More time than usual has passed between posts, because an electrical storm last Monday “fried” my cable connection and has left my online work dependent on the wireless services of public venues. Annoying, to say the least. I rarely work offsite; I can live very well without the bother of unplugging and reattaching a half dozen cords, the strain of packing around a ten-pound laptop on a stiff back, the hum of public activity intruding on my concentration, and the inherent hassles of either the coffee shop (with its sense of obligation to spend money I don’t have on caffeine I don’t need) or the library (with its increasingly limited hours).
“Limited hours” may be the greatest bugaboo. However much lip service we give to the Scriptural commands to “wait on the Lord” and “be still,” the conviction that it’s productivity that counts remains fixed in our minds. There’s a Christian song with a chorus something like, “It’s not in trying, but in trusting,/It’s not in running, but in resting,/It’s not in planning, but in praying,/That we find the strength of the Lord.” Biblically sound, but who really lives as if we believe it? If you’re anything like me, even prayer easily becomes a performance issue: how many hours a day, with what ratio of praise to requests, should one pray to achieve a Spirit-filled life?
Wayne Jacobsen, author of He Loves Me!: Learning to Live in the Father’s Affection and coeditor of bestselling Christian novel The Shack, tells of a time he was invited to serve a brief interim pastorate: “We’ve heard that you really emphasize God’s grace and the cross,” the church elders told him.
“That’s true,” he replied, “but before you decide that’s what you want, I’d like you to answer two questions. First, how much of what gets done at your church, gets done because someone would feel guilty about not doing it?”
The elders exchanged glances, chuckled, and replied, “About ninety percent!”
“So, are you prepared to accept that if your congregation fully understands God’s grace, ninety percent of what’s currently getting done at your church may stop?”
Dead silence.
Most Christians harbor the same fear as those elders: that if we give too much attention to God Himself, if we allow ourselves to trust that He will not be angry if we stop striving to do all we can, we will end up getting nothing done. Serving out of love rather than duty, let alone believing that the former is ultimately the route of greater accomplishment, has always been a stumbling block for human nature. It didn’t take long for the “striving trap” to infect even the Church; St. Paul wrote Galatians, perhaps chronologically the first book of the New Testament, largely to battle that enemy. It didn’t come close to winning the war.
Perhaps the real reason we get angry with God for not preventing our problems is that problems interrupt our work and interfere with our striving. My online difficulties started just when I thought I might finally have an effective priority-based work schedule, and I’ve had enough similar experiences to convince me it’s more than coincidence—that some angel or demon has an ongoing assignment to strike at my weakest point, my aversion to interruptions and disappointment, whenever I seem on the edge of a significant reduction in those annoyances.
To some degree, everyone’s most hated troubles have to do with the failure of human striving, whether to get to an appointment on time or to “positive-think” oneself into a life where everything always goes “right.” All our bitterness at our failures, all our frustration over glitches and roadblocks, has its roots in the idea that God is either punishing us for something He won’t show us how to remedy, or doesn’t care about our happiness at all.
The apex of spiritual maturity is neither always doing the right thing, nor the absence of grief or anger in any circumstance, nor understanding the “whys” of it all. It’s trusting that God understands the “whys”—and that He will make full use of all circumstances to finish the good work He began in us.
This life will bring its troubles
And unexpected pain;
Some days are bright with sunshine,
But some are full of rain;
Whatever roads we travel,
As we face every test,
Let us remember always:
In all things, God knows best.
God gives the perfect balance
Of happiness and tears;
He marks our mortal limits
And sets each lifetime’s years;
Though we seek wealth and wellness—
It seems the obvious guess
That these are good things for us—
Remember: God knows best.
One may grow strong through hardship
Or through prosperity;
And I can judge no other
By God’s best plan for me.
But when, in realms eternal,
Our souls at last find rest,
We all shall sing in chorus,
“Praise God: He knew the best!”
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Our Once and Future Joy
"I can't say this for sure," notes author/journalist Laura Fraser in "My So-Called Genius" (MORE Magazine, May 2008), "but I'd bet it was a formerly precocious person who coined the term midlife crisis." Fraser's article reflects on the emotional side of her transition from a top academic achiever to an accomplished-but-not-world-famous fortysomething--and on the disappointment that awaits many child prodigies when they learn high potential doesn't equal effortless and spectacular success. Or even high self-esteem.
Of course, you don't have to be a former high school valedictorian to experience a midlife crisis. Many of us spend the first half of our lives figuring we have "plenty of time" to accomplish our dreams--and the second half figuring we've already blown the chance. That's the kind of thinking that leads to an obsession with the "good old days." It can also lead to embarrassing moments if we haven't yet outlived those who remember us as kids; have you ever complained to your mother that life was so much better when you were twenty-one and been told, "The letters you wrote home from college during those days didn't give the impression you found things all that great"? As often as not, the "worst time of our lives" is the one we're living through at this moment.
Regardless, God didn't put us on earth to waste the present living in the past or the future. More than that, He is the only One with a truly accurate picture of all three--and the only One Who brings meaning to any of them. The Scriptures don't call Him the One "who was, and is, and is to come" (Rev. 4:8) for nothing.
In Him is the wisdom to learn from the past. In Him is the strength to thrive in the present. And in Him is all hope for the future--not simply in time but through the timelessness of eternity.
Look to the future—remember the past—
Look into both for the things that will last.
Sweet are the memories of good times now done;
Sweet is the vision of things yet to come.
Look to the past for the lessons that guide;
Look to the future, where they’ll be applied.
Praise for the wisdom a lifetime has brought;
Praise for the insights of days yet unsought.
Open the Scriptures and look to the Word,
Wisdom far sweeter than ever was heard.
Praise all the things God has done for His own,
Praise for His planning of things yet unknown.
He Who was shaping the earth as it grew—
He is the One Who will make all things new.
He Who came once to free mortals from sin—
He is the One Who is coming again.
He Who stood by us through all that has been—
He is the One Who will reign without end.
Seek out His blessing for all that will last:
Look to the future, remember the past.
Of course, you don't have to be a former high school valedictorian to experience a midlife crisis. Many of us spend the first half of our lives figuring we have "plenty of time" to accomplish our dreams--and the second half figuring we've already blown the chance. That's the kind of thinking that leads to an obsession with the "good old days." It can also lead to embarrassing moments if we haven't yet outlived those who remember us as kids; have you ever complained to your mother that life was so much better when you were twenty-one and been told, "The letters you wrote home from college during those days didn't give the impression you found things all that great"? As often as not, the "worst time of our lives" is the one we're living through at this moment.
Regardless, God didn't put us on earth to waste the present living in the past or the future. More than that, He is the only One with a truly accurate picture of all three--and the only One Who brings meaning to any of them. The Scriptures don't call Him the One "who was, and is, and is to come" (Rev. 4:8) for nothing.
In Him is the wisdom to learn from the past. In Him is the strength to thrive in the present. And in Him is all hope for the future--not simply in time but through the timelessness of eternity.
Look to the future—remember the past—
Look into both for the things that will last.
Sweet are the memories of good times now done;
Sweet is the vision of things yet to come.
Look to the past for the lessons that guide;
Look to the future, where they’ll be applied.
Praise for the wisdom a lifetime has brought;
Praise for the insights of days yet unsought.
Open the Scriptures and look to the Word,
Wisdom far sweeter than ever was heard.
Praise all the things God has done for His own,
Praise for His planning of things yet unknown.
He Who was shaping the earth as it grew—
He is the One Who will make all things new.
He Who came once to free mortals from sin—
He is the One Who is coming again.
He Who stood by us through all that has been—
He is the One Who will reign without end.
Seek out His blessing for all that will last:
Look to the future, remember the past.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Master of Camouflage
"Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes.... Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour" (Eph. 6:11; 1 Pet. 5:8).
Anyone who lives with a cat knows that members of the feline tribe don't approach their prey openly. Rather, they sneak up soundlessly, every move patiently calculated, eyes fixed firm on the target, until they judge themselves close enough to deliver the killing blow in one quick leap. Often, they maintain a literal low profile, particularly useful if you're a lion and your preferred habitat is grassland where much of the cover is shorter than you are.
The "roaring lion" who is the devil uses similar tactics. He doesn't show his real self openly, and he saves most of his roaring for boasting about his kills. When scheming to deliver a crippling blow to someone's spiritual health, he's more likely to purr, speaking soothingly about how this really isn't sinful and would be so wonderful. He watches his targets carefully, keeping an eye on how they react to certain situations and what they aren't paying attention to. Carefully he maneuvers his victim into position, covering his true nature with whatever innocuous-looking aspect of the environment he can hide behind--then when danger is least suspected, he makes the fatal suggestion that leads his prey to fall hard and leaves everyone stunned, wondering what happened.
Also like the natural predator, which selects its victims based on the perceived ease of overpowering them, the devil has an eye for those souls most vulnerable to temptation. Ironically, these are often the ones who seem strongest to human eyes: the wealthy executive, the high-profile superstar, even the Christian worker who seems to be accomplishing great things for God. The devil knows that the more "successful" we become in human terms, the easier we find it to start relying on our own abilities rather than God's supernatural power--and human nature being what it is, there's no guarantee of an exception when those abilities are used for strictly "Christian" work. The megachurch pastor who commits adultery with an attractive young counselee may well have started with the purest of intentions, but brushed off warnings about the temptations of being alone with her because he was sure he was above such carnal thoughts. He put his spiritual armor in the closet months before because he didn't think he needed it any longer, and he learned the hard way that his flesh was still vulnerable.
We're all equally helpless against the devil when we have only our own strength to rely on. Just as a gazelle must eat daily if it's to keep up its strength to escape lions, we have to replenish our spiritual defenses daily through prayer and Scripture.
"But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ" (1 Cor. 15:57).
The devil is a master when
It comes to craft and art,
For he can paint the blackest sin
To lure the purest heart.
The devil is a master of
Deceit and subtle change,
And he can take the truest love
And twist it for his gain.
The devil is a master who
Perverts each thing that's good:
Beware, or he may work on you
Like craftsmen carving wood.
The only way to dodge the plans
This master thief can weave:
Find strength in Christ, the Son of Man,
Who saves all who believe.
Anyone who lives with a cat knows that members of the feline tribe don't approach their prey openly. Rather, they sneak up soundlessly, every move patiently calculated, eyes fixed firm on the target, until they judge themselves close enough to deliver the killing blow in one quick leap. Often, they maintain a literal low profile, particularly useful if you're a lion and your preferred habitat is grassland where much of the cover is shorter than you are.
The "roaring lion" who is the devil uses similar tactics. He doesn't show his real self openly, and he saves most of his roaring for boasting about his kills. When scheming to deliver a crippling blow to someone's spiritual health, he's more likely to purr, speaking soothingly about how this really isn't sinful and would be so wonderful. He watches his targets carefully, keeping an eye on how they react to certain situations and what they aren't paying attention to. Carefully he maneuvers his victim into position, covering his true nature with whatever innocuous-looking aspect of the environment he can hide behind--then when danger is least suspected, he makes the fatal suggestion that leads his prey to fall hard and leaves everyone stunned, wondering what happened.
Also like the natural predator, which selects its victims based on the perceived ease of overpowering them, the devil has an eye for those souls most vulnerable to temptation. Ironically, these are often the ones who seem strongest to human eyes: the wealthy executive, the high-profile superstar, even the Christian worker who seems to be accomplishing great things for God. The devil knows that the more "successful" we become in human terms, the easier we find it to start relying on our own abilities rather than God's supernatural power--and human nature being what it is, there's no guarantee of an exception when those abilities are used for strictly "Christian" work. The megachurch pastor who commits adultery with an attractive young counselee may well have started with the purest of intentions, but brushed off warnings about the temptations of being alone with her because he was sure he was above such carnal thoughts. He put his spiritual armor in the closet months before because he didn't think he needed it any longer, and he learned the hard way that his flesh was still vulnerable.
We're all equally helpless against the devil when we have only our own strength to rely on. Just as a gazelle must eat daily if it's to keep up its strength to escape lions, we have to replenish our spiritual defenses daily through prayer and Scripture.
"But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ" (1 Cor. 15:57).
The devil is a master when
It comes to craft and art,
For he can paint the blackest sin
To lure the purest heart.
The devil is a master of
Deceit and subtle change,
And he can take the truest love
And twist it for his gain.
The devil is a master who
Perverts each thing that's good:
Beware, or he may work on you
Like craftsmen carving wood.
The only way to dodge the plans
This master thief can weave:
Find strength in Christ, the Son of Man,
Who saves all who believe.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Humility
Here's another item from the "Christian books I've recently read" department: Jean Fleming's Between Walden and the Whirlwind is for the busy Christian who's fed up with not being able to get her life in order. Not because the book solves your organization problems once and for all (how many books, Christian and secular alike, have made that claim?), but because it helps you come to peace with disorganization. More specifically, it emphasizes accepting that the ultimate order of life is in God's hands alone, and that our best planning skills--or intentions--can't earn us the right to grab the controls.
"Jesus has not asked me to have it all together," writes the author. "Here on earth no one arrives. All Christians are en route.... Even after we get God's direction for our life... we sometimes end up living out God's will to the wrong audience [ashamed to admit, even to fellow Christians, that God has called us only to "humble" tasks].... In our ardor to serve, we often overlook a critical truth: The servant doesn't choose his task. Our concept of serving God may be doing what we would like to do--for God. We tell God what we'll do for Him, and what we won't do; where we'll go for Him, and where we won't go. We even tell Him what mustn't interfere with our plans to serve Him" (1985 hardback edition, pp. 17, 31, 88).
Can you say "Ouch!"?
However obviously a task seems to be "God's work," God will not be pleased if it is done in a prideful spirit. This doesn't apply only to the "showy piety" Jesus condemns in Mt. 6; it includes deliberate or thoughtless disregard for seeking God's will in our decisions. How many times do we rationalize something just has to be God's will for us because we want it so much? ("I've realized my first marriage was really against God's will, so the only Christian thing to do is end it and be united with the person God wanted me to marry in the first place.") Some of us even presume to tell others what God's will is for them: "I don't care if you prayed about it with fasting for three weeks, dear; I'm your mother, and I know God couldn't possibly want you to take a dangerous job like that." "You have to marry me; God told me we're meant to be together, even if He didn't tell you." But true servanthood is being willing to accept God's will as He reveals it, not to try to change it to fit our wishes or our logic.
Where would we be now if Jesus had convinced Himself the Cross was not God's will?
Lord, I would like so much
To do great things for You:
But may "greatness" not overwhelm my power
To stay humble through and through.
Lord, I have glorious plans;
My heart is full of dreams;
But may they come true only if their glow
Never blinds to Your Truth's gleams.
Lord, minds so quickly stray
When they have pride to chase;
If I turn away, please do trip me up,
Lest I fail in faith's great race.
Lord, I still long to stand
With those who can achieve:
But please never let me achieve those things
That would weaken my belief.
Lord, all my days are Yours:
May what I gain and do
Never be so great as to tempt to pride,
Or distract my eyes from You.
"Jesus has not asked me to have it all together," writes the author. "Here on earth no one arrives. All Christians are en route.... Even after we get God's direction for our life... we sometimes end up living out God's will to the wrong audience [ashamed to admit, even to fellow Christians, that God has called us only to "humble" tasks].... In our ardor to serve, we often overlook a critical truth: The servant doesn't choose his task. Our concept of serving God may be doing what we would like to do--for God. We tell God what we'll do for Him, and what we won't do; where we'll go for Him, and where we won't go. We even tell Him what mustn't interfere with our plans to serve Him" (1985 hardback edition, pp. 17, 31, 88).
Can you say "Ouch!"?
However obviously a task seems to be "God's work," God will not be pleased if it is done in a prideful spirit. This doesn't apply only to the "showy piety" Jesus condemns in Mt. 6; it includes deliberate or thoughtless disregard for seeking God's will in our decisions. How many times do we rationalize something just has to be God's will for us because we want it so much? ("I've realized my first marriage was really against God's will, so the only Christian thing to do is end it and be united with the person God wanted me to marry in the first place.") Some of us even presume to tell others what God's will is for them: "I don't care if you prayed about it with fasting for three weeks, dear; I'm your mother, and I know God couldn't possibly want you to take a dangerous job like that." "You have to marry me; God told me we're meant to be together, even if He didn't tell you." But true servanthood is being willing to accept God's will as He reveals it, not to try to change it to fit our wishes or our logic.
Where would we be now if Jesus had convinced Himself the Cross was not God's will?
Lord, I would like so much
To do great things for You:
But may "greatness" not overwhelm my power
To stay humble through and through.
Lord, I have glorious plans;
My heart is full of dreams;
But may they come true only if their glow
Never blinds to Your Truth's gleams.
Lord, minds so quickly stray
When they have pride to chase;
If I turn away, please do trip me up,
Lest I fail in faith's great race.
Lord, I still long to stand
With those who can achieve:
But please never let me achieve those things
That would weaken my belief.
Lord, all my days are Yours:
May what I gain and do
Never be so great as to tempt to pride,
Or distract my eyes from You.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Shelter
Among my recent reading, I nominate for "most immediately significant" Chapter Nine ("The One Thing Needed") of Mark Buchanan's book Things Unseen: Living in Light of Forever. In it, pastor Buchanan describes a session with a counselee whose feelings beautifully echo my own of late: "Don’t take this too seriously [but] I just would rather not have to live anymore.... I’ve been waiting for a long time for something, anything, to change [for the better]. But nothing ever happens.... It’s like God doesn’t notice me. I don’t rate His attention."
God, I work hard. I'm committed to advancing Your Kingdom through the talents You gave me. I try to make time every day for prayer and worship. So how come I haven't had a drop of income in two months; and how come You let me stay so uncertain as to whether that's because of anything I'm doing or not doing? And how come You won't heal my depressive and perfectionistic tendencies that are just making things worse?
Buchanan relates such periods in our lives to Matthew 11:2-6 and notes, "Blessed is the man who doesn’t fall away on account of the One who does all this for others, but who sometimes leaves you–you!–in your prison, with death just outside the door. For me, one of the most difficult things about being a pastor is that too often I witness firsthand the lopsidedness of divine miracles." For those of us who pray about our problems for months or years without seeing anything discernible happening, hearing about the wonders God has wrought in others' lives doesn't always encourage; it may just tempt us to thoughts of "He cares about everyone but me." Why does He instantly answer a prayer about a relatively insignificant problem with a "yes," and seem deaf to "an entire church fasting and praying for forty-eight hours" for someone whose illness is not only terminal but strikes with agonizing pain in the prime of life? Why is it that two equally dedicated believers in seemingly identical situations can pray for relief, and one gets a "yes" answer and the other a "no"?
Then there was the man who prayed for healing of a potentially serious health problem and saw a minor one healed instead: "I guess God just wanted to show me He was able." I don't see how he could have taken it so well; to me, it would have been like asking for rent money to avoid eviction and having someone open a vault bulging with bills--and toss me a penny.
It doesn't help that many Christians who do get the more obvious blessings let it blind them to the reality of "lopsidedness." Hearing "God healed me when I prayed, so He'd heal you if you just prayed enough" is not comforting to someone who's already praying as best she feels able. Neither, for that matter, is hearing someone list how much worse she's lived through and conclude "...and you don't see me feeling sorry for myself," never considering that the ability to be happy in adverse circumstances might also be a blessing that God bestows in unequal degrees. No, I don't deny that self-pity is a sinful attitude; I just deny that all Spirit-filled Christians find it equally easy to put aside.
So what comfort is there for the believer who, by extreme circumstances or by temperament, finds himself in the "Lord, where's my miracle?" situation?
Quoting again from Buchanan's Things Unseen:"We hope in Christ not just because He feeds us, or heals us, or routs our enemies. Indeed, sometimes he doesn’t do any of that... No, we hope in Christ because of who He is, because He has the words of eternal life, and because anyone 'who feeds on this bread will live forever' [Jn. 6:58]. Because the world–and all its bread and all its fish and all its jewels and all its wonders and all its everything–is not enough." Because the physical healings and material provisions we pray for will eventually pass away with this life, and "If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men” (1 Cor. 15:19). "We can hope in Christ, but if that hope is only for the here and the now, if it is strictly earth-bound, we are in the deepest sense hopeless.... Life doesn’t justify living. Only eternity does. And Jesus alone grants that."
Our impatient natures hate waiting for Him to grant us the full blessings of eternity, which is why our "light and momentary troubles" (2 Cor. 4:17) seem anything but. Especially when we realize that nothing we can do will definitely guarantee God will perform at the speed and in the way we prefer. Still, He doesn't really leave us without compensation during our waiting periods; He always gives us Himself, and though we don't always feel comforted, He is still "the God of all comfort" (2 Cor. 1:3). We don't really know how much worse things would be without Him there protecting us.
With that thought, I'd like to close with a poem emphasizing God as our protection.
When food and clothing are uncertain,
When every paycheck is in doubt,
God is a shelter from despairing;
He will provide and bring you out.
When all the world seems set against you,
When foes are strong and friends are few,
God is a shelter from all scheming,
And He is Friend enough for you.
When tragedy has numbed your senses,
When deep depression grips your heart,
God is a shelter from the darkness,
And He will bring a brand new start.
God, I work hard. I'm committed to advancing Your Kingdom through the talents You gave me. I try to make time every day for prayer and worship. So how come I haven't had a drop of income in two months; and how come You let me stay so uncertain as to whether that's because of anything I'm doing or not doing? And how come You won't heal my depressive and perfectionistic tendencies that are just making things worse?
Buchanan relates such periods in our lives to Matthew 11:2-6 and notes, "Blessed is the man who doesn’t fall away on account of the One who does all this for others, but who sometimes leaves you–you!–in your prison, with death just outside the door. For me, one of the most difficult things about being a pastor is that too often I witness firsthand the lopsidedness of divine miracles." For those of us who pray about our problems for months or years without seeing anything discernible happening, hearing about the wonders God has wrought in others' lives doesn't always encourage; it may just tempt us to thoughts of "He cares about everyone but me." Why does He instantly answer a prayer about a relatively insignificant problem with a "yes," and seem deaf to "an entire church fasting and praying for forty-eight hours" for someone whose illness is not only terminal but strikes with agonizing pain in the prime of life? Why is it that two equally dedicated believers in seemingly identical situations can pray for relief, and one gets a "yes" answer and the other a "no"?
Then there was the man who prayed for healing of a potentially serious health problem and saw a minor one healed instead: "I guess God just wanted to show me He was able." I don't see how he could have taken it so well; to me, it would have been like asking for rent money to avoid eviction and having someone open a vault bulging with bills--and toss me a penny.
It doesn't help that many Christians who do get the more obvious blessings let it blind them to the reality of "lopsidedness." Hearing "God healed me when I prayed, so He'd heal you if you just prayed enough" is not comforting to someone who's already praying as best she feels able. Neither, for that matter, is hearing someone list how much worse she's lived through and conclude "...and you don't see me feeling sorry for myself," never considering that the ability to be happy in adverse circumstances might also be a blessing that God bestows in unequal degrees. No, I don't deny that self-pity is a sinful attitude; I just deny that all Spirit-filled Christians find it equally easy to put aside.
So what comfort is there for the believer who, by extreme circumstances or by temperament, finds himself in the "Lord, where's my miracle?" situation?
Quoting again from Buchanan's Things Unseen:"We hope in Christ not just because He feeds us, or heals us, or routs our enemies. Indeed, sometimes he doesn’t do any of that... No, we hope in Christ because of who He is, because He has the words of eternal life, and because anyone 'who feeds on this bread will live forever' [Jn. 6:58]. Because the world–and all its bread and all its fish and all its jewels and all its wonders and all its everything–is not enough." Because the physical healings and material provisions we pray for will eventually pass away with this life, and "If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men” (1 Cor. 15:19). "We can hope in Christ, but if that hope is only for the here and the now, if it is strictly earth-bound, we are in the deepest sense hopeless.... Life doesn’t justify living. Only eternity does. And Jesus alone grants that."
Our impatient natures hate waiting for Him to grant us the full blessings of eternity, which is why our "light and momentary troubles" (2 Cor. 4:17) seem anything but. Especially when we realize that nothing we can do will definitely guarantee God will perform at the speed and in the way we prefer. Still, He doesn't really leave us without compensation during our waiting periods; He always gives us Himself, and though we don't always feel comforted, He is still "the God of all comfort" (2 Cor. 1:3). We don't really know how much worse things would be without Him there protecting us.
With that thought, I'd like to close with a poem emphasizing God as our protection.
When food and clothing are uncertain,
When every paycheck is in doubt,
God is a shelter from despairing;
He will provide and bring you out.
When all the world seems set against you,
When foes are strong and friends are few,
God is a shelter from all scheming,
And He is Friend enough for you.
When tragedy has numbed your senses,
When deep depression grips your heart,
God is a shelter from the darkness,
And He will bring a brand new start.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Overload Syndrome
It's frequently said that Americans don't get (or take) enough vacation time, that we've forgotten what it's like to just relax. Even forcing ourselves to leave the workplace often doesn't help. I've just finished a three-week "break" and feel as stressed as ever--that time "off" included a family funeral; two crowded airplane flights; too much sightseeing in too little time; a doctor's appointment; a badly timed project deadline made worse by a shortage of research sources (that project is still unfinished, and prayers are appreciated); and, worst of all, a never-ending flood of e-mails (most of them pure junk) and a mailbox that won't let me ignore it four days before it fills up and starts rejecting new messages.
One survey reported that half of U. S. executives skip their vacations entirely to "get caught up on increased workloads." Probably the majority of the other half spend their "vacations" telecommuting. There's no place to hide from bosses or clients anymore; even on cruise ships and wilderness hikes, we see people discussing mergers by cell phone or pounding away at laptop computers. (You can always tell those who are conversing or Web surfing for business from those who are doing it for pleasure; the former are the ones whose fingers and lips move at hyperspeed and who have upward bends in their brows instead of their mouths.)
And all our attempts to "catch up" with the success we're chasing only seem to prove the quote from Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking Glass: "It takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!"
The place we really want to "get to" is the point where all stress and worry disappears; and human logic says that will be our reward when we finish all our responsibilities. Sad to say, human logic is part of fallen human nature. If we prefer Scripture as an example for our thinking, we can only expect to reach that cherished point of pure rest when ready to depart for Heaven (e. g., Paul in 2 Tim. 4:6-8); and yet, it would be not only unhealthy but sinful to refuse to stop until then. When Jesus made His famous offer, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light" (Mt. 11:28-30), He didn't say, "You'll never have to work again" or "You'll never be tempted to stress again." He offers rest on His terms: the freedom to take breaks before everything is finished; the freedom to do His work rather than being enslaved by the demands of the world or our own lusts and pride. The bad news, to human thinking, is that we have to give up our presumed right to do and get what we want. Say "yes" to God's offer, and you may learn the hard way that His definition of "rest" doesn't always extend to the physical, and that "every decent person is entitled to a long and happy life" is not one of His inviolable rules.
Still, most people who do accept His offer say they wouldn't have chosen differently for anything.
My mind is a whirl of confusion;
My brain jumps from thought into thought.
My life has a million priorities--
With all of them coming to naught.
My brain always dwells in the future:
Try get it to work on one task!
There's so much that I could be doing,
So much that this world has to ask.
I'd love to get everything finished
Within the brief span of a day,
Then sit back and rest for a lifetime--
If only the world worked that way!
The books and the chores and the travel,
Each option that's under the sun:
Of all of the times to be born in,
Lord, why this insane, cluttered one?
But wait: I can hear His voice speaking:
"The stressful life only was new
When Adam was cast from the Garden;
Sin's weight passed from him down to you.
"Each life has its burdens and clutter;
Remember, it never was meant
For this world to be your soul's mansion,
Or make you completely content.
"Your true home is waiting in Heaven;
But even today, I give rest
If you will let Me take your burden
And set you the chores that are best.
"My task is the one that is easy;
My load is the one that is light.
So cast out this world's expectations
And find in Me purest delight!"
One survey reported that half of U. S. executives skip their vacations entirely to "get caught up on increased workloads." Probably the majority of the other half spend their "vacations" telecommuting. There's no place to hide from bosses or clients anymore; even on cruise ships and wilderness hikes, we see people discussing mergers by cell phone or pounding away at laptop computers. (You can always tell those who are conversing or Web surfing for business from those who are doing it for pleasure; the former are the ones whose fingers and lips move at hyperspeed and who have upward bends in their brows instead of their mouths.)
And all our attempts to "catch up" with the success we're chasing only seem to prove the quote from Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking Glass: "It takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!"
The place we really want to "get to" is the point where all stress and worry disappears; and human logic says that will be our reward when we finish all our responsibilities. Sad to say, human logic is part of fallen human nature. If we prefer Scripture as an example for our thinking, we can only expect to reach that cherished point of pure rest when ready to depart for Heaven (e. g., Paul in 2 Tim. 4:6-8); and yet, it would be not only unhealthy but sinful to refuse to stop until then. When Jesus made His famous offer, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light" (Mt. 11:28-30), He didn't say, "You'll never have to work again" or "You'll never be tempted to stress again." He offers rest on His terms: the freedom to take breaks before everything is finished; the freedom to do His work rather than being enslaved by the demands of the world or our own lusts and pride. The bad news, to human thinking, is that we have to give up our presumed right to do and get what we want. Say "yes" to God's offer, and you may learn the hard way that His definition of "rest" doesn't always extend to the physical, and that "every decent person is entitled to a long and happy life" is not one of His inviolable rules.
Still, most people who do accept His offer say they wouldn't have chosen differently for anything.
My mind is a whirl of confusion;
My brain jumps from thought into thought.
My life has a million priorities--
With all of them coming to naught.
My brain always dwells in the future:
Try get it to work on one task!
There's so much that I could be doing,
So much that this world has to ask.
I'd love to get everything finished
Within the brief span of a day,
Then sit back and rest for a lifetime--
If only the world worked that way!
The books and the chores and the travel,
Each option that's under the sun:
Of all of the times to be born in,
Lord, why this insane, cluttered one?
But wait: I can hear His voice speaking:
"The stressful life only was new
When Adam was cast from the Garden;
Sin's weight passed from him down to you.
"Each life has its burdens and clutter;
Remember, it never was meant
For this world to be your soul's mansion,
Or make you completely content.
"Your true home is waiting in Heaven;
But even today, I give rest
If you will let Me take your burden
And set you the chores that are best.
"My task is the one that is easy;
My load is the one that is light.
So cast out this world's expectations
And find in Me purest delight!"
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
A God of Second Chances
Most Christians struggle with at least one "sin issue" that, at least occasionally, tempts us to think, "I know God can redeem anything--but maybe what I did is the exception to the rule." It doesn't matter whether it's a single heinous act we never would have thought ourselves capable of, a long pre-conversion record of being as antithetical to Christianity as a person can get, or some issue of attitude that keeps getting the best of us despite our efforts and prayers: in our moments of discouragement we seriously wonder if we've managed to out-sin God's grace. In some ways the "minor" problems--the worry habit, the bad temper, the prayerlessness--are worse torment than the obvious physical sins; the latter are, at least, easier to never do again! We get tired of accepting repeated apologies for the "same old thing," so it's natural to wonder if God also thinks in terms of "if she really wanted to change, she'd have done it by now."
The difference is that God knows when we're really sorry, as opposed to just saying so in the hope of staying out of trouble. Moreover, He fully understands our weaknesses and ignorance, what we literally can't help, what we aren't yet mature enough to manage--and His full understanding is what enables Him to be compassionate and forgiving toward us. (See Psalm 103:8-14.)
When it comes to long-term change, most of us have trouble understanding the boundaries of our own responsibility and at what point we should "let go and let God." Maybe it's humanly impossible to understand; every Bible scholar knows about the paradox that you can't choose God's way unless He calls you, and yet He holds you responsible for refusing His way. Two things can be stated with certainty, though:
1. God doesn't expect us to instantly eradicate our own tendencies toward sin--or to wipe out our sin's consequences--by our own willpower.
2. God would always rather receive back a sinner than punish one.
We serve a God of second chances:
However deep our sin may be,
We cannot sink beneath His mercy;
He ever longs to set us free.
We serve a God of second chances:
However far our souls may fall,
He reaches down to lift us upward,
And longs to pardon each and all.
We serve a God of second chances:
However black our hearts may grow,
He longs to heal us with His cleansing,
And change that “black” to “white as snow.”
The difference is that God knows when we're really sorry, as opposed to just saying so in the hope of staying out of trouble. Moreover, He fully understands our weaknesses and ignorance, what we literally can't help, what we aren't yet mature enough to manage--and His full understanding is what enables Him to be compassionate and forgiving toward us. (See Psalm 103:8-14.)
When it comes to long-term change, most of us have trouble understanding the boundaries of our own responsibility and at what point we should "let go and let God." Maybe it's humanly impossible to understand; every Bible scholar knows about the paradox that you can't choose God's way unless He calls you, and yet He holds you responsible for refusing His way. Two things can be stated with certainty, though:
1. God doesn't expect us to instantly eradicate our own tendencies toward sin--or to wipe out our sin's consequences--by our own willpower.
2. God would always rather receive back a sinner than punish one.
We serve a God of second chances:
However deep our sin may be,
We cannot sink beneath His mercy;
He ever longs to set us free.
We serve a God of second chances:
However far our souls may fall,
He reaches down to lift us upward,
And longs to pardon each and all.
We serve a God of second chances:
However black our hearts may grow,
He longs to heal us with His cleansing,
And change that “black” to “white as snow.”
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