Your One Broken Heart

What do we do with our pain? Some days, I swear that this world is nothing but pain. It’s in the air, the water, the dirt. We breath pain, eat grief. We humans bath in it from birth, from the moment when our raw skin first touches the air and the light burns our eyes. To live is to experience loss. To love, the deepest pain of all.

When I’m swimming there, in pain too deep for me to touch bottom, I know my need, it’s just that I can’t. I know what I should do, only it’s impossible. What I need is to let go of the struggle, to lay back and float free into Jesus. I know that it’s my fear of the deep that steals my breath, my lack of faith that tenses my every muscle and makes me heavy. And so, Christ whispers: “Let it all go. Let me and only me keep you from drowning. Breath me in and you can exhale and not sink. I’ll be your air. I’ll be the ground when your feet finally touch bottom.”

Somehow, sometimes, buried within this deepest kind of pain, are bits of joy, a kind of other worldly joy that bubbles through the veins when I don’t expect it. Fleeting, yes, faint at times and strong at others, it bleeds into me through a stray song lyric, through a soulful embrace from a friend, through beauty, prayers, poems and passion. To stop and bathe in that kind of joy is a rare thing. A taste of redemption.

And there in that dark place, punctuated by random bits of light, I wonder: What is life, really? Scripture says a vapor, a morning mist, soon to pass. Some days it seems that there is something behind the mist, a deeper mystery that I can almost make out, but it remains just out of reach. And so, I grasp for those things here that seem to touch the mystery, those things that are larger than my understanding. I try to transcend the mediocrity that living on this planet can be. Enduring love has an allure, for every honest heart, a fragrance of transcendence, because it’s so rare. For two people to choose each other for over sixty years as my parents did-that’s something to hold onto, an anchor in the mist. In this temporal, impatient and increasingly rude culture we live in, any kind of long term relationship feels almost unnatural. But sixty years? That feels like holy ground. I feel like taking off my shoes and bowing my head in the presence of such a miracle.

How vulnerable do I want to be here? Should I mention that my natural preferred state is isolation? My comfort zone, a bubble, a shell that I keep close to keep others at arm’s length? But I try. Sometimes, with a great deal of effort, I manage to reach out a tentative finger, and hope God takes note of my great “sacrifice”. I hope that he understands my heart and grades me on a curve.

In “The Broken Way”, Ann Voscamp asks it plainly: “ What do we do with our one broken heart?” And her answer, pared down to it’s core, equals just this: We give it away. We give our pain, our brokeness to each other and receive wholeness in return. Counterintuative doesn’t begin to describe this revelation. This is a hard way to swallow, a hard path to follow. Hard? For some of us, it’s like yanking out our own teeth. Why is it so absurdly hard to show our neediness? Even with God, it’s hard, and it’s not like he doesn’t already know. But with people? We used to do an object lesson sometimes when we taught Sunday School. Have a kid fall backwards and try not to catch himself. Have him trust us to catch him. It’s not natural. It feels like foolishness, like a little suicide, to let go and trust even a friend to catch you. What if they just stand back and laugh at your pain? Some will, you know. I’m sure some of you know all too well what that feels like. Why risk it?

I’ve got a bunch of notebooks and I keep losing them. Somehow, I keep losing the one I’m currently writing in. But, maybe there’s a reason. Because it makes me keep re writing this last bit. Maybe God just wants me to really grasp what he’s saying, making me write it down until I really understand.

Shortly after Mom died, I ordered the book I mentioned earlier, and shortly after it arrived, I had to take my wife to a doctor and a hospital lab for some tests. So I took my book along.

I’m sitting in a waiting room again, only a week after Mom left us all broken and empty in another waiting room. So, I’m pretty much hating hospitals right now. Most people you see in these rooms are not the most pleasant company. It’s just the nature of waiting rooms. Most are worried, or sad, or both. And I’m on the same page. I’m also trying to read the first couple pages of the book, which in my current state of mind, is almost a physically painful process. When you’re still wearing your own suffering, walking in it every moment, reading about someone else’s pain is enough to make you bawl, even in public. But, there’s this young woman who walks in with a little girl. A baby, really. A baby who has just reached that almost walking stage. An almost bald little girl, with pink shoes and a smile, if I may be so corny, a smile which lights up the room like a ray of sunlight in a dark, damp cave. She’s just learned to say “Hi!” and she’s using her new word on everyone. This child doesn’t yet know what a stranger is. And there in that moment, the joy bleeds through and the miracle happens. I find out later that Ann calls it koinonia- communion. But all I know right now is that all our sad faces are breaking, cracking into smiles. We really can’t help it. She doesn’t just give of her joy, she is joy. And so, I see Jesus in the flesh in a waiting room and feel the touch of the holy and it’s like God says: “See, this is who you can be, who you should be to a broken world.”

I haven’t read the book yet. I don’t yet know how I’m going to live with my one broken heart. So, God gives me a preview. How do you heal it? By giving it away. And it will come back to you. “A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap.” Luke 6:38

Puddleglums and Ragamuffins

He never really seemed to have much of a chance at life. His siblings hogged his food and pushed him away and his mother didn’t seem to care. He was smaller than the others, weaker, he had trouble even learning to walk. His joints were stiff and when he finally could walk, he looked like a little robot with his jerky movements. He should have died from loneliness if nothing else. But he just kept hanging on, refusing to give up his feeble fight for survival. We named him Puddleglum, the little lost ram lamb who was the runt of the litter. He’s still unhealthy. He could still die any day. (We took the name Puddleglum from one of C S Lewis’ novels. Puddleglum was a pessimistic Marshwiggle.)

Most of us love happy endings. My writing friend Franny always wants a pink bow at the end of every story. Really, who wants to read a book or watch a movie that just leaves you hanging? Who wants a story where the good guy never really seems to win the battle? But, sometimes reality for some people looks a lot like little Puddleglum’s life. They’re still holding on. But nothing has gotten better. It’s more about stubbornness than victory.

I love being near the water and I love sunsets, like most people do, I suppose. Several years ago, I finished the day’s work and just had one of those “gotta get away from it all” moments, so I drove down to the lake to a favorite sunset watching spot to be alone. But, wouldn’t you know it, someone was sitting on a blanket in my spot. I really was not happy. “C’mon, God, I just need a few moments of peace here.” I’m sure you never whine to God like that. But I’m not as spiritual as you are. Anyway, before I could get back in the truck, this woman sitting in my spot recognizes me and says “Hello.” Great, now I’m stuck. I can’t just ignore her, that would be rude, and I do kinda know her. I mean we went to church together, she hung out with my wife, had been at our house. So I go over and sit down a discreet distance away. After all, being married and all and wanting to be all proper and stuff, and golly, I mean, you don’t just plop down on a blanket next to a single woman at the beach. So I sit in the dirt. And we talk. Well, mostly she talks and I listen. I’m much better at listening than talking, see.

Her life hadn’t been easy, I’d known that before, but oh, my goodness, God, give this poor woman a break, will you? Bad enough she has a mental condition, mood swings, violent ones sometimes, bipolar I believe, but then her husband divorces her and re-marries and she barely gets to see her kid? You may be thinking, yes, but you’re only getting one side of the story. True enough. Living with her couldn’t have been easy. But the medication had started to work for her, and he did make a promise … But here’s the thing. Right in the middle of the complaints she says, “God is so good.” And talks about sunsets and beauty. In spite of everything in her Puddleglum, depressing existence, she didn’t blame God. She didn’t need me to tell her God cares, she knew that. This divine appointment, I believe, was just because she needed someone to listen without judging.

What do we do with the Puddleglums in our lives? We’ve all been there. But doesn’t it seem that some people are just stuck there continually? I’m reminded of those Christmas cards people send out, you know the ones:

“Johnny is a straight A student, Sally is going to the Olympics and Dad and Mom are on their second honeymoon and life is all peaches and cream.”

I’ve always wondered why nobody sends out blatantly honest Christmas cards that say: “Things aren’t so hot, the kids’ grades stink and the house is falling apart and Dad lost his job and Jimmy is in rehab again.”

I know we all want to look our best, but sometimes telling how bad things are isn’t complaining. It’s just honesty. But, perhaps you’re thinking: “What about thankfulness? Didn’t you do a post on that?” And you’re right, so right.

When you’re stuck in Puddleglum’s world, you have to be honest, but you also have to look around and say,

“Even if there isn’t any feed in the trough or hay in the mow, God is still good.”

David does this over and over again. If David had written in the modern vernacular his basic message might be: “God: life for me really stinks right now. I really wish you’d fix it. And quickly. But, I’m going to praise you anyway, because I know you really do love me.”

Job pretty much says the same thing.

You know, most of the time, we are the cause of our own troubles. But not always. Often others really are to blame. But when you’re tempted to blame God, remember He never said life would be easy.

Jesus said: “In this world you will have trouble. ” John 16:33

No ifs, ands or buts. And tomorrow may be better. But it may be worse. The only guarantee is that God won’t leave us. We can leave Him, but He’ll still be there waiting for us to come to our senses.

Fortunately, we’re all going to die. Fortunately? I know that sounds like a joke. “Life is hard and then you die.” But, really, if you’re ready, dying isn’t such a bad thing. Not that you should be in a hurry to get there. When you think about it, even if you live to be 100, life is still extremely short. You might not feel that way now, but trust me, once you get past 40, the months feel like days and the years like months.

Puddleglum’s and Ragamuffins are often some of the most interesting people. Brennan Manning said he wrote The Ragumuffin Gospel for “The bent and bruised who feel their lives are a grave disappointment to God” and for “anyone who has grown weary and discouraged along the Way.” We can’t all be Pollyannas and that’s okay. God, I think, would prefer honesty. But, we melancholy types need the optimists in our lives too, to balance us out. At the least, we need to read books by organized, optimistic people now and then.

I suppose I have a special empathy for those with infirmities because our first child was born with a leg length difference. Through many miracles of God and the use of modern medicine, her legs are nearly even now. I have no doubt that those trials had something to do with her tendency to be drawn to and try to help the broken people of the world.

I’m not the farmer in the family, although I was raised on a farm. A good farmer would have disposed of Puddleglum by now. He’s likely never going to be healthy breeding stock and the last thing we need is a half crippled ram. But, I have to root for the underdog. It’s important to believe the downtrodden can prosper. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Matt. 5:3

I doubt any of us want to be poor in spirit. We want to be full and happy and prosperous, but Jesus seems to be saying that being a spiritual beggar is what will bring you close to Him. So, we are right back to humility. (See “Too Much Pride.”)

One thing Puddleglums and Ragamuffins have in abundance is neediness. They recognize that they are spiritual beggars and don’t deserve for God to fill their storehouses to overflowing. Look at David. Sometimes the Psalms get a bit confusing. Sometimes David sounds down right schizophrenic. I mean one moment he is whining about his enemies being at every side and asking why God has forsaken him, the next he’s praising God for his faithfulness. One minute he’s groaning about eating ashes and the next he’s dancing before God in his Fruit of the Looms. I’m pretty sure David was a Pentecostal rather than a Presbyterian. But I’m getting off track. Where was I? Oh, right, David understood his neediness just fine while he wandered in the wilds. It was only after being made King that he got to thinking maybe he deserved something that he’d never earned. Like his neighbor’s wife. I’m not sure what David would have done with Puddleglum the ram lamb, but I’m pretty sure being David’s sheep would have been better than being his enemy. I think David understood that “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,” but he had no problems with helping the Lord bring His vengeance on his enemies.

But you have to appreciate his honesty. David didn’t put a smiley face on when he prayed. He just laid it all out there, but at the same time his groaning would morph into praise even in the worst of times.

There’s an old country song called “Plastic Jesus.” There is some debate as the authorship, but a guy named Ernie Marrs of the Gold Coast singers is sometimes credited with the original verses. Just to give you a taste:

When I’m in a traffic jam

He don’t care if I say “damn”

I can let all my curses roll

Plastic Jesus doesn’t hear

‘Cause he has a plastic ear

The man who invented plastic saved my soul

Yes, it’s a very sarcastic song, but it makes its point. Sometimes we treat Him like a little figurine on our dashboard, a good luck charm that we can take out of our pocket only when we want a blessing. Plastic Jesus has a pleasant permanent smile frozen on his plastic face and never chastises us for our road rage. Plastic Jesus might be convenient, but He’s not real and He can’t speak to our hearts like the real one.

God with us – Immanuel- is both friend and confident and judge. Both completely able to emphasize with our trials and completely above and beyond our comprehension. Because a God you can put in your pocket can’t save you or convict you. You need someone who can cry with you and correct you. Totally there and totally other. Fully human and fully God. The God of Puddleglums and Ragamuffins must be small enough to fit in your heart and big enough to fill the universe.

To Him be all glory and honor forever, Amen.

Can People Change?

This is probably a question everyone asks sooner or later. “Are we all just stuck with being who we are, warts and all, or is change possible?”

You know how it goes. Maybe you make New Year’s resolutions and break them the first week. Those of us with a few years on us start to see patterns in our lives where we have missed the mark pretty consistently in some area or the other and wonder if those patterns can be remade into something new and better.

We watched a movie a couple weeks ago: “16 Blocks” (with Bruce Willis) and this seemed to be the central question the film was asking. In fact, Bruce states quite emphatically early on in the movie that people don’t change. He plays a bad cop living with guilt of the choices he’s made and self medicating himself with booze. And yet, when faced with the choice of looking the other way as his fellow bad cops execute a witness, something snaps in his mind and he finally takes a stand. It seems there are some lines he is not willing to cross. And although his ex-partner insists that there are no such lines, most of us have them, I think. We may draw them in different places then someone else, but we like to believe that when push comes to shove, we’ll do the right thing. We believe there is some standard of right and wrong. And as C.S. Lewis said, when you’re arguing what that standard is, very rarely does the other guy say “To hell with your standard.” Instead, he tries to convince you that his standard is the correct one.

But, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. When we fail to live up to our own standard, what do we typically do? We determine to do better next time. The Apostle Paul talked about this “What I do not want to do, that I do.” There is some debate whether Paul was talking about himself as an unregenerate individual in that verse, or even in some sense identifying with the Israelites and how they had strayed away from God so many times. But, the most direct reading of the verse is Paul talking about himself, as a believer, still struggling with doing what was right.

We’ve probably all met people who just don’t seem to care one way or another. Perhaps they have really reached a point where they are so hardened that they have no conscience, but I think in most cases, it’s some kind of defense mechanism against what they know to be right, but can’t seem to live up to. Like the person who you invite to church, and they say:

“Surely, I’d be struck by lightning if I walked through those doors.”

As if God is done with them, as if they’ve sinned so bad He can’t forgive them. Can that person change? Or are the fates just set against them? Are they just a cautionary tale for others? Worse, did God put them here for that purpose? Actually, some Christians seem to believe exactly that, although they might not say it out loud. To put it more pointedly, are some people pre-chosen for ultimate destruction and there’s nothing they can do about it?

John Calvin thought so, following Augustine’s lead. There are a couple of extreme views on this. On one side you have Pelagius, who supposedly believed man could avoid sin by the strength of his will and live a holy life. On the other side was Augustine, who, at least in arguing against Pelagius, seemed to end up saying that some are fated to be sinners and others saints from birth, while also maintaining that even the saints need grace, and can not avoid sinning by willing themselves not to. (The last part few Protestants or Catholics would argue against today.)

Keep in mind that when this argument was going on, Protestant churches did not exist, and also included in this whole controversy was whether or not infant baptism was needed. Anyway, some, such as John Wesley, thought that Pelagius, who ended up being branded a heretic, got a bad rap, and his teachings were just misunderstood by some in the church. But, regardless, my first question is: Did you ever meet anyone who could live up to Pelagius’ ideal of a sinless human being? Me either, although I met some who seem to believe they are sinless. And second, does God just zap some people with faith and make them “saints” and refuse to zap others, so they are condemned to hell from birth? If either of these are true, why does scripture encourage us to have faith and increase our faith, and why does God get upset with people sinning if He fated them to do it?

Ok, so I’m a theology geek, but I’m going somewhere here. How does this all tie in to our question: If you want to truly change, is it possible? And how?

Sure, sheer force of will can do a lot. Some decide to work out everyday and actually stick with it. (Probably because they find they actually start to enjoy it, but regardless…) Some do stick to their diets and lost weight. I decided to quit drinking Mountain Dew cold turkey and so far, so good. (Hey, I like to aim high!) It’s only been a couple weeks though.

But, but, an honest reading of scripture will not lead you to rely on your own will power. Good grief, no, that’s a recipe for failure. In fact, what God keeps saying is to give up your will and seek His. This obviously isn’t God zapping you with faith, or you gritting your teeth and trying harder, rather, it’s surrender. It’s admitting you need to lean on Him for everything.

Any improvement in any relationship takes effort, though. Which brings us to prayer. I’ve been trying to be more deliberate about praying. More specific. No hurried grocery list of requests presented to God as if He were a genie looking to fulfill my every wish. It seems that real prayers start with praise, and giving ourselves back to Him, and getting in line with what He wants, before we ever get to the asking.

The picture on my computer screen is currently my parents wedding photo. It’s a strange thing to see your parents as young lovers looking forward to a life together. It brings to mind just how quickly life goes by and how often it doesn’t turn out as we expected or wanted. My parent’s generation definitely had something that I think this generation too often lacks. I know, I know, it’s tempting to look back at the good old days as if things were perfect then. Well, they weren’t. And really, people were not less sinful. But, in general, it seems to me that they had guts. Guts that we often lack. I don’t know how to say it plainer or better than that.

When you have a tough job in front of you, whether it’s raising kids of baling hay, or just going to work at the same place everyday, you have a choice. You can whine and complain all the way or you can face it with grit and determination and humor. The big thing now seems to be authenticity. The kids, and to me twenty somethings are kids, don’t want to be fakers. They don’t want to say one thing and do another. They want to live what they believe. No more going to a job you hate just to put food on the table. They want to change the world and bring social justice and well, be real.

And that’s good. Well, to a point. Because in real life, what you’ll find is that in every job, even if you love it, there is something you hate. And authenticity can also be used as an excuse. “I don’t feel like working today.” Well, guess what, we all had those days too, but it never did pay any bills to be a slacker. So, we slogged through a lot of days we would just as soon forget. I know this is starting to sound like I’m putting down the younger generation. And that’s not where I’m going, although there is a problem with the work ethic of many. There are also many young people who are getting it done and choosing to enjoy their work.

How about this one: “I don’t feel like praying today.” That might be totally authentic. But, I think God would say that not feeling like praying is a first rate reason to pray more. The less you pray, the less you’ll feel like praying and the reverse is also true, the more you pray, the more you will want to.

But I keep forgetting about that person who isn’t so sure prayer works anyway, or that God even gives a rip about them. After all, if He cares, why doesn’t he fix this mess of a world that He made? (If you even believe He made it.) It’s hard to believe by looking around you, I’ll admit that, but that war has already been won. The fix has already come with the cross. But the battles are not over. Because God has decided to work through His people, instead of just zapping all the sinners, it’s going to be one bloody battle after another until all His enemies are under His feet. There are two opposite and equally wrong notions out there. One is a kind of deist view of God where He sits back and just lets everything happen without raising a hand, as He lets the world destroy itself. A lot of end times theology gets bogged down here. A kind of helpless shrug: “Oh, well, it’s all going to hell in a hand basket, but God will remake it all in the end, so we’ll just sit in our bunker and wait for the second coming.” The other extreme is God ordaining all our sin as well as all the good and just moving all the pieces on the chess board. This leads to the same shrug: “Whatever will be will be, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Reality is a lot more complicated than that. We are told that prayer really does change things.

“When a righteous person prays, that prayer carries great power. Elijah was a man with passions like ours, and he prayed and prayed that it might not rain-and it did not rain on the earth for three years and six months. Then he prayed again, the sky gave rain, and the earth produced it’s fruit.” (James 5:16-18 Kingdom New Testament)

We are told in Ephesians that we are in a war and need to put our armor on and the “shield of faith so we can extinguish the firey darts of the evil one.”

How do you put on your armor if not by prayer? All this might sound overly dramatic, especially if you aren’t a believer, but isn’t it what we intuitively know the world to be? Most of us don’t have to be told that our nature contains both light and darkness, that we are capable of great good or great evil. It’s obvious to anyone who pays attention to their own conflicting desires.

So, what made Elijah so special, that his prayers could change the weather? According to James, nothing. He was just a man like us. He sure wasn’t perfect. He was passionate for God at times and passionate about saving his own skin at other times. He had great faith and he doubted. Sound like anyone you know? But when he was all in, when he was on fire, his prayers changed things. (And brought literal fire from heaven.) Again, according to James, your prayers, like his, have great power. Do you believe that? Really? Do you think your prayers could change the weather? The world? How about your own heart? Probably not, if they are only mumbled lists of the stuff you’d like God to give you.

The trouble with talking like this is that some of you are going: “Who does this guy think he is?” Or “I know this guy, and he ain’t nothing special, certainly no spiritual giant.” That’s ok, and you are totally correct. In fact, it’s actually much worse then that, and I mostly write this stuff for myself and then, with great fear and trembling, post it on the ‘net, because there is one chance in a million that it might actually help someone.

Fortunately, Jesus gives us an example of how we should pray. I don’t think the idea here was to just repeat the “Lord’s Prayer” over and over, but to give an idea of the shape our prayers are supposed to take.

“Our Father, in heaven, hallowed be your name.”

Praise comes first, thanking God for who he is, putting ourselves in the proper place. He’s Holy and perfect, we aren’t.

“Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven”

His kingdom hasn’t fully come yet, it hasn’t taken over everything, there is still a bloody battle raging. I want your kingdom, God, send your kingdom, defeat the kingdoms raised against you…” His will isn’t being done everywhere, obviously, so we pray for it to advance, and we align ourselves with His will. It’s hard to go wrong if you pray for things you know He wants to accomplish. What would this world look like if His will was always done here?

“Give us our daily bread.”

We’re finally asking for something we need, but notice it’s what we need, not everything we want, necessities, not extravagance. Now, I don’t think it’s always wrong to pray for stuff, but everything in moderation….

“Forgive us our sins.”

Wait, you mean believers sin? Ok, I’m not going there, but apparently Jesus expected them to sin now and then, like every day, and need forgiveness. Seems like it couldn’t hurt to pray for forgiveness, even if we think we haven’t done anything wrong.

“As we forgive those who sin against us.”

Do we? If we don’t, how can He forgive us?

“Deliver us from the evil one.”

He’s real. This is a real battle, we have to pray for deliverance. And get specific about it. Deliver me from…pride, fear, lust, whatever it happens to be. Make us Victors over evil, Jesus.

“Yours is the kingdom.”

Again, invoking His kingdom over your little domain, and over the big stuff, too, whether it’s your cancer, your cold or your children.

“And the power and the glory, forever, Amen.”

Transform this world with your power, God, with your Glory, advance your kingdom, bring more people into your fold, break the power of darkness and send the demons back to hell. And when we pray in Jesus’ name, it’s not just a neat ribbon to tie things up. His name is where the power is, because of the cross, His name is what shuts up the enemy.

Like I said before, the trouble with writing “religious” posts is that someone might think that I think I’m some spiritual guru. But, it’s not like that. We are all on a journey that is taking us closer to truth and to God or further away from Him and His truth. You might be way farther down that road then me, but that’s not the question here. It’s not so much where you are on the journey. But if you’re on the right road.

And getting on the right road isn’t near as difficult as some make it out to be. Jesus said that if you seek you’ll find, if you knock the door will be opened to you. Only it’s not going to happen if you’re running in the wrong direction as fast as you can. If I had said at the beginning of the post, that, yes ,people can change and change can last, and prayer is the way there, it might have sounded a bit like a nice motivational poster, but I hope I’ve explained enough that it’s more then that when I say it here at the end.

You can’t earn change, you can’t really get there by the sheer strength of your will, and most of us have tried that. But you can accept the change that comes with constant communication with the Change Maker.

Humility is not Self-Hatred

It’s almost spring and the weather is on a rollor coaster. I’m sitting in the sunlight on the back porch, but the fires are still hot in the wood stoves. Because you can’t trust the weather to remain warm for long. Kind of like my relationship with God. Get close to the warmth, drift away, become distant and cold and work hard to get warm again. Kind of like a marriage.

But, the funny thing is, God doesn’t change, He just goes on being Himself. He just goes on being a “good, good father” regardless of what we do. He just goes on loving, even when we pull away. We get this wrong, because we get scared, or we get weak, or we can’t see the forest for the trees, because we get in the way. It usually goes something like this: “I’m a total screw-up, surely God must hate me.”

News flash: Self loathing isn’t humility. Now, yes, I know, we are supposed to hate our sin. But, do you suppose that the saying “Hate the sin but love the sinner.” only applies to others? It seems to me that a lot of self hatred comes from things that are beyond our control. You think you ought to be able to make someone love you the way you love them, and when they don’t, you blame yourself. Or, you get beat down and abused for years and one day decide to quit being walked on. Or you throw your whole life into raising your kids and they hardly want anything to do with you anymore, so you blame yourself. I could go on and on. If you haven’t had any of these experiences, or any like them, chances are you know someone who has and struggles with self hatred because of them. What is it with casting blame and why does it matter so much to us whose fault something really is? Maybe because we really don’t forgive others or ourselves near as easy as we pretend to?

But God does, regardless of our human tendency to believe otherwise. Because we know He is holy, blameless and perfect, we wonder how he can not blame us for being so messed up so much of the time. We forget. He was the one who tore the veil away from the holy of holies. The One who invites us close, not shying from our stains, who throws His arms around the manure-smelling prodigal and kisses him.

What do you suppose it feels like to be kissed by God? Perhaps you already know.

The sunlight has chilled already, and I grow impatient for the heat.

We hold Him at arm’s length for what seems to us to be the best of reasons, because we know just how dirty we are in comparison to His righteousness. We forget that Jesus touched lepers and still does. That He gathered grubby children to Him, that He touched a corpse, for goodness sake, totally taboo for a Rabbi. But He didn’t care, because He came to heal the broken hearted and give good news to the captives. The only people that tick Him off are the self-righteousness, those who suppose they have all their religious ducks in a row, that think they have it all together. If you think you have to have it all together to approach Him, you’re finished before you start. Look at the men that Jesus gathered around Him, listen to them whine throughout the gospels, vying for position, missing the point so often and yet , and yet, they were the ones He chose, knowing all their many faults. Fishermen, the rough blue collar crew of the day, a tax collector (traitor to his own people) even a Zealot (anarchist). He didn’t go to the church and pick out followers from the elders and pastors. Oh, that’s right, those are the people who set Him up to be crucified. That’s not a slam against pastors and elders, but it should make us pause and wonder about our tendency to put people into categories. Sometimes those who become saints don’t come in the packages we expect, and sometimes the worst sinners look the way we think saints should look.

It makes you wonder who Jesus would pick as His inner circle today. God is not respecter of persons. He doesn’t love Ma Teresa more then He loved Hitler. Try wrapping your mind around that. Those who are His enemies choose to be, and I know that’s a complicated subject, but God’s love doesn’t have limits. His patience does. He said  2“I have spread out My hands all day long to a rebellious people, Who walk in the way which is not good, following their own thoughts…(Isaiah 65) He punished those who rejected His love, and yet, He still brought salvation to others, through their descendants. Using even rejection to spread His love to the whole world. And still today, so many provoke Him to His face, and He delays His judgment.

“There is no more Greek or Jew, no more slave or free, there is neither male nor female.”(Galations 3:28) All who accept His grace are one in Christ. There’s an old saying that the ground is level at the foot of the cross. No one gets more of Jesus simply because of who they are. The one who seeks finds, to him who knocks, the door is opened. The problem is, we don’t seek enough. We don’t knock hard enough.

I think I understand why people became Monks, why some lived in total solitude in order to focus on God. After all, it’s other people who tick us off, who disgust and annoy and hurt us. Take away all the distractions of humanity and you can feel pretty holy. Well, assuming we also rid ourselves of all other distractions and temptations. It’s a great idea, but only for awhile.

Moses and Jesus went to the wilderness to be alone, to escape and in Jesus’ case, to be tempted. But, they came back. Honestly, sometimes I want to go to the wilderness and stay. People can be so annoying, but the problem is, that goes for me to. I’m perfectly capable of annoying myself.

We can’t go anywhere that God isn’t and we can’t run from ourselves, so what are we to do? Fortunately, He extends more grace to us then we do to ourselves. And this might sound odd in light of my last post about pride. Because isn’t this self-hatred we are talking about the opposite of pride? Well, no, not really. Self-forgetfulness is closer to being pride’s opposite. Self hatred is still focused on self.

“If there be any virtue, if there be any praise, think on these things.” What things are we thinking on, when we become self despisers? And who is feeding us those thoughts? It’s not so hard to figure out. Where does self-hatred take you? Depression? Sickness? Suicide? There is a huge difference between genuine guilt that leads to repentance and condemnation that leads only to the pit. One leads you to God and the other leads you to shove Him away. One is God’s gentle nudge and the other is Satan’s mocking shout.

Rule of thumb, if I can’t find the words to say what I’m trying to say, C S Lewis has probably already said it. Besides, quoting Lewis just makes one sound so scholarly.

“Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less.”

That sums it up nicely, I think. To become so infatuated with Jesus that one’s self becomes an after thought, that’s a worthy goal.

Too Much Pride

 

Common as dirt; as old as sin
The road to ruin, again and again
Oh, how many dreams have bloomed and died
Too much pride

How many heavens are hopelessly lost?
How many tender loves has vanity cost?
Lord, help the soul that can’t be satisfied
Too much pride

( Don Henley)

Writing is sometimes easier with music in the back round. I prefer folk/gospel, and the soundtrack for this post were songs like “Poor Wayfaring Stranger” and “Over in the Gloryland”, songs to keep the mind relaxed and the creative juices flowing and help the words meet the page.

All sin is the sin of Eve. The arrogance to place one’s self over God, to take what He has told us is death and destruction, instead of resting in his loving provision. All sin is ungratefulness.

“There must be more. God’s holding out on you.” The old snake whispers. “Drink the magic potion of rebellion and become wise, become something more then a mere human.” But the potion turns sour in the stomach and sickens the soul. It pulls us back into our worse selves, mires our feet, quells the desire to be farther up the road where Beulah land begins to peek through the clouds.

Just like the snake, we sneer. “I’m just roaming to and fro, doing my own thing.” and God whispers: “Child, why do you still long for that bitter gall, that Judas dipped sop, that forbidden, wormy fruit? I have so much more for you, if you would only open those fists, and lower that proud head.”

And we long and we long and we want and we want and we strive, for what? For the Glory land, or for the ashes of sin on our skin, for whitewashed tombs of dead bones? Wandering through this world, clutching burdens we don’t have to carry, because we don’t trust that He has our best at the center of His heart, in the place where He wills us to be. How can we believe that we know better then He? Then the One who longs to ease our pain, to shoulder our burdens, to bear our grief?

Time moves on and the raw music of life in this valley of shadows wears at the edges of our souls. But, listen close to the hissing snow fall, listen with a child’s ear, shrink until you can roll down the rabbit hole of faith once again and hear angel’s wings in the snow fall and holy laughter on the wind.

Life is a surprise, a gift, though often messy with pain mixed with the joy. Usually, we don’t really see the light until we’ve been touched by the dark. Oh, we could once, as children. We could embrace each day’s treasure then. It came naturally to our innocent souls.

Now, He has to shape us with pain, sometimes chosen by our own stubborn souls, sometimes sown into us by others. So often we only seem able to know what we have when we are in danger of losing it. If one person in this world loves you unconditionally, you are wealthy, blessed beyond what many have known. Yet, we so take for granted those who love us. Do we think it’s deserved on the basis of our supposed goodness? Do we accept embraces as anything but grace? Or praise as anything but love unmerited? Do we thank God for the ability to press a computer key, move a finger or a limb, see beauty or write poetry? Do we even know what gratefulness looks like?

All sin is ungratefulness. All good flows from thanksgiving, from giving of God’s abundance, passing on a crumb of what he bestows graciously on His children. And how do we receive gratefully?

How do we began to open eyes blinded by the serpent who disguises himself as an angel of light? The answer is so counter intuitive that we blink and laugh. Become a child again. Because “Jesus Loves the Little Children” isn’t just a cute song.

“Truly, I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself as this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. (Matt. 18:3-4)

Humility? That’s it? That’s the secret? But we want to do big things, we want to be Saints and warriors and leaders and stand head and shoulders above the crowd and lead a great throng into Zion. And Jesus says, “Kneel low and wash dirty, smelly feet.” Jesus says, “Become a slave.”

You mean, all this time, that woman working quietly to prepare food in the Church basement may have been greater then the pastor? That making a child smile may have been every bit as important as leading a Billy Graham Crusade? Can we even wrap our minds around that, we who put so much stock in microphones and mega-churches, in bank accounts and the praise of men?

Our default mode is puffing ourselves up, craving praise and recognition and Jesus says: “Humility.” Thankfulness for the small. For a scrap of bread and a bit of meat. For the chance to hold a hand or hug a neck without needing anything in return.

It’s hard to fathom, because it’s not the way our world works. Here, we revere the spotlight, but He praises the humble and gives the earth to the meek. But, haven’t you noticed? The more you insist on your own way, the more miserable you become.

All sin is pride. But-but, didn’t I say all sin was ungratefulness? Well, yes, but from whence does pride spring if not from an ungrateful, withered heart?

Pride, that great purple onion that irritates the eyes of all who see it, in you, in me. Peel back the layers and find what it is that makes it so difficult to just let it rot away. Somewhere in there, I think you’ll find pure, unadulterated fear. Fear of others, not fear of God. Fear of being found out, of being found wanting, found to be less then enough, weak and needy. How foolish can we be? What are we afraid of, we who have God on our side?

“Perfect Love casts out fear.” God’s agape love already covers your fear, if you will only kneel to accept it. And we are beginning to see that all sin is also a refusal to worship, to bow the knee, to acknowledge we don’t have it all together, that we need help and are poor, blind and oh, so needy. The humble will be exalted and those who exalt themselves will be brought low.

There’s the irony: When you try so hard to make yourself large, your soul becomes small. And when fear drives you to arrogance, your fears come true and you are exposed for what you are, because as the song says: “Sooner of later, God’s gonna cut you down.”

C.S. Lewis imagined all of hell fitting into a small crack under the floor of heaven. Because when we finally become nothing but self, we shrink to fit into our withered souls. That irony again, when we accept our smallness and weakness, He can help us grow larger, large enough to walk in the solid reality of Glory.

“It’s the slowest form of suicide. Too much pride.”

The Reality of another Reality

We think heaven is far away. It’s a strange, Western concept, but we think we are the enlightened ones, who have finally put superstitions behind us. Even those of us who claim to believe are a bit hazy on the spirit world. Sure, we claim to believe it’s out there somewhere, but I think we believe in it like we believe nice cliche’s and enjoy pleasant ideas, in the abstract, not as cold, hard reality. Our perception is hazy, our vision so my-optic, that we see this world, this material universe around us as the true reality. Popular concepts of heaven are people as disembodied spirits floating on clouds strumming harps for eternity. Not only does it sound kind of vague, it sounds boring. Scripture tells another story.

Revelation 21:¹⁸ And the building of the wall thereof was jasper: and the city was pure gold, like unto pure glass.

¹⁹ The foundations of the wall of the city were adorned with all manner of precious stones. The first foundation was jasper; the second, sapphire; the third, chalcedony; the fourth, emerald;

²⁰ the fifth, sardonyx; the sixth, sardius; the seventh, chrysolite; the eighth, beryl; the ninth, topaz; the tenth, chrysoprase; the eleventh, jacinth; the twelfth, amethyst.

²¹ And the twelve gates were twelve pearls; each one of the several gates was of one pearl: and the street of the city was pure gold, as it were transparent glass.

John describes a city coming to earth from heaven, a real place, in vivid detail, not all cloud and rainbows, but solid stones. All my reading lately has pointed in this direction: The reality is, this world we live in, is not the ultimate reality. “Appointments with Heaven” By Reggie Anderson and “Miracles” by Eric Metaxas tell of people who have seen the other side, or felt it in a tangible way, who have experienced things unexplainable in a solely materialistic universe, unexplainable by science and human reason, but quite logical if there is a real dimension within arms reach of us at all times, but only masked from our vision by our inability to see it. It’s not out there, in a galaxy far, far away. It collides with this earth that we know and we all get bored with, and one day it will change and engulf this world, in the ultimate make-over, turning all we know into a new, more potent, more real reality.

As an old hymn says: “Cast your eyes upon Jesus, look full in His wonderful face. And the things of this earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace.”

Why is virtual reality so popular? Why do we spend hours on our computers, arguing with people we have never met? Why do we zone out in front of the T.V. or netflix, watching fiction? I’m not here to condemn anyone for these things. I’m talking primarily to myself. There is something that draws us to a fantasy world, where people can do things that people in this world can’t really do. I like superhero stories as much or more then the next person. I used to be a big comic book reader when I was younger. There is something that draws me to stories where the characters are put in seemingly impossible situations and somehow manage to find their way out. Somehow, someway, the hero will triumph, and if he doesn’t, well, we get pretty ticked off. The hero is supposed to become something more then seems humanly possible. By having enough gumption and enough guts, he will overcome whatever the bad guys throw at him, do the impossible and defeat evil. It’s interesting that although atheists and agnostics have become more vocal in our culture, and although their beliefs or lack of beliefs, make the whole notion of evil nonsense, popular culture is full of the notion that evil is real and that good will overcome it. That’s the good part, but the trouble is, we are not often shown the truth, that evil can’t be defeated by being tougher and meaner and stronger. We don’t triumph over evil by gaining superpowers from some bizarre accident, as is the case with almost every superhero movie. We only win by giving up our supposed strengths, and dropping our self reliance at the feet of the One who was pierced on account of the evil within us. Ultimately the greatest enemy we face is the one in the mirror. To walk in the light, we first have to let God snuff out the darkness inside us. This is the road to reality, not embracing a cynical viewpoint that says there is nothing beyond the material world around us, but by understanding that we live now in the shadow lands, in a place where the overflow of heaven only occasionally breaks through and shows us a greater, truer Reality.

Backing up a bit, it’s amazing how much we in America are obsessed with magic, with spiritualism and the supernatural. People crave something more then the evidence of their senses. Let’s face it, materialism is boring. We know, on some level, somehow, that we are more then the sum of our physical existence, more then flesh and blood. We want to be superman, because superman is at least a god with a little “g”, and he at least, can fix some of the bad stuff and make it good.

But, we can’t, and this is where, to repeat myself, we need to understand, we are not superman. We are not saviors, we are the ones in need of saving, and that’s why we crave escape , into a fantasy world, into a virtual reality that makes us feel powerful. Because we fail to see the simple truth that there is a greater Reality swirling around us every day. God is constantly calling us to put down our distractions and focus on Him. To see that what we see isn’t the ultimate reality. He pierced the veil, he stepped out of that greater, more real Reality, into these shadow lands. He became less to make us more.

In every superhero story, a man or woman puts his or her life on the line to defeat evil, to right the wrongs in the world, to save people who can’t save themselves. We love these stories because they are all pale shadows of THE story, the one true “Myth” that all the smaller myths point to. In the greater, truer Reality, the only One who had the power to save us, became the most helpless of us, a baby, and was born in a barn, born to die for a lost and dying race. When He died, the curtain between the material world we see and the heaven we usually don’t see was torn, and Reality has been seeping through ever since. Sometimes, some people get obvious miracles and the rest of us are jealous.  But, perhaps the only reason the rest of us don’t see the light seeping through, is that the prince of this world is so good at finding ways to distract us, to turn our eyes away from the only One that matters and focus them on our selfish desires. Unfortunately, the darkness is seeping through, also, and almost no one who reads the news or pays attention to the hurting people all around denys that darkness.

But, maybe you’re a skeptic. Maybe, you think what I just said above is bunk. But, I have to wonder if part of you wants it to be true. Because whether you know it or not, eternity is planted in your soul and you long for the chance to be more. More then an animal, more then the sum of your DNA. In the words of Nichole Nordeman’s song:

But what if you’re wrong?
What if there’s more?
What if there’s hope you never dreamed of hoping for?
What if you jump?
And just close your eyes?
What if the arms that catch you, catch you by surprise?
What if He’s more than enough?

What do you really have to lose by jumping?

Christmas should snap us out of our lethargy, but so often it only adds to the confusion, because we have made it something it was never meant to be. “There is no peace on earth.” We say. “Just look at this mess we’re in. Hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth,  good will toward men.”

But, don’t you long for peace?

“Then pealed the bells more load and sweet, God is not dead, nor doth He sleep.”

Don’t despair, God is not dead. The situation is not hopeless. But, he died. For you. Which is why:

“The wrong shall fail, the right prevail.” Not because you’re strong enough to defeat the wrong, but because He already did. And, if you only have eyes to see, that peace is available to you. No matter what you’ve done this year, no matter who you’ve hurt. There’s no one you’ve hurt more then Him and He is waiting to forgive. But you have to mean it. There’s no faking. No false good intentions will do. You think you’ve sinned too much, been too bad, lost your way for too long? Reality is, He already carried all those things you did, so let them go. They were all worthless, all striving for empty tombs of dead bones that you thought were alive, that you thought were real. Experience peace on earth, as it is in heaven. Let heaven bleed through the veil and cleanse your soul this Christmas.

 

Everybody’s Dying

“Everybody’s dying.” she said.

Yes, I thought. People who we somehow thought would always be here. People who showed kindness or spoke truth to our younger souls. People who gave us pieces of ourselves.

But, in a bigger sense, everybody is dying, everyone I see, everyone you see, even the babies. We are born with the seeds of death within. We’re all dying: it’s not optional or escapable or far away, no matter how we try to ignore it.

27And inasmuch as it is appointed for men to die once and after this comes judgment… Hebrews 9:27.

Goodness, do we really need to go there? A judging God is so passe in today’s progressive Christianity, such a downer. Can’t we just focus on grace and love and all the good stuff? That judgement stuff is so Old Testament. Well, I hate to break it to you, but Jesus talked about judgment and hell a lot. If you’re uncomfortable with the topic, you might want to take it up with Him. 

Well, maybe you can convince God you don’t deserve it. Say something like: “I wasn’t such a bad guy. Never cheated on my wife, never robbed a bank, never murdered anyone. Never cheated on my taxes, um, much.”

Of course, there are those inconvenient verses where Jesus says: ” If you thought it, you did it, man.” Not in quite those exact words: see Matthew 9:27 for example. Ever lusted? Uh-huh, don’t even try to weasel out of that one, I don’t even believe you and you think you’re gonna convince God?

Good luck with that.

Romans 2:5 But because of your stubbornness and your unrepentant heart, you are storing up wrath against yourself for the day of God’s wrath, when his righteous judgment will be revealed. 6God “will repay each person according to what they have done.”^a 7To those who by persistence in doing good seek glory, honor and immortality, he will give eternal life. 8But for those who are self-seeking and who reject the truth and follow evil, there will be wrath and anger. 9There will be trouble and distress for every human being who does evil: first for the Jew, then for the Gentile; 10but glory, honor and peace for everyone who does good: first for the Jew, then for the Gentile. 11For God does not show favoritism.

You got any idea how we’re going to get out of this? Because it ain’t looking so good.

James 1:8If we say that we have no sin, we are deceiving ourselves and the truth is not in us. 9If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

I don’t know about you, but I plan to point to the fact, that in spite of messing up over and over again, I did drop my stubbornness and embrace the truth over and over again. I plan to plead the blood of Christ spilled on my behalf, not any merit of my own. We’re all dying, but we’re all going to live again too. The good news is, you get to choose where.

I wrote this awhile ago, but haven’t found a post that it fits until now:

You’ve ridden this spinning planet for a few more seasons than I.

And I wonder, do you still love fireflies?

Does the cry of the geese early in the autumn sky still tear at your heart?

Are there still far off places you long to see?

Do you stand on the edge of a thunderstorm and feel the moist wind whisper your name?

Do you long to be swept away to new adventures, though your body is too frail?

Has time left you full or empty?

Had loss hardened your heart of softened it?

Do you awake after midnight and tear away the scabs on your soul and touch those tender spots, because even pain is better then forgetting?

Do you cry when there is no one to see?

Do you look into the eyes of a child and see the hope of tomorrow?

Do you already feel her pain and would you take it upon yourself if you could, and give her only sunrises and flowers?

Has time imparted wisdom or confusion?

Do the dreams you’ll never see matter to you now?

Do past sins still echo in empty places in your heart, or has the blood washed them clean?

If you stack the questions in neat, tidy rows or lay them end to end, they still only form one in the end. Have you heard? “Come unto me, all you who are weak and heavy laden.”

Good Lord, that covers the lot of us, doesn’t it?

And even though man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward, those sparks are but fireflies if you know Him.

And you can dance into eternity’s dawn.

Dance with the fireflies forever, where summer never ends.

 

Are You Comfortably Numb?

This morning, I heard this Pink Floyd song on the radio, and it occurred to me that maybe “Comfortably Numb” isn’t just about getting stoned. Maybe “Comfortably Numb” is really about how  we develop self numbing defense mechanisms to deal with life and about how we fall into ruts we really don’t want out of.

There is no pain you are receding

A distant ship smoke on the horizon
You are only coming through in waves
Your lips move but I can’t hear what you’re saying
When I was a child
I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown
The dream is gone
I have become comfortably numb.

I thought: “Yes, I can identify with that.” I suspect most of us can at times.

Lewis was right. We don’t desire enough. I don’t desire enough. We all settle for stagnation at some point. We all mistake the journey for the destination.

Because we have just enough.

Enough to fill our belly and comfort our backsides. Enough of good to make us smug and enough of God to pretend we are holy. So, we sit down and watch the butterflies flitting among the trees and the hawks circling lazily and we cease striving.

But, isn’t this where it’s at? Isn’t this us saying with the Apostle Paul that we will be content where God has placed us? Sure, Paul spent some time making tents, but he isn’t known as a tent maker. What I do for a living doesn’t define me. Does it? Well, it darn sure seems like it does most of the time. It’s what I spend the most time at, what I get accolades for, what people know me as. But, what is the true calling of those who claim to be Christ followers?

According to said Apostle: Jesus crucified is what defines us. The death and resurrection of Yeshua is the anchor point that all of Paul’s dense, complex, and sometimes confusing theology revolves around. It is his central message: Jesus is the fulfillment. Whatever the question, faith in his sacrifice and it’s sufficiency is the answer.

But, you say, it’s about a relationship, not about what you believe. Not about (gasp)religion. Well, yes and no. If you mean religion as a certain set of rituals, yes. But if by religion you mean believing certain things, you’re on dangerous ground, because,brother, you have to believe certain things about God, or your claimed relationship has no basis. Because without the anchor of faith in a certain version of Jesus, the true One, the One who did, in fact, live and die for you and live again, your relationship is based on falsehood and worthless. A lie can’t save you.

The journey, you say. What does this have to do with the journey and the destination? If the destination is hell, then parts of the journey will be hell, too, and if the destination is glory, all will be glorious. In what reality? Seems like lots of hell-bound people are enjoying the ride and lots of saints are going through hell on earth. But, is anything what it seems? Sin can look fun from a distance. It can even be fun for a day, but there is always a price to pay, and it usually doesn’t wait until you die.

This wasn’t even what I wanted to write about.

On a clear night, the interstate is still as loud as it was when I was ten. I can hear the cars going by and wonder where everyone is going. I used to listen to that sound and long to travel with them. Now, I mostly just wonder what their hurry is. Do any of us know where we are going? Heaven, yes, maybe sooner, many later. But until then, there is a lot of fog to wander through. I don’t want to lose heart if some dream of mine is not God’s dream for me. I don’t want disappointment or disillusionment to pull me off course, any more then I want accomplishments and accolades to pull me off course. Sometimes failure has more appeal then success, because failure doesn’t take near the effort, and it’s rather comfortable. It has it’s own numbness, it’s own subtle seduction, the drug of choice for all who would wallow in self pity. And of course, we all know that fame and fortune can be just as deadly if we pay attention to Hollywood at all.

It sounds too zen to say we make our own reality. We can say that neither pleasure nor pain matters if we are content in any state, but I doubt that we can mean it. Still, it’s not primarily the conditions of our lives that bring happiness or misery. It’s the company we keep. Like the old Newsboys song “It’s all who you know.” But, let’s be honest, we all want to succeed at something. How can we expect to hear “Well done.” at the end if we don’t strive to make the most of every opportunity God drops in our laps?

If I must fail, I would like to at least know that I tried. I prayed, and stepped out of my comfort zone into the great unknown. I jumped off the cliff trusting that Jesus had a parachute waiting.

The thing you have to admire about Paul, more then his intense, dense, carefully thought out theology is that he did it, man. He ran the race right to the end, no matter what Satan threw at him. He kept slugging until he hit something. He kept saying: “See all this sewage I’m slogging through? It’s just life. Look, Jesus and Him crucified, that’s what matters, I’m just the vehicle, these are just words, keep the faith, the rest is just details.”

The journey isn’t the destination, but the path is always before you if your faith is in the right place. The right Person. Don’t succumb to the seductive numbness of not caring. Cultivate that childlike wonder at the amazing world God has put you in, and the amazing people he allows you to know.

What is Faith?

Seems like kind of a dumb question, doesn’t it? The answer should be simple enough. Or not. I think the world gets the answer wrong all the time and the church about half the time. What we tend to believe faith is and what it really is can be two very different things. I propose that whether we know it or not, most of us think of faith as screwing up our belief dial to full volume so that God will come through for us. Kind of like Peter Pan and his friends chanting: “I do, I do, I do believe in fairys!”, until Tinkerbell gains some kind of mystical power from their words and comes back to life. That is exactly what faith in Christ isn’t

First of all, what are we to have faith in? Does it confuse the issue too much if I say that we have faith in Christ’s faithfulness, His willingness to go through with His death and resurrection? Because, we are told again and again in scripture that this is the basis of our Justification. That to be in Christ is to be, at least symbolically, killed and risen with Him.

How does this help? It still sounds as if I have force myself to believe something that seems very improbable: that a man was tortured and killed and somehow came back to life, and that this somehow assures my eternal destination. Can you see how implausible this sounds to the skeptic? Why he can say: “I can’t believe that, it’s impossible and absurd.”?

But, faith is not about screwing up my courage to believe in the impossible or improbable. It is quite the opposite. It doesn’t spring from my courage, strength or tenacity. That would require faith in myself, that I could somehow maintain the strength to holler for a lifetime: “I do, I do, I do believe in the resurrection!”

Rather, faith is self abandonment. It’s admitting that I don’t understand it all and will never really understand it all in this life. It’s throwing myself on His mercy, telling Him I believe when in fact, I’m not sure I do, and asking for help with my unbelief. It’s: “Here, Lord I give myself away, it’s all that I can do.”

Instead of summoning up my supposed courage to believe, faith is all about dropping all of it, including my self reliance, especially my self reliance, at the foot of the cross.

Now, yes, there is a paradox or two here. Scripture is constantly telling us that the trip from the cross to the grave isn’t going to be a cake walk.

“Take up your cross and follow me.” Jesus says.

“Stand firm against the devil.” Paul tells us.

And persevere, press on, finish the race, and so on.

It brings an old question back to mind: Is Christianity for wimps or warriors?

We are told to drop our burdens, yet take up our cross. Which is it?

Yes, Paul talked about fighting the good fight and keeping the faith, and finishing the race, but he would be quick to tell you (and does tell us in other places) that it is total reliance on Christ’s work on the cross that carried him and carries us, not the strength of our wills.

But here’s the paradox: I’m strong when I’m weak. Wimps or warriors? Yes.

Letting go of yourself can often be seen as wimpy, but is it? Letting go is often the hardest thing you can ever do. Bravery, in this case, is not striving harder, but ceasing to strive. And ceasing to fight against His proddings. Oh boy, do we like to fight for our own way, our rights to do what we want to do. Lay that one down and see what He can do without your selfish desires in the way. It’s always the false self we discard, anyway, the lame poser who wants to be seen as strong, but inside is quivering like a scared puppy. Why would you want to hold onto that version of yourself, when you could fall on Jesus and let Him mold you into your true self, the one He meant when He made you, before sin twisted your image into a sad caricature of what you should be? You come to Him a wimp and He crafts you into a warrior.

This is all possible on the basis of Christs sacrifice. When we pray, we are not leaning on our own power, as if we had any. I guess you can see I’m a little squeamish about the whole naming and claiming thing. If we are going to claim anything, we claim the blood of Christ. And we can “plead the blood” over any situation or circumstance, because it’s the blood that has the power, not our prayers.

Now, this might be off topic, but I question the idea that this is about Christ giving you His perfect righteousness. This will sound like sacrilege to some, so let me try to explain. If you truly had His righteousness, the righteousness that comes first and foremost from the act of dying and resurrection, you would be like Him, literally. Instead, you are still broken in many ways, but declared whole. You can’t die to save yourself, you are not worthy. If this justification that occurs was about your sudden perfection, grace would be a one time deal. But in reality, “He giveth, and giveth and giveth again.” We are declared righteous because we are in Christ, not because we are able to do what He did. Maybe this seems like a distinction without a difference, but I don’t think so. It is freeing to realize you are a work in progress, not a perfect person. How many times does Paul say we are in Christ? (About 80 times) Does he ever say we somehow acquire Christ’s righteousness? Ok, enough food for thought there. By the way, I’m not dissing sanctification, or progress, or even talking about Salvation, but Justification, which is a whole ‘nother animal. We are declared ‘right’ because we are now in the covenant people, in Christ, because of the cross. Because what God promised Abraham has come to fulfillment, the world has been blessed through him, through his Seed. More on all that later, maybe.

What is faith? Get over yourself and fall on Him. It’s that easy and that hard.

Why we still need the Devil

A poll of American Christians in 2009 tells us the about sixty percent of us don’t believe the devil is a literal being, but only a symbol of evil. Now, perhaps some misunderstood the question. Maybe they were just saying that the devil was not a red guy with horns and a pitchfork who terrorizes young children, but that he was an invisible force in this world. But to say that he’s only a symbol, raises more questions then answers. Do Americans have a Star Wars concept of good and evil? An invisible force with a good and bad side, a ying and a yang, an eastern religion sort of deity? And how do they get these views from their Bibles? The most likely answer would be that they don’t.

Is it enough to say that God exists, or must I also say that Satan exists as well? Why are we so squeamish about admitting that evil is real and alive in our world? Believing in God as the overarching force who does everything, as comforting as that can be on one level, is also very disturbing and problematic. If God is running the whole show, then the whole show is His idea, and frankly, He has some lousy ideas. Because a baby with bone cancer is not, one would presume, the invention of a benevolent dictator.

If God is running the whole show unopposed, then we have reason to call Him a dirty double crosser, on the grounds that war is hell and death and disease are ugly and painful. But, if there is a negative force in this universe, and he looks like hell warmed over, then we at least have another target for our disgust. But does this really get God off the hook? Isn’t He just as liable for not doing something about this cancer on the face of the planet, this thing that we used to call sin? We Christians claim that he, in fact, did something, and something quite dramatic, and effective and magical, in the cross. And yet, we still have this mess. If the something He did was effective, we have not yet seen it’s total effect, and we are pretty bummed out about that, if we care to think about it at all.

We can’t even be who we want to be, for God’s sake. And in spite of all our talk about our sinfulness, darn it, we really do want to be good. We really do want to treat others as we want to be treated. We really do want to be better then we are. And the fact that we fail pretty consistently to reach that standard of good that we perceive to exist, should tell us a great deal about the real state of affairs. There must be opposition. We may downplay his, it’s or her importance, but this really doesn’t help our cause. Because if not he, then the problem is purely us, and by us, I mean God  making us this way. The non-existence or weakness of Satan only leaves us with an unsolvable puzzle. And if, as some suppose, we are only the sum of our DNA, this struggle shouldn’t even be an issue. What animal cares to be more then it is? Does a Zebra aspire to be a Giraffe, and feel sad for failing to reach that goal? But, we are constantly inspired to be more. More loving, more efficient, more kind, stronger, more compassionate, prettier. And our failures grieve us.

A chicken is quite content to peck at the dirt and lay and egg now and then, while it seems we humans are never happy with our own piece of dirt or the number of eggs we lay. We want more. If we are merely animals, then let us act like animals and quit all this nonsense about world peace and excelling at our given tasks. Yet, like it or not, we long for a world where we might rise about mediocrity, where cancer will be cured and disease of every kind done away with and wars cease and love reign. Christians and atheists alike long for that world.

And, as Lewis has rightly said, a longing for a place like that is a pretty good indication that such a place exists.

Do we really need the devil anymore? Isn’t he obsolete?

If we eliminate him, we only have ourselves to blame. Some will say that’s a good thing. That once we get him, and God out of the way, we can quit blaming anyone else for our failures, and soar upward to our own godhood. History, however, proves that notion wrong again and again. Eliminating this tension by supposing there is no adversary has never led us to utopia. Imagining there is no hell has not brought us any more peace then imagining there is no heaven, Mr Lenon.

As one old song says “We never fail to fail. It’s the easiest thing to do.” (Crosby, Stills and Nash)

This is the human condition, the tower of babble that always leads to defeat rather then victory. We can never achieve that lasting victory on our own. We don’t possess the power to defeat Satan by sheer strength of will. And denying he exists only leads us to further despair. It’s impossible to hear God when the devil is screaming in your ear and you think it’s just your own brain talking. We can hide our heads in the sand for awhile. Perhaps you remember this scene from The Lord of the Rings:

Theoden: I will not risk open war.
Aragorn: Open war is upon you whether you would risk it or not.

Theoden: So much death. What can men do against such reckless hate?
Aragorn: Ride out with me. Ride out and meet them.

Open war is upon us. Denying it is foolishness. Your only hope is to ride out and meet them with the King at your side.

Ephesians 6:10-18King James Version (KJV)

¹⁰ Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.

¹¹ Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.

¹² For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.

¹³ Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.