I really appreciate Parker Palmer's book, Let Your Life Speak. One of the book's big ideas is this: if you will listen carefully to what you have to say, you might actually learn something. His theory is that we learn valuable lessons in life that go unnoticed. But when tested by our circumstances and challenged in our conversations, these lessons are revealed as we articulate positions and values influenced by our experiences.
As a teacher who is entrusted with--and hopefully empowered for--the sacred chore of exposing the life changing truth of God's love, there are times I find myself listening with interest to what I am saying. There are segments of some talks that are completely unplanned and I choose to trust that the tangent is providing exactly what someone in the room needs to hear from God. At times those detours are for other people and at times they are for me.
This past week I found myself traveling down one of those roads less traveled that I think was for me. I can't get it out of my mind. The topic was repentance and I kept quoting John the Baptist from Matthew 3:8, "Produce fruit in keeping with repentance." The surprise element that was occurring to me as I verbally processed this truth was the "keeping" portion of the command. I had never consciously thought about keeping with repentance.
In my mind I had relegated repentance to what happened on our own personal road to Damascus. We see the bright light of God's truth and we place our faith in Jesus for the forgiveness of our sins and the eternal justification our souls. It's the one-time turnaround from the broad road whose destiny is destruction, and the subsequent repositioning of our lives on the narrow road which leads to life. Most of my conscious thinking in regards to repentance has been this once-in-a-lifetime turn to the truth of God's love, grace, and mercy.
However, John's teaching at this point is clearly about the repentance of sanctification, not justification. There are times in our lives where we get disoriented on the narrow way and we find ourselves lapsing into what we know best, broad-road living in the flesh. This was the state of our being prior to the moment of our conversion. Broad-road living is all about looking out for number one and when we are stricken with vertigo of the faith, we go back to what we know best and lose our way.
JB's message is that when we struggle with those bouts of vertigo we must examine the expected fruit of our decision-making. Will it be fruit that is in keeping with the narrow road of justifying repentance? Or will it be the rotten, self-destructive fruit of the broad road? The very clear meaning of his exhortation is that there are times in our lives that call for re-repentance; literally turning back around and getting reoriented on the narrow road. This re-turning is in keeping with repentance. As a matter of fact, the re-turning or re-repentance of sanctification, is proof of the life changing repentance of justification.
Paul summed it up this way as he defended his own preaching to King Agrippa in Acts 26:20, "First to those in Damascus, then to those in Jerusalem and in all Judea, and to the Gentiles also, I preached that they should repent and turn to God and prove their repentance by their deeds."
Slow down and let your life speak today, or better yet, let your fruit speak. Are your deeds proof of your repentance? In keeping with repentance, do you need to re-turn to the narrow way that leads to life eternal and life abundant?
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
The Modern Day Pharisee
For weeks now I have been reading the four gospels, studying about the life of Jesus. Even though this is very familiar territory for me, I have still been consistently amazed by his interaction with the Pharisees. I won't bore you by reintroducing the biblical Pharisee, but suffice it to say that Jesus had them in his cross hairs until they put him on the cross.
Reading about those caustic exchanges spelled out in scripture always makes me wonder if I'm a Pharisee. Would Jesus have the same problems with my spirituality that he did with theirs? What about yours? As followers of Jesus, we need to entertain the notion that we might be modern day Pharisees.
Here's my litmus test for Pharisaism: If your spiritual privilege becomes another's predicament; you're a Pharisee. When my privilege becomes your predicament, I'm doing the work of a Pharisee.
In his diatribe against those do-gooders Jesus said, "They tie up heavy loads and put them on men's shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them." (Matthew 23:4)
The "heavy loads" to which Jesus refers are the rules and rituals of righteousness that the Pharisees lived by. Living up to those standards proved to be a full-time job and yet they placed those same expectations on people who couldn't afford to devote their lives to rule keeping. So instead of helping people connect with God's mercy and love, they were loading them down with guilt and condemnation. So their unique privileges in life were putting the people in a very difficult predicament.
Modern day Pharisees do the same thing. I was in a worship service one evening where the Pastor told the congregation that he spent four hours a day reading and studying scripture. He went on to imply that if we were serious about our relationship with God we would do the same thing! I wanted to stand up and OBJECT in hopes that the statement would be stricken from the records of our minds. Studying the scripture for four hours a day was his job and his privilege; making it my predicament was Pharisaical.
Most people who have substantive walks with God enjoy certain privileges. They have been graced with unique passions, gifts, talents, or resources that are fruitful for their walk. Each of those privileges are wonderful gifts from God that should be explored and celebrated, but never assigned!
When my privilege becomes your assignment and therefore your predicament, I have become a Pharisee by tying a heavy load on your back and doing nothing to remove it.
Reading about those caustic exchanges spelled out in scripture always makes me wonder if I'm a Pharisee. Would Jesus have the same problems with my spirituality that he did with theirs? What about yours? As followers of Jesus, we need to entertain the notion that we might be modern day Pharisees.
Here's my litmus test for Pharisaism: If your spiritual privilege becomes another's predicament; you're a Pharisee. When my privilege becomes your predicament, I'm doing the work of a Pharisee.
In his diatribe against those do-gooders Jesus said, "They tie up heavy loads and put them on men's shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them." (Matthew 23:4)
The "heavy loads" to which Jesus refers are the rules and rituals of righteousness that the Pharisees lived by. Living up to those standards proved to be a full-time job and yet they placed those same expectations on people who couldn't afford to devote their lives to rule keeping. So instead of helping people connect with God's mercy and love, they were loading them down with guilt and condemnation. So their unique privileges in life were putting the people in a very difficult predicament.
Modern day Pharisees do the same thing. I was in a worship service one evening where the Pastor told the congregation that he spent four hours a day reading and studying scripture. He went on to imply that if we were serious about our relationship with God we would do the same thing! I wanted to stand up and OBJECT in hopes that the statement would be stricken from the records of our minds. Studying the scripture for four hours a day was his job and his privilege; making it my predicament was Pharisaical.
Most people who have substantive walks with God enjoy certain privileges. They have been graced with unique passions, gifts, talents, or resources that are fruitful for their walk. Each of those privileges are wonderful gifts from God that should be explored and celebrated, but never assigned!
When my privilege becomes your assignment and therefore your predicament, I have become a Pharisee by tying a heavy load on your back and doing nothing to remove it.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Say What?
I began a new series of talks this past week entitled "Say What?" The idea of the series is to wrestle with some of the peculiar statements Jesus made that leave us scratching our heads. Sunday we examined some exchanges that Jesus had with three would-be disciples in Luke 9:57-62. Two of the men came to Jesus offering to follow him and a third was approached by Jesus about possibly joining the burgeoning band of disciples.
Each of the men had a particular hang-up with the concept of total abandonment because they all had something they were hanging on to. The first one was hoping to sign up because he believed Jesus would soon be establishing a political kingdom that would mean peace and prosperity for Jerusalem. This becomes evident when we realize that Jesus answered him with the veiled language of the oppressed Jews, "Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." Jesus was not talking about his homelessness, he was talking about the fact that he had no place to set up shop to live and govern. The fox was Herod (Luke 13:32), the "birds of the air" was an intertestamental apocalyptic reference to Gentile nations. What Jesus was saying is that, while they had established places to govern and call home, the Son of Man (read Servant of Man), did not come to establish a kingdom. He came to embrace political rejection so that he could set up a spiritual kingdom of the heart.
The second man was clinging to the tradition of his day that obligated a son to stay within the confines of the family business until the father was laid to rest. When Jesus approached him and he replied that he needed to go and bury his father, it did not mean that his father was dead but that he wanted to fulfill his expectation and stay with the family until he was. Jesus' response to him was curt: "Let the dead bury their own dead...." In other words, God is calling you to life and don't miss this opportunity to find true spiritual meaning because of the expectations of the dead.
Finally, Jesus was approached by a man who volunteered to follow him on the condition that he could "go back and say good-by to my family." This guy may have heard the exchanges with the first two and thought surely Jesus would take him because he just wanted to go say good-by. At first glance this looks to be the toughest proposal for Jesus to shoot holes in. It seems all this man wants to do is tell his family where he is going, get one last hug and be on his way. But Jesus shuts him down saying, "No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God." Now that just seems wrong! On further inspection we discovered that the Greek word translated "good-by" is translated the four other times it is used in the New Testament as "take leave of." The custom of the day was that those who were leaving needed to seek permission to take leave from those who were staying. In essence what he was saying was, "Let me get the approval of my family and then I will go wherever you go."
If we are honest, when we read about these men, we feel for them. Their contingencies seem reasonable. As a matter of fact, the last two actually seem to be trying to do the biblical thing and honor their families. Yet Jesus says no. What is the real problem?
The real problem is that each of these men made something else their Lord. For the first his Lord was his political expectations. Jesus knew when he found out his expectations would be disappointed, he would bail out. The second made his family traditions his Lord. The third made the approval of his family his Lord.
What Jesus was trying to point out was that "no one can serve two masters." Like the rich young ruler who walked away because Jesus demanded that he give away his god, money, each of these men were asked to make a similar sacrifice. These demands are hard to stomach because of the incredibly heavy price extracted.
We struggle with the message because all of us have someone or some things in our lives that could easily become master: career, children, savings, image, family, friends, etc. These are all things we work to attain that would be virtually impossible to walk away from if required. But the point is not what you have to walk out of, it's what you should walk into.
When we prioritize God and make him Lord of our lives, everything else falls into place. When God is the center of our lives, we have more peace and joy with the other blessings he bestows upon us. With Jesus as Lord we have the capacity to live in gratitude for the good things he has done for us. This is why Jesus said, "Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you." God is not some killjoy who is looking to steal our lives and our loves. He is the lover of our souls who wants us to trust him with our lives. The invitation to follow him is an invitation to trust him completely. And word teaches us that he will meet that trust with a life more abundant than we could ever dream up for ourselves.
Each of the men had a particular hang-up with the concept of total abandonment because they all had something they were hanging on to. The first one was hoping to sign up because he believed Jesus would soon be establishing a political kingdom that would mean peace and prosperity for Jerusalem. This becomes evident when we realize that Jesus answered him with the veiled language of the oppressed Jews, "Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." Jesus was not talking about his homelessness, he was talking about the fact that he had no place to set up shop to live and govern. The fox was Herod (Luke 13:32), the "birds of the air" was an intertestamental apocalyptic reference to Gentile nations. What Jesus was saying is that, while they had established places to govern and call home, the Son of Man (read Servant of Man), did not come to establish a kingdom. He came to embrace political rejection so that he could set up a spiritual kingdom of the heart.
The second man was clinging to the tradition of his day that obligated a son to stay within the confines of the family business until the father was laid to rest. When Jesus approached him and he replied that he needed to go and bury his father, it did not mean that his father was dead but that he wanted to fulfill his expectation and stay with the family until he was. Jesus' response to him was curt: "Let the dead bury their own dead...." In other words, God is calling you to life and don't miss this opportunity to find true spiritual meaning because of the expectations of the dead.
Finally, Jesus was approached by a man who volunteered to follow him on the condition that he could "go back and say good-by to my family." This guy may have heard the exchanges with the first two and thought surely Jesus would take him because he just wanted to go say good-by. At first glance this looks to be the toughest proposal for Jesus to shoot holes in. It seems all this man wants to do is tell his family where he is going, get one last hug and be on his way. But Jesus shuts him down saying, "No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God." Now that just seems wrong! On further inspection we discovered that the Greek word translated "good-by" is translated the four other times it is used in the New Testament as "take leave of." The custom of the day was that those who were leaving needed to seek permission to take leave from those who were staying. In essence what he was saying was, "Let me get the approval of my family and then I will go wherever you go."
If we are honest, when we read about these men, we feel for them. Their contingencies seem reasonable. As a matter of fact, the last two actually seem to be trying to do the biblical thing and honor their families. Yet Jesus says no. What is the real problem?
The real problem is that each of these men made something else their Lord. For the first his Lord was his political expectations. Jesus knew when he found out his expectations would be disappointed, he would bail out. The second made his family traditions his Lord. The third made the approval of his family his Lord.
What Jesus was trying to point out was that "no one can serve two masters." Like the rich young ruler who walked away because Jesus demanded that he give away his god, money, each of these men were asked to make a similar sacrifice. These demands are hard to stomach because of the incredibly heavy price extracted.
We struggle with the message because all of us have someone or some things in our lives that could easily become master: career, children, savings, image, family, friends, etc. These are all things we work to attain that would be virtually impossible to walk away from if required. But the point is not what you have to walk out of, it's what you should walk into.
When we prioritize God and make him Lord of our lives, everything else falls into place. When God is the center of our lives, we have more peace and joy with the other blessings he bestows upon us. With Jesus as Lord we have the capacity to live in gratitude for the good things he has done for us. This is why Jesus said, "Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you." God is not some killjoy who is looking to steal our lives and our loves. He is the lover of our souls who wants us to trust him with our lives. The invitation to follow him is an invitation to trust him completely. And word teaches us that he will meet that trust with a life more abundant than we could ever dream up for ourselves.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Coincidence or Spiritual Warfare?
Let me start by saying that one of my goals is not to be seen as some sort of kook when it comes to my spirituality. I know that's shallow, but I can't help myself. I just don't want to be lumped in with that group of "preachers" who appear on TV with poofed-up hair, sensationalizing their experiences so people desperate for meaning will send them their hard-earned money. While I'm not here to talk about them, I am just insecure enough about what I do to feel the need to distance myself from being associated with a group that finds a demon under every rock they trip over. Some are quicker than Flip Wilson to say that the devil made them do it, but that's not me. Right or wrong, I align myself with the personal responsibility camp, a group of committed egotists that gravitate toward accepting blame for the bad and credit for the good.
The reality is that I don't know if I'm right or wrong. I can't really discern if my reluctance to recognize or acknowledge the spiritual interpretation of events is the by-product of cultural materialism, image management, immaturity in my faith or even maturity in my walk with God. So I see what I see and say what I say in hopes that God will do what he says -- demonstrate his strength through my weakness.
The reason it is so difficult to be right in our interpretation of events is because there are always four causal possibilities. First, the laws of sowing and reaping demonstrate that some of the fruit we reap, whether rotten or ripe, comes from the trees that we planted. Second, life happens. Jesus said that good people and bad people will experience rain and sunshine. Third, the Bible teaches us that we experience testing and discipline from God that may not be pleasant at the time but is designed to make us more like Jesus. Fourth, Paul writes in Ephesians that the schemes of the devil are real. "For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places."
We can't know for sure why stuff happens and therefore I don't think it's critical to nail down an explanation in every case. However, the events of this past Sunday compelled me to try and figure it out.
For those of you who were not at Skycrest on Sunday, let me explain. Each year we have a celebration of the GLOCAL mission outreach of our church. We hear about local and global ministries we support and, at the conclusion of the week of festivities, we invite people to join the work by pledging money for the upcoming year. The end result is that on this particular Sunday we typically raise about $30,000, or just under a third of our total mission investment for the year.
To wrap up our celebration this past Sunday, I had the privilege of interviewing a couple who have been called to the mission field to serve an unreached people group that number in excess of 13 million. Their story remarkably presents the transformative power of the gospel because they are serving people who are religiously aligned with a group of zealots that took the life of this man's brother. As you might imagine, God was moving powerfully as they shared their story.
At the conclusion of the experience, it was my responsibility to remind the followers in the room that Jesus reached us so we could reach others. We examined the passage of scripture in Romans 10 where Paul writes,"Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved. How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent?"
The logic is clear and the truth powerful: All people can be saved by Jesus if they call to him in faith. However, they can't call to him if they don't know about him. They can't know about him if they aren't told. They can't be told if believers don't go to them. Believers can't go to them if they aren't sent.
We were moving toward the glorious truth that God invites us to significance and global impact by allowing us to pool our resources and fill the role of senders. But we never got there. Just as I was about to lead people to consider God's call for them as senders, just before we were going to take up the offering for the missions that we support around the world ... the fire alarm went off. No kidding! The fire alarm went off and the entire campus had to be evacuated.
We didn't get to finish sharing the gospel. We didn't get to finish explaining the opportunity that we have to join God in the work. We didn't get to give people the privilege of investing their resources in God's kingdom.
Was that coincidence or spiritual warfare? Did the fire alarm just happen to malfunction two minutes before we sacrificially committed to God's agenda? Or did we experience some physical manifestation of the spiritual reality the scripture reveals?
Obviously we can't know for sure (remember the four causal possibilities?). What we do know is that our alarm system identifies the location of any disturbance that triggers an alarm and there was nothing out of the ordinary to set it off. The sensor that tripped was in a locked janitorial closet void of strange odors or machinery that could have mechanically malfunctioned.
Did we experience spiritual warfare? Image management aside, I honestly think we did. But in the end it really doesn't matter. What matters is how we respond. What matters is that we recognize the critical nature of what God has called us to do and the commitment of our foe to generate distraction. We have to understand and prepare for the fact that when we are working to glorify God and advance His kingdom we will attract the attention of our enemy whose M.O. is to "steal, kill, and destroy."
And most importantly we have to remember that we are a part of the winning team. We will overcome because we are more than conquerors through God who gives us strength.
The reality is that I don't know if I'm right or wrong. I can't really discern if my reluctance to recognize or acknowledge the spiritual interpretation of events is the by-product of cultural materialism, image management, immaturity in my faith or even maturity in my walk with God. So I see what I see and say what I say in hopes that God will do what he says -- demonstrate his strength through my weakness.
The reason it is so difficult to be right in our interpretation of events is because there are always four causal possibilities. First, the laws of sowing and reaping demonstrate that some of the fruit we reap, whether rotten or ripe, comes from the trees that we planted. Second, life happens. Jesus said that good people and bad people will experience rain and sunshine. Third, the Bible teaches us that we experience testing and discipline from God that may not be pleasant at the time but is designed to make us more like Jesus. Fourth, Paul writes in Ephesians that the schemes of the devil are real. "For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places."
We can't know for sure why stuff happens and therefore I don't think it's critical to nail down an explanation in every case. However, the events of this past Sunday compelled me to try and figure it out.
For those of you who were not at Skycrest on Sunday, let me explain. Each year we have a celebration of the GLOCAL mission outreach of our church. We hear about local and global ministries we support and, at the conclusion of the week of festivities, we invite people to join the work by pledging money for the upcoming year. The end result is that on this particular Sunday we typically raise about $30,000, or just under a third of our total mission investment for the year.
To wrap up our celebration this past Sunday, I had the privilege of interviewing a couple who have been called to the mission field to serve an unreached people group that number in excess of 13 million. Their story remarkably presents the transformative power of the gospel because they are serving people who are religiously aligned with a group of zealots that took the life of this man's brother. As you might imagine, God was moving powerfully as they shared their story.
At the conclusion of the experience, it was my responsibility to remind the followers in the room that Jesus reached us so we could reach others. We examined the passage of scripture in Romans 10 where Paul writes,"Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved. How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent?"
The logic is clear and the truth powerful: All people can be saved by Jesus if they call to him in faith. However, they can't call to him if they don't know about him. They can't know about him if they aren't told. They can't be told if believers don't go to them. Believers can't go to them if they aren't sent.
We were moving toward the glorious truth that God invites us to significance and global impact by allowing us to pool our resources and fill the role of senders. But we never got there. Just as I was about to lead people to consider God's call for them as senders, just before we were going to take up the offering for the missions that we support around the world ... the fire alarm went off. No kidding! The fire alarm went off and the entire campus had to be evacuated.
We didn't get to finish sharing the gospel. We didn't get to finish explaining the opportunity that we have to join God in the work. We didn't get to give people the privilege of investing their resources in God's kingdom.
Was that coincidence or spiritual warfare? Did the fire alarm just happen to malfunction two minutes before we sacrificially committed to God's agenda? Or did we experience some physical manifestation of the spiritual reality the scripture reveals?
Obviously we can't know for sure (remember the four causal possibilities?). What we do know is that our alarm system identifies the location of any disturbance that triggers an alarm and there was nothing out of the ordinary to set it off. The sensor that tripped was in a locked janitorial closet void of strange odors or machinery that could have mechanically malfunctioned.
Did we experience spiritual warfare? Image management aside, I honestly think we did. But in the end it really doesn't matter. What matters is how we respond. What matters is that we recognize the critical nature of what God has called us to do and the commitment of our foe to generate distraction. We have to understand and prepare for the fact that when we are working to glorify God and advance His kingdom we will attract the attention of our enemy whose M.O. is to "steal, kill, and destroy."
And most importantly we have to remember that we are a part of the winning team. We will overcome because we are more than conquerors through God who gives us strength.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Relative Faith
My favorite book begins with one of my favorite quotes. The book is If You Want to Walk on Water, You've Got to Get Out of the Boat. The quote is by Theodore Roosevelt from a speech that was given in Paris in 1910. I'm sure you have encountered it somewhere along the way...
"It's not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena ... who, at best, knows in the end the triumph of great achievement, and who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly. So that his place will never be with those cold timid souls who know neither victory or defeat."
I love the book generally and the quote specifically because they awaken that part of me that desires to seize the day, the part that is afraid of being average and ordinary, the part that needs to be awakened periodically because sometimes the challenges associated with carpe diem are so overwhelming and scary that I want to cop out.
The story behind the book is obviously the biblical story of Peter getting out of the boat the disciples were in and walking on water toward Jesus. When I read the story I fantasize about being Peter and having the faith and courage to walk on water. But I realize I'm probably more like the majority who stayed in the safe confines of the boat and watched -- the "boat potatoes" as Ortberg calls them.
I reread the account in Matthew 14 this morning and, as I did, I felt an unfamiliar frustration with Jesus' treatment of Peter. See, it surprises me that it would even occur to Peter that, for him, walking on water was a possibility. I'm impressed that Peter invited himself to join Jesus on the stroll and it amazes me that he actually got out of the boat. Yet what really boggles my mind is that Jesus called Peter out for his "little faith."
You know the story. As Peter was making his way to Jesus, the wind picked up so much that he could literally see the effects. He got concerned about what he had gotten himself into, he lost his focus, began to sink and cried out to Jesus to save him. Matthew 14:31 says, "Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. 'You of little faith,' he said, 'why did you doubt?'"
I understand that Jesus made an accurate assessment of Peter's faith as he sank. What I don't understand is why he called him out like that in front of the boys. Why wasn't Peter praised for his risk taking? Why didn't Jesus understand what Roosevelt said, "The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena." Why weren't the others chided for their "boat potato" faith which as it relates to water walking is no faith at all? Relative to the rest of the group, Peter is the only one who was flexing faith, yet he received the rebuke!
The answers lie in the fact that faith is not relative to the group but the call. While we get caught up in comparing and contrasting our journey with others, God doesn't. He assesses followers on a call by call basis.
Peter was called to walk on water. In the middle of the journey his faith shrunk and he got that sinking feeling of failure. In that moment, it wasn't about the boys watching from the comfy confines of the boat. It was about maximizing the potential of the one with the courage to get out of the boat. So in the process of saving him, Jesus reminded Peter that the faith that got him out of the boat would be needed to sustain him in the storm.
My frustration with Jesus' response to Peter is ill conceived. Peter's willingness to enter the arena isn't the point. A risk taking adrenaline junkie would have jumped out of the boat without a moment's hesitation. For those who follow Christ, the point of entering the arena is to expand the kingdom by bringing glory and honor to God. We don't take risks for risk's sake, we take them for God's sake. It has to be about God and stay about God.
Herein lies the problem with Peter: He lost his focus on Jesus which caused his faith to wither and doubt to bloom. In that condition it became about Peter's ability to survive, not Peter's call to Jesus. Still in grace Jesus reached out and saved him, reminding Peter that his life was in His capable, trustworthy hands. The message for Peter, and for us is that by faith we should follow the call wherever it leads. In faith we should keep our eyes on the God of the call.
"It's not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena ... who, at best, knows in the end the triumph of great achievement, and who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly. So that his place will never be with those cold timid souls who know neither victory or defeat."
I love the book generally and the quote specifically because they awaken that part of me that desires to seize the day, the part that is afraid of being average and ordinary, the part that needs to be awakened periodically because sometimes the challenges associated with carpe diem are so overwhelming and scary that I want to cop out.
The story behind the book is obviously the biblical story of Peter getting out of the boat the disciples were in and walking on water toward Jesus. When I read the story I fantasize about being Peter and having the faith and courage to walk on water. But I realize I'm probably more like the majority who stayed in the safe confines of the boat and watched -- the "boat potatoes" as Ortberg calls them.
I reread the account in Matthew 14 this morning and, as I did, I felt an unfamiliar frustration with Jesus' treatment of Peter. See, it surprises me that it would even occur to Peter that, for him, walking on water was a possibility. I'm impressed that Peter invited himself to join Jesus on the stroll and it amazes me that he actually got out of the boat. Yet what really boggles my mind is that Jesus called Peter out for his "little faith."
You know the story. As Peter was making his way to Jesus, the wind picked up so much that he could literally see the effects. He got concerned about what he had gotten himself into, he lost his focus, began to sink and cried out to Jesus to save him. Matthew 14:31 says, "Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. 'You of little faith,' he said, 'why did you doubt?'"
I understand that Jesus made an accurate assessment of Peter's faith as he sank. What I don't understand is why he called him out like that in front of the boys. Why wasn't Peter praised for his risk taking? Why didn't Jesus understand what Roosevelt said, "The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena." Why weren't the others chided for their "boat potato" faith which as it relates to water walking is no faith at all? Relative to the rest of the group, Peter is the only one who was flexing faith, yet he received the rebuke!
The answers lie in the fact that faith is not relative to the group but the call. While we get caught up in comparing and contrasting our journey with others, God doesn't. He assesses followers on a call by call basis.
Peter was called to walk on water. In the middle of the journey his faith shrunk and he got that sinking feeling of failure. In that moment, it wasn't about the boys watching from the comfy confines of the boat. It was about maximizing the potential of the one with the courage to get out of the boat. So in the process of saving him, Jesus reminded Peter that the faith that got him out of the boat would be needed to sustain him in the storm.
My frustration with Jesus' response to Peter is ill conceived. Peter's willingness to enter the arena isn't the point. A risk taking adrenaline junkie would have jumped out of the boat without a moment's hesitation. For those who follow Christ, the point of entering the arena is to expand the kingdom by bringing glory and honor to God. We don't take risks for risk's sake, we take them for God's sake. It has to be about God and stay about God.
Herein lies the problem with Peter: He lost his focus on Jesus which caused his faith to wither and doubt to bloom. In that condition it became about Peter's ability to survive, not Peter's call to Jesus. Still in grace Jesus reached out and saved him, reminding Peter that his life was in His capable, trustworthy hands. The message for Peter, and for us is that by faith we should follow the call wherever it leads. In faith we should keep our eyes on the God of the call.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Where Have I Been?
If you've been looking for my latest musings and have been disappointed, I apologize. I took a bit of a sabbatical. I expected to come back to The Connecting Point refreshed and ready to say something profound. I kept waiting for that that unmistakable "ah ha" moment that I get when I know I have something to say. Other than nothing, I don't know what happened. I realized this morning that if I had to keep waiting for that moment to write something, I might forget my password and never be able to return.
If you have asked where I have been, I have asked where God has been. Usually in these seasons of silence I get back into rhythm pretty quickly. I have a mental list of catalysts that I work through that generally spark what I perceive to be fresh insight about God, myself or others. I worked through the list thoroughly! I took a vacation. I read scripture, books by my favorite authors and the poetry of Billy Collins. I talked to people that inspire me. I asked God for help and confessed the sins that I'm aware of and any that may have occurred off the radar screen of my consciousness. And, in an act of sheer desperation, I even turned off sports talk radio in favor of The Best of Passion {So Far} worship CDs. I've done all of my tricks and the end result is I'm still waiting.
I think maybe it's because I needed to be reminded that streams of abundance are a by-product of God's grace. We can't predict how, when or why God is going to speak and we certainly can't trick him into doing so. If we could, it wouldn't be an act of grace but an act of reciprocity. While I know in my mind God doesn't do reciprocity, I struggle to accept it because the testimonies that I've heard from people who seem to have experienced God in their walk all suggest they did something to earn it.
When I was in seminary virtually all of the chapel times reinforced this notion. Pastors from big churches in the denomination would come and tell us all about how they had led their church into incredible growth because they did stuff right. They preached the Word with the right amount of passion, or they prayed a lot, or accepted the least of these, or knew how to hire and fire, or used the right day timer, or played the right kind of music, or wore the right kind of socks, or combed their hair properly, or convinced everybody to be Republicans ... it was amazing! I took notes and determined that one day I would incorporate all the right stuff into my ministry and God would have to grow my church and eventually I would end up on that stage in chapel talking about how I had earned God's grace.
I remember clearly when God revealed the absurdity of this idea of reciprocal grace. It was early in my ministry at Dayspring and I had a perfect week of ministry. I led three people to Christ. There was a death in a family that was visiting our church and I went and mowed their lawn and then traveled out of town to be at the funeral. I had an incredible week of study and prayer. When Sunday morning came I woke up and had a time of worship that culminated in tears of wonder and gratitude. Upon reviewing the talk that morning, I realized that it was really good and I distinctly remember thinking that revival was sure to break out that morning as the spirit of God fell during the sermon. After all, God had no choice but to show up because I had earned it!
As you might imagine, things didn't go quite as I expected. I got up to do the talk and I literally felt abandoned. It felt as though God was visiting another church that morning and my spirit and my sermon were sinking in quicksand. The void of God's presence was so palpable that one of my friends asked me what happened and, as soon as I was able to pray about it, I asked the same question.
God showed me that if He had shown up after the perfect ministry week, the pressure on me to perform would have never been relieved. If I performed and He showed up I could take the credit. But if I had a bad week and He didn't, then I would have to accept the blame. In essence if the error of the grace of reciprocity had been reinforced it would teach me the lesson that His work and power are dependent upon my strength when in actuality it is dependent upon my weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).
The lesson then and now is the same. Whether we're talking about experiencing God's presence and power, or hearing a message from God, it's all grace. There are no tricks and there is certainly no reciprocity. God dispenses His grace in His perfect timing and according to His good pleasure, not according to our performance.
So I'll wait because I have no choice. However, I wait in freedom because I know experiencing Him is not up to me. I also wait expectantly because I know that God will never leave me or forsake me -- even when he lets me preach by myself.
If you have asked where I have been, I have asked where God has been. Usually in these seasons of silence I get back into rhythm pretty quickly. I have a mental list of catalysts that I work through that generally spark what I perceive to be fresh insight about God, myself or others. I worked through the list thoroughly! I took a vacation. I read scripture, books by my favorite authors and the poetry of Billy Collins. I talked to people that inspire me. I asked God for help and confessed the sins that I'm aware of and any that may have occurred off the radar screen of my consciousness. And, in an act of sheer desperation, I even turned off sports talk radio in favor of The Best of Passion {So Far} worship CDs. I've done all of my tricks and the end result is I'm still waiting.
I think maybe it's because I needed to be reminded that streams of abundance are a by-product of God's grace. We can't predict how, when or why God is going to speak and we certainly can't trick him into doing so. If we could, it wouldn't be an act of grace but an act of reciprocity. While I know in my mind God doesn't do reciprocity, I struggle to accept it because the testimonies that I've heard from people who seem to have experienced God in their walk all suggest they did something to earn it.
When I was in seminary virtually all of the chapel times reinforced this notion. Pastors from big churches in the denomination would come and tell us all about how they had led their church into incredible growth because they did stuff right. They preached the Word with the right amount of passion, or they prayed a lot, or accepted the least of these, or knew how to hire and fire, or used the right day timer, or played the right kind of music, or wore the right kind of socks, or combed their hair properly, or convinced everybody to be Republicans ... it was amazing! I took notes and determined that one day I would incorporate all the right stuff into my ministry and God would have to grow my church and eventually I would end up on that stage in chapel talking about how I had earned God's grace.
I remember clearly when God revealed the absurdity of this idea of reciprocal grace. It was early in my ministry at Dayspring and I had a perfect week of ministry. I led three people to Christ. There was a death in a family that was visiting our church and I went and mowed their lawn and then traveled out of town to be at the funeral. I had an incredible week of study and prayer. When Sunday morning came I woke up and had a time of worship that culminated in tears of wonder and gratitude. Upon reviewing the talk that morning, I realized that it was really good and I distinctly remember thinking that revival was sure to break out that morning as the spirit of God fell during the sermon. After all, God had no choice but to show up because I had earned it!
As you might imagine, things didn't go quite as I expected. I got up to do the talk and I literally felt abandoned. It felt as though God was visiting another church that morning and my spirit and my sermon were sinking in quicksand. The void of God's presence was so palpable that one of my friends asked me what happened and, as soon as I was able to pray about it, I asked the same question.
God showed me that if He had shown up after the perfect ministry week, the pressure on me to perform would have never been relieved. If I performed and He showed up I could take the credit. But if I had a bad week and He didn't, then I would have to accept the blame. In essence if the error of the grace of reciprocity had been reinforced it would teach me the lesson that His work and power are dependent upon my strength when in actuality it is dependent upon my weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).
The lesson then and now is the same. Whether we're talking about experiencing God's presence and power, or hearing a message from God, it's all grace. There are no tricks and there is certainly no reciprocity. God dispenses His grace in His perfect timing and according to His good pleasure, not according to our performance.
So I'll wait because I have no choice. However, I wait in freedom because I know experiencing Him is not up to me. I also wait expectantly because I know that God will never leave me or forsake me -- even when he lets me preach by myself.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
The Tragic Flaw
I can't help myself, I really feel the need to explore the notion of The Tragic Flaw. I am sure this is an exaggeration, but it seems to me that about a third of the major news stories have as an undercurrent this notion of the tragic flaw in their subjects. Whether it's in the world of politics, sports, high finance, or follywood, the people making the news are those who have been exposed for the presence of a tragic flaw that has compromised their reputation, ended their careers and in some cases even ended their lives.
Before I wander off too far, I think it's imperative that we get a handle on what I mean by The Tragic Flaw. Humor me here. The word tragic means disastrous, pathetic, or fatal. The word flaw refers to a defect or a crack that mars perfection. Therefore, the concept of The Tragic Flaw refers to the seemingly inexplicable hitch in a person's giddy-up that can cause them to stumble and fall at the worst possible time, in the worst possible place. The fall is typically so disastrous that the person feels that there is little to no hope for recovery.
As I write, I can't help but think of the two men who have dominated the news most recently because of the exposure of their tragic flaws: the governor of my home state, Mark Sanford, and the former quarterback of the Tennessee Titans, Steve McNair. I have been thinking about these men because their family profiles fit mine to a tee--both fairly young, both the father of four boys, both with lots to look forward to.
My initial response to their fall was presumably the same as yours: one (hopefully faint) part schadenfreude, one part judgmental arrogance. If I thought it once I thought it 50 times: How can two men who have so much to live for get caught up in that? How can they be so foolish?
But upon further review, I realize my default response is flawed and potentially tragic. It may sound cliche, but "there but by the grace of God go I." I am fully capable of falling in the same way, or some way similar to McNair and Sanford. And you are, too. The reality is that we are all of us, tragically flawed.
Borrowing from the imagery of Eden, we all have a tree in the middle of our gardens that represents forbidden but tempting fruit. It's a tree whose convenient seemingly flawless fruit promises to fill the void in our soul.
So what do we do?
First, respect and acknowledge the flaw. God pointedly told Adam and Eve about the tree and its deadly fruit. He wanted to bring to light the powerful lure of darkness and the deception that lurks in the shadows. The hope was that knowing the truth would set them free to avoid the danger.
Second, "Pray that you may not enter into temptation." (Luke 22:40) Being tempted by the tree and entering into that temptation are two different things. Jesus told us that we should daily ask that God would not lead us into temptation and that He would deliver us from evil. It is good to know when danger is near; it is better to avoid it.
Third, be grateful that you are standing and in gracious humility help those who have fallen. Galatians is very clear. "Brethren, even if a man is caught in any trespass, you who are spiritual, restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness; each one looking to yourself, lest you too be tempted. Bear one another's burdens, and thus fulfill the law of Christ."
The presence of the tragic flaw is undeniable. Succumbing to its compelling call is unnecessary.
Before I wander off too far, I think it's imperative that we get a handle on what I mean by The Tragic Flaw. Humor me here. The word tragic means disastrous, pathetic, or fatal. The word flaw refers to a defect or a crack that mars perfection. Therefore, the concept of The Tragic Flaw refers to the seemingly inexplicable hitch in a person's giddy-up that can cause them to stumble and fall at the worst possible time, in the worst possible place. The fall is typically so disastrous that the person feels that there is little to no hope for recovery.
As I write, I can't help but think of the two men who have dominated the news most recently because of the exposure of their tragic flaws: the governor of my home state, Mark Sanford, and the former quarterback of the Tennessee Titans, Steve McNair. I have been thinking about these men because their family profiles fit mine to a tee--both fairly young, both the father of four boys, both with lots to look forward to.
My initial response to their fall was presumably the same as yours: one (hopefully faint) part schadenfreude, one part judgmental arrogance. If I thought it once I thought it 50 times: How can two men who have so much to live for get caught up in that? How can they be so foolish?
But upon further review, I realize my default response is flawed and potentially tragic. It may sound cliche, but "there but by the grace of God go I." I am fully capable of falling in the same way, or some way similar to McNair and Sanford. And you are, too. The reality is that we are all of us, tragically flawed.
Borrowing from the imagery of Eden, we all have a tree in the middle of our gardens that represents forbidden but tempting fruit. It's a tree whose convenient seemingly flawless fruit promises to fill the void in our soul.
- This tree produces soul mates when we are married but unfulfilled.
- It provides the fruit of significance and security when we wonder if we are loved.
- It offers the fruit of status when we are afraid that our stuff doesn't measure up.
- It offers the thrill of adventure when our lives seem drab and monotonous.
- It offers the delusion of control when our lives seem unmanageable.
So what do we do?
First, respect and acknowledge the flaw. God pointedly told Adam and Eve about the tree and its deadly fruit. He wanted to bring to light the powerful lure of darkness and the deception that lurks in the shadows. The hope was that knowing the truth would set them free to avoid the danger.
Second, "Pray that you may not enter into temptation." (Luke 22:40) Being tempted by the tree and entering into that temptation are two different things. Jesus told us that we should daily ask that God would not lead us into temptation and that He would deliver us from evil. It is good to know when danger is near; it is better to avoid it.
Third, be grateful that you are standing and in gracious humility help those who have fallen. Galatians is very clear. "Brethren, even if a man is caught in any trespass, you who are spiritual, restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness; each one looking to yourself, lest you too be tempted. Bear one another's burdens, and thus fulfill the law of Christ."
The presence of the tragic flaw is undeniable. Succumbing to its compelling call is unnecessary.
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