Somewhere Beyond

Not only is death the enemy of humanity in general (1 Cor. 15:26), but many of us go through periods where it seems to hold a personal grudge against us. Recently, I've gotten to the point I dread answering phone calls from relatives: half a dozen of my parents' old friends, plus three family members, have passed on since 2006; and as many relatives again are struggling with serious health problems, at least one potentially terminal. For all that, I suspect that many people--faced with the senseless murder of a child, or a vehicle crash that took an entire family in one blow--would willingly trade places with me.

Many people react to death by wanting to die themselves; loss of a loved one is a frequent motive for suicide. Others don't need that much of an excuse. The ultimate escape can start to look attractive for the most trivial reasons; more than one suicide note has said something to the effect of "I can't take all this stress anymore" or "I failed and I can't live with it." Psychology Today reported in 2005 that perfectionists have a high suicide rate because "They think that if life isn't perfect, then it's worthless. Get rid of it." One mark of perfectionism is the feeling that we can get everything under control if only we try hard enough, and that if life is a disappointment in any way, we must be guilty of the sin of sloth and have to do penance by trying harder. (I can state from personal experience that it's even possible to be a perfectionist about getting rid of perfectionism; if you laughed at that without also being tempted to cry, I envy you your lack of perfectionism!) Since we aren't God, we're trying to do the impossible and will eventually break under the strain.

The craving and striving for perfection, whether in ourselves, others, or life in general, will invariably disappoint us because this world hasn't been perfect since the day of the forbidden fruit. We tend to see God's promising Adam and Eve lifelong hardship in return for that snack (Gen. 3:16-19) as pure punishment; but perhaps it was also an act of mercy. Had they continued to live in comfort once their souls were tainted with sin, they might never have returned to God because life might not have seemed so bad without Him. It's the prodigal who's been reduced to living in the pig pen, not the playboy who still has money nor the dutiful son still at home, who realizes the full depths of the wages of sin and can finally experience the Father's embrace of love.

The ultimate experience of that embrace, of course, waits for the life beyond this one where things finally will be invariably, unspoilably perfect. Though we may not yet believe that with all our hearts, it's far greater consolation in pain than is feeling guilty because we can't "fix things" ourselves.

Somewhere beyond the sky above there is a Heavenly land
In which our loved ones gone before have found eternal peace;
And someday when our years are done, we'll go to be with them
In that bright world beyond our world when pain will finally cease.

Somewhere beyond this world of time there is a Heavenly land
Where all who dwell are ever strong and beautiful and young;
And someday when our bodies end their work, they'll be remade
In that bright world beyond our world where all the blessed come.

Somewhere beyond this world of toil there is a Heavenly land
Where all the work is purest joy through service to our Lord;
And someday when we rest at last, we'll worship Him alone
In that bright world beyond our world where endless grace is poured.

Look at the Cross

"I can't believe God loves me." Although some people say this apparently thinking they're too good for God (that is, they regard Him with if-You-really-cared-You'd-do-what-I-wanted whining), probably an equal number are all too aware that God is too good for them. "How could a perfect God ever love someone who's done what I did?" is the lament of the tormented soul longing for forgiveness but afraid to ask for it. Whether the specific matter of concern is a single heinous act, a lifetime of habitual immorality, or a despairing awareness of ingrained selfishness, these people consider themselves the worst of sinners and are sure God must hate them as much as they hate themselves.

If you're in this situation and the parable of the prodigal son isn't enough to convince you that God still wants you back, consider the true account of Christ's Crucifixion. Just as the story of the prodigal has lost its emotional impact in frequent retellings (in first-century Palestine, demanding one's inheritance from a living parent was tantamount to a capital crime and the idea of welcoming such a son home without a reprimand was inconceivable), so has the story of the Cross. Crucifixion was not simply painful; it was overwhelmingly so. Try to imagine how it would feel to be whipped with metal-tipped cords that tore the skin; hung by your wrists from two sharp spikes rammed through blood vessel and nerve; provided with no physical support for your weight (and that only to prolong the agony) beyond an equally painful spike through the ankles and perhaps a tiny "seat"; and left dangling, every breath an agony of effort, until your muscles finally gave out and you died choking. Ask yourself: would anything make you go through all that voluntarily, solely for the purpose of sparing another the supreme pain?

That's exactly what Christ did to save us from being punished for the very sins we are ashamed to approach Him with. How can there be any doubt He loves us despite those sins?

You who see only the guilt of your sin,
You who are tortured by all that has been,
Doubting forgiveness could ever be given—
Look at the Cross for a message from Heaven.

You who doubt God still could love the impure,
Who live in fear condemnation is sure,
Certain God’s grace is too good to be true—
Look at the Cross, and see all He went through.

Not for the righteous who boast of their deeds,
Not for the soul that on human praise feeds,
But for the ones who their hopelessness feel,
There on the Cross, He did God’s love reveal.

Look at the Cross and see God’s deepest pain;
Look at the One Whose great loss was our gain;
Look at His love, and set all doubt aside:
It was for you that He willingly died.

Have You Grown Weary?

I woke up tired the last couple of mornings, and today I have a queasy stomach on top of that. I'd be inclined to suspect impending illness, except I've learned from experience that such symptoms are more likely than not to be stress-induced fatigue. It must be stress-induced, because it occurs with significantly less correlation to the number of hours I spend in bed each night than to my emotional investment in long To Do lists. It's hard to be confident that God will complete His good work in you (Phil. 1:6) when you're constantly obsessed with fear that you won't complete something or other.

I can imagine Jesus looking at the crowds in first-century Galilee and seeing similar anxious thoughts in their hearts, as He issued His famous invitation: "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). Sounds like a decision that hardly needs making, but for most of us it isn't. Especially not for the long term. Habits, fear of losing things that matter to us, and pride that wants to find its own solutions all stand in the way.

To be honest, I find God's disinclination to clearly state His specific solutions (as they apply to me and my situations) to be more than a little annoying. Although I can't agree with the "antisupernaturalist Christians" who claim God's direct revelations ended with the New Testament and that everyone (however dedicated a believer) who believes God has said something specific to her (however brief and simple) must be imagining things, I can sympathize with the frustration that probably drives some people to this conclusion. Some Christians seem to receive a word of encouragement or guidance from God at every quiet time; myself, no matter how much I pray, I never even seem to get a wordless sense of His Presence. Not even anything that gives me some idea whether I'm right to worry that my cluttered mind or some unconfessed sin is causing the problem.

When one gets to this point, there's only one thing to do. Follow God's advice in Psalm 46:10 to "be still"--which, translated literally, means something like "let go." Let go of your frustrations, let go of the "musts" and "shoulds" that torture your mind, let go of your plans and fears for the future.

Above all, let go of your attempts to figure out how God "should" work. Just relax and let Him do it.

Have you grown weary with earth and its ways?
Do you find scarcely a reason for praise?
Lift up your heart to the Lord of all joy;
That which He gives, no despair can destroy.

Have you grown weary of life’s endless tasks?
Does it seem nothing you do ever lasts?
Offer your hands to the cause of the Lord;
Only His work brings enduring reward.

Have you grown weary of playing life’s game?
Does every day seem just more of the same?
Call on the Lord; ask to see with His view;
Each day with Him is exciting and new.

Have you grown weary with life as a whole?
Do you just crave lasting rest for your soul?
Patience, have patience; in time, God will bring
Life that endures, where He rules as the King.

Love Is So Patient

I could never express the attributes of love as perfectly as Paul does in 1 Corinthians 13, so I refer you to him for the prose section of today's post. Love, even coming from a rather poor example such as myself, understands the value of humility.

Love is so patient; love is so kind;
Love flows from God's heart through those with His mind;
Pure, holy love is an act of the will,
A conscious decision in souls Christ does fill.

Love is so humble; love is so meek;
Love grows within those who God's way still seek;
Love is so gentle, so pure and so good,
The way of God's Spirit; it does as it should.

Love is so faithful; love is so true;
Love is a sign of a soul made as new
In faith that's nurtured by God's holy Power;
It looks toward His Coming through each earthly hour.

Imperfections and Annoyances

The proofs for my new book, Where Light Dawns, arrived yesterday. Perfectionist that I am, I must have reread the whole thing six times before submitting the file, determined to get rid of all typos and ambiguities.

You guessed it: I managed to leave a couple of seemingly obvious errors in there. How could I, of all people, do such a thing--I, who carefully took the trouble to mention in the text itself how foolish it is to consider oneself the only person on earth whom God hates for being capable of a mistake???

The habit of letting the most insignificant imperfections ruin our days carries over to the external. "Did you enjoy the birding tour?" "They said we'd see a hundred species and only ninety-nine showed up!"

I understand that in some Amish and Middle Eastern cultures, it's the custom for craftspeople to deliberately leave some small imperfection in their work, lest they be found guilty of trying to prove themselves as perfect as God. Perhaps we'd be better off not only adopting the habit ourselves, but seeing life's external annoyances as His way of reminding us that we can't force earth to be as perfect as Heaven.

It's not so much the tragedies,
Though they may shake the soul,
That often undermine our faith
That God is in control.
A tree may stand through mighty gales
With trunk that's firm and strong,
But, once the wood begins to rot,
Will fall before too long.

And likewise, those who fret and fume
At every tiny pain,
Demanding everything go "right"
And bring them only "gain,"
Will find their faith begins to rot,
And cracks at every breeze.
So fix in mind that God knows best;
And live as He does please!

P. S. on Where Light Dawns: Patterned after this blog and using many of the same poems, the book is intended as a ministry tool and fundraiser for those serving the chronically depressed. Copies should be available in several weeks; watch for announcements.

Warfare

More than one Christian author has noted that the sea of faith is sailed not on a luxury yacht but on a battleship. At least one has stated that from the way many believers react to high waves, an observer would think the battle was against God rather than the devil! The worst grumblers, and the most likely to defect completely when things get nasty, are those who have little personal experience with persecution or struggle; there's a reason why military forces insist their fighters show respect, work hard, and stay in top physical condition even when there's no immediate likelihood of being deployed to battle.

Most of us in the wealthier societies doubt that we'll ever be "deployed" in the sense of having to give up all we own or risk imprisonment or martyrdom. Most of us in the wealthier societies would rather not even seriously consider the possibility. Most of us in the wealthier societies don't list Matthew 24 or 2 Timothy 3:12-13 or the bloodier passages of Revelation among our ten favorite Scripture passages for pondering applications to our own lives.

Whether we realize it or not, though, even the most "privileged" believer is already deployed to intense battle on a different level--and how we react to the thought of "hard times" is one sign of how well armed we really are. The battle is our responsibility to "demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up [in our hearts] against the knowledge of God, and [to] take captive every thought [of ours] to make it obedient to Christ" (2 Cor. 10:5). Our opponents in this fight--the flesh and the devil--find their best ally in our belief that there are earthly things we can't live without and earthly situations we can't live with. If we had true faith in God and His promises, we could say with confidence, "Even if the world suffocates in its own heat, even if the economy collapses and takes civilization with it, even if going to church becomes a capital crime, I know that God will bring me safe into His Kingdom where all earthly sorrows will be forgotten; so I need not be afraid to persevere in His work, for nothing in this world can really hurt me."

Anything else is sitting in the bunker playing cards and hoping that the battle will go away if we ignore it. The battle that may have our side on the defensive due to a shortage of soldiers.

We each of us, as Christians,
Are soldiers of the Lord:
Our shield is faith in Jesus,
The Scriptures are our sword,
Our armor is the Gospel--
Salvation and good news,
And truth and righteous living,
Must be the path we choose.

The foes who stand against us
Are not of mortal flesh;
No human eye can see them,
Their schemes no mind unmesh.
Their weapons are temptation,
Discouragement, and fear;
And when we face disaster,
Their evil hand is near.

We cannot fight the battle
By human strength alone;
God's angels are our allies,
Our power flows from His Throne.
Nor are our marching orders
All focused on defense,
To keep our own souls guarded,
Held safe behind a fence.

No, we are God's offensive
To storm the devil's ground,
To free the souls held captive
Wherever they are found:
The Kingdom forges forward
With Jesus in the lead,
And we are called to conquer
And rush to every need.

The battle is relentless,
But bound for victory;
Though some may fall in fighting,
Their souls are ever free
And blessed with Heaven's honors;
And someday soon the war
Will end in praise and glory
And peace forevermore!

Worthy of Praise

"What a wondrous time is spring," as noted in the campfire song "Pass It On." Especially after a particularly cold winter, as we in Houston recently came out of, the renewal of life at this time of year has most of us falling in love with the outdoors all over again.

Part of the appeal of the birds, the wildflowers, and the fresh air is that, simple as many of them seem, they are beyond our power to produce. The incessant human drive for control notwithstanding, there's something comforting about the thought of a Higher Power taking care of things for us. No person is really comfortable with the thought that everything depends on him, which is why control freaks and workaholics are such an unhappy lot. Fine if all of life is going the way we like, but when it comes to planning and controlling life's million or so aspects, who really wants all that responsibility?

Of course, when life isn't going the way we like, we suddenly want control without responsibility--effectively, the right to order God to "fix" things. Since He tends to be infuriatingly impervious to our threats and demands, we quickly start looking for more pliable alternatives. It hasn't been that many years since "if we can put a man on the moon, why can't we [solve this or that annoying little problem]?" was a regular phrase in everyday talk. If God won't "correct" life's nuisances and tragedies for us, let's start demanding to know why the government and the scientific community, with all they've accomplished in the past, can't focus all their energies on eliminating whatever's bothering us.

That sort of thinking is a dangerous step toward the pride that says humans can do anything God can do. We'd be better off if we quit complaining, took a spring walk in the park, and spent that time considering that the God Whose physical accomplishments far excel ours might also know better how the world should be run.

Oh, the city's soaring skyline is an awe-inspiring sight,
The technology's amazing that can light a home at night,
And with all the new computers we can do great tasks with ease,
But there are other wonders that are greater far than these.

More grand than any skyline is a starlit country sky,
Far brighter than electric lights the fiery sun on high,
And the greatest of computers is the marvelous human mind,
Always seeking, always learning, always something new to find!

We bask in our own glory more than mortals ever should;
So proud of things we've done, forgetting those we never could.
The Creator, He Who rules us, holds Creation in His hand;
So let all of us be humble; He alone is truly grand!