God's Soldiers

I personally don't like to hear talk about how immoral and anti-Christian the world is becoming. I don't deny that many of the criticisms are valid or that a personal unwillingness of mine to face up to uncomfortable truths may be involved. But what stirs at least as much discomfort on my part is that the typical Christian social reformer rarely mentions loving one's enemies, let alone turning the other cheek or watching for one's own blind spots. Some attack the opposition with a viciousness that makes counteraccusations of hate speech all too understandable. One wonders if the campaign to bring the Bible back into public schools would allow for a history class pointing out that serious Christians once used the Scriptures to argue for slavery and segregation.

People still quote the Bible out of context to justify themselves--and more than one person has noted that of the seven deadly sins, anger is the one we try to justify most often. Now, anger isn't sinful if it involves indignation against true evil; it is a sin when based on a belief that we're too important to be subject to inconvenience. An appointment is fifteen minutes late? How dare he mess up your schedule! Someone contradicts you with a sneer? How dare she put you down! Can't find the job you want? It becomes all too easy to listen to malcontents who claim the economy would be perfect without those foreigners in the market--or that employers are just prejudiced against Christians.

While nothing in the Bible forbids taking a blatant injustice to court (but note Paul's admonition in 1 Cor. 6:1-8 that Christian-to-Christian disputes are best settled within the church) or fighting off a direct attack, a careful reading of the Scriptures would indicate that in the interest of love and compassion for one's fellow humans, counterattack should be a last resort.

For too many Christians, it's the first.

We live in a world of violence,
Where the answer to every blow
Is to strike back, and even harder:
"That's the only language they know."

We see nations fighting each other;
They all claim to stand for what's right:
Though they kill and drop bombs at random,
It's all justified in their sight.

People lash out against mistreatment--
Which may be in their minds alone--
And claim crushing the last oppressor
Is where seeds of true peace are sown.

And hate is not only directed
To the stranger or foreign foe:
It can grow in our hearts toward a brother
Or toward anyone we may know.

But it brings neither peace nor justice
Just to "punish the ones who sin,"
For we all have hearts tainted with evil--
The dividing line runs within.

And if we strike back, when wounded,
Only at the offenders we see,
We forgot it is non-human forces
Who are truly the enemy.

Let us not shun our Lord's own teaching
That submission is our true strength,
And that true peace begins within us,
Where true change can take place at length.

We as Christians are Heaven's soldiers,
And our swords are forged strong through prayer,
For true victory over evil
Has its only beginning there.

Let us put aside selfish anger
And the urge to despise and hate,
So we all can grow strong as warriors
In a cause that is pure and great,

Living lives based in humble mercy
And in eagerness to forgive,
Standing firm against Satan's army
As we live as our Lord would live.

Then our love may win others over
Without force that is fueled by rage,
And the way of our Christ spread outward
Till the day God turns earth's last page!

Down the Long Road

When life got frustrating, my father used to quip, "I know God won't let my troubles get worse than I can cope with [cf. 1 Cor. 10:13]; I just wish He didn't have so much confidence in me."

True to heritage, I frequently say the same thing--often directly to God. Then I feel guilty because the majority of my prayers resemble "complaining psalms" more than thanksgiving or praise. (Sometimes I wonder if God allows me to be tempted to bad moods so often because that's the only time I give Him much attention!) My fortieth birthday is tomorrow--but at the rate I'm going, I'll need another forty years to achieve much maturity beyond the physical.

Keeping us waiting is such a typical way of working for God--and so contrary to human logic. It's relatively easy to understand (in principle at least) how delay in receiving material blessings builds Christian character by developing patience, maturity, and faith. What's harder to figure out is why prayer for those qualities themselves is usually the slowest to be answered. Is it beyond even God's power to give us "patience right now"? Why is our own willingness for instant and total change rarely enough? Doesn't God care about the bad decisions we make, the damage we inflict on ourselves, the pain we cause others, as we make our way along the "slow and steady" path?

Maybe He cares even more about our willingness to stay on that path. As a top-level member of the "everything is all about results" club, I'm only gradually (there's that concept again) coming to understand that with God, the journey itself counts for plenty. Small wonder, perhaps, that we have trouble understanding that in an era when long-distance train and even car travel has been all but crowded out in favor of making better time by air--never mind that the latter makes for a generally grumpy atmosphere with its long security checks, delayed flights, crowded quarters, and you've-seen-one-shopping-mall-you've-seen-them-all airports. Yes, ground-level travel has its own boredom headaches--as any parent who has driven a carload of children across five states can attest--but it also offers more interesting scenery, more freedom of movement and/or choice, and more opportunities for bonding with fellow travelers.

Therein may lie the clue to why our spiritual journeys are so long and hard. That may in fact be the only way to build true, deep bonds with our neighbors--and with our God.

Which is really "what it's all about."

My God must have considerably
A greater depth of faith in me
Than I myself hope to attain--
What other way can I explain
(Considering He gave His Word
That every prayer is always heard
And no temptation brings us down)
The stress within me and around?

Not that my problems are so great
That I can at my worst relate
To some that others have to bear--
Still, hard knocks greet me everywhere.
Some say small doses of "tough breaks"
Build up our strength for deeper aches--
There's little comfort there for me:
I'd rather pass on both, you see!

And yet I know, through every trial,
Or every plodding, weary mile,
My God will walk along with me,
And slowly turn my heart to see
Life's not about pure "happiness,"
Nor living free from strain and stress,
Nor even quick maturity--
But all about my God with me!

When Things Go Wrong

Relatively minor frustrations have probably had a hand in more nervous breakdowns than have great tragedies. It's amazing how furious people can get over traffic delays, interrupted television broadcasts, and grocery stores that run out of tomatoes--amazing because most of those same people, if asked in their more rational moments just how important such things are, would quickly admit "Not very." The frustration issue of any given moment is actually only a surface manifestation of humanity's deeper problem: every one of us considers him- or herself so important that the universe owes it to us to ensure every little thing goes according to our plans.

That's the real answer to the common wail, "What did I ever do to deserve this?" God rarely sends our problems to punish us for specific sins--but He does use frustrations and hard times to beat lingering bad attitudes out of us, to scrub us clean of deep-rooted pride, to point up whatever rival "gods" we are clinging to. No living person ever reaches such perfect spiritual condition as to be beyond need of further polishing. Even Christ, Who had the unique distinction of being free of real sin, "learned obedience from what he suffered and [thus was] made perfect" (Heb. 5:8-9, NIV).

The next time you have "one of those days," don't go back to bed. Ask God what He wants to teach you.

When things go wrong--as they often do--
When it seems that the world has it in for you,
When each road you try hits a new dead end,
And fresh troubles greet you around each bend,
You may think you happened to greatly err,
And an angry God has shut out your prayer--
But, more likely, He has another goal
For the pains and troubles that plague your soul.

No human heart, in its mortal days,
Ever yields completely to God's pure ways;
There is always some small competing love
Vying for your heart with the One above;
Yet God loves you just as you are, but He
Cares so much He wishes to set you free
From all other "lords" that, however right
In themselves, will hamper your pure delight.

And He knows, too, that a life of ease
Rarely will give birth to the purest peace,
And if you were granted your every whim,
You would never fully depend on Him,
And your satisfaction would shallow be:
So when you are tempted to groan, "Why me?,"
Stop and ask your Lord what He plans for you,
And give Him your thanks for what He will do.

Frustration

I set my personal goal for Advent 2007 at devoting my prayer time to worship instead of requests. I hoped for three or four weeks without material concerns, free for unbroken quiet time.

What I've gotten, so far, has been three unexpected new projects; two others dragging on considerably longer than planned; and what seems like no end of mechanical breakdowns, delays, and "do this over" requests--all of which tempt constant wavering of my resolve to praise God continually and ask nothing for myself except spiritual growth. I should have expected it. I've heard the same story from other Christians; you make up your mind to work hard toward maturing, and suddenly half your world seems to be controlled by an intelligent force dedicated to making things difficult for you.

Maybe it is. Satan hates to see believers develop into the image of Christ, and many of our difficulties therein are attributable to his dirty work. But this raises another question: why does God, Who has the final word on whatever happens, let Satan get away with it? You would think, especially since our intention is to serve God's glory, He'd at least give us a few weeks to develop new habits before letting us be hit full force with the need to use them. No wonder we are tempted to echo St. Teresa of Avila, who is credited with having said, "Lord, no wonder You have so few friends, considering the way You treat them!"

Perhaps Peter was tempted by a similar thought as, in John 6:25-69, he heard Jesus say that the true saints of the Kingdom would not find life all free meals and smooth sailing, but would be called to total commitment and sacrifice. Perhaps he briefly considered joining those who found it easier to walk away from the whole thing. Perhaps his final decision, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life," was voiced with a hint of despair, as in: "This is the best offer we've ever gotten, but it doesn't look all that great at the moment!" Every believer feels that way on occasion. Why does God seem to reward our genuine steps of commitment with hardship and struggle, without even giving us a chance to warm up first?

The question has no easy answer. But perhaps 2 Corinthians 12 sheds some light on the subject. Paul's "thorn in the flesh," a "messenger of Satan" and a source of presumably constant "torment," was sent "to keep [him] from becoming conceited" (v. 7, NIV) in the aftermath of a powerful spiritual experience. Perhaps God allows so many "growing pains" in our lives for the same reason--if it was easy to make significant progress, we might forget we couldn't do it alone (cf. John 15:4-6); begin to think ourselves as wise and capable as God; and start a prideful backslide that would undo everything that had been accomplished.

One thing is certain. However frustrating life gets, we can never use it as evidence that God doesn't love us.

The whole Incarnation--from the Nativity to the Crucifixion--is proof He does.

Sometimes I feel like Martha,
And the words I mean for prayer
Come out, "Lord, look at all I've done,
And You don't even seem to care!"

I feel like St. Teresa
On a day of pure dead ends,
And moan, "Oh, Lord, I'll never know
Why You are so hard on Your friends!"

Job sitting on the ash heap,
The thorn in the flesh of Paul,
Jeremiah ruing his day of birth--
I can sympathize with them all!

Should I rant and scream at heaven?
Should I list each gripe I know?
Should I stomp away in anger--
But where else could I ever go?

Our God is the Lord of mystery;
His ways are beyond our thought;
We never learn all His reasons--
It is not ours to say, "He ought."

Not ours to be the masters,
To look down on God above:
If you insist on knowing--know
That His scars ever say, "I love."