Not for Wealth and Not for Pleasure

Profound truths can be found in unusual places. In his 1975 book The Dictionary of Misinformation--the sort of thing usually shelved with the trivia--Tom Burnam notes under "Predestination" that "a belief in predestination is among the noblest of doctrines. For it places the emphasis not on goodness as a lever to ensure some future paradise, but as valuable for its own sake. To live the good life without regard to what's in it for you comes close to the ultimate in altruism."

Few are noble enough to be that altruistic--even on the material plane. We resist with all our might any evidence against the idea that God owes us some earthly paradise for being good. At the extreme is the "health and wealth gospel," which believes that adequate piety ensures freedom from any real problems. If you've met up with a health-and-wealth preacher during any of the low moments of life, you know something of how Job must have felt when his friends were badgering him to agree he deserved his hardships.

It's not that God doesn't want to give us the best. It's just that we fail to appreciate that the Best is God Himself, and all else is immaterial. Even Christians can fall prey to the idea that it's better to have fun for a while before surrendering completely to God's will--as though the best happiness and God's will were compatible only in Heaven. More "what's in it for me" thinking.

What's in it for us is the sort of joy that could never be found in wealth and pleasure alone--starting not in the afterlife but anytime we're willing to take it. But since God is the essence of such joy, setting human terms for it is more than selfish.

It's literally impossible.

Not for wealth and not for pleasure,
Not for ease as our reward,
Not for any earthly treasure,
Do we serve our holy Lord:
He Who came and walked among us,
For our sake He suffered all,
Set aside all Heaven's glories
To redeem us from the Fall.

For our sake He lived as nothing:
For Him, will we do the same?
For our sake He cruelly suffered;
For Him, will we bear all shame?
He gave all for us, so, likewise,
May we give our all for Him:
He has greater gifts than riches,
And will fill us to the brim!

Set Free

Freedom is a much-misunderstood concept, which is likely why so few of us feel we really have it. To many, freedom is the right to get what we want and do as we please. Though we rarely admit it, we think this sort of freedom should be exclusive to us, since the alternatives--either everyone doing exactly as he or she pleases or our having to constantly think about how our actions affect others' freedom--are less than compatible with the perennially pleasant and comfortable lives we envision as indicating we are truly free.

Others would be satisfied to be free from one particular responsibility: "I'm sorry I ever married her." "I'd take any job that gets me away from my kids for a few hours a day." "Why did I sign that contract?" "I'm worn out from taking care of my dad; it seems like he's going to drag out his last years forever."

Then there are those of us who would rather not be selfish but have issues we can hardly be blamed for desiring freedom from. Many are desperate to be free of sickness, family abuse, or poverty. Many are depressed or emotionally disturbed, living in feelings of perennial misery they can't really explain but would give anything to be free of. Most of us have had the experience of desiring freedom from guilt: guilt over resenting our legitimate responsibilities; guilt over having any personal desires of our own; guilt over things now past but still regretted.

And of course, most of us suffer to some degree from compulsions we can't seem to get free of. No matter how often we vow to quit drinking, to control our tempers, to cancel the pity parties once and for all, the desire always comes back, driving us, like a slavemaster driving harvesters to work with a whip, to the action we simultaneously despise and love.

Therein lurks the true reason behind all lack of freedom: there's something out of alignment within us, something that takes pleasure in what our consciences deplore, something that keeps us convinced--in the face of common sense and experience--that this time it'll work, this time the satisfaction will last, this time our running from responsibility will bring us to true freedom. Christian theology calls this misalignment original sin. It has its roots in the original sin--the day Adam and Eve chose freedom to do as they wanted and thus poisoned their freedom to do as God wanted, the only real freedom there is because it comes from the only One wise enough to know what brings true happiness.

This is the sort of freedom Jesus promised when He said, "If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.... everyone who sins is a slave to sin.... [But] if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed" (John 8:31-32, 34, 36). Many Christians--often through no fault of their own--never find freedom in this life from persecution, from physical limitations, even from strong emotional tendencies toward the most persistent of their sins. But the freedom Jesus refers to here encompasses even more than the total relief we will find from all this in God's final Kingdom; it means the first taste of freedom now, freedom to begin to love God and our neighbors as ourselves, freedom to see doing the right thing become gradually more natural, freedom to experience the first tastes of the pure joy that will someday be full reality.

Jesus bought our freedom at a cost. Will you give up your "what I want" ideas of freedom to Him and allow Him to show you a greater freedom than you can imagine?

Set free, set free,
Free from death’s sentence pronounced on me!
Christ paid that price so that I could be
Set free, set free!

Set free, set free,
Free from the sin that had driven me!
Christ gave His life so that I could be
Set free, set free!

Set free, set free,
Free from the guilt that weighed down on me!
Christ was raised up so that I could be
Set free, set free!

Set free, set free,
Free from the trials of life I’ll be!
Christ, my great Lord, soon will call for me:
Set free, set free!

Many Words

Those who revel in the sound of their own voices are frequently left to enjoy themselves free of competition. "If you want to know how to make people shun you," notes Dale Carnegie's classic How to Win Friends and Influence People, "here is the recipe: Never listen to anyone for long. Talk incessantly about yourself. If you have an idea while the other person is talking... bust right in and interrupt." Proverbs 10:19 predicts even more serious consequences than losing all one's friends: "When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise" (NIV). (See also the blog entry for 4/21/08.)

For all that--and for all our quickness to agree that nonstop babblers are horrendous bores--"talking too much" is a near-universal fault, probably because human nature easily recognizes it in everyone but ourselves. Even in prayer, the majority of us do nearly all the talking: "We dictate to God our shopping list and say 'Amen,'" as one writer put it. Then we complain that God "doesn't answer our prayers," when in fact we aren't listening for answers--we just want God to give us what we want and then step back until we think of something else to ask for. And we seldom seem to make room for any idea that He might want--or deserve--anything from us.

If somebody said straight out, "I don't think God or anyone else is important except as a means to serve my interests," we'd be shocked at such arrogance. Yet through our other words--our incessant talking about how much we know and how important our needs are and how we never get enough respect--many of us say the same thing daily.

That's why talking too much can't be dismissed as a relatively harmless personality flaw. Considering ourselves more important than even God is the worst of sins.

To make endless talk is an easy thing--
Thousands chatter in mindless ways--
But to know when the time for silence comes
Is a skill worth the highest praise.

To write countless words is a common thing,
Seeming often to have no end;
But to read the words of God's Holy Book
Is a way few their time will spend.

Our Lord's priceless words seek our minds and hearts,
Yet so many stop up each ear.
Please, today turn from your own empty words,
And take time God's great voice to hear!

Not for Me, O Lord

If you've ever worked in marketing, you've probably heard the wise advice, "It isn't features that do the selling; it's benefits." Benefits to the potential customer, that is. People don't make purchasing decisions because of how many awards a business has won, or how the moving parts in a lawn mower function together, or how many sizes an inflatable swimming pool comes in. They decide what brand to buy--or whether they need something like this at all--on the basis of whether it meets their wants and needs. There are still plenty of businesspeople who haven't learned this, if the advertisements we get in the mail and see on the Web are any indication.

And there are plenty of people in everyday life who suffer from the same delusion that the world is eager to hear them brag about themselves. Yet one thing nearly everyone agrees on is that there is no greater bore than a conceited person. As classic human relations expert Dale Carnegie put it: "I know and you know people who blunder through life trying to badger other people into becoming interested in them. Of course, it doesn't work. People are not interested in you. They are not interested in me. They are interested in themselves--morning, noon, and after dinner."

Carnegie put his finger on a major irony there: the primary reason we find braggarts so boring is that we're pretty conceited ourselves. While the egotist is shooting off his mouth, we're thinking, "Look, buddy, don't you know I'm at least as important as you?!" And we, who condemn others for talking too much about themselves, do the same thing whenever we get the chance. For the vast majority of humanity, "I," "me," and "mine" are the most common words in everyday vocabulary.

Psalm 115:1 (NIV) says, "Not to us, O LORD, not to us but to your name be the glory, because of your love and faithfulness." But many of us want to accept God's "love and faithfulness" while keeping the "glory"--and the control over our lives and destinies--for ourselves. Many people even have an overall attitude toward religion that adds up to, "If God really loved me, He'd always give me what I want." Like children who say the same thing when their parents deny outrageous requests, we attempt to set ourselves up as higher authorities than Someone Who is unquestionably wiser and more experienced. That attitude has been causing problems for humanity ever since Eve fell for the "you can have more--you can be as great as God" line.

And since every one of us is born with that same attitude effectively programmed into the psyche, it takes a lot of maturing before we can honestly say to God, "Not my will but Yours be done. I know You will do what is best for me, however opposite it seems to what I want at the moment."

Most of the world has instead fallen for the idea that to be fulfilled, we have to focus our lives on what we want--notwithstanding the large numbers of people who can testify that constantly thinking about oneself is a quick route to misery.

True happiness is loving God above all else.

Not for me, O Lord,
Not for any earthly pleasure,
May I seek Your Kingdom's treasure;
Make my will Your own;
Drive out all that seeks to hinder
Me from total, pure surrender;
Make my wish, alone,
To become Your loving servant,
Ever passionate and fervent:
Cut each earthly cord.

Not for me, O Lord:
All my longings may prove tainted,
For my heart is ill-acquainted
With its own dark depths;
I but faintly see--forgive me!--
The true blessings You would give me;
Faltering are my steps:
Make my one desire Your glory,
My one goal to spread Your story,
You alone adored.

Shelters

After two weeks of nursing a bad cold and wading through materials collected during a recent library binge, I am returning to a regular work schedule--with the typical lack of enthusiasm that strikes when you realize things kept piling up while your back was turned. It's times like this that make a person sympathize with Peter's desire to build a permanent shelter on the mountain of worship (Mt. 17:4). Most of us will, at times, absorb ourselves in anything handy rather than face up to the more difficult things we know we should be doing.

While purely selfish "shelters"--pleasure, materialism, a "let them look out for themselves" attitude toward others--are fairly easy to spot, perhaps the more dangerous shelters are those that at first glance seem like superior choices. Who can fault hard work, or a life dedicated to prayer and worship? Yet even the most godly disciplines can be perverted into means of avoiding God Himself. Jesus had some hard words for people who become obsessed with the more nit-picking details of religiosity at the expense of developing overall godly attitudes (see Mt. 23). These were the same people who looked down on their Messiah for getting His hands dirty attending to human needs (cf. Luke 5:29-32).

Which example are we following?

We all would build our shelters
And huddle deep within,
Safe from the pain and sorrows
That plague this world of sin:
Some hide in drink or leisure,
And some in daily toil,
And some will live as hermits
Far from the town's mad boil.

And some build pious shelters:
They hide away in prayer
And hours of meditation--
"Our God is with us there."
But do they ever listen
To hear the Lord's command:
"The world I love is dying;
Go, take Me through the land"?

Our Master was a preacher
Who walked within the crowd;
He never feared the tumult,
However great and loud;
Though He spent hours in praying,
He always rose to go
To where the world was hurting,
And met with love its woe.

If we would be His followers,
We must not turn away
And hide within our shelters:
The world has needs today.
And if they mock or bruise us,
Remember all His pain--
Keep following in His footsteps,
And find in loss great gain!