Let Yourself Be Found

God did not design us as sinners.  He did not fashion Adam and Eve as corrupt, disbelieving, unfaithful.  We’re compromised, venom from Adam’s and our voluntary disbelief snaking through our flesh like errant black threads in white clothing.

Though we’ve tried endlessly, we can’t pull these threads of sin out, so each of us expends great energy to at least appear clean and competent, as if God doesn’t see everything we do and are.  Attempting to cover our flaws with impressions of sufficiency, we nail together scraps of wood into a makeshift blind that wouldn’t fool the dumbest duck.  Do you feel it trembling, ready to collapse under its own weight? Please, stop and listen!

God is calling to us with every seeming coincidence and “lucky” event to trust him.  I know it’s terrifying.  Riskier than anything we can imagine, he asks to be entrusted with our hope, hope that’s been chafed raw and missed when we’ve invited others to help with our burden.  If you’re like me, in those times, hurt, you’ve pulled the load again up onto your back, less some faith and heavier for it, resignation solidifying.  But here’s the difference in this moment – Jesus, the one inviting us, really can carry all of it.  He wants to.  He initiated the offer.  It’s not an imposition nor is it evading responsibility to pass it to him; in fact he isn’t offering just to take our burden but to trade for his which is much lighter.  But each of us has to start with trust that what he tells us is true. This is exactly the same place Adam and Eve stood, the same opportunity to believe God or not.

Listen within – the faint pull in your heart, deep beneath all the scars of disillusionment, is urging trust in his offer.  Your design recognizes the voice of its designer.  Though it may not feel it, you can muster the seed of hope and faith it takes to finally be found as you are, without rickety contraptions to hide behind.  Listen without – the lyrics of Creation are whispering in unison with his love, beckoning us all to reject the friendly ache of lies and leap into the cutting, frigid pool of truth.  Once immersed, his bracing holiness draws the dark poison from our hearts.  It’s excruciating relief, like finally pulling a deep splinter from inflamed flesh.

Some of the foreign threads in our clothes are longer and more tightly embedded than others, but they are foreign. The closer we remain to his heart, the more he diminishes the power of disbelief.  With time and the Holy Spirit’s encouraging arm around our shoulders God heals the damage from the venomous invasion.  He exalts us, children bearing his image, and we feel again his pleasure that twinkled in his eye on the sixth day of Creation.

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” – Jesus, Matthew 11:28-30

“So God created man in his own image,  in the image of God he created him;  male and female he created them.” – Genesis 1:27

“And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.” – Genesis 1:31

All Scripture Taken From English Standard Version (ESV)

The Holy Bible, English Standard Version Copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a division of Good News Publishers.

The Truth Is… It’s All or Nothing

Have you ever been reading a book from the library or a bookstore and discovered a page missing?  How about a whole chapter or section?  I’ve found many older books suffer this condition.  They’ve been well-used, or handled a bit too recklessly, taken for granted; and somewhere along their path, a group of pages tore from the binding and vanished.  It wasn’t necessarily that the readers didn’t enjoy or appreciate the story; they just didn’t recognize how important the loss could be.  When you’ve encountered books like this, how enjoyable are they to read?  Inexorably, the missing portions are critical to the plot, or contain some essential pieces of character background on which the whole story hinges.  Tough to finish a story like that, let alone have it stir your heart.   Some may still read it, especially if they are persuaded to believe the most important parts are still intact and ignore the subtle hinting that more is available, that something important is missing.

The Gospel of Jesus Christ is the story of our redemption, our restoration at God’s hand.  In the Bible, there are many chapters, even volumes, bursting with suspense, romance and danger.  Each tale builds on the others, with a tender, powerful thread throughout, binding truth to love and nuancing a full image of God’s heart.  Facets of his personality are seen everywhere, subtle and bold, but the climactic part of the plot is also the main character:  Jesus.  If I were to dare describe the indispensable components of this climactic chapter we call the gospel, they would be three:  The cross, the resurrection and the ascension.  Climactic because they are the harvest of God’s planting since before Creation; indispensable, because if any of the three is absent, the result renders the message of good news either invalid or immaterial.

If we have only Jesus’ death on the cross, the gospel is immaterial, since many men have given their lives in service to others in history without accomplishing eternal salvation for any, let alone all.  Even if this first truth relies on the fact that Jesus was without sin, unchanged is its companion  – he still died.  His death offers no hope by itself, because, while He may have died in my place, this Jesus evidently did not conquer death.

If we have Jesus’ death and resurrection, there is certainly hope for eternal life; he ultimately defeated death, and so we can hope for the same destination, based on his promises to us while on earth.  But this holds little promise for the days, months, perhaps years between now and our last, and having only these can even hinder living according to his word.  With just these two truths, we are hopeful but still left as orphans for this period of time, despite what Jesus promised in John 14:18, “I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.”  Can the one who died for me and was raised to life lie?  No, and this leads to an inevitable and errant conclusion:  I must have misunderstood what he meant.  Thus have too many Christians and congregations begun a desperate contortion of truth and experienced the bleeding away of salvation’s power.

If we have all three – Jesus’ death in our place, his resurrection to life and his ascension to the Father – then we discover the complete gospel.  Father broke his own heart with Jesus’ death to pay for my sin – past, present and future.  He joyfully raised Jesus to display supremacy over even death, the most final of human frailties.  And Jesus ascended to the Father to begin fulfilling his remaining promises.  The first of these?  To send the Comforter, the Helper, the Holy Spirit, who guides us “into all the truth.” (John 16:13)

The Holy Spirit helps us understand the fullness of God’s word, showing the best path when our compass is overwhelmed.  He prays directly to Father’s heart our deepest, most desperate needs when we just can’t form coherent thoughts, let alone words.  He reveals a little more each day of God’s personality, his purity, his grand, longing, joyful love for us!  Psalm 32:7 encourages he will surround us “with shouts of deliverance!”  Here is where his joy and ours are fulfilled; here is where we find true intimacy, connection with the heart of him who made us.

The truth is, we need all of him.  Part of the book only offers part of the story – only partial freedom, partial restoration.  It takes all of him to free us, all of him to transform us.  And he offers all of himself, without reservation, to anyone.  Even me.  Even you.

 

Scripture taken from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version Copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a division of Good News Publishers

What Did I Expect?

Why is it so hard for me sometimes to remember Jesus loves me the way I love my kids? I know what is in my heart toward my children and, even more so, he wants to give me good things, doesn’t want trouble for me, isn’t working to make my days miserable.  It seems my expectations of Jesus have grown dusty and faded, coated with an opaque layer of anxiety I can’t scrub away.

At times, I can become mired in a sort of spiritual digression, not seeking much beyond existence and the absence of more trouble. It is then I sense again that subtle, embedded belief that it’s dangerous to enjoy the days; that having fun, embracing pleasure, even daring to hope for blessed nourishment like a sunny sky, extra time healing from illness, relief from schedule pressure, needs provided for bountifully is risky at best and foolish at worst.  Even presumptuous.  Better to live as if I am promised to receive nothing and thus circumvent disillusionment.  Yet, if God reveals himself through scripture, through Jesus, through the Holy Spirit living in my new heart, that embedded belief can not be valid.  He has told me, shown me repeatedly that he is love, light, truth, good, and holy, and that he intends and promises good for his children.  Deception, oppression, fear and anxiety are incongruous with his Spirit – and here I discover clarity, for those suggestions of arrogant presumption are merely more lies told by the devil, sirens from my flesh, purposed to draw me back into the nest of guilt and slavery and impotence.

I’m often surprised at the blessings God gives, honestly because they are so right and just what I had hoped for but not dared to expect.  Then, surprised at my surprise, I ask myself, is this not what I ought to expect?  Isn’t this just like him?  Mists clear from recollection of past deliverance, past blessings, and I remember:  This is who Jesus is.  This is who he’s always been.

Is it doubt, sprung from fear his love isn’t genuine, that drives my reticence to live boldly through faith in Jesus’ goodness?  Perhaps this guarded living is rooted in mistrust.  Ah… suddenly, the territory is familiar, and reality of the incompleteness of my sanctification sinks in.  Once again, my faith, while true, is proved unfinished.  Thankfully, along with clearer vision comes assurance from the Holy Spirit of God, like Father’s warm hand on my shoulder:  Even this, I hold in my hand, son.  Even this difficulty is one more work to perfect, to complete your restoration.  All is well.

And I can rest.

Thought for the Week

Jesus has made His move.  Consider what He had to endure to move toward us, toward you; not on the cross, but just becoming flesh, living human life.  Temptation, pain, fear, the death of a father, the death of a friend.  Only passionate, longing, unswerving love could motivate Him to choose and stay on that path.

Today, as the Advent season approaches its pinnacle, will you move toward Him?

Thought for the Week

How often do we hear children protest, “It’s not fair?”  I may have even spoken those words on occasion; I’ve certainly thought them.  I wonder sometimes if it isn’t almost an idol, common to all men.   It’s true, fairness seems good because it does away with unjust, imbalanced treatment, but is that really what we want?  Because the trouble with fairness is, it also does away with mercy.

The Truth Is… God’s After Us

A friend of mine and I were recently observing Christians who claimed to have heard a message directly from Father.  Not audibly so much as spiritually delivered to their heart in response to their question to Him.  My friend admitted his first reaction was one of skepticism:  Did they really “hear” that from Him, or are they just acting, trying to persuade us?  It was difficult for him to believe the experience was genuine because it was foreign to him.  I don’t believe he’s in the minority.

So what is really going on here?  Can we hear from Father directly, personally?  Is it limited only to some, not all?  If so, why the variable experience?  Must the majority of us be satisfied with God only speaking to our minds through His word, or is real dialogue possible?

When questions like this arise, it’s easy to answer quickly based on our individual lives.  For those who have received personal wisdom and encouragement from God the issue is settled, and it may even feel a bit offensive to ask the question.  For those who’ve never experienced it outside of a biblical insight or counsel from other Christians, they too may have settled the issue in their minds and decided it just doesn’t happen.  Instead of following either of those roads, let’s allow God’s word to lead us to the truth.

Investigating the character of God seems like a good place to start.  Is He interested in loving individuals, or only the Body of Christ as a collective, or only mankind as a whole?  An easy and oft-used reference here is John 3:16, but let’s look a little more closely.  In fact, what is the context of that verse?  The setting is at night, some time after the Passover in Jerusalem when Jesus literally whipped the temple into a frenzy by forcing the animals and money exchangers out.  This evening, He’s speaking to the Pharisee and ruler Nicodemus, helping him to grasp the answer to the question in his heart (not the one in his mouth).  And where does Jesus start?  He begins with rebirth, starting life again as a child of the Holy Spirit, not just the flesh, just as Jesus Himself was born. (John 3:5-6)  Without it, no further understanding or restoration is attainable.  This rebirth is accomplished by looking to Jesus just like the Israelites looked to the serpent which Moses raised and were saved from death. (vv. 14-15; Num. 21:6-9)  And then Jesus explains:  “God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.” (v. 16) Why did God do it?  Because He loved the world.  How did He do it?  He gave His son away to die instead of me.  What’s the benefit to God?  Whoever believes (the Greek language here has the distinct sense of “relies upon” vs. “agrees is real”) in Him is rescued from the horror of an agonizing eternal death and given eternal life instead!  Wait a minute… doesn’t that seem like a benefit to us?  What’s the benefit to God?  Look again at the first part of v. 16.  God’s whole motivation for giving Jesus away to suffer and die was love.  But unpack it a little more.  What’s the implication of that love?  Think about how you feel toward your son or daughter.  Even if you have no children, you can likely imagine what you’d feel, the desire that love translates into.  It’s deceptively simple:  He wants me.  He wants you.

God’s character is that of a father who misses and longs for His lost children.  If you’re willing, you can see His heart throughout the entire Bible, the glue filling each story, each account.  God over and over approaches individuals, calls them to Himself and leads them into, honors them with a role in His restoration work.  But does it go beyond knowledge and work?  Is there even more than an awareness of God’s desire and His call to participate?  Again, we’ll look in His word to see.  In John 14, Jesus is encouraging His disciples after revealing to them the hard times coming.  He said, “I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Helper, that He may be with you forever; that is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it does not see him or know him… I will not leave you as orphans….”  (v. 16-18 )  And notice the promise in v. 26 (The Message):  “The Holy Spirit… will make everything plain to you.  He will remind you of all the things I have told you.”  There is more to this faith than just knowledge and labor for God!  He sent us a helper, someone to listen to our hearts, our grief, our anger, our own desire, and help us find Father again when we’ve wandered.  2 Corinthians 13:14 describes us as enjoying “fellowship” with the Holy Spirit.  What does that sound like to you?  To me, it sounds like friendship, like there’s someone with me every minute of my life, ready to help, ready to speak the truth certainly, but in a way that serves Father’s purpose:  Restoring me as His son; rebuilding the intimacy with me He desires; holding me up, gripping my hand when I fall.  (Ps. 37:23-24)  So what is the requisite relationship between Him and me in order for all of this effort, this initiative by the Holy Spirit to really be happening and to have any value?  He must be able to speak to me.  He must be actively guiding, counseling, comforting me beyond just a feeling, otherwise my prayer would be a one-way conversation.

Honestly, I have struggled over the years with the idea that Father would speak to me, that He would actually respond to my question with an answer.  Even though there were several instances I seemed to sense Him helping me work through things, it just felt a little weird to talk about.  After all, who did I think I was?  I even recall a conversation early in my faith where I told a family member God tells me what to do in tough situations.  I received “that look” (you know, the “I’m getting worried” look) and a reply with the tone to match:  ”You mean you hear Him talking to you?”  In my fear and youth, I adjusted my story and said I meant He tells me through the Bible, much to their relief.

Why is it so uncomfortable to many to consider that the Holy Spirit wants to engage us like this, to actually have an open dialogue with our hearts and give us pointed, real help just like a trusted friend?  The only answer I can find is that it just feels too close.  The idea of that kind of intimacy chafes the sin still simmering in my flesh and revives that desire to hide from Him which overcame my father Adam so long ago.  But the Helper reminds, we can’t really hide from Father; after all, He is the God who made every part of us.  And when we try, we’re listening to the serpent again, choosing doubt over trust, fear over love, lies over truth, flesh over spirit.  I’ve made that choice innumerable times, and it never led me to anything good.

Even as Christians, sin lures us in, twisting every thing including the lens through which we understand ourselves, sucking us into the hopeless belief that God is still removed, that our destiny rests solely on us getting it right.  The lie is, if we don’t chase after Him, if we don’t measure up, we’ll be left behind, stranded, orphaned.  But Father gave every human being something no other creation received:  His image.  He gave us part of Himself.  The truth is, God’s after us.  He is determined to rescue us, and when we look to the promise of Jesus, the redemption is complete, but His work to restore us is just starting.

Does Father speak to us?  Of course He does!  But we may be asking the wrong question; maybe we ought to ask, can we hear Him?  If not, our flesh might be in the way, muffling His voice.  You see, He is never satisfied with us having knowledge or performing good works or even being forgiven. That’s just the beginning!  He wants all of you and yearns for the trust, the intimate conversation between Father and child.  He adores who you truly are, without the mud of sin, because He made you that way.  You’re His most wonderful creation; better than waterfalls and glaciers, more amazing than planets and galaxies, cooler than whales and zebras and ospreys, more beautiful than autumn leaves and sunsets.  We’re made especially to be the only ones who can live that close to His heart.  He’s joyful over your confession and your praise,  is pleased and works through your obedience and your love for others.  But He longs for you.

 

All Scripture taken from the New American Standard Bible (NASB)Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation

Except reference noted The Message taken from The Message (MSG)Copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson

The Way Things Are

“When God created gravity, was He just being mean?”

“Huh?  What do you mean?”

“Well, was He doing it to be mean to people?”

“No.  It’s just physics, right?  Just the way nature is.”

“Okay.  But, if some guy climbs up onto a skyscraper and jumps off, he’s gonna die, isn’t he?”

“Pretty much.  Splat!”

“But how could God just let him die like that?  How could a God of love let him die?”

“Well… I don’t see it as God’s fault, really.  I mean, the guy was just stupid, or crazy.”

“But everyone does stupid things sometimes, don’t we?  The guy just ignored the way things are.    He decided to live as if he could ignore the truth about gravity, and he died.  But like you said, that doesn’t make God evil or bad or mean, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, it’s the same way with Heaven and Hell. God’s told us a bunch of times, ‘Hey look, I want you with me, not in Hell!  I’ve already made a way for it to happen through Jesus; all you have to do to be with me is put your faith in Jesus, my son.  Just trust Him, trust what He did for you, and we’ll be good!’”

“I’m not gonna buy into that.  I mean, what kind of God would threaten to send me to Hell?  Not a God of love!”

“But it’s the same question, don’t you see?  Why did the guy who jumped off the building die?  Because God isn’t a God of love? No – we already agreed it was because he ignored the way things really were and decided to believe what wasn’t true instead.  The man who ends up going to Hell goes because he decides to ignore the way things are.”