this straight.
Miranda says, Carrie, I can’t stand this. It’s driving me crazy. I’m so sorry I hurt you, you’re my best friend. You can’t shut me out. You HAVE to forgive me.
And Carrie looks at her and says, You say I have to forgive you after three days, but it’s been six months and you still won’t forgive Steve (let’s call the husband “Steve”).
Miranda says, It’s not the same thing.
Carrie says, It’s forgiveness.
To which I say, “Daaaaanngg.”
She’s right.
It’s forgiveness.
How can we, who have been forgiven beyond our own capability to make things right, deny those who ask for it? How can we be so selfish to cling to our own hurt or insult or whatever instead of freely giving that which has already been given to us by God?
Later in the movie, the wife goes to counseling with her husband and he says, I broke a vow, but she did too: she left. She didn’t stay through the “for worse,” she didn’t stay until “death do us part.” (I have to admit I never thought about that part of it. I figured once the marriage was “broke” that gave the other spouse the okay to break it further. But maybe it’s not “broke” as long as you’re still married. Maybe because someone sins against me, it doesn’t give me the right to sin against them.) The wife asks how she can be sure he’ll never cheat again, and the counselor says, You can’t. You can’t be sure he’ll never commit another indiscretion, and you (the husband) can’t be sure she’ll ever really forgive you. The question isn’t “how can you be sure,” the question is, “do you want to make this marriage work?”
I’m no longer in the movie-review business, but movies like this make me wish I was. Who would have thought such an excellent lesson (only one of many) would come from a movie with “City” in the title?
Friday, December 12, 2008
“Love Changes Everything,” part two
I was following my usual morning routine, steeping a cup of tea, and I read the tiny inscription on my teabag tag. It said, “The power of love is infinite.”
Even Yogi Tea knows this truth. The power of love is infinite.
It kinda blew me away, the same way I feel a little blown away whenever I see that TV commercial for a jewelry store and they say, “Love changes everything.” How does everybody know this and so few people act on it?
Love changes everything, and the power of love is infinite.
Does that do anything for you? Do you have any need in your life for an infinite love that will change everything? I do. I wonder how much I underestimate God’s love, when even my teabag tag proclaims the power of love.
Love forgives. It restores broken relationships. Love has no pride and takes no offense. Love gives of itself. It heals all wounds. Love protects and encourages, love gives hope and enables peace. Love speaks truth and mercy in one breath. Love rescues and redeems. Love ends in joy, kindness, goodness, gentleness, patience and faithfulness. Love sacrifices itself on behalf of the beloved.
There is nowhere Love won’t go. There is no one Love won’t save. There is nothing gone too wrong for Love to transcend and create something beautiful out of it.
What in your life needs this kind of rescue and transformation? Who in your life needs to experience this kind of love? What in your life needs restoration?
Even Yogi Tea knows this truth. The power of love is infinite.
It kinda blew me away, the same way I feel a little blown away whenever I see that TV commercial for a jewelry store and they say, “Love changes everything.” How does everybody know this and so few people act on it?
Love changes everything, and the power of love is infinite.
Does that do anything for you? Do you have any need in your life for an infinite love that will change everything? I do. I wonder how much I underestimate God’s love, when even my teabag tag proclaims the power of love.
Love forgives. It restores broken relationships. Love has no pride and takes no offense. Love gives of itself. It heals all wounds. Love protects and encourages, love gives hope and enables peace. Love speaks truth and mercy in one breath. Love rescues and redeems. Love ends in joy, kindness, goodness, gentleness, patience and faithfulness. Love sacrifices itself on behalf of the beloved.
There is nowhere Love won’t go. There is no one Love won’t save. There is nothing gone too wrong for Love to transcend and create something beautiful out of it.
What in your life needs this kind of rescue and transformation? Who in your life needs to experience this kind of love? What in your life needs restoration?
Thursday, December 11, 2008
“Jesus Has a Tattoo”
Actually, he has two. According to the Bible, that is. Want to know where God has his tats? One of them is on his thigh: “On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written: King of Kings and Lord of Lords.” The other one, says Revelation 19, is a secret name written on his body in a secret place. So I guess both secret tattoos and thigh tattoos are okay with God.
I bring this up because yet another one of my friends is getting a tattoo without me. I happen to think tattoos are super holy and everyone who loves Jesus should have one. There’s a rich tradition of tattooing from the early church, when they would get all sorts of religious tattoos that would bear bodily evidence of their commitment to Christ. How holy is that?!
Now some folks point out that there’s a verse that says tattoos are bad, so let’s look at that. It’s in Leviticus 19:28. “Do not cut your bodies for the dead, and do not mark your skin with tattoos.” This is next to the verse instructing God’s people to not wear clothing that has two kinds of thread (no blended fabrics) and not to trim their beads or their sideburns.
Have I mentioned I love the Old Testament?
I love it because it’s such a full, rich story of God’s love for his people, and it’s difficult and tangly and literary. It makes you work. Jesus said “Love your neighbor as yourself and love God with all your heart, soul and mind.” I’m pretty much still working on that one. But I also love the deep and tangly-ness of the Old Testament. Like this example. Leviticus reads a bit like a B-grade slasher flick if you don’t know the context of it. Some of it makes sense and most of it doesn’t, without some research and perspective and context.
But I digress. My point was, if you trim your beard and your sideburns, or if you wear clothing made out of more than just one type of thread, you can go ahead and get a tattoo. People in “those days” used to cut themselves on behalf of their dead (as a sacrifice) and get tattoos that marked them as servants of pagan gods. I still think you shouldn’t do those things, but I’m not giving up my cotton-spandex jeans. We can get into that later.
If you’re on the fence about getting a tattoo, or approving of someone else’s tattoo, just remember that when Jesus comes back, he’s gonna have some serious ink. So you’ve got time to get used to the idea. And if you want to be on the safe side, make sure it’s a tattoo Jesus could get behind. Something with religious connotation, or a cat. Everybody knows Jesus loves cats. He’s the lion of Judah.
I bring this up because yet another one of my friends is getting a tattoo without me. I happen to think tattoos are super holy and everyone who loves Jesus should have one. There’s a rich tradition of tattooing from the early church, when they would get all sorts of religious tattoos that would bear bodily evidence of their commitment to Christ. How holy is that?!
Now some folks point out that there’s a verse that says tattoos are bad, so let’s look at that. It’s in Leviticus 19:28. “Do not cut your bodies for the dead, and do not mark your skin with tattoos.” This is next to the verse instructing God’s people to not wear clothing that has two kinds of thread (no blended fabrics) and not to trim their beads or their sideburns.
Have I mentioned I love the Old Testament?
I love it because it’s such a full, rich story of God’s love for his people, and it’s difficult and tangly and literary. It makes you work. Jesus said “Love your neighbor as yourself and love God with all your heart, soul and mind.” I’m pretty much still working on that one. But I also love the deep and tangly-ness of the Old Testament. Like this example. Leviticus reads a bit like a B-grade slasher flick if you don’t know the context of it. Some of it makes sense and most of it doesn’t, without some research and perspective and context.
But I digress. My point was, if you trim your beard and your sideburns, or if you wear clothing made out of more than just one type of thread, you can go ahead and get a tattoo. People in “those days” used to cut themselves on behalf of their dead (as a sacrifice) and get tattoos that marked them as servants of pagan gods. I still think you shouldn’t do those things, but I’m not giving up my cotton-spandex jeans. We can get into that later.
If you’re on the fence about getting a tattoo, or approving of someone else’s tattoo, just remember that when Jesus comes back, he’s gonna have some serious ink. So you’ve got time to get used to the idea. And if you want to be on the safe side, make sure it’s a tattoo Jesus could get behind. Something with religious connotation, or a cat. Everybody knows Jesus loves cats. He’s the lion of Judah.
Friday, December 5, 2008
“The Transporter,” part two
Don’t you just love movies? I do. I like the ones where the good guys are good, the bad guys are bad, and after some twists and turns (and a good car chase would be nice) the good guys win and kiss the girl, while the bad guys come to bad ends.
What I like about the Transporter is how good he is: he’s a very good “good guy” (notwithstanding some illegal activities). He does what is expected of him, and he does it with unsurpassed excellence. He’s always calm, because he knows he can handle whatever the “bad guys” throw at him and still save the day. He even transforms violence into a dance.
I used to try to live my life that way, too. I was a little smug in my confidence that I could be an excellent “good girl.” That I could win people to Jesus through my goodness. How long do you think that lasted? About 30 years? But here’s the secret: I was never really that good. Nor was my life particularly characterized by love, joy and peace. It was boring, safe and isolated from the world. No car chases, no daring feats, no rescuing those oppressed by the enemy. No need for the ultimate stuntman. My story was all about me.
It was a quiet, safe, dull little story that would never change anyone’s life. Whenever I did something wrong, made a mistake, or failed, I cut that part out of the script, so that my main character would look good. I wanted everything to look good, to be tidy.
It’s really hard to keep that up. I ended up with a lot of guilt and oppression, a lot of “should” and “ought to.” My movie sucked. Whenever I read those verses in Romans 12, I felt bad about not measuring up instead of feeling empowered by them. But Jesus said it would be easy to be a Christian. He did. In Matthew 11:29 & 30, he said “My yoke is easy and my burden is light. You will find rest for your souls.” And then he told Paul to write all of that stuff about forgiving anyone who offends you and living in harmony and joy. What?!
Then I read a book that changed my life. Everything onscreen shifted from being about me to being about God. Suddenly I understood that God wanted to make a new story out of the old: a story that highlighted some of my biggest failures instead of covering them up. And he wanted a casting shift too: a new hero. Instead of me being the main character of my life, he was. Suddenly my crummy little movie was an action-romance, with the ultimate stuntman.
With God as the director/screen-writer, the whole story of my life shifted from being about me to being about him. Instead of focusing on myself and trying to be good because I “should,” I could focus on him and not worry about my reputation. Now when I see the movie of my life, I weep, it is so beautiful. Shifted, my story is all about hope and grace and love and redemption, and I’m grateful he has made the ugliness into romance, and the dullness into bright action.
And it frees me to behave “good,” without pressure or threat of condemnation. Because he has been sincere to me, I can be sincere. Because he has been patient with me, I can be patient with irritating others. Because he has forgiven me all my offenses, I can forgive anyone who offends me. Because he has blessed me, I can bless, and not curse, those who annoy me or persecute me.
God is the ultimate stuntman. There is nothing too hard for him to make spectacular.
What in your life’s story would you like God to transform from burdensome to spectacular? What kind of movie do you want God to make out of your life? Are you willing to let him?
What I like about the Transporter is how good he is: he’s a very good “good guy” (notwithstanding some illegal activities). He does what is expected of him, and he does it with unsurpassed excellence. He’s always calm, because he knows he can handle whatever the “bad guys” throw at him and still save the day. He even transforms violence into a dance.
I used to try to live my life that way, too. I was a little smug in my confidence that I could be an excellent “good girl.” That I could win people to Jesus through my goodness. How long do you think that lasted? About 30 years? But here’s the secret: I was never really that good. Nor was my life particularly characterized by love, joy and peace. It was boring, safe and isolated from the world. No car chases, no daring feats, no rescuing those oppressed by the enemy. No need for the ultimate stuntman. My story was all about me.
It was a quiet, safe, dull little story that would never change anyone’s life. Whenever I did something wrong, made a mistake, or failed, I cut that part out of the script, so that my main character would look good. I wanted everything to look good, to be tidy.
It’s really hard to keep that up. I ended up with a lot of guilt and oppression, a lot of “should” and “ought to.” My movie sucked. Whenever I read those verses in Romans 12, I felt bad about not measuring up instead of feeling empowered by them. But Jesus said it would be easy to be a Christian. He did. In Matthew 11:29 & 30, he said “My yoke is easy and my burden is light. You will find rest for your souls.” And then he told Paul to write all of that stuff about forgiving anyone who offends you and living in harmony and joy. What?!
Then I read a book that changed my life. Everything onscreen shifted from being about me to being about God. Suddenly I understood that God wanted to make a new story out of the old: a story that highlighted some of my biggest failures instead of covering them up. And he wanted a casting shift too: a new hero. Instead of me being the main character of my life, he was. Suddenly my crummy little movie was an action-romance, with the ultimate stuntman.
With God as the director/screen-writer, the whole story of my life shifted from being about me to being about him. Instead of focusing on myself and trying to be good because I “should,” I could focus on him and not worry about my reputation. Now when I see the movie of my life, I weep, it is so beautiful. Shifted, my story is all about hope and grace and love and redemption, and I’m grateful he has made the ugliness into romance, and the dullness into bright action.
And it frees me to behave “good,” without pressure or threat of condemnation. Because he has been sincere to me, I can be sincere. Because he has been patient with me, I can be patient with irritating others. Because he has forgiven me all my offenses, I can forgive anyone who offends me. Because he has blessed me, I can bless, and not curse, those who annoy me or persecute me.
God is the ultimate stuntman. There is nothing too hard for him to make spectacular.
What in your life’s story would you like God to transform from burdensome to spectacular? What kind of movie do you want God to make out of your life? Are you willing to let him?
Thursday, December 4, 2008
“The Transporter”
If a movie was made of your life, what would it say? What story would your life tell?
It seems like the stories in the Bible are all blockbusters: The 10 Commandments, One Night with the King, David & Goliath, The Passion of the Christ, The Robe, etc. They’re all flash and drama, life & death, lions and soldiers and bears (Elisha calling bears out of the woods to maul teenagers, “Final Destination”-style, anyone?)
If a movie was made of my life, it would look exactly like The Transporter. Except without the action and clever driving, without the stunts and the madeleines and without a shirtless Jason Statham.
But there would be rules. Be good. Be patient. Stop talking so much. Clean the house. Stuff I beat myself up over. And a lot of boring sameness day-to-day. Drive to work. Come home. Fix dinner. Do some laundry. Read/watch TV/bathe the cats. Feed the goats, knit, think about vacuuming but decide against it. Doesn’t sound too interesting, or important. It seems like, basically, what I do doesn’t matter.
Have you ever noticed that, in a movie, everything matters? Even the “boring” stuff tells us something the filmmaker thinks we need to know about the character, about the story that’s being told with their life.
What story is your life telling? When you drive to work, what do others see? While you’re at work, what story is being told? Is there meaning in the mundane? Think about the people you interact with over the course of the week … how many of those people would you invite to church, after you’ve crossed paths with them? The store clerk? The guy who cut you off? Your annoying co-worker? Does your life tell a story that would make such an invitation awkward or easy?
When you work at a church, you think of these things. There’s a lot of pressure to not have a bad day, or moment, because people know who you are and may or may not come to church based on the way they see you behave. “And this is the final proof to the world that I exist: that you love one another.” Jesus lays it on thick for the disciples in John 13:35.
My sister and I joke about this.
At the store, when they cannot get our purchase right and then overcharge us, we have to be patient and sweet (and let’s face it, people know when you’re faking) because otherwise we can’t invite that person to church. Or their brother. Or their friend, because they will advise them against us. So we joke about it instead, and look out for each other, to diffuse each other and take a breath before we ruin our opportunity for love.
Why is it so hard to live in the grace and peace and joy God has freely offered to us? “As far as it depends on you, live at peace with all people.” (Romans 12:18) Are you kidding me? Listen to what else he says: Be sincere. Honor one another above yourselves. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Bless, and do not curse, those who annoy you or persecute you. Live in harmony. Do not be proud. Do not be conceited. Be friends with those who are lowly. Feed your enemies good food, and give them fresh water when they are thirsty. Etc., etc.
Unfortunately, this is not always the story my life tells. What story does your life tell? What story do you want it to tell?
It seems like the stories in the Bible are all blockbusters: The 10 Commandments, One Night with the King, David & Goliath, The Passion of the Christ, The Robe, etc. They’re all flash and drama, life & death, lions and soldiers and bears (Elisha calling bears out of the woods to maul teenagers, “Final Destination”-style, anyone?)
If a movie was made of my life, it would look exactly like The Transporter. Except without the action and clever driving, without the stunts and the madeleines and without a shirtless Jason Statham.
But there would be rules. Be good. Be patient. Stop talking so much. Clean the house. Stuff I beat myself up over. And a lot of boring sameness day-to-day. Drive to work. Come home. Fix dinner. Do some laundry. Read/watch TV/bathe the cats. Feed the goats, knit, think about vacuuming but decide against it. Doesn’t sound too interesting, or important. It seems like, basically, what I do doesn’t matter.
Have you ever noticed that, in a movie, everything matters? Even the “boring” stuff tells us something the filmmaker thinks we need to know about the character, about the story that’s being told with their life.
What story is your life telling? When you drive to work, what do others see? While you’re at work, what story is being told? Is there meaning in the mundane? Think about the people you interact with over the course of the week … how many of those people would you invite to church, after you’ve crossed paths with them? The store clerk? The guy who cut you off? Your annoying co-worker? Does your life tell a story that would make such an invitation awkward or easy?
When you work at a church, you think of these things. There’s a lot of pressure to not have a bad day, or moment, because people know who you are and may or may not come to church based on the way they see you behave. “And this is the final proof to the world that I exist: that you love one another.” Jesus lays it on thick for the disciples in John 13:35.
My sister and I joke about this.
At the store, when they cannot get our purchase right and then overcharge us, we have to be patient and sweet (and let’s face it, people know when you’re faking) because otherwise we can’t invite that person to church. Or their brother. Or their friend, because they will advise them against us. So we joke about it instead, and look out for each other, to diffuse each other and take a breath before we ruin our opportunity for love.
Why is it so hard to live in the grace and peace and joy God has freely offered to us? “As far as it depends on you, live at peace with all people.” (Romans 12:18) Are you kidding me? Listen to what else he says: Be sincere. Honor one another above yourselves. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Bless, and do not curse, those who annoy you or persecute you. Live in harmony. Do not be proud. Do not be conceited. Be friends with those who are lowly. Feed your enemies good food, and give them fresh water when they are thirsty. Etc., etc.
Unfortunately, this is not always the story my life tells. What story does your life tell? What story do you want it to tell?
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
"Love Changes Everything"
Love is a universal language. Have you noticed how everything is about love? Especially Christmas, and just about every movie and song ever made.
We’re obsessed with love in Western civilization, especially in the US. We love our Sketchers and sunshine and money and friends and our pets and our nation. Or we hate all that, because we love something else. Narcissism, maybe. We’re all about love. It’s crazy sad how we run around looking for someone/thing to love us, something to complete or define us in a way that makes us feel special and fulfilled. Satisfied. Whole. 300 million Americans running around like chickens looking for a crumb of love.
Love is a universal language. “Everybody” knows what it feels like to fall in love, how it changes everything. How it feels, how it shifts you, the high it gives you. Being in love makes a difference in our day-to-day lives. Love changes everything, especially the course of our future.
Is it the same kind of love affair between us & God? Does it change your day-to-day life? Does it make a difference when things aren’t going well?
Ephesians 3:19 says, “May you experience the love of Christ, though it is so great you will never fully understand it.” Notice Paul says "experience," not just "know." Does your experience of love change how you relate to others? In 2 Corinthians 8:24, Paul writes, “Show them … the proof of your love.” Not of God’s love for us, but of our love for God.
The Women of Faith team wrote this: “Love is difficult to define. It doesn’t simplify matters to define love by saying that God is love, because we can’t really define him either. But think about it for a minute. God says, ‘I am God. I am love, These are my people and I love them. How have I behaved toward those I love? See, this is what love expects, how love reacts, what love is willing to do. This is love.’”
Do you know that God loves you? Does that make a difference? Is God your beloved? Do you think of your beloved and smile?
We’re obsessed with love in Western civilization, especially in the US. We love our Sketchers and sunshine and money and friends and our pets and our nation. Or we hate all that, because we love something else. Narcissism, maybe. We’re all about love. It’s crazy sad how we run around looking for someone/thing to love us, something to complete or define us in a way that makes us feel special and fulfilled. Satisfied. Whole. 300 million Americans running around like chickens looking for a crumb of love.
Love is a universal language. “Everybody” knows what it feels like to fall in love, how it changes everything. How it feels, how it shifts you, the high it gives you. Being in love makes a difference in our day-to-day lives. Love changes everything, especially the course of our future.
Is it the same kind of love affair between us & God? Does it change your day-to-day life? Does it make a difference when things aren’t going well?
Ephesians 3:19 says, “May you experience the love of Christ, though it is so great you will never fully understand it.” Notice Paul says "experience," not just "know." Does your experience of love change how you relate to others? In 2 Corinthians 8:24, Paul writes, “Show them … the proof of your love.” Not of God’s love for us, but of our love for God.
The Women of Faith team wrote this: “Love is difficult to define. It doesn’t simplify matters to define love by saying that God is love, because we can’t really define him either. But think about it for a minute. God says, ‘I am God. I am love, These are my people and I love them. How have I behaved toward those I love? See, this is what love expects, how love reacts, what love is willing to do. This is love.’”
Do you know that God loves you? Does that make a difference? Is God your beloved? Do you think of your beloved and smile?
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
“A God Who Suffers,” part three
Remember how I said one of my former professors likes to compare God (Psalm-like) to a black lab? She’s written a wonderful little book about it called “Dogspell: A Dogmatic Theology on the Abounding Love of God.” Her name is Mary Ellen Ashcroft … look it up on Amazon and get a copy.
Anyway, at the end of this tiny tome, she talks about “Rescue Dog,” and his extraordinary love … how he is always there, wherever we are, to share our sorrows with us. “In the ICU, the mortuary, the nursing home – there is God, muzzle against cheek,” she writes. Human rescuers “race in, equipment in hand, all efficiency – where’s the problem? They set up machines, take measurements and rush, sirens wailing, through the streets. They maintain the patient’s vital signs, help them hang on for dear life – if “life” is a permanent vegetative state. If time is a lockstep through eternity, then we must check off as many heartbeats, as many breaths as we can.”
But rescue dog is different. He doesn’t swoop in and remove us from our difficult situations. “Rescue dog doesn’t do extreme measures,” she says. “The most extreme measures have already been done – tumbling, stripping, rolling.” He has already come down and joyfully mingled with us in the mud, already given himself to rescue us forever. “It’s enough to be there, dog with us.
“Rescuers rush in and hook up machines. Dog rushes in and licks your face. Presumably, God could pull out machines, machines beyond our wildest expectations – truly dues ex machina – to deliver us. God could do that, but it seems that often God, doglike, prefers simply being there to extraordinary measures. [Dog] comes in and sits, tail thumping occasionally, muzzle on neck, occasional lick on hand until the heart stops.
“It’s all over: The graph lines on the machines fall flat. The rescuers shake their heads and start unhooking.
“Deep within, far beyond their most sensitive monitors, the stilled heart quivers. That sound? What is it?
“A scratch from the other side of glory’s door, a whimper of welcome. The yelp of greeting warns you. Brace yourself: This is the moment you’ve been waiting for. Prepare to meet thy dog.”
I know it’s not a perfect metaphor, especially if you haven’t read through the book to get to this last chapter … you haven’t read about how dog waits eagerly to greet you, face to face. How he longs to w-a-l-k with you in the cool of the day. How he runs joyfully to meet you, with uncontained exuberance, and doesn’t care what you look like or what you do for a living. A God enthusiastic and vulnerable to pain. A God who rushed down the slippery slope through the mud just to be near us where we were.
But it’s this same God of whom David says in Psalms 56:8, “You have kept track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.” In 85:8, David writes, “I listen carefully to what God the Lord is saying, for He speaks peace to his faithful people.” God speaks peace to us! He catches our tears.
And in Jeremiah 17:7-8, the prophets writes, “Blessed are those who trust in the Lord, and have made the Lord their hope and confidence. They are like trees planted along a riverbank, with roots that reach deep into the water. Such trees are not bothered by the heat, or worried by long months of drought. Their leaves stay green, and they never stop producing fruit.” In other words, they are plugged in to the vine, and draw their sustenance from God himself.
In the footnotes of my Bible it says this: “Those who trust in the Lord will have abundant strength [even in difficult times], not only for their own needs, but even for the needs of others.” They will produce fruit even in their suffering.
Anyway, at the end of this tiny tome, she talks about “Rescue Dog,” and his extraordinary love … how he is always there, wherever we are, to share our sorrows with us. “In the ICU, the mortuary, the nursing home – there is God, muzzle against cheek,” she writes. Human rescuers “race in, equipment in hand, all efficiency – where’s the problem? They set up machines, take measurements and rush, sirens wailing, through the streets. They maintain the patient’s vital signs, help them hang on for dear life – if “life” is a permanent vegetative state. If time is a lockstep through eternity, then we must check off as many heartbeats, as many breaths as we can.”
But rescue dog is different. He doesn’t swoop in and remove us from our difficult situations. “Rescue dog doesn’t do extreme measures,” she says. “The most extreme measures have already been done – tumbling, stripping, rolling.” He has already come down and joyfully mingled with us in the mud, already given himself to rescue us forever. “It’s enough to be there, dog with us.
“Rescuers rush in and hook up machines. Dog rushes in and licks your face. Presumably, God could pull out machines, machines beyond our wildest expectations – truly dues ex machina – to deliver us. God could do that, but it seems that often God, doglike, prefers simply being there to extraordinary measures. [Dog] comes in and sits, tail thumping occasionally, muzzle on neck, occasional lick on hand until the heart stops.
“It’s all over: The graph lines on the machines fall flat. The rescuers shake their heads and start unhooking.
“Deep within, far beyond their most sensitive monitors, the stilled heart quivers. That sound? What is it?
“A scratch from the other side of glory’s door, a whimper of welcome. The yelp of greeting warns you. Brace yourself: This is the moment you’ve been waiting for. Prepare to meet thy dog.”
I know it’s not a perfect metaphor, especially if you haven’t read through the book to get to this last chapter … you haven’t read about how dog waits eagerly to greet you, face to face. How he longs to w-a-l-k with you in the cool of the day. How he runs joyfully to meet you, with uncontained exuberance, and doesn’t care what you look like or what you do for a living. A God enthusiastic and vulnerable to pain. A God who rushed down the slippery slope through the mud just to be near us where we were.
But it’s this same God of whom David says in Psalms 56:8, “You have kept track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.” In 85:8, David writes, “I listen carefully to what God the Lord is saying, for He speaks peace to his faithful people.” God speaks peace to us! He catches our tears.
And in Jeremiah 17:7-8, the prophets writes, “Blessed are those who trust in the Lord, and have made the Lord their hope and confidence. They are like trees planted along a riverbank, with roots that reach deep into the water. Such trees are not bothered by the heat, or worried by long months of drought. Their leaves stay green, and they never stop producing fruit.” In other words, they are plugged in to the vine, and draw their sustenance from God himself.
In the footnotes of my Bible it says this: “Those who trust in the Lord will have abundant strength [even in difficult times], not only for their own needs, but even for the needs of others.” They will produce fruit even in their suffering.
Friday, November 21, 2008
“A God Who Suffers,” part two
I haven’t suffered too much in life, by comparison, but I dislike it when I do. I don’t rejoice when I encounter various trials (I love the wording, though: “various” covers so much ground so nonchalantly) as James directs in 1:2. But I am figuring out a few things that suffering has to teach me.
Suffering teaches me compassion. I’m not a merciful person by nature, so when I suffer it helps me identify with those who are suffering. Suffering is awkward for me. It’s a kind of weakness I don’t know how to handle. I want to tell suffering people to suck it up. (I told you I’m not merciful.) It’s what I tell myself, too, when I’m suffering. But I don’t think that’s what James meant when he said “Consider it all joy” or when Paul talks about “rejoicing in weakness” in 2 Corinthians 12:7-10. I certainly don’t think it’s the example Jesus gave us through his suffering. He didn’t suck it up.
He cried and bled and groaned and hung on to God for dear life. He was miserable. You’ve got to be pretty upset to sweat blood. But instead of closing in on himself, he opened up. That’s what gave him the grace to say, “I love you and forgive you” to the people poking at him with a stick while he bled to death. Even more, God’s shocking love was what caused God to say, “I love you and forgive you” to the people poking his son with a stick while his son bled to death. That’s a crazy love. Either he’s twisted or we are.
Suffering also teaches me how much life matters. How valuable life is. That’s the reason suffering sucks … because life is important. So when it goes wrong, it’s painful and awful. If life wasn’t important, suffering wouldn’t matter as much. What I do with my day wouldn’t matter as much … the choices I make wouldn’t matter as much. But they do, because it is. So suffering teaches me the value of life, and why it is such a tragedy for even one to be lost … because that one means the world to God; that one is precious.
It also helps me to understand joy better, and satisfaction. Contrasting opposites help us while we muddle around here on earth. I don’t think they are essential … we’ll understand true joy in heaven without any suffering necessary to define it … but while we’re here it definitely helps deepen my perspective.
And as James says, suffering builds strength in us. No pain, no gain. When we come through on the other side, our faith is stronger – we have more experiential proof to sustain our faith. I think it’s a tribute to God’s greatness that he uses suffering … the exact opposite of his purpose in creation … to build stronger faith in us. He redeems everything! Everything meant to harm us, he transforms into something that blesses us (Gen 50:20). And the benefits don’t just nurture us, but extend to others as well.
What does suffering teach you? How has God transformed your suffering? Can you see any opportunity for healing and growth through the suffering in your life?
Suffering teaches me compassion. I’m not a merciful person by nature, so when I suffer it helps me identify with those who are suffering. Suffering is awkward for me. It’s a kind of weakness I don’t know how to handle. I want to tell suffering people to suck it up. (I told you I’m not merciful.) It’s what I tell myself, too, when I’m suffering. But I don’t think that’s what James meant when he said “Consider it all joy” or when Paul talks about “rejoicing in weakness” in 2 Corinthians 12:7-10. I certainly don’t think it’s the example Jesus gave us through his suffering. He didn’t suck it up.
He cried and bled and groaned and hung on to God for dear life. He was miserable. You’ve got to be pretty upset to sweat blood. But instead of closing in on himself, he opened up. That’s what gave him the grace to say, “I love you and forgive you” to the people poking at him with a stick while he bled to death. Even more, God’s shocking love was what caused God to say, “I love you and forgive you” to the people poking his son with a stick while his son bled to death. That’s a crazy love. Either he’s twisted or we are.
Suffering also teaches me how much life matters. How valuable life is. That’s the reason suffering sucks … because life is important. So when it goes wrong, it’s painful and awful. If life wasn’t important, suffering wouldn’t matter as much. What I do with my day wouldn’t matter as much … the choices I make wouldn’t matter as much. But they do, because it is. So suffering teaches me the value of life, and why it is such a tragedy for even one to be lost … because that one means the world to God; that one is precious.
It also helps me to understand joy better, and satisfaction. Contrasting opposites help us while we muddle around here on earth. I don’t think they are essential … we’ll understand true joy in heaven without any suffering necessary to define it … but while we’re here it definitely helps deepen my perspective.
And as James says, suffering builds strength in us. No pain, no gain. When we come through on the other side, our faith is stronger – we have more experiential proof to sustain our faith. I think it’s a tribute to God’s greatness that he uses suffering … the exact opposite of his purpose in creation … to build stronger faith in us. He redeems everything! Everything meant to harm us, he transforms into something that blesses us (Gen 50:20). And the benefits don’t just nurture us, but extend to others as well.
What does suffering teach you? How has God transformed your suffering? Can you see any opportunity for healing and growth through the suffering in your life?
Thursday, November 20, 2008
“A God Who Suffers”
Suffering is such a great topic; it’s so deep and twisty you can think on it for hours, come to few conclusions, and still feel accomplished that you have tackled a great mystery.
I think suffering is a great catalyst. It can either close us up, folding us in on ourselves, or it can open us up to the world. When we turn inward and focus on ourselves in our suffering, our wounds often begin to fester. Our suffering becomes sour and depression swamps us. Tendrils of bitterness curl around our hearts. I like to talk about sin in my life this way: as a festering sore that, when covered up, goes inward, blackening the skin and oozing a greenish pus. It communicates how unhealthy sin is for us, and how it taints the healthy parts of us too. I think suffering is also like that – disastrous when it turns inward. The good news is, suffering is edifying when it turns us outward to focus on others and on God instead of on ourselves.
But let’s be real: suffering isn’t easy. Sometimes it’s hardly bearable. There are things so unexpected, so unjust, so painful, we don’t know how to move forward. Yet even in our agony, Christ offers us opportunity. When we open ourselves up in our suffering -- as Christ opened himself –instead of making us sick, our suffering begins to heal the sick parts of us. Our vision sharpens, our priorities clarify. Instead of festering, the wounds clear. We begin to learn what suffering has to teach us … what the example of a suffering God has to teach us.
More on this tomorrow.
I think suffering is a great catalyst. It can either close us up, folding us in on ourselves, or it can open us up to the world. When we turn inward and focus on ourselves in our suffering, our wounds often begin to fester. Our suffering becomes sour and depression swamps us. Tendrils of bitterness curl around our hearts. I like to talk about sin in my life this way: as a festering sore that, when covered up, goes inward, blackening the skin and oozing a greenish pus. It communicates how unhealthy sin is for us, and how it taints the healthy parts of us too. I think suffering is also like that – disastrous when it turns inward. The good news is, suffering is edifying when it turns us outward to focus on others and on God instead of on ourselves.
But let’s be real: suffering isn’t easy. Sometimes it’s hardly bearable. There are things so unexpected, so unjust, so painful, we don’t know how to move forward. Yet even in our agony, Christ offers us opportunity. When we open ourselves up in our suffering -- as Christ opened himself –instead of making us sick, our suffering begins to heal the sick parts of us. Our vision sharpens, our priorities clarify. Instead of festering, the wounds clear. We begin to learn what suffering has to teach us … what the example of a suffering God has to teach us.
More on this tomorrow.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
“Love Tree,” part three
It seems kind of pathetic, to sit there as a branch on the Love Tree, waiting for love to be produced in my life. I get kind of impatient … what should I be DOING? I like how Dallas Willard talks about the formation of love (and the other fruits of the Spirit) in our lives: he says we do have a vital role. What is it? To suck it up, tough it out, random acts of kindness, be the ball? To be willing, says Willard. Our role is to be willing to have the Holy Spirit create love in us, create peace in us, create joy in us, that we then offer to each other and to the world.
Is that it? Does it seem too easy to just be willing? But the trick here is to really be willing. Often I say I am, and think I am, when my life clearly demonstrates that I am not. For example, I know from 1 Corinthians 13 that love “bears all things.” All things! Let’s be honest, I generally don’t want to bear all things. I’m not really willing and eager to bear all things. I don’t really want to “cover a multitude of sins,” especially other people’s sins against me (1 Ptr 4:8). The truth is, I want love applied to me, and maybe to “act” loving sometimes, but I don’t want to truly be loving, to have the fruit of love formed in me. Because that would mean I have to bear all things. In Colossians 3, Paul describes it as “making allowance for the faults of others, and forgiving anyone who offends you.” And that’s just one of the things love does!
The good news here is that God’s already spotted my weaknesses and hesitancy. He’s willing to work around it. In 2 Corinthians 12:10, Paul says, “When I am weak, then I am strong,” referring to Christ’s power at work within him. In 2 Corinthians 4:7, he says, “We hold this treasure in jars of clay, to show this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” And as I draw near to God, as I talk to Him in prayer, and read His Word, and serve with His people, I find it easier to be willing, because my relationship with Him is deepened and my focus is on Him, not on myself.
When I don’t see evidence of fruit in my life, it means two things: I’m not really willing to have fruit formed in me (and I’m resisting God’s opportunities to form fruit in me) and I am focusing too much on myself and not enough on Him. It means I have not restructured my life in such a way as to revolve around Him and what He wants for me; I am still trapped in my old way of thinking about what is best for me, and what is best for my family, and what I think is right. But God also promised to transform my thinking, and if I ask Him, I will “be transformed through the renewing of my mind” (Romans 12:2). Jesus finishes up the Love Tree metaphor by saying, “Remain in me.” Stay plugged in. Remember how much I love you, and act accordingly.
Is that it? Does it seem too easy to just be willing? But the trick here is to really be willing. Often I say I am, and think I am, when my life clearly demonstrates that I am not. For example, I know from 1 Corinthians 13 that love “bears all things.” All things! Let’s be honest, I generally don’t want to bear all things. I’m not really willing and eager to bear all things. I don’t really want to “cover a multitude of sins,” especially other people’s sins against me (1 Ptr 4:8). The truth is, I want love applied to me, and maybe to “act” loving sometimes, but I don’t want to truly be loving, to have the fruit of love formed in me. Because that would mean I have to bear all things. In Colossians 3, Paul describes it as “making allowance for the faults of others, and forgiving anyone who offends you.” And that’s just one of the things love does!
The good news here is that God’s already spotted my weaknesses and hesitancy. He’s willing to work around it. In 2 Corinthians 12:10, Paul says, “When I am weak, then I am strong,” referring to Christ’s power at work within him. In 2 Corinthians 4:7, he says, “We hold this treasure in jars of clay, to show this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” And as I draw near to God, as I talk to Him in prayer, and read His Word, and serve with His people, I find it easier to be willing, because my relationship with Him is deepened and my focus is on Him, not on myself.
When I don’t see evidence of fruit in my life, it means two things: I’m not really willing to have fruit formed in me (and I’m resisting God’s opportunities to form fruit in me) and I am focusing too much on myself and not enough on Him. It means I have not restructured my life in such a way as to revolve around Him and what He wants for me; I am still trapped in my old way of thinking about what is best for me, and what is best for my family, and what I think is right. But God also promised to transform my thinking, and if I ask Him, I will “be transformed through the renewing of my mind” (Romans 12:2). Jesus finishes up the Love Tree metaphor by saying, “Remain in me.” Stay plugged in. Remember how much I love you, and act accordingly.
Friday, November 14, 2008
“Love Tree,” part two
So now that I see my love tree needs watering, how do I do that? How does love get produced in my life? Can I do it just by trying harder? By doing the right things? Saying the right things? If I act like I’m loving does that make me loving? I know from my own experiences that it doesn’t work that way. “Fake it ‘til you make it” doesn’t work for love.
In John 15, Jesus says that, actually, God is the love tree. We are just a branch on the tree, and being part of the tree is what produces fruit in our lives. When situations crop up, we have the choice of responding however we want … we can draw from ourselves and the world, and produce bitterness, or draw from the Love Tree – God himself – and produce a blossom of love.
If it seems kind of weird to think of God as a tree, blame those Biblical writers … personally, I like the metaphors in Psalms where David compares God to both a rock and a chicken. One of my mentors likes to compare him to a black lab. But more on that later.
One of my favorite things about God is that he never tells us to do things “just because.” He doesn’t say, “Be loving because you ought to,” or “forgive others because you should.” He doesn’t even say, “Because it’s the right thing to do, that’s why.” He always says this: “Because I love you; because I forgive you. That’s why.” In Jeremiah 31:3 he says, “I have loved you with an everlasting love. With unfailing love I have called you.”
When those opportunities blow through where we chose our response between love and something else, we aren’t told to think about fairness or justice or looking holy or faking it … we’re told to think about how overwhelmingly God loves us, and respond accordingly. In John 13:25, Jesus says, “I have given you an example to follow. Do as I have done to you.” “Love each other the way I have loved you (v.34).” 1 Corinthians 14:1 says it this way: “Pursue love above all else.” Galatians 5:6 says “The only thing that counts is faith made effective through love.”
In John 15, Jesus says that, actually, God is the love tree. We are just a branch on the tree, and being part of the tree is what produces fruit in our lives. When situations crop up, we have the choice of responding however we want … we can draw from ourselves and the world, and produce bitterness, or draw from the Love Tree – God himself – and produce a blossom of love.
If it seems kind of weird to think of God as a tree, blame those Biblical writers … personally, I like the metaphors in Psalms where David compares God to both a rock and a chicken. One of my mentors likes to compare him to a black lab. But more on that later.
One of my favorite things about God is that he never tells us to do things “just because.” He doesn’t say, “Be loving because you ought to,” or “forgive others because you should.” He doesn’t even say, “Because it’s the right thing to do, that’s why.” He always says this: “Because I love you; because I forgive you. That’s why.” In Jeremiah 31:3 he says, “I have loved you with an everlasting love. With unfailing love I have called you.”
When those opportunities blow through where we chose our response between love and something else, we aren’t told to think about fairness or justice or looking holy or faking it … we’re told to think about how overwhelmingly God loves us, and respond accordingly. In John 13:25, Jesus says, “I have given you an example to follow. Do as I have done to you.” “Love each other the way I have loved you (v.34).” 1 Corinthians 14:1 says it this way: “Pursue love above all else.” Galatians 5:6 says “The only thing that counts is faith made effective through love.”
Thursday, November 13, 2008
“Love Tree”
This morning I read this verse in Proverbs: “Hatred stirs up quarrels, but love makes up for all offenses” (10:12, NLT). There’s a lot of depth in that little verse. All offenses. It’s similar to 1 Peter 4:8 – “love covers a multitude of sins.” I think of all those scenarios throughout my day where I have a choice of responding in love or “quarrels”: when my husband has neglected to take out the trash, when my neighbor has parked (again!) on my grass, when my coworker has forgotten to tell me the meeting time was moved up, when the BMW cuts me off on my drive home, etc., etc. And don’t get me started on the in-laws! There are so many opportunities for me to either take offense or respond in love. Usually I think as long as I don’t do or say anything, I’m fulfilling the letter of the law. But what’s in my heart? Am I thinking loving thoughts that cover the offense, or am I keeping score or feeling justifiably annoyed?
It seems a little distant to me, that kind of love that naturally breathes forgiveness and mercy and grace. Sometimes I feel that way about all the fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, self-control (Galatians 5:22). I think, how can I have those as my automatic response to life?
I think the first thing I need to understand about fruit is that it is not for my own benefit. I like to think, “God, give me more love in my life, give me peace, give me joy,” as though these are things that God gives to us to make us happy. But the Scriptural analogy of fruit is that the fruit is something produced in us (not given to us) so that it can be offered to others … an apple tree doesn’t produce apples so it can eat them, the apples are for others to eat. And the biological purpose of fruit is to spread seeds … which ties in to another Scriptural analogy, the planting of seeds. Another purpose of fruit is service – feeding each other.
How is your love tree doing? I think mine definitely needs watering.
It seems a little distant to me, that kind of love that naturally breathes forgiveness and mercy and grace. Sometimes I feel that way about all the fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, self-control (Galatians 5:22). I think, how can I have those as my automatic response to life?
I think the first thing I need to understand about fruit is that it is not for my own benefit. I like to think, “God, give me more love in my life, give me peace, give me joy,” as though these are things that God gives to us to make us happy. But the Scriptural analogy of fruit is that the fruit is something produced in us (not given to us) so that it can be offered to others … an apple tree doesn’t produce apples so it can eat them, the apples are for others to eat. And the biological purpose of fruit is to spread seeds … which ties in to another Scriptural analogy, the planting of seeds. Another purpose of fruit is service – feeding each other.
How is your love tree doing? I think mine definitely needs watering.
Monday, November 10, 2008
“Jesus Hearts Gays,” part two
How many of us come to Jesus with all our issues resolved?
I don’t know about you, but I’ve been following Christ for years and years and I STILL have sin in my life that I haven’t “gotten over” yet. Is it serious? Yes. Is it a big deal? Yes. Does it keep me from loving Jesus and working in ministry? No. It doesn’t keep me from church, from participating in the “body of Christ” … the flawed and messed up but sincere group of people who have been knocked over by grace.
I don’t know about you, but I need to be in church, not just want to be. Sure, I love to serve and worship and grow, but it’s deeper than that … I need to be there because I haven’t gotten it all figured out yet. I still need grace and mercy and renewal every day while I try to figure this thing out.
So isn’t that true of others? Shouldn’t all sinners be in church where they can encounter grace and mercy and renewal as they try to figure life out?
Why then do some things keep people out entirely? Like being gay. We so often want them to have things all worked out before they can come and be one of us and experience grace, mercy and renewal.
Who else should we be excluding? People who struggle with porn? People who get angry too much? Where’s the line? Where should we send these people to meet God? What timeline should we give them for having all their issues worked out?
I’ve been mulling over Matthew 9, and other passages where Jesus hangs out with those his “church” rejected. How did Jesus expect us to continue his work? What was his vision for changing hearts and letting people know they matter to God?
And on the subject of community, here’s a quote from Gerald May: “One of the powers of faith community is its capacity to provide a lasting steadiness through all the wavering of its individual members. When I cannot pray, the prayer of countless others goes on. Where I am complacent, others are struggling. Where I am in conflict, others are at peace. Most important, when I cannot act in loving ways, there are those in my communities who can.”
I don’t know about you, but I’ve been following Christ for years and years and I STILL have sin in my life that I haven’t “gotten over” yet. Is it serious? Yes. Is it a big deal? Yes. Does it keep me from loving Jesus and working in ministry? No. It doesn’t keep me from church, from participating in the “body of Christ” … the flawed and messed up but sincere group of people who have been knocked over by grace.
I don’t know about you, but I need to be in church, not just want to be. Sure, I love to serve and worship and grow, but it’s deeper than that … I need to be there because I haven’t gotten it all figured out yet. I still need grace and mercy and renewal every day while I try to figure this thing out.
So isn’t that true of others? Shouldn’t all sinners be in church where they can encounter grace and mercy and renewal as they try to figure life out?
Why then do some things keep people out entirely? Like being gay. We so often want them to have things all worked out before they can come and be one of us and experience grace, mercy and renewal.
Who else should we be excluding? People who struggle with porn? People who get angry too much? Where’s the line? Where should we send these people to meet God? What timeline should we give them for having all their issues worked out?
I’ve been mulling over Matthew 9, and other passages where Jesus hangs out with those his “church” rejected. How did Jesus expect us to continue his work? What was his vision for changing hearts and letting people know they matter to God?
And on the subject of community, here’s a quote from Gerald May: “One of the powers of faith community is its capacity to provide a lasting steadiness through all the wavering of its individual members. When I cannot pray, the prayer of countless others goes on. Where I am complacent, others are struggling. Where I am in conflict, others are at peace. Most important, when I cannot act in loving ways, there are those in my communities who can.”
Sunday, November 9, 2008
“Jesus Hearts Gays”
A friend of mine loves gay men … most of the gay men she’s met are sweet and funny and she’s drawn to them. She someday hopes to establish a ministry that reaches out to and gets to know and shows love to gay people.
Can I just say that’s so Jesus to me?
So my friend and I were talking about gay guys and she asked, how can we say it’s wrong in such a loving way that we won’t anger or crush them? (Referring to church, not individual conversations.) And you know, I think the answer is we don’t. We don’t say anything.
Instead, I think we try something new … befriending those who are different from us, getting to know them and loving them as individuals important to God. We’ve tried all sorts of talk. Let’s now try some quiet love in action.
It reminds me of the story about when the local church leaders (the pastors and elders and deacons) noticed this new preacher in town who, instead of “preaching the Bible” about homosexuality, showed up at parties thrown by gay guys. He went out dinner with them and generally acted like their friend instead of their judge. Somehow I don’t think he worked “you know, homosexuality is wrong” into his conversations at the dinner parties. Obviously, the rest of the pastors were upset by this “hippie love” behavior and called the pastor on it.
He said a crazy thing. I mean, this guy was out there. He said, “Go and learn the meaning of this Scripture: ‘I want you to show mercy, not offer sacrifices (Hosea 6:6).’ For I have come to call not those who think they are righteous, but those who are sinners.” That’s from Matthew 9:13 and I gotta say, most of us church people are not Jesus in this story. We’re the Pharisees, slightly scandalized and helpless when see peeps ministering in real love to those we consider too far outside the grace of God.
Can I just say that’s so Jesus to me?
So my friend and I were talking about gay guys and she asked, how can we say it’s wrong in such a loving way that we won’t anger or crush them? (Referring to church, not individual conversations.) And you know, I think the answer is we don’t. We don’t say anything.
Instead, I think we try something new … befriending those who are different from us, getting to know them and loving them as individuals important to God. We’ve tried all sorts of talk. Let’s now try some quiet love in action.
It reminds me of the story about when the local church leaders (the pastors and elders and deacons) noticed this new preacher in town who, instead of “preaching the Bible” about homosexuality, showed up at parties thrown by gay guys. He went out dinner with them and generally acted like their friend instead of their judge. Somehow I don’t think he worked “you know, homosexuality is wrong” into his conversations at the dinner parties. Obviously, the rest of the pastors were upset by this “hippie love” behavior and called the pastor on it.
He said a crazy thing. I mean, this guy was out there. He said, “Go and learn the meaning of this Scripture: ‘I want you to show mercy, not offer sacrifices (Hosea 6:6).’ For I have come to call not those who think they are righteous, but those who are sinners.” That’s from Matthew 9:13 and I gotta say, most of us church people are not Jesus in this story. We’re the Pharisees, slightly scandalized and helpless when see peeps ministering in real love to those we consider too far outside the grace of God.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
"Politicked," part two
I really am getting excited about next year … everywhere I turn, it’s commentary on politics. It will be cool, come January, to have the first African-American president in the USA. A living, breathing embodiment of our melting-pot nation.
But most of the conflict I witness is Republic/conservative vs. Democrat/liberal. Even today I read a blog about why Donald Miller voted for Obama, and the comments people left even called his salvation into question because of his vote.
Is it just me, or do you hear this kind of attack and counter-attack too? I hear Christians on both sides of the party debate, although generally I hear it said that you can’t be a good Christian and a Democrat. Apparently in his day, Jesus and the disciples voted Republican. I guess when he comes back he will again.
Here’s a quote I found from a famous Christian author writing to conservatives about their conflict with liberals from way back in the day:
Don’t forget that you used to be outsiders too. You lived in the world without God and without hope. Christ himself has made peace between us by making us all one people. He has broken down the wall of hostility that used to separate us. By his death he ended the whole system that excluded people. His purpose was to make peace by creating in himself one new person from different groups. …Our hostility toward each other has been put to death! Now all of us may come to the Father through the same Holy Spirit because of what Christ has done for us.
Can you guess who the author was? It was Paul, writing to the Ephesians about how Jews and Gentiles wanted to rip each other apart and that their division only damaged their hearts and denied Christ. He said this all in Ephesians two, verses eleven through fourteen in the NLT.
What do you think? Does it apply today too?
But most of the conflict I witness is Republic/conservative vs. Democrat/liberal. Even today I read a blog about why Donald Miller voted for Obama, and the comments people left even called his salvation into question because of his vote.
Is it just me, or do you hear this kind of attack and counter-attack too? I hear Christians on both sides of the party debate, although generally I hear it said that you can’t be a good Christian and a Democrat. Apparently in his day, Jesus and the disciples voted Republican. I guess when he comes back he will again.
Here’s a quote I found from a famous Christian author writing to conservatives about their conflict with liberals from way back in the day:
Don’t forget that you used to be outsiders too. You lived in the world without God and without hope. Christ himself has made peace between us by making us all one people. He has broken down the wall of hostility that used to separate us. By his death he ended the whole system that excluded people. His purpose was to make peace by creating in himself one new person from different groups. …Our hostility toward each other has been put to death! Now all of us may come to the Father through the same Holy Spirit because of what Christ has done for us.
Can you guess who the author was? It was Paul, writing to the Ephesians about how Jews and Gentiles wanted to rip each other apart and that their division only damaged their hearts and denied Christ. He said this all in Ephesians two, verses eleven through fourteen in the NLT.
What do you think? Does it apply today too?
Thursday, November 6, 2008
“Politicked"
Most of my friends and family are conservative Christians, and most of them did not vote for Obama. Some of the fundamentalists at the family fringes are pretty despondent about the election results. You know, I’m actually really excited to see what the democrats do … here’s their chance. They’ve got the Senate, the House and the President. And since my hope’s not in politics, I’m not worried about liberal government at all, I’m just curious to see what they do with this chance.
I think it’s very sad that peeps have put their hope in the US being a “Christian” nation. I get it, since I used to be the same, but then when I understood about Jesus and started to care about people’s hearts, all that political concern just fell away from me. Laws don’t change people’s hearts. They don’t save their marriages, they don’t rescue their children. They don’t heal their hearts.
Just like the Old Testament law. It protected the people and pointed them to God, true. But it didn’t save them. Morality didn’t save them, their relationship with God saved them.
The truth is, eliminating abortion in the US would not save the world. Even ending poverty wouldn’t save the world. Because morality isn’t the hope of the world. Only Jesus is the hope of the world. I want to be known for what I’m for – Jesus – not known for what I’m against.
After all, politics is culture, and culture never saved anyone.
I think it’s very sad that peeps have put their hope in the US being a “Christian” nation. I get it, since I used to be the same, but then when I understood about Jesus and started to care about people’s hearts, all that political concern just fell away from me. Laws don’t change people’s hearts. They don’t save their marriages, they don’t rescue their children. They don’t heal their hearts.
Just like the Old Testament law. It protected the people and pointed them to God, true. But it didn’t save them. Morality didn’t save them, their relationship with God saved them.
The truth is, eliminating abortion in the US would not save the world. Even ending poverty wouldn’t save the world. Because morality isn’t the hope of the world. Only Jesus is the hope of the world. I want to be known for what I’m for – Jesus – not known for what I’m against.
After all, politics is culture, and culture never saved anyone.
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