O, Master of Heaven

Welcome to New Songs from the Heart 2011!

My last (pre-Christmas) post talked about how we sabotage the true spirit of Advent by wishing for a quick ride to our "ideal" image. Perhaps I also should have noted a deeper source of the problem; we set that ideal (and its timeline) by our own judgment, and try to reach it by our own strength. If this is a stumbling block at Advent, it's all the more so in early January. Just about everyone, Christian or not, starts each year determined to get all the bugs out of her life by next December--then, typically, lets the resolve die of neglect by February. Most New Year's Resolutions lists are motivated by an optimism that, if not exactly blind, could certainly use a strong pair of glasses. If exchanging old habits for new ones was a hard struggle in 2010, why should the coming of 2011 make it any easier?

New year or no, we still live in the same old world. And we aren't going to make it--or ourselves--any different.

Am I saying everything is hopeless? Not at all. I'm saying that we forget Who really does the work of making the world--and us--new. That we too easily get impatient because He refuses to work according to our orders. That our resolutions and plans fail because we make them without consulting Him, or try to achieve them without acknowledging our dependence on His strength. He is the One Who will "make everything new" (see Rev. 21:1-5)--in His time.

Since much of our frustration stems from forgetting God is in charge of everything, today's poem takes a look at Him in a wide variety of aspects: Trinity, Creator, Redeemer, Sanctifier--and ultimate Consummator and Ruler.

O, Master of Heaven, Creator of all,
Who brought forth the world by the sound of Your call,
It was Your command that made everything grow:
Your power is far greater than mortal can know.

O, Christ, Blessed Savior, Redeemer of all,
What joy leaps within us when we hear Your call!
It was for our sins that Your life-blood did flow:
Your love is far greater than mortal can know.

O, Marvelous Spirit, Enlightener of all,
While You dwell within us we never can fall.
You’re working to make us as pure as the snow,
With wisdom far greater than mortal can know.

O, Lord of all being, great Ruler of all,
We long for the day of Your summoning call.
With time passed away, still Your rule on will go:
And we’ll see Your face, and pure joy we will know.

Lord, You Brought My Life to Being

This will be my last post of 2010, as I prepare for Christmas break. In early 2011 I hope to announce a new website where readers can purchase my book based on this blog, Where Light Dawns: Christian Poems of Hope for Hurting Hearts. In the meantime, please e-mail all inquiries to kswarts@ix.netcom.com.

***

We all know that Advent is ideally a time of worshipful contemplation and of thanks to God for sending Jesus into the world and for all the Second Coming promises. And probably 90% of us continue to bog down each year in the swamp of "love it in theory but can't make it work in practice." Too much shopping, too much food, too many invitations, too many mailings--all of which we feel obligated to go through with even as the sum total leaves us exhausted and feeling guilty. Ultimately, we all have to face it: unless we're among the few for whom it's practical to move to a retreat center for three weeks, our special Advent time has to be carefully scheduled and usually comes out smaller than we'd hoped for.

Part of the problem may well be that our hopes are unreasonable. If you're anything like me, one thing you'd love to get for Christmas--or any time of the year--is a spiritual discipline program that works like piano lessons: clearly defined exercises, set hours, obvious signs of progress, and ultimately a mastery that ensures you never again have to struggle to learn more or do the right thing. I can now hear the real musicians chiding me for my overly idealized description of mastering the piano: "Obviously, she doesn't know about the monotony of practicing the same exercise over and over, the frustration of fearing you'll never master a difficult movement, the temptations to skip practice, the image of perfection that only recedes as you advance!" Okay, I admit that the "reach the peak and rest" dream is always an illusion, whether we're talking about the fine arts, education, or spiritual growth.

Ironic how quickly our noblest goals are tainted by laziness and the selfish desire for expediency. And ironic how quickly, after being saved, we forget all God gives us and start whining about what we still want. Most of us should have little trouble identifying with the Israelites in the wilderness, whose theme song quickly became, "How do we know God will continue providing for our needs--especially when what He provides isn't that great anyway?" We not only want what we want when we want it, we want it before we want it, as though even having to ask were more work than should be expected of us.

The real purpose of Advent is the same purpose that lay behind all the ancient Jewish festivals commanded by God, and that still lies behind their Christian counterparts today. That purpose is to take time to remember how great God is, how small we are, and how good He is to give us anything at all--let alone as much as He does. Especially since we constantly seem bent on doing everything possible to prove we deserve nothing but scolding and punishment.

That God still loves us and will do anything to supply our true needs, is the real gift.

Lord, You brought my life to being,

Gave me all the power I need

To perform Your works with purpose,

Praising You in every deed.

Still I greet each dawning morning

With a groan of inward dread:

“Only pain and stress await me;

Why should I desert my bed?”

Lord, through all that life has brought me

You have fed me by Your hand,

Led me safe through fiery struggles,

Silenced storms by Your command.

Still I test Your power and goodness:

Oh, how quickly I forget

All the wonders You have shown me,

All the needs that You have met!

Lord, You discipline Your children

With a Father’s love and care:

In each trial or pain that strikes me,

Your controlling hand is there.

Still I have despised Your chastening,

And my fleshly, selfish lust

Turns my thoughts to fretful pouting:

“What I want is always just!”

Lord, You know my human weakness;

I am but a fleeting wind

With a life that soon will perish,

Not to walk this earth again.

You, the One Who lives forever,

Weak and sinful though I be,

Share that endless life in mercy:
Lord, forgive, and set me free!

Looking Ahead

In 1994, B. J. Oropeza published the book 99 Reasons Why No One Knows When Christ Will Return. Some seventeen years later, most of the current-events references are out of date, nearly all the world leaders referred to are out of power, and the majority of dates that various groups predicted for the end of the world have passed. Which, of course, only supports Oropeza's point: the idea that "this is surely the generation of Christ's return because times can't get much worse" was never intended to be a central doctrine of the Christian faith.

Still, the "date-setter" crowd never seems to learn. An Amazon.com search for "end times prophecy" revealed over 750 currently available books on the topic; a Google search, 636,000 results. My own home town (Houston, TX), hosted a major "end times" conference earlier this year, at which time at least one prominent Christian radio station suspended a day of regular programming to discuss the topic. Never mind how many times believers have wrongly predicted the Second Coming (or how ridiculous they made the Church look in the process); this time things are different.

And, admittedly, the claim that "human technology now, for the first time, has power to destroy the whole world" has some validity. Still, that doesn't prove we will destroy the world in this decade, this generation, or this century. How many sociologists predicted that a nuclear war would take place before the year 2000?

I'm no sociologist, but I suspect many "end times" adherents are motivated less by love of Jesus than by love of their own comfort; they want God to end the world so they won't have to put up with it any longer, won't have to suffer directly if things do reach the point of catastrophe, won't have to consider that they may personally be supposed to put some effort (complete with inconveniences and dangers) into bringing about reform on a major scale. If God won't promise them long lives free of want and frustration, they want to at least trade their lives for Heaven as painlessly as possible.

John Ankerberg and John Weldon, referencing Oropeza in "Why Is It Wrong for Christians to Predict When Christ Will Return to Earth?," note that "We are living in the last days [defined as the whole time period between Pentecost and the Parousia] but... we cannot know how long these days will last.... the question is not so much whether we should be ready to meet God at such and such a date in the future, but are we ready to meet Him now?" And are we also ready to accept that, if Christ does not return in our lifetimes, things may well reach the point where we have to endure homelessness and persecution--even the complete collapse of the comfortable, safe, stable world Westerners have long taken for granted? Do we really appreciate the greater blessings God has for His people who suffer?

More than that, do we have the right attitude in looking forward to the eternal order that will come eventually: seeing it not simply as the end of our hardships, but as the ultimate consummation of the greatest good--the glory of God?

Looking forward to eternity in that spirit is the secret of joy in all circumstances. 

Whatever may come to discourage me,
There are two great truths I know:
I am nearer to Heaven than yesterday;
And, in Christ I am free to grow.
Let me not look too hard at how far I am
From perfection, as Christ compares,
Except insofar as it makes me meek,
And keeps humble my thoughts and prayers.

But, lest I decide that the walk's too long,
And thus lose the will to try,
Let me also look at the Heavenly crown
That is waiting for me on high.
Keep my eyes raised up from the rocky path
That I may have to climb between,
And fixed firm on God and the joys of Christ:
Keep my heart set on things unseen.

Since my Lord looks not on great earthly deeds,
But on who I am in Him,
Let me trust His grace for my daily walk:
He Who fills my cup to the brim
And Who walks with me all my earthly days.
He alone, when those days are done,
Will reveal what always He held in store
To make me what I shall become!

Rush! Rush! Rush!

Next time someone asks, "How are you?," try replying, "Busy!" I'll bet a Starbucks latte that the response will be, "That's great!" Granted, having a job is generally a good thing; and having plenty to do is usually better than sitting idle and depressed. On the other hand, North America has no shortage of people who are seriously depressed—or physically ill—because the strain of their busyness caught up with them before they "caught up" with their work.

"What do people gain from all their labors at which they toil under the sun?" asked the writer of Ecclesiastes. "All things are wearisome, more than one can say.... I have seen all the things that are done under the sun; all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind" (Ecc. 1:3, 8a, 14). The phrase "chasing after the wind" appears nine times in Ecclesiastes; seven of those times it is paired with the word "meaningless." That's an apt description of today's American dream: we always seem to be "chasing" something as elusive as the wind, and end up catching nothing we find meaningful. Worse, while in the wild the one being chased runs most frantically, in the "civilized" world the chasers are the ones afraid to slow down. And in the end, unceasing high speed can only lead to breakdown.

Martha in Luke 10:38-42 was dangerously close to breakdown when, "distracted by all the preparations that had to be made" (v. 40a), she unleashed a burst of frustration at Jesus for not assigning her sister assistant kitchen duty. Many of us, likewise, blame God for "giving us more work than we can handle" when in fact we have taken on burdens He never intended us to bear. As He said to Martha then, He says to us now, "You are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one (Luke 10:41b-42a). Stop striving to fill every need you see; stop trying to do more than you can; put aside the idea that your value is in achievement. Sit down at My feet and listen to Me, and I will give you strength and guidance for the work I have for you."

It runs counter to all instinct and habit. But it's the only way to receive the better things God has ready for us.

Rush! Rush! Rush!
Through life we hurry along:
The busy soul is the lucky one,
And the high achievers strong.
Rush! Rush! Rush!
Each pause is an enemy:
We must run faster to catch the day
When from stress we will be free.

Wait! Wait! Wait!
What, really, do we achieve
Through constant drive to accomplish more?
What blessings do we receive?
Wait! Wait! Wait!
Give thought to your deeper needs:
Might you gain the world and lose your soul
Through the press of earthly deeds?

Stop! Stop! Stop!
Give ear to the Lord's soft voice:
"Your true significance is in Me;
You can in My peace rejoice."
Stop! Stop! Stop!
Sit down at the Savior's feet,
For our strain and stress bears bitter fruit,
But God's Holy Fruit is sweet.

Guilt or Grace?

The essence of what makes Christianity theologically unique is summed up in Eph. 2:8-10: "For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." All religions prod to good works, and many believe in a Higher Power that makes some allowances for human shortcomings; but Christianity alone teaches unequivocally that grace comes before good works—any good works.

That is, pure, Biblically-based Christianity teaches such. You'd never guess it from what's heard in many churches. "All God wants from us is obedience." "Every day millions of souls die without Christ—what are you doing about it?" "Your church is in desperate need of more financial contributions/teachers/blood donors." The causes behind such appeals may be valid, but the implication comes down to "it's your personal responsibility to meet all outstanding needs as you and your spiritual leaders see them, or God will be disappointed in you." Or, bluntly, it comes down to a guilt trip.

God does not send His people on guilt trips. Certainly He convicts of sin; but failure to personally meet every outstanding need is not sin. In fact, it may actually be sin to try, particularly when we are so busy relying on human judgment that we never bother to ask for God's guidance. What's really wrong with works-based religion is that it's human-based: humans decide everything that needs doing, humans do everything that needs doing. Humans thus take over God's privilege of running the world, and God becomes the insurance company that pays out our eternity in Heaven because we kept up the premiums during our lives. There's no grace involved, merely our rightful due.

To do our good works as God intended—motivated by gratitude rather than guilt, fully relying on His guidance alone, and with acknowledgment we are only giving Him His rightful due—is to experience divine grace to its fullest.

What is driving your devotion,
As you seek God's face?
What is your chief motivation?
Is it guilt—or grace?

What propels you on your duties?
What's the goal you chase?
You are working in God's service,
But through guilt—or grace?

Is He just your Lord and Master?
Is there any trace
Of delighting in His Friendship,
Trading guilt for grace?

He Who gave His life to save us,
King of time and space,
Longs to free us from guilt's burdens:
Praise Him for His grace!

What Kind of Love Is This?

The adage Jesus quotes in Mt. 5:43, "Love your neighbor and hate your enemy," is actually not found in Old Testament law. More specifically, the first half is found but not the second. "Hate your enemy" must have been added by some rabbi who confused hatred of sin with hatred of sinners.

No question that the two are easy to confuse when the sinners are our enemies--those who deliberately sin directly against us, or against those we care about, or against the principles we believe in, or against our fellow Christians. Of course, sometimes those who sin against us are fellow Christians, or others we genuinely loved. There is no deeper wound than to consider someone a close friend, even to make a formal commitment of loyalty--and then to have that person not only selfishly and deliberately do something s/he knows will hurt us, but to respond to our pain with indifference or even mockery. Human nature reacts to such betrayal with either despair or extreme anger. The famous quip, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," was in its original version (by William Congreve) paired with the line "Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned." How true. We can hate our friends-turned-enemies with a hatred that rivals the worst blood feuds of human history.

Which makes it all the more remarkable that "While we were still sinners, Christ died for us" (Rom. 5:8b). Those of us well-versed in Scripture tend to read Rom. 5:6-11 and the Crucifixion accounts with a familiarity tainted by contempt, as if the Atonement were a simple matter of a rich friend's donating a bit of his wealth to pay a poorer friend's debt. Even if we appreciate the extreme physical agony involved in death by crucifixion, we often fail to consider the full depth of the compassion involved, given whom all this was for. It wasn't simply that the human race didn't deserve redemption; in a very real sense, we didn't even want it. The whole Bible--the whole of human history--is a record of people willingly accepting God's blessings but scorning His Lordship, and then whining "I deserve better!" whenever He fails to give us what we want when we want it. That's why "works religion" and "law-of-attraction prayer" are so popular even among Christians; they offer a God Who makes things easy for us, Who really lets us be the boss. They promise a Heaven that starts right now not only in closeness to God, but in complete freedom from want or disappointment. 

It wasn't just His sworn enemies who spat on Christ as He endured crucifixion. We, His own people, do it every time we get angry at God or ignore (or rationalize away) His commands. It was for us, too, that He prayed, "Father, forgive them" (Luke 23:34a) from the Cross.

It's us for whose sins He still intercedes today, with a patience that surpasses human understanding. 

A simple thing enough, to love

The generous and kind—

The ones who smile and give and share,

And keep your needs in mind.

But who could love the selfish ones

With ever-tight-clenched fists?

To love the grasping, bitter soul—

What kind of love is this?

A simple thing enough, to love

The ones with love for you—

The ones with whom you share your joy,

The loyal and the true.

But who could love the ones who scorn,

Who spit and curse and hiss?

To love the ones with hate for you—

What kind of love is this?

A simple thing enough, to love

The ones who feel your pain—

The ones who rush to comfort you

In times of grief and strain.

But who could love those spiteful ones

For whom your pain is bliss?

To love the ones who crush your heart—

What kind of love is this?

And we, who so refuse to love,

And turn away from right,

Who scorn the God Who gave us life

And choose the ways of night,

We are the ones who spat on Him,

Who broke His heart. Know this:

We hated Him—He died for us.
That kind of love... was His!

O, God of Love and Purest Grace

In many ways, material blessings are a spiritual disadvantage; it's easier to "long for the better country" of Heaven (cf. Heb. 11:13-16) when earth has little to offer. The person who has everything he needs in terms of health, family, money, and possessions may find himself in the position of the "rich young ruler" of Mt. 19:16-22--desperately wanting the riches of eternal life but clinging with even greater desperation to the riches of this life.

Had the ruler looked at what he would gain rather than at what he would be giving up, his decision might have been different. Likewise with us: too many Christians never advance beyond the lukewarm stage of commitment because they keep getting stalled by visions of what they have to lose. And forgetting that the day will come when they have to give it up anyway. When our works are tested by fire on the Day of Judgment (1 Cor. 3:11-15), there is going to be a lot of embarrassed squirming among believers who lived for worldly success and left themselves with nothing eternal to show for it.  

With that in mind, I encourage you to read today's poem as a prayer for Heavenly vision.

O, God of Love and purest Grace,

Who saves the soul from sin,

Guide us through all our earthly days;

Provide Your strength within.

O, God of Power and endless Might,

Whom none can ever thwart,

Fill us with will to choose the right,

That we may not fall short.

O, God of Joy and Source of Song,

Great Maker of all things,

Lift up our hearts our whole lives long,

As all Creation sings.

O, God of Peace and Source of Rest,

Come, guard Your children’s ways;

Convince our hearts Your way is best,

And help us sing Your praise.

O, God of Hope and Lord of Time,

Who brought the world to be,

Come, be our Strength, and we will shine
Through all eternity.

***
Katherine Swarts's poetry book Where Light Dawns, based on this blog, is now for sale at $10/copy. Send inquiries to kswarts@ix.netcom.com, or, if you're in Houston on November 6, look for Katherine's booth at the Grace Presbyterian arts and crafts fair.