Of all the immeasurably beautiful things said in the Bible, one simple phrase sticks out to me as being the key to my life. It’s not a beautiful promise. It’s no song of praise. It involves no deep revelation. Only a solemn goal. One phrase to live by. “I resolve to know nothing but Christ and him crucified” 1 Cor 2:2. Sounds kind of strange—that the knowledge of a gory, pitiful, even embarrassing death could become my mantra.
I’ve been thinking about these words a lot lately, partially because Easter calls to mind Jesus’ death and resurrection, but mostly because God keeps on confronting me with the fact that I don’t actually live as if my “favorite” words were true. If I truly resolved to know nothing but Christ and him crucified, the knowledge of Jesus’ death and resurrection would be all I ever needed. So when I live as if I need to know my future, or what certain circumstances and relationships are going to be like, my reality is that Jesus really isn’t enough for me. In a way, I cheapen his death. I cheapen God’s love.
If the reality of my life is that I often find myself “needing” to know a lot more than Christ, I have to question why I proclaim 1 Cor. 2:2 as the mission of my life. Why am I so drawn to those words and what could they mean for me? I need to reevaluate for myself what is the knowledge of Jesus, his death, and resurrection.
Jesus: the son of God who came to earth as a love-offering so that sinful people like me could have a relationship with a loving, all-knowing, sovereign God. He is called “the Good shepherd,” “God with us,” “Prince of Peace,” “Redeemer of the world,” “Healer,” “Teacher,” “Brother,” “Giver of Life”
His Death: Hated, rejected, abandoned, misunderstood, and unaccepted by the whole world, He submitted himself to the harshest capital punishment. Being led to the cross, Jesus went “with joy” and did not utter one word of defense or turn against anyone in hatred or bitterness.
His Resurrection: Not only did Jesus himself rise to Heaven, but in doing so he made a way for us to rise and be seated “on heavenly places” with him---right here, right now. With His death, my sinful flesh died too and Jesus now lives in me. Because of this, the same power that conquered the grave is within me and I can live lacking nothing.
Reflecting on these three elements right now, I have to admit that I am amazed—that three basic summaries can say so much about who God is and what he desires for my life. I see that in knowing Jesus, his death, and his resurrection, I can be lead continually by a loving hand through a dark and confusing world. I can have a heart, body, and mind healed and renewed. I can live at peace regardless of circumstance. I can find full security, even if everybody else in the world rejects, misunderstands, hates, and abandons me. I can overcome sin, selfishness, and urges to defend myself or be right. I can learn how to love in a way that surpasses human ability, comprehension or merit. I can actively see and experience glory while here on earth. I can live never wanting, regardless of life circumstances. The list could go on and on, couldn’t it? I think I can sum it up in saying that in the knowledge of Christ, his death, and resurrection, I can live knowing that I don’t have to worry about myself or my life because all that I have and am is in the hands of One far greater than me. Maybe that’s why Paul felt the need to remind us (and perhaps himself) that all we need to do is resolve to know nothing but Christ. All the rest is just details.
As you go into this Easter weekend, I encourage you to take a moment and evaluate Jesus’ death and resurrection and what they mean in your own life. Are you OK with knowing nothing else, or, like me, does your reality often say that Jesus isn’t enough? Thankfully, our hypocrisy does not actually change who God is or what He is doing in our lives. It does not change the fact that whether or not we realize or accept it, He is calling us to a banquet feast, where we sit on high at his table, fueled for a life of abundance. May we all meet each other there this Easter.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
It's Not About Me: Exchanging Glory
First of all, sorry for such an incredibly wide gap since my last post. International travel, work, and crazy life circumstances have unfortunately taken over my world. It feels good to be back!
In these few months of (blog) silence, I have encountered a lot of trials--relationships/"securities" in my life falling apart left and right. Time and again, I have found myself in desperate need of wisdom. What do you do when everything seems to be spinning out of control? If you're anything like me, you take the weight of the world on your shoulders, looking to yourself to figure it out. You desperately try to fix the issues in your life and recreate a sense of calm. So you stretch, struggle, worry, and weep, giving all that you can to "make things OK" and maintain control. And if you're anything like me, the result is always the same--unresolved or further strained trials, a lingering sense of despair, and the eating sensation that you have failed everyone and everything.
In the end, my attempts to fight my battles and generate answers lead me to incredible self-centered. All I can see is my pain, my problems. I become overwhelmed. How can this be? Isn't it noble to care enough to do all that you can to make things better in bold confrontation of problems? All of my care/attempts seem good and well, but I so quickly forget one critical detail--in my battle to bring light and triumph to dark situations, I act as if I am the source of light and triumph. In essence, I look to myself as the source of glory.
The other day, I read Psalm 89, where David discusses having come out of a time of trial. As I read, David stopped me in my tracks saying, "Blessed are those who learn to acclaim you, who walk in the light of your presence, O Lord...they rejoice in your name all day long...for you are their glory and their strength."
Why was it that my trials had me feeling defeated and caught up in negative self-focus, whereas David's trials led him to exalt God's name? One simple detail. He realized that God wasn't just there to give him strength and glory, but that God was his strength and glory. That subtlety makes all the difference in the world. It makes me think that maybe I should try a new strategy in the face of trial: spending more time simply acclaiming God's name and seeking his presence and less time focusing on what I can do and which conclusions I can make. It makes me think that then I will not only be blessed with deliverance, but find the strength and glory I desire and desperately need. The exchange must be made--my despair for his strength, my glory for His.
In these few months of (blog) silence, I have encountered a lot of trials--relationships/"securities" in my life falling apart left and right. Time and again, I have found myself in desperate need of wisdom. What do you do when everything seems to be spinning out of control? If you're anything like me, you take the weight of the world on your shoulders, looking to yourself to figure it out. You desperately try to fix the issues in your life and recreate a sense of calm. So you stretch, struggle, worry, and weep, giving all that you can to "make things OK" and maintain control. And if you're anything like me, the result is always the same--unresolved or further strained trials, a lingering sense of despair, and the eating sensation that you have failed everyone and everything.
In the end, my attempts to fight my battles and generate answers lead me to incredible self-centered. All I can see is my pain, my problems. I become overwhelmed. How can this be? Isn't it noble to care enough to do all that you can to make things better in bold confrontation of problems? All of my care/attempts seem good and well, but I so quickly forget one critical detail--in my battle to bring light and triumph to dark situations, I act as if I am the source of light and triumph. In essence, I look to myself as the source of glory.
The other day, I read Psalm 89, where David discusses having come out of a time of trial. As I read, David stopped me in my tracks saying, "Blessed are those who learn to acclaim you, who walk in the light of your presence, O Lord...they rejoice in your name all day long...for you are their glory and their strength."
Why was it that my trials had me feeling defeated and caught up in negative self-focus, whereas David's trials led him to exalt God's name? One simple detail. He realized that God wasn't just there to give him strength and glory, but that God was his strength and glory. That subtlety makes all the difference in the world. It makes me think that maybe I should try a new strategy in the face of trial: spending more time simply acclaiming God's name and seeking his presence and less time focusing on what I can do and which conclusions I can make. It makes me think that then I will not only be blessed with deliverance, but find the strength and glory I desire and desperately need. The exchange must be made--my despair for his strength, my glory for His.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
It’s Not About ME (Application)
A few weeks ago, I talked about busyness and how it often causes us to make our worlds all about ourselves. In that, I touched upon the human phenomenon of constantly striving to do everything on our own in our own way without seeking first God’s plans and ways. Today I provide you a real-life example of what that looks like. We can thank my three-year-old friend “Max” for the simple yet profound metaphor.
I love kids. Their energy, their craziness, their creativity, their lack of self-consciousness. One of my favorite kids, Max, exudes all of these things and brings me much joy because of it. Max has recently discovered the world of video games (low-tech, v-tech, Handy Manny style), and he is hooked! Recently I sat beside him as he excitedly turned on his gadget anxious to play a specific game he had in mind. After turning on the machine, he ran to grab the controller to get to his game as fast as he could. The only problem is, while Max knew exactly what he wanted, the system is too sophisticated for his three-year-old self to operate on his own. Thus, in a matter of seconds, chaos ensued as Max frantically shook the controller, pounded buttons, and pointed at the screen, shouting, “I want that game! I want that game!” To me, the solution was a no-brainer: Max simply needed to hand me the controller. After all, I possessed the knowledge necessary to efficiently give him exactly what he desired, and without burden. However, Max did not agree with my proposed solution, but rather yelled, “NO! I want to do it! I’ll do it myself!” And we’re back to the frantic shaking, desperate button pushing, and superfluous frustration.
Did I possess the physical strength and authority necessary to simply force the controller out of Max’s hands and get the job done? Of course! Did I do it? Of course not! Although I was well aware of what Max wanted, and not only knew how, but desired to get him there, I also knew that part of his growth and development depended on struggling through his choices and learning from his frustrations.
As I sat back on the couch, my mind reeled wondering if this is how God feels with us. Like I did with Max, God knows exactly what we desired and desires to show us how to get there. However, like Max, don’t we more often than not clench the controller of our lives and yell, “NO! I want to do it! I’ll do it myself!”? However, whereas Max ended in the frustration of not reaching the game he had in mind, we end up in pits of disappointment, stagnation, and unfulfilled hopes. And rather than turn to God and surrender the controller, we look at him embittered and scarred and say, “If you’re all powerful and all knowing, why didn’t you do anything?” The most basic parenting informs us that children cannot develop if everything is done for them, yet we feel justified thinking that if God really loved us he would forcefully intervene at every twist. Why should it be any different? He calls us his children, after all, right?
So today I challenge you to think about Max’s situation as a metaphor for God’s work in your life. Ask yourself how you respond when you just can’t find your way to your desired destination. Do you turn to God as the all-knowing Giver of all good things, or clench as hard as you can, yelling “NO! I want to do it! I’ll do it myself!”? No matter how old you are, what skills/knowledge you possess, or what you’ve been through, I challenge you to consider that maybe in the eyes of God, we will always be children in need of a loving, wise hand to guide us. Consider that maybe in our times of frustration, he isn’t absent at all, but rather standing right beside us saying, “I know what you want. Just give me the controller. I would love to show you the way.”
I love kids. Their energy, their craziness, their creativity, their lack of self-consciousness. One of my favorite kids, Max, exudes all of these things and brings me much joy because of it. Max has recently discovered the world of video games (low-tech, v-tech, Handy Manny style), and he is hooked! Recently I sat beside him as he excitedly turned on his gadget anxious to play a specific game he had in mind. After turning on the machine, he ran to grab the controller to get to his game as fast as he could. The only problem is, while Max knew exactly what he wanted, the system is too sophisticated for his three-year-old self to operate on his own. Thus, in a matter of seconds, chaos ensued as Max frantically shook the controller, pounded buttons, and pointed at the screen, shouting, “I want that game! I want that game!” To me, the solution was a no-brainer: Max simply needed to hand me the controller. After all, I possessed the knowledge necessary to efficiently give him exactly what he desired, and without burden. However, Max did not agree with my proposed solution, but rather yelled, “NO! I want to do it! I’ll do it myself!” And we’re back to the frantic shaking, desperate button pushing, and superfluous frustration.
Did I possess the physical strength and authority necessary to simply force the controller out of Max’s hands and get the job done? Of course! Did I do it? Of course not! Although I was well aware of what Max wanted, and not only knew how, but desired to get him there, I also knew that part of his growth and development depended on struggling through his choices and learning from his frustrations.
As I sat back on the couch, my mind reeled wondering if this is how God feels with us. Like I did with Max, God knows exactly what we desired and desires to show us how to get there. However, like Max, don’t we more often than not clench the controller of our lives and yell, “NO! I want to do it! I’ll do it myself!”? However, whereas Max ended in the frustration of not reaching the game he had in mind, we end up in pits of disappointment, stagnation, and unfulfilled hopes. And rather than turn to God and surrender the controller, we look at him embittered and scarred and say, “If you’re all powerful and all knowing, why didn’t you do anything?” The most basic parenting informs us that children cannot develop if everything is done for them, yet we feel justified thinking that if God really loved us he would forcefully intervene at every twist. Why should it be any different? He calls us his children, after all, right?
So today I challenge you to think about Max’s situation as a metaphor for God’s work in your life. Ask yourself how you respond when you just can’t find your way to your desired destination. Do you turn to God as the all-knowing Giver of all good things, or clench as hard as you can, yelling “NO! I want to do it! I’ll do it myself!”? No matter how old you are, what skills/knowledge you possess, or what you’ve been through, I challenge you to consider that maybe in the eyes of God, we will always be children in need of a loving, wise hand to guide us. Consider that maybe in our times of frustration, he isn’t absent at all, but rather standing right beside us saying, “I know what you want. Just give me the controller. I would love to show you the way.”
Saturday, December 4, 2010
It's not about Me! (Part I--Busyness)
Oh the hustle and bustle of American life. We’ve all been there—the “to-do’s,” the jobs, the relationships, the needs, the tasks, the hobbies. There’s something mysterious about the way they all just pile up. I have finally come to a point where I can openly admit that I tend to have a problem. A big problem. And its name is busyness.
As a full-fledged over-committer, I get to the point where I have to schedule nearly every second of my life in order to get through all that I try to fit into one day. I become my own micro-manager, and things better go according to plan. But sometimes that just doesn’t happen. In fact, it’s becoming more and more apparent to me that real life doesn’t actually conform to my schedule, nor does it submit to my micro-management. What happens in times such as these?
I have encountered this conflict more times than I’m comfortable admitting and the outcome is no pretty sight. Reflecting on these times of schedule strife, I have found a few common threads. When faced with a reality that does not align perfectly with my detailed schedule, I find myself having one of two responses. Either I have to run around (often literally) in a frenzy in order to keep or catch up OR I become absolutely overwhelmed by and inundated with stress, leading me to outlash or despair.
Regardless of the coping mechanism or exit strategy I choose, I have discovered a shocking bottom line—In moments of excessive busyness, my whole world becomes about my time, my schedule, my desires, what I need to get done. Absolutely everything in my own little universe becomes about ME.
In my own little ME world, I exhibit a few key characteristics. Namely, I become intolerant, short-tempered, impatient, irritable, lacking in gentleness, and lacking in compassion. Not a very desirable me at all. Isn’t that ironic? That the moments where I most intensely make my whole life for and about me are the same moments where I am furthest from the me I want to be. What in the world does this mean about life and living and doing and planning?
Evaluating this realization, I can only come up with one explanation. All I can say is that if living for my ME world which revolves around what I think needs to happen leads to such frenzy, stress, and self-destruction, then life must not actually be about me.
This is precisely the theme God keeps on laying on my heart. All of my doing, living, working, planning is actually not about me. The reason? When I make all of these things about myself, everything becomes about my glory. This does not work because I am not sovereign. It is not about me. It is not about my glory. It is about God. It is about His glory. What would my life look like if I actually made that exchange?
What if instead of so fervently seeking the promises and security of the world, I sought the plans, promises, and security found in God? “Seek thee first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all of these things will be added unto you”(Matthew 6:33). I would unfailingly have all that I need, perfect provision, without the stress and battle involved in trying to secure it myself.
What if instead of pushing my agenda or reputation, I consulted God’s plans and sought to lift up His name? “He who is exalted shall be humbled and he who is humbled shall be exalted”(Matthew 23:12). In the end, God would rise me up with him to be “seated at high places” (Ephesians 2:6). The need to “fight my way” to the top would vanish.
I wonder what kind of key characteristics I would exhibit if I really did make my life a little less about my busy schedule and a little more about God. What would this release of control and self power leave me with? Here’s where I have to make another confession—I’ve experimented with this a bit. The results are astonishing. When I slow down, quit the micro-management, and give God space to move, not only to I have rest, joy, and security, but I find myself truly able to extend love, patience, and mercy to the people around me. I find myself becoming the me I want to be. The me I was made to be.
So I leave you with a challenge—to do a little experimenting yourself. In the hustle and bustle of your daily life (especially in the chaos of the holidays), try and see what happens if you loosen the reins on your schedule and task list and let God take the driver seat. See how you feel and who you become. My guess is that if you give up the fight (even just a little) to glorify your schedule and desires, you will find a glory that leads to a greater you because it is so much greater than you ever could be. And in that strange loss of personal power, you will feel more empowered than ever before.
As a full-fledged over-committer, I get to the point where I have to schedule nearly every second of my life in order to get through all that I try to fit into one day. I become my own micro-manager, and things better go according to plan. But sometimes that just doesn’t happen. In fact, it’s becoming more and more apparent to me that real life doesn’t actually conform to my schedule, nor does it submit to my micro-management. What happens in times such as these?
I have encountered this conflict more times than I’m comfortable admitting and the outcome is no pretty sight. Reflecting on these times of schedule strife, I have found a few common threads. When faced with a reality that does not align perfectly with my detailed schedule, I find myself having one of two responses. Either I have to run around (often literally) in a frenzy in order to keep or catch up OR I become absolutely overwhelmed by and inundated with stress, leading me to outlash or despair.
Regardless of the coping mechanism or exit strategy I choose, I have discovered a shocking bottom line—In moments of excessive busyness, my whole world becomes about my time, my schedule, my desires, what I need to get done. Absolutely everything in my own little universe becomes about ME.
In my own little ME world, I exhibit a few key characteristics. Namely, I become intolerant, short-tempered, impatient, irritable, lacking in gentleness, and lacking in compassion. Not a very desirable me at all. Isn’t that ironic? That the moments where I most intensely make my whole life for and about me are the same moments where I am furthest from the me I want to be. What in the world does this mean about life and living and doing and planning?
Evaluating this realization, I can only come up with one explanation. All I can say is that if living for my ME world which revolves around what I think needs to happen leads to such frenzy, stress, and self-destruction, then life must not actually be about me.
This is precisely the theme God keeps on laying on my heart. All of my doing, living, working, planning is actually not about me. The reason? When I make all of these things about myself, everything becomes about my glory. This does not work because I am not sovereign. It is not about me. It is not about my glory. It is about God. It is about His glory. What would my life look like if I actually made that exchange?
What if instead of so fervently seeking the promises and security of the world, I sought the plans, promises, and security found in God? “Seek thee first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all of these things will be added unto you”(Matthew 6:33). I would unfailingly have all that I need, perfect provision, without the stress and battle involved in trying to secure it myself.
What if instead of pushing my agenda or reputation, I consulted God’s plans and sought to lift up His name? “He who is exalted shall be humbled and he who is humbled shall be exalted”(Matthew 23:12). In the end, God would rise me up with him to be “seated at high places” (Ephesians 2:6). The need to “fight my way” to the top would vanish.
I wonder what kind of key characteristics I would exhibit if I really did make my life a little less about my busy schedule and a little more about God. What would this release of control and self power leave me with? Here’s where I have to make another confession—I’ve experimented with this a bit. The results are astonishing. When I slow down, quit the micro-management, and give God space to move, not only to I have rest, joy, and security, but I find myself truly able to extend love, patience, and mercy to the people around me. I find myself becoming the me I want to be. The me I was made to be.
So I leave you with a challenge—to do a little experimenting yourself. In the hustle and bustle of your daily life (especially in the chaos of the holidays), try and see what happens if you loosen the reins on your schedule and task list and let God take the driver seat. See how you feel and who you become. My guess is that if you give up the fight (even just a little) to glorify your schedule and desires, you will find a glory that leads to a greater you because it is so much greater than you ever could be. And in that strange loss of personal power, you will feel more empowered than ever before.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Where's the hope in the hopeless silence?
Don’t you just hate the moments of silence and uncertainty in your life? Do you ever feel like you are in desperate need for direction or a solution and none is in sight? Do you ever even cry out to God in such moments and feel like He just leaves you hanging? I’m sure that all of you, like me, have experienced this desperation at some point or another. Just consider the following examples: you have a very big decision that needs to happen now and you feel like you have no idea which way to turn; circumstances around you show that resources (be it time, people, money, etc) are running out and you feel hopeless looking for a solution; it seems that the whole world has turned its back on you and there’s absolutely no one coming to your rescue. The list truly could go on for pages.
Here’s the real kicker: in your moment of desperation you cry out to God and hear nothing but silence. What do you do with that?
Personally, I have struggled, even felt disturbed in such times. I read something the other day that admittedly disturbed me even further. In Acts 24-25, I read of Paul (great hero/defender of Jesus) under trial for his beliefs. Basically, the priests and Romans keep on passing him on to different religious and political rulers to make his defense and await his sentence. On trial in Caesarea, Paul faces Felix and frustrates him in a big way. Felix gets pretty irked/angered by Paul and basically tells him that he can’t deal with the issue at the moment and will have to get to him later. Two sentences later the trial continues on and Paul makes an appeal to Caesar—a seemingly normal train of events for a political trial.
But in the one sentence gap between Felix’s frustration and Paul’s appeal to Caesar, I happened upon the source of my shock and disquiet: Paul got left in prison for TWO YEARS. No trials. No big works. Nothing. Just two years in prison. Silence.
Although I had read through Acts many times before, this time I stopped in my tracks as I considered the overwhelming despair of silence Paul must have faced. I have no doubt that in his shoes, I would doubt absolutely everything I ever believed and everything I stood for. He was on trial for professing the name of Jesus. If his message really was truth, surely he wouldn’t just get left in prison for two years, right? Surely God would not just let him sit there. Surely, if God truly were leading his path, Paul would have found a way out in a reasonable amount of time.
Apparently, whether or not Paul asked these questions, his experience in the silence brought him to different conclusions about God than those I know my mind would deduce. I say this because of the statements Paul makes as his trial continues. Whereas I would be either defeated or desperate to retract all I had ever said, Paul stands up and says, “I consider myself fortunate to stand before you today as I make my defense […] And now it is because of my hope in what God has promised our fathers that I am on trial today.”
Paul considered all of this a privilege? He still spoke of hope? Where in the world did this crazy talk come from?
Based on the circumstances of Paul’s life/trials, and his responses to them, it seems clear to me that Paul’s experience with God revealed purpose and vision which far exceeded what we can ascertain with the naked eye and human logic. He saw a hope and a glory that made him so rock solid that he came out of two years of silence in prison even more passionate about his faith than before he entered. Why doesn’t this happen to us in times of silence? Why do we normally conclude that either God did not speak, did not listen, or that he is not faithful?
I think that living in a world where high priority is put on speed and convenience, we come to expect God to intervene at the very moment of our cry. Essentially we make the same conclusion about God as we do a fast food restaurant that fails to deliver a burger in 5 minutes or less—we conclude that something must be wrong. The only problem is that God never was or operated like a fast food restaurant. In fact, He never claimed anything even similar. He promises to listen, to deliver, to uphold, and to provide, but never makes mention of working the way we see convenient, logical, or most fit. Whether or not we feel secure in this does not change the trustworthiness of who he is. That’s where we err. We get so fixed in our conditioned understanding of how things should progress (timing, details, etc.) that we write God off when he doesn’t conform.
Could it be that maybe we feel so hopeless in the silence not because of God’s unfaithfulness, but because of our lack of faith to trust Him for his promises rather than in our human conceptions of time and deliverance?
I think that Paul faced two years of inaction and came out more hopeful because he trusted in that which was True rather than that which he could view. He cried out, saw no fruits for two years, and came out stronger because He actually believed God to be who he said He was, rather than who he thought He should be.
Whether you have faced a great silence, face one now, or will face one in the future, I challenge you to consider Paul’s journey. When you find yourself crying out to God in desperation, ask yourself in whose image of God you trust. May you cling to God for His promises without putting on your own conditions, and may you, like Paul, find great hope in the most hopeless of times.
Here’s the real kicker: in your moment of desperation you cry out to God and hear nothing but silence. What do you do with that?
Personally, I have struggled, even felt disturbed in such times. I read something the other day that admittedly disturbed me even further. In Acts 24-25, I read of Paul (great hero/defender of Jesus) under trial for his beliefs. Basically, the priests and Romans keep on passing him on to different religious and political rulers to make his defense and await his sentence. On trial in Caesarea, Paul faces Felix and frustrates him in a big way. Felix gets pretty irked/angered by Paul and basically tells him that he can’t deal with the issue at the moment and will have to get to him later. Two sentences later the trial continues on and Paul makes an appeal to Caesar—a seemingly normal train of events for a political trial.
But in the one sentence gap between Felix’s frustration and Paul’s appeal to Caesar, I happened upon the source of my shock and disquiet: Paul got left in prison for TWO YEARS. No trials. No big works. Nothing. Just two years in prison. Silence.
Although I had read through Acts many times before, this time I stopped in my tracks as I considered the overwhelming despair of silence Paul must have faced. I have no doubt that in his shoes, I would doubt absolutely everything I ever believed and everything I stood for. He was on trial for professing the name of Jesus. If his message really was truth, surely he wouldn’t just get left in prison for two years, right? Surely God would not just let him sit there. Surely, if God truly were leading his path, Paul would have found a way out in a reasonable amount of time.
Apparently, whether or not Paul asked these questions, his experience in the silence brought him to different conclusions about God than those I know my mind would deduce. I say this because of the statements Paul makes as his trial continues. Whereas I would be either defeated or desperate to retract all I had ever said, Paul stands up and says, “I consider myself fortunate to stand before you today as I make my defense […] And now it is because of my hope in what God has promised our fathers that I am on trial today.”
Paul considered all of this a privilege? He still spoke of hope? Where in the world did this crazy talk come from?
Based on the circumstances of Paul’s life/trials, and his responses to them, it seems clear to me that Paul’s experience with God revealed purpose and vision which far exceeded what we can ascertain with the naked eye and human logic. He saw a hope and a glory that made him so rock solid that he came out of two years of silence in prison even more passionate about his faith than before he entered. Why doesn’t this happen to us in times of silence? Why do we normally conclude that either God did not speak, did not listen, or that he is not faithful?
I think that living in a world where high priority is put on speed and convenience, we come to expect God to intervene at the very moment of our cry. Essentially we make the same conclusion about God as we do a fast food restaurant that fails to deliver a burger in 5 minutes or less—we conclude that something must be wrong. The only problem is that God never was or operated like a fast food restaurant. In fact, He never claimed anything even similar. He promises to listen, to deliver, to uphold, and to provide, but never makes mention of working the way we see convenient, logical, or most fit. Whether or not we feel secure in this does not change the trustworthiness of who he is. That’s where we err. We get so fixed in our conditioned understanding of how things should progress (timing, details, etc.) that we write God off when he doesn’t conform.
Could it be that maybe we feel so hopeless in the silence not because of God’s unfaithfulness, but because of our lack of faith to trust Him for his promises rather than in our human conceptions of time and deliverance?
I think that Paul faced two years of inaction and came out more hopeful because he trusted in that which was True rather than that which he could view. He cried out, saw no fruits for two years, and came out stronger because He actually believed God to be who he said He was, rather than who he thought He should be.
Whether you have faced a great silence, face one now, or will face one in the future, I challenge you to consider Paul’s journey. When you find yourself crying out to God in desperation, ask yourself in whose image of God you trust. May you cling to God for His promises without putting on your own conditions, and may you, like Paul, find great hope in the most hopeless of times.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Emily's Story
This week I am going to steal from someone else’s life to tell a story that can’t help but touch you in some way. Let’s call this friend Emily.
Emily’s life story is an incredible one. In many ways, it is the very definition of the American Dream. At the tender age of 13, Emily found herself without parents and fending for herself in the third world. Through sheer determination and personal strength, Emily got herself to the states at 17 seeking an education and a better life. Eventually, she saw her way through grad school and landed a job unthinkable for someone from her circumstances. By the end of her 20’s, Emily had arrived. Educated. Rich. Independent. Impressive. By all means I could end the story right here and we’d have the quintessential American fairy tale and it’s TRUE. What a life!
Without a doubt, all outer appearances suggest that Emily had everything she needed for a fantastic life. She had obtained “security” and “success” despite all odds, right? One would think. But the shocking truth behind the good job, sweet ride, and prominence in her field was that Emily had never felt so dead. So dead, in fact, that she became overwhelmed with a feeling of darkness. What happened? What was this even possible? Didn’t she have all that she had ever wanted? All that she had worked for? Emily had truly fulfilled all of her dreams, yet had never felt further from full.
In the darkness, God reached out. Not only did He surround Emily with a super-human love, but He gave her a taste of the real life he has in store when Emily made a radical move—resigning from her 6-figure position without another job offer in sight. Sound crazy? Sound foolish? Sound like throwing it all away? By all earthly logic, that’s just what happened. But Emily’s vision and logic were lifted to something higher. Emily saw the reality of Matthew 16:26’s prophetic words: “What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?” In one radical wave, Emily realized that chasing the numbers and chasing the promise of the American Dream, she had lost her soul.
Here’s a snapshot of Emily’s life today: no job offer; no income; no stability, right? On the contrary. Emily has never been more stable in her life, because she is discovering her security in the one thing that never fails—God’s promise to care for our every need and bring us freedom. Where Emily once found herself slave to her chase, she now experiences a true freedom to receive life to the full. But what about the job? What about the bills, food, health? Emily’s not a fool—she knows the needs that undeniably exist in this world. But she is experiencing a power, a peace, and a provision that answer every “what if” question with “then God.”
Finding rest in God’s sovereignty, Emily is forever changed. She does not yet know the details of what her life will look like, but she strongly senses God using the culmination of her life’s experiences and trials to bring her a life vision and mission. And that is all the security she needs.
Emily’s life story is an incredible one. In many ways, it is the very definition of the American Dream. At the tender age of 13, Emily found herself without parents and fending for herself in the third world. Through sheer determination and personal strength, Emily got herself to the states at 17 seeking an education and a better life. Eventually, she saw her way through grad school and landed a job unthinkable for someone from her circumstances. By the end of her 20’s, Emily had arrived. Educated. Rich. Independent. Impressive. By all means I could end the story right here and we’d have the quintessential American fairy tale and it’s TRUE. What a life!
Without a doubt, all outer appearances suggest that Emily had everything she needed for a fantastic life. She had obtained “security” and “success” despite all odds, right? One would think. But the shocking truth behind the good job, sweet ride, and prominence in her field was that Emily had never felt so dead. So dead, in fact, that she became overwhelmed with a feeling of darkness. What happened? What was this even possible? Didn’t she have all that she had ever wanted? All that she had worked for? Emily had truly fulfilled all of her dreams, yet had never felt further from full.
In the darkness, God reached out. Not only did He surround Emily with a super-human love, but He gave her a taste of the real life he has in store when Emily made a radical move—resigning from her 6-figure position without another job offer in sight. Sound crazy? Sound foolish? Sound like throwing it all away? By all earthly logic, that’s just what happened. But Emily’s vision and logic were lifted to something higher. Emily saw the reality of Matthew 16:26’s prophetic words: “What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?” In one radical wave, Emily realized that chasing the numbers and chasing the promise of the American Dream, she had lost her soul.
Here’s a snapshot of Emily’s life today: no job offer; no income; no stability, right? On the contrary. Emily has never been more stable in her life, because she is discovering her security in the one thing that never fails—God’s promise to care for our every need and bring us freedom. Where Emily once found herself slave to her chase, she now experiences a true freedom to receive life to the full. But what about the job? What about the bills, food, health? Emily’s not a fool—she knows the needs that undeniably exist in this world. But she is experiencing a power, a peace, and a provision that answer every “what if” question with “then God.”
Finding rest in God’s sovereignty, Emily is forever changed. She does not yet know the details of what her life will look like, but she strongly senses God using the culmination of her life’s experiences and trials to bring her a life vision and mission. And that is all the security she needs.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Without a threat in sight
Today I found myself reading a scene very familiar to me. Jesus stands before Pilate as he receives his death sentence. Although he has committed no crime, he attempts no defense. He makes no effort at all to save himself. In fact, he doesn’t even show signs of desperation or pending doom. I don’t know about you, but to me this is pretty remarkable, if not crazy. Apparently Pilate was right there with me because he incredulously asks Jesus if he is going to say anything, and reminds him that he is “determining Jesus’ fate” at that very moment. Here Jesus speaks with words more bewildering than his initial silence. He says, “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above.”
Wow.
Like Pilate, both Jesus’ silence and words throw me through a loop. By all earthly logic, Jesus has absolutely no reason to proceed to his capital punishment in total confidence, assuredness, and security. By all logic, the man is finished. His response simply does not make sense. Where in the world did it come from?
Perhaps the answer is as simple as saying that Jesus has his mind and eyes set on something higher. Maybe he maintains such composure and sturdiness in the midst of his circumstances because the fate of his life and purpose are rooted in something beyond the physical world that we live in. This theory makes a lot of sense considering another puzzling statement Jesus makes in the garden when the guards come for his arrest. He says, “My kingdom doesn’t consist of what you see around you. If it did, my followers would fight so that I wouldn’t be handed over to the Jews. But I’m not that kind of a king, not the world’s kind of king.” Jesus sees no need for physical retaliation to physical threat because the situation in no way threatens the throne he claims, which is in the spiritual realm. His mission, identity, and reign go so incredibly beyond what we can see. Thank God that he knew that.
Although it’s sometimes difficult for me to understand Jesus’ actions, I am OK with accepting that they reflect his belonging to a heavenly realm. After all, he is God. But what happens if take all of the thoughts I’ve just expressed and apply them to Jesus’ declaration that “[You are] not of the world any more than I am of the world”? What am I supposed to do with that?!
If I am not of this world any more than Jesus, shouldn’t my response to circumstances and threats be like his? Doesn’t it mean that I should be living in a reality which is greater than that of the physical world? Shouldn’t I stand with the same assuredness as Jesus regardless of my life circumstances? How is it that I can feel so threatened? I pray for my eyes, heart, and mind to open up to a greater reality. I want to set my sight on something so much greater than the here and now.
Finishing the story of Jesus’ crucifixion I read of Pilate insisting on writing Jesus a plaque which named him King of the Jews. His guards stand stunned, if not angered, but Pilate insists. Something happened between the time of Pilate’s interrogation of Jesus and Jesus’ death. Could it be that Pilate, like me, came to the conclusion that the only logical explanation for Jesus’ behavior is that he was actually who he said he was? I think so.
I am so thankful for what I read today, because for the first time I realized how important Pilate is. Not only does he strengthen my belief in Jesus as Christ, but he also dares me to consider my own life. What if I, like Jesus, can live in such a way which points to something greater? What if God really can open my eyes, heart, and mind to the reality of the kingdom I really belong to? Maybe then I, too, would maintain this composure and security shown by Jesus. Maybe in that, I would get a taste of real glory because it glorifies the kingdom of the One deserving of glory. Could it be?
Wow.
Like Pilate, both Jesus’ silence and words throw me through a loop. By all earthly logic, Jesus has absolutely no reason to proceed to his capital punishment in total confidence, assuredness, and security. By all logic, the man is finished. His response simply does not make sense. Where in the world did it come from?
Perhaps the answer is as simple as saying that Jesus has his mind and eyes set on something higher. Maybe he maintains such composure and sturdiness in the midst of his circumstances because the fate of his life and purpose are rooted in something beyond the physical world that we live in. This theory makes a lot of sense considering another puzzling statement Jesus makes in the garden when the guards come for his arrest. He says, “My kingdom doesn’t consist of what you see around you. If it did, my followers would fight so that I wouldn’t be handed over to the Jews. But I’m not that kind of a king, not the world’s kind of king.” Jesus sees no need for physical retaliation to physical threat because the situation in no way threatens the throne he claims, which is in the spiritual realm. His mission, identity, and reign go so incredibly beyond what we can see. Thank God that he knew that.
Although it’s sometimes difficult for me to understand Jesus’ actions, I am OK with accepting that they reflect his belonging to a heavenly realm. After all, he is God. But what happens if take all of the thoughts I’ve just expressed and apply them to Jesus’ declaration that “[You are] not of the world any more than I am of the world”? What am I supposed to do with that?!
If I am not of this world any more than Jesus, shouldn’t my response to circumstances and threats be like his? Doesn’t it mean that I should be living in a reality which is greater than that of the physical world? Shouldn’t I stand with the same assuredness as Jesus regardless of my life circumstances? How is it that I can feel so threatened? I pray for my eyes, heart, and mind to open up to a greater reality. I want to set my sight on something so much greater than the here and now.
Finishing the story of Jesus’ crucifixion I read of Pilate insisting on writing Jesus a plaque which named him King of the Jews. His guards stand stunned, if not angered, but Pilate insists. Something happened between the time of Pilate’s interrogation of Jesus and Jesus’ death. Could it be that Pilate, like me, came to the conclusion that the only logical explanation for Jesus’ behavior is that he was actually who he said he was? I think so.
I am so thankful for what I read today, because for the first time I realized how important Pilate is. Not only does he strengthen my belief in Jesus as Christ, but he also dares me to consider my own life. What if I, like Jesus, can live in such a way which points to something greater? What if God really can open my eyes, heart, and mind to the reality of the kingdom I really belong to? Maybe then I, too, would maintain this composure and security shown by Jesus. Maybe in that, I would get a taste of real glory because it glorifies the kingdom of the One deserving of glory. Could it be?
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