What does it all mean?

Today, as I was reading in Luke, I was struck by a passage that my eyes have glazed over countless times. You may not believe it, but I was arrested by the genealogy of Jesus. Not by the names that we know like David, Jessie, Abraham, or Adam, but by all the other names. Names of men that we know nothing else about.

As I sat reflecting on the passage I was struck by the fact that these men lived entire lives about which we know absolutely nothing. They were born into families that we know nothing about. They went through formative experiences as they were growing up that we know nothing about. They fell in love with women that we know nothing about. They had weddings that we know nothing about. They had children that we know nothing about. They suffered diseases and hardships that we know nothing about, and they died in ways that we know nothing about. Their entire lives are lost to us, but we do know that they were an indispensable link in the chain of life that produced the Savior of the world.

These men had no idea about the real significance of their lives. They lived and died without an inkling of how their lives fit into the grand narrative of history. We too have no real idea of why we are here and what our lives mean. We seldom understand the past, only occasionally grasp the significance of the present, and have no capacity to predict, let alone understand, the future. We live all our lives like men shooting in the dark, barely comprehending what we are shooting at and rarely knowing if we even hit it.

The beauty of knowing God is that He knows the future. He knows why we are here, each of us individually. He knows the work that He has prepared for us to do. He knows the gifts He has given us. He knows what it all means, and He promises to be with us in the midst of it and work it all together for good. All this is just to rephrase something my father used to say: "I don't know the future, but I know the one who knows the future."

Hide and Seek

I find myself engaged in a sort of game of hide and seek with God. In one sense I have always been playing the game where I am hiding from Him, like Adam in the garden, and He is patiently seeking me. I hid from Him for many years and used many strategies to avoid discovery. I was afraid of his soul penetrating gaze. I was afraid I would be caught and uncovered. I was certain that I could not stand naked and unashamed before Him. So, I hid.

To my surprise, I found much joy and relief when He finally caught me. I finally surrendered myself and purposed to not hide from Him, or from myself, any longer. The ruthless self assessment and the stripping that has followed, have revealed that I was even worse off than I thought, but that He was even better than I dreamed. He has patiently been pursuing me and healing me all these years.

That, however, is not the game of hide and seek that I am pondering this morning. Today, I find myself reflecting on the divine hider. I feel like we have switched roles. Now, I am the one who is seeking and He is the one who is hiding; not in a mean spirited way, but rather in a playful way.

It is a sort of romantic hide and seek. He is beckoning me on, and is playfully hiding, all the while leaving clues as to where we will have our next hidden rendezvous. He hides to see if I will pursue. When I find that I can not help but pursue I discover that He has become and is becoming the desire of my heart. This is a welcome discovery and, I believe, is at least part of His reason for playing this game with me. He is demonstrating to me that I really do love Him. Through my doubts, through my fears, through the places that still need healing, I have grown to love Him. I am growing and changing after all!

So, I will seek my God though I only see Him now through a glass darkly. Someday I will know Him as He knows me. I will see Him fully and completely as He sees me. Then, I suppose He will teach me other games to play.

Oh Me of Little Faith

I have had several situations recently that have revealed to me how weak my faith really is. Recently, I have experienced a number of disappointing, frustrating, and downright painful things in my life. As these things have happened, I find myself struggling to really trust God. The details of the situations are not important, but what they have shown me about myself and about God is vitally important. It's not that I'm in danger of walking away from Christ, but rather that I am realizing how superficial my trust is.

When things are going well and seem to be progressing as I had imagined, or hoped, then my faith seems steady and unassailable, but when things take an unexpected and disappointing turn I find myself slipping. I find anger welling up inside. I find myself wanting to escape from reality and to deny my feelings. I find myself not actually trusting.

It's easy for me to talk about faith when none is required, but it is harder when I pray and the things I ask for don't happen. I find it hard to trust that God is for me and is working all things together for my good and for the good of the Kingdom when what I want and what He wants don't seem to be the same thing. On some level I want what He wants, but on another level I really want what I want. I'm pretty sure that I know best. I don't trust Him when He doesn't do what I want.

Like a petulant child I find myself pouty and grumpy when I ask for something that I think should be granted. Imagine the temerity of God not to listen to me and do what I ask. How dare He!?! The fact is, that something very like this happens in my heart. It seem heretical to write it or to acknowledge it, but that's where I am in my journey. I suppose it is good to have the state of my heart revealed and to find out that my faith really is considerably smaller than a mustard seed. It does not feel good, but it is good.

I take comfort in the fact that there are many of little faith who have gone before me and who have shown that faith can in fact grow. More than that, I take comfort in the promise that faith is a gift of God, not a result of works. So, I can (and do) ask God to give me more faith so that I might trust Him better and bring Him more glory. I'm sure this is a request that He will not deny.

The Stations of the Cross

I walked the stations of the cross today. I am staying at a monastery for a couple of days of spiritual retreat. This morning I took a prayer walk along a path that was puncuated periodically with stations to remind one of the various things that Christ endured surrounding the cross. The first one is his judgement by Pontious Pilot and the last one is being laid in the grave.

As I walked this dusty dirt path I found my mind being drawn into the story. I found myself asking Jesus what it was like. What was it like for you, the Righeous King of the Universe to be judged and falsely condemned by a governor of a small provence in a small empire on a tiny planet on the fringe of a small galaxy? What was it like for you to be abandoned by your friends. How did you do it? How did you endure the scorn, the shame, the unrighteous judgement, the beatings, the mocking, the hatred the scourgings, the crown of thorns, the weight of the cross, the nails, the debasement of the cross, the objectification, the vilification.

As I reflected on these questions it occured to me that Jesus endured it all because He trusted His Father. Even in the midst of the chaotic evil that surrounded Him, He trusted the Father. We know that He didn't want to go to the cross and that He begged His Father to take it away, but then He submitted to the will of the Father. He believed that He is and that He is the rewarder of those that earnestly seek Him.

The cross was not just a victory over sin and death, but also the victory of faith over flesh. Jesus, fully man, was obedient to death, even death on a cross. He fought the fight against His flesh and His fears and He showed us that it is possible. He showed us the way of victory over the flesh. Then, the Father showed us that it was worth it. After Jesus endured the cross scorning it's shame he was exalted and seated at the right hand of the Father. Absolute surrender and trust does not mean a glorious or peaceful life in thie world, but it does mean glory for God and life with Him eternally. At His right hand are pleasures forever more. He will not fail to reward those who earnestly seek Him. Jesus showed us the way.

On The Road

I have been traveling for the last couple of weeks, thus the lack of blogging. Actually I am not just traveling, I am in the process of moving. I have packed up my household and have entered into a type of nebulous and nomadic existence. I feel like the Lord has asked me to leave where we were living and working and to follow Him to the place where He will show us. At this point we have no solid idea of where that will be, but we have left our home behind in an attempt to follow. We are trusting that He will guide and direct us in His good time and that He will not abandon us along the road.

This is definitely a faith journey as well as a physical one. If I am honest there is a niggling fear at the back of my mind that having pulled up stakes we might find ourselves wandering in a desert without a guide. I hear the desperation in Moses prayer, "If you do not go with us, please don't make us go!" There is the fear that perhaps He has led us out into this wilderness and will not lead us to the other side. There is also a real fear that perhaps we have misheard or misunderstood. I want to know the destination and how to get there, but He refuses to tell me. I find myself longing for a road map more than for a pillar of fire and smoke. Instead He is with me on the journey and assures me of His presence. He asks me to trust Him and to simply walk with Him day by day.

I am comforted by the fact that He has never abandoned us. He has been faithful to guide us and direct us every step of the way. It is true that this guidance was not always with manifest presence, but it is clear in hindsight. Looking back I can see that He has been ever present and has been guiding me in paths of righteousness for His Name's sake. He will not abandon me because He promises never to leave me or forsake me. He promises to be with me always, even to the end of the age. His honor and glory are at stake.

So, we have ventured out into the unknown, not knowing what is before us and trusting that He truly has spoken to us and beckoned us to follow Him into this wilderness. I trust that He has many lessons to teach us on this journey as He taught the Israelites in the deserts of Sinai.

Submission

Submission is not something that we generally emphasize in the West. We emphasize initiative, action, planning, creative solutions, etc... All of these are good things, but I am realizing how hard, and how unnatural, it is for me to submit. Perhaps this is just human nature, but it seems to me that submission is particularly difficult for those of us raised in the West. In America in particular, we are raised to be strong individuals who look out for ourselves. In the scandalous era in which we live, we have learned cynicism and distrust rather than submission. Authority is something to be questioned, power is something to be balanced, kings are to be overthrown. In this context how can we look on submission with anything short of incredulity and skepticism.

I am very much a product of my culture. Living and working overseas for roughly a decade has stretched my horizons, but has also shown me how much my own culture has influenced me in ways that are subtle and often hard to identify. I find myself struggling with submission. I praise God that He has taken me through a training school of hard knocks to teach me to submit to the leaders that He has placed over me, and yet, deep in my heart there lies a lack of submission to God specifically. I am finding submission especially difficult lately because it seems that He has assigned me a particularly odious task.

It seems like God's marching order for me these days is to wait. He continually draws me to passages with this emphasis and the quiet witness of the Spirit in my heart is to wait, to be still. Just this evening I was reminded of Is. 30. The people of Israel would not wait for the Lord and His plan for them. Instead they made plans to save themselves. The Lord responds in verse 15: “In repentance and rest is your salvation,in quietness and trust is your strength,but you would have none of it." I find so much of my own journey reflected in the attitudes and actions of the Israelites.

I am a man of action. I need something to do, a mountain to climb, a challenge to overcome, a task to accomplish. I want to move things along, to drive things. Sometimes I think I would rather move in the wrong direction rather than just sit still. So, the Lord is asking me to wait, to be still and know that He is God, to rest in quietness and trust. This is among the toughest assignments He could give me. Waiting on Him is contrary to my heart, my culture, my personality, my training. Everything in me screams to get moving, to plan the next steps, to think my way out of the doldrums; but He tells me to wait, to be still, to trust. So, here I am waiting, praying that He will speak and release me from the prison of stillness, learning to submit to the King of the Universe.

The Journey of Faith

I am hungry for God and want more than anything to know Him and walk with Him, but I find the journey toward Him to be excruciating. I believe that I am on the right path, but I am SO impatient for my own growth. I find it hard to enjoy the journey, and instead find myself frustrated with myself and with others along the way. I find the process to be roughly analogous to physical training. It is hard work and the good that it achieves may not be readily felt of ever fully known; and yet over time the change can be perceived, if not by the eye then in the experience of living in the improved body. I agree with Paul that physical training is of some value, and trust that he is right when he says that training in godliness is of great value for the present life as well as the one to come.

God is refining me and that requires humility. But, the way to humility is through humiliation. Perhaps not for everyone, but it certainly seems to be for me. Yet again I find myself smarting after an interaction. I find myself longing to be understood and valued for who I am. I know that the reason it feels so bad is because I have not reached the holy indifference to the opinion of man that is the mark of true humility. I am wondering if this is even possible short of heaven. And yet, I see progress. I can see some progress in my own life and as I talk with and read those who are farther along I believe that much more is attainable than I have yet laid hold of. So, I press on.

And yet, I’m tired. Tired of being judged. Tired of being misunderstood. Tired of trying to fit into some mold of what a man should be, a Christian should be, a leader should be. I long to be free to be completely who I am. I do not long to stop changing or growing, it is that I long to be free to grow along the path that is uniquely mine, rather than the paths that others would mark out for me. There are a few true companions who know me, who give me the freedom to be who I am, and love me enough to push me to be a better version of myself. These are precious gifts to me that sustain and encourage me on the journey. Perhaps God alone should be enough for me, but I am grateful for these boons, these treasures, these friends.

I recognize that I not only lack humility, but I also lack faith. I can be a little self-congratulatory about my ability to step out into the unknown, but true faith is trust, not tolerance for ambiguity. I am reminded about a story I once read about a knight who served a lord. One day, the lord asked him to extend his sword arm. As he did so his lord raised his sword and poised to strike the blow that would sever his hand from his arm and end his fighting career. The knight was faced with a crucial test of his trust in his superior. I feel like God has asked me to extend my hand. Do I trust Him enough to leave my hand extended, to draw near enough to Him to be within striking distance? Or, do I withdraw it because I don’t trust that it will be worth it. I know that there will be pain and loss, but do I trust that the purpose will be worth the pain. Do I trust my commander, my Lord, enough to be expendable, to be expended on the battlefield? We may dream of marching victoriously with the conqueror, but who dreams being counted among the dead and maimed on the battlefield? Do I trust Him enough to let Him wound me?

After all, He is not tame. There are those who would assure me that my vision of God is too grim, too bloody, but I wonder if they have not emasculated God in their desire to make Him more amiable. The God of the scriptures is fierce and bold. He slays His enemies, and sometimes His friends. He is not random nor capricious, but neither is He tame and domesticated. He never acts out of character, but he chastises those who would reduce Him to formulas and platitudes; Job’s friends and the Pharisees are the most obvious examples of this. So, do I trust this wild God? Do I trust Him enough to be crushed by Him? What if I am not Joseph, or David, who endured the trials and depredations for a time, and were later exalted? What if I am Jonathan, or the thousands of unnamed warriors who were faithful and obedient and died in the struggle? Can I trust Him then? I cry out with Peter, “Where else can I go Lord? Who else has the words of eternal life?” And with Job, “I know that my redeemer lives” and “though He slay me, yet I will trust in Him.”

The book I'm reading

I find myself both challenged and encouraged by the book I'm reading, "The Voice of Jesus" by Gordon T. Smith. It is the latest in a series of books I've been reading about prayer and developing my relationship with God. Smith starts by looking at three Christian thinkers who wrestled with how God speaks with us. What is interesting is that he has selected Ignatius Loyola (the founder of the Jesuits), John Wesley (the founder of Methodism), and Jonathan Edwards (the profound American Reformed pastor and theologian).

Although these three men are from three different traditions they agree that God speaks to us personally. I long to hear from God with greater frequency and clarity and this book has been an encouragement to me that this is not a futile pursuit. I believe that there is much more potential to hear from Him than is generally acknowledged. I believe that I can train myself to hear His voice if I will but invest my time and energy in that direction. I believe that we give up too easily and settle for so much less than is available to us.

The Power of Prayer

I find myself struggling with the value of prayer. I see that it has transformational value for myself. It also has clear value in developing a more intimate relationship with the Lord. My struggle is about the practical value of prayer. Is it true that "the prayers of a righteous man accomplish much"? (James 5:16)

I have often heard the emphasis placed on prayer and on the "prayer of faith", but I find myself loosing faith in prayer. I think that I have misplaced my faith when I place it in prayer, as if prayer is a powerful force in an of itself. I believe that as I loose my faith in prayer, I am gaining more faith, more trust, in God. God is the mover. God is the source of power.

He is not an impersonal force like electricity that can be switched on or off through a "prayer of faith". He is a person who has a will and plans of His own. Is it true to say that prayer is powerful and effective, or would it be better to say that God is powerful and that prayer is the sum of our interactions with Him. When we are acting rightly, as His regents, His priests, in His Name, He delights to grant us our requests. Therefore, the prayers of a righteous man are powerful and effective, in that they are the means by which God releases His power and gains glory for Himself.

Meeting with God

Every day is filled with opportunities to meet with God. Every day is laden with the possibility for a divine ambush. To meet with God is an honor and a privilege that is available to everyone, but one that is fraught with danger, for you never know what God will do, or say.

God does not exist for us, but rather the other way around. In Him we live and move and have our being. He created all things, and all things were created by and for Him. He owns all things, myself included. So, to meet with Him is to meet with the awesome and terrifying King of the Universe. It is an audience with Immensity. It is a conversation with unbridled Power, Wisdom, and Glory.

It is a gift beyond measure that we can waltz into the Holy of Holies with reckless abandon. We can meet with the Immutable God without fear. For God Himself has made a way for us. He laid down His life so that we can have real life. The veil has been torn, and we now have direct access to the Father. We assume this tremendous privilege because we have always had this level of intimacy available to us, as has everyone that we have ever known, but it was not always this way. The saints and prophets of old longed for this, but died longing for what we take for granted.

So, today, I set aside time again to meet with Him. He does not always meet with me in special ways, but I set the time aside and dedicate it to seeking His face. Sometimes He visits me in special ways, and sometimes I spend the time in study and prayer with no special visitation. I have grown to enjoy both kinds of times. To be honest the times of studying His Word and intercessory prayer are often more peaceful and less painful. For when He comes, He pursues me with an intentionality and intensity that often leaves me sore from the probing of my heart.

Today was one of those times when He spoke to me. He probed my heart again and showed me that many of my decisions are made from my own desires. He graciously pressed down on some tender spots and directed me toward the place of growth for me. Unfortunately, or so it feels, that place is the crucible of isolation and obscurity. There is much more winnowing to be done in my heart. It is for my own good, and I am grateful for it, but the threshing sledge falls with terrible force to crack the husks and release the grain trapped inside. I am grateful for the meeting, if still a little sore. But it's a good sore, like the tenderness of muscles after a long, hard work out. A tenderness that speaks not of brokenness alone, but of a strength that is growing; the pain in the price of growth.

Humility

Humility is not a virtue that is attained easily, and one that is pursued with little gusto. I speak from personal experience; not as one who has attained it, but as one who has little stomach for the journey towards it.

I know that to be humble is to be like Christ. I want to be like Christ. I am just not sure that I want to go through the formative processes to become like Him. The process of sanctification is not a process of sinning less and less, but rather a process of being conformed more and more to the image of our Saviour. He learned obedience through suffering. (Heb. 5:8) I am coming to believe that the only way for me to learn humility is through humiliation. That is a form of suffering that I studiously try to avoid.

I am struggling to simultaneously embrace both my beauty, power, and strength as a child of God, and my brokenness as a son of Adam. I suspect that somewhere along this road is true humility. I am a creature, and not the creator. Andrew Murray says that is the basis for humility, not my sinfulness or even brokenness. I wonder how many times God will have to graciously remind me of my lack of divinity before I will remember and allow the truth of that to penetrate my heart and infuse my life with true humility. Life giving, freedom granting, humility.

The Wrestling Match

Well, my fast is over and my heart has been tenderized. Last night the Lord met me in a most unexpected way. I was praying for intimacy and blessing, and He answered, but in a way that leaves me grateful but a aching a bit.

I was reading "the Voice of Jesus" by Gordon T. Smith. I was reading about the various ways that the Holy Spirit meets with us. As I was reading and reflecting on the role of the Spirit I was suddenly aware of some really ugly spiritual pride that I have allowed to grow unchecked in my heart in the last few months. I have been judging others harshly, in my own mind, in an effort to protect myself by invalidating their perspectives and defending myself and my ideas. I have subtly been exalting myself and devaluing others. I have even gone as far as using sarcasm and scorn to recruit others to my low opinion of others.

I was crushed. I was sickened when I realized how long this has been going on and how insidious this sin was. I am once again impressed with my ability to deceive myself and rationalize my sin.

I am SO grateful that He met me and exposed my heart. He has graciously peeled back another layer and exposed the infection to the cleansing light of His love. As I was reflecting on whether this was the end of the wrestling match, or if I should continue the fast, I was reminded of the end of the original wrestling match between Jacob and God. It ended when God touched Jacob's hip and wounded him. So, I have decided that this match is over and God won. The beauty of it is, that when God wins I win because He is for me.

Expectations

I am in the first day of my fasting and prayer in pursuit of God. I want to quiet myself before Him, and to not let go of Him until He blesses me.

On the other hand, I'm wondering what my expectations should be. I don't know if I'm desiring a level of intimacy and connection that will only be available to me in heaven. I don't know if I'm being selfish and demanding. I want Him to meet with me. I want to hear from Him. I have had that experience before, but I feel like this time I am more desperate. I wonder if I'm pushing myself too hard in seeking something that is unrealistic. I know that I haven't pushed myself much at all.

This morning as I was wondering about this I was reminded of 1 Tim. 4:7b-8. "...train yourself to be godly. For physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come." I know that I have spent precious little effort training myself to be godly. So, while I don't know where this will lead, I feel like it's time for me to take this training seriously.

Desperate for God

Today I spent a couple of hours on my face before God. I read scripture, journaled, and sat in silence before Him. I told Him that I was desperate for Him to meet with me, to manifest Himself to me, to show Himself to me. I am desperate for answers to questions, but more than that, I'm desperate to meet with Him. I felt this SO keenly today. I do not feel like He is hiding, nor silent, but neither is He speaking to me as I have experienced Him in the past.

As I lay before Him today I wrestled with my desire for Him. I feel like my desperation needs to be expressed in more than just words. I hunger and thirst for Him. I will be the importunate widow who will knock and ask, and ask again, until He grants my request...until He meets with me and tells me His will for me. And so, I will fast and pray. I will quiet myself and fast from media as well as food. I will seek Him with all that I am. Surely He will meet with me. It's time for more than words.

Fits and Starts

I have noticed that I live my life in fits and spurts. I tend to focus on something really well for a time, but eventually I get distracted. Unfortunately, this happens often in my pursuit of God. Something will remind me of the centrality of Christ, and for a time I will be intentional in my pursuit of Him. These spurts of spiritual pursuit are not bad in and of themselves, but I long for a more steady and sustained pursuit of Him over time. Eugene Peterson calls discipleship "a long obedience in the same direction". I can look back over many years now and see that the general trajectory of my life, for quite some time now, has been upwards towards Christ, but the path is more sporadic than I would like. I am too easily distracted by "lovers less wild". Oh my heart is prone to wander. May God bind my wandering heart to Him!

Knowledge

Knowledge is an odd thing. In most contexts we talk about things that we know and don't know with a degree of certainty that should make us blush.

My First Blog Entry

For years now I have been reading about blogging and have enjoyed other's blogs. I have never taken the time to start my own...until now.

For the last couple of years I have also been wanting to do more writing. I have done a few small projects, articles and stuff, but have not been writing consistently. I am hoping that having a blog may help me to be a little more consistent in developing this discipline. We'll see...

The Boy and The World

There once was a boy who thought he could change the world. It was natural for him to think so as he had been assured of that for as long as he could remember. He was raised in a good family in a land of opportunity. He was told that he was special, that he was gifted, and that he had a strange and wonderful thing called potential.

He wasn’t sure exactly what potential meant, but it must be important because people kept mentioning it and assuring him that he had it. Sometimes it was a compliment, but other times it was barbed more like a criticism. He wasn’t sure he wanted to have potential, but it didn’t seem like he had much of a choice in the matter.

As he grew he began to realize that perhaps he really did have gifts. Perhaps he really was special and it wasn’t just the bias of his mother and father. What parent doesn’t think their child is special after all? Doesn’t every parent tell their child that they are the most beautiful and wonderful child in the world? And so the compliments of parents are always suspect. But as he grew and went to school he started to see that when graded on objective standards he really did have some gifts. He got good grades without really trying, and people seemed to look to him for leadership. He was a leader even when he tried not to lead. He was captain of the team and president of the school. It all came so easily, so effortlessly. Maybe, just maybe he really could change the world.

It was around this time that he started to notice the darker undercurrents, the subtle (and sometimes open) attacks. He was called names and ostracized by his peers. Perhaps they were just trying to drag him down to their level, perhaps it was because he was different. He also noticed that leaders, teachers, people in authority sometimes treated him badly for reasons beyond his comprehension. He didn’t like being the target of attacks and he wondered how to overcome, how to stop them, how to get away from them. He started to become angry and hard inside. He had to learn how to keep the attacks from hurting him.

Occasionally he would find leaders or others in authority who would notice him and be kind to him. They didn’t attack him. But then he started to realize that they too wanted something from him. They wanted to use him. Some even wanted to abuse him. They invited him in to their world. They honored him. They recruited him. They wanted him. Then, they used him for their own selfish ends and discarded him when they were done, or when he would no longer submit to being used. He tried to hide his potential, to not be noticed.

What about changing the world he wondered. What about the gifts and the abilities. What about his potential. Potential is a terrible burden to carry. You only have potential until you realize it. Potential is one of those things that is consumed in the use of it. Like a catalyst in a chemical reaction. Once it is used, it is gone. Those who change the world don’t have potential, they have realized their potential and it is no more.

And so the boy started to look for ways to use his potential. He looked for a master who would train him, who would help him to use his potential. He wanted to learn. He wanted to realize his potential. He wanted to change the world and to be a good steward of the resources that had been entrusted to him. He would gladly be consumed in the process if he could just be free to be who he was created to be.
He still knew somewhere inside that he was special, but over the years doubts had been sown in his heart, and bitter fruit was now ripening. He decided to try again. He knew there must be a good master, someone who could be trusted to lead and not to use, to free and not control, to empower and not wound. Finally, he found someone.

He found a man who talked the talk and by all appearances walked the walk. He decided to trust against trust. He decided to believe the unbelievable, that here at last was the good master one who would help him to realize his potential. They talked, they dreamed, and he was set free.

Then one day, they talked again. From the beginning of the conversation he could tell that something was wrong. Something in the tone of his voice was different. He tried to understand. He tried to submit. As the blows began to fall again, he didn’t even defend himself. He just let them come.

When it was over he picked himself up, wiped the blood from his face and tried to ignore the pain in his heart. He now understood. He was alone. There are no good masters. There are no trustworthy leaders. They all have their own agendas. Even those who recognized that he was special, that he had “potential” only wanted to use him. If he was ever going to change the world, if he was ever going to realize his potential, he would have to steer clear of those who would be his master.

Some have defined insanity as repeating the same action but expecting a different outcome every time. He realized now that he had been insane. He had repeatedly sought out leaders, masters to whom he could apprentice, and every one had wounded him. Perhaps the most painful thing was that they often blamed him for his own wounding and justified their actions with scripture, or by pointing to his weaknesses; weaknesses of which he was all too well aware. He was sick of being used and abused and then blamed for it. He was sick of being despised and rejected after having been used.

So, the boy was faced with a dilemma. “What to do? What to do?” If there were no good masters, then how do you move forward, how do you change the world? Was the answer to become a master himself? The question scared him because he had seen masters who used and abused and if that is what it means to lead then he wanted no part of it.

So, he walked out of town. He had to get away. He had to isolate himself, even if just for a moment. He couldn’t take the thought of another attack while he was so bruised and battered from the last one. He walked the bridge on the edge of town. It was over a deep chasm and he walked to the edge and stared into the abyss. Was this the answer? Was this the end of the line? Was there no chance to change the world? Was he wrong all along? Were they just delusions of grandeur? Is it possible then to be a leader, to be a master who serves? How could he be a master like that? Where could he find a master like that to learn from?

Then, he knew the answer. Jesus. Jesus is the master who was despised and rejected. Jesus stood like a sheep before His shearers and did not defend himself. Jesus accepted the authority that His Father gave Him and was unconcerned about the authority structures of His day. Jesus was the very model, the perfect model, maybe the only model, of a servant leader, a good shepherd. All others had let him down. All others would let him down. Only Jesus can be trusted. Only Jesus is the good shepherd.

As he stood on the bridge he heard footsteps behind him. He cringed at the thought of another attack. He stood still hoping that the approaching person would leave him alone. He grew apprehensive when rather than passing him by, he heard the intruder approaching him from behind. He nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt a hand close on his shoulder. As he turned to face his accuser he found that before him stood the one good master. Jesus had come to meet him on the bridge. Jesus had tears in His eyes as he searched the face of the boy. They stood facing each other for some time. Neither spoke. After a while Jesus simply beckoned for the boy to follow Him. And so the boy followed the Master back towards town.

Maintaining Perspective

I find that one of the key struggles for me is to maintain perspective. As I read the news or interact with family or engage with the world around me in a myriad of ways, I find that I often lose perspective. I tend to view the events around me from my own personal, and generally self-absorbed, point of view rather than framing them as part of a larger narrative. Also, when I do manage to frame them as part of a larger narrative, I do so from a strictly naturalist or human perspective. I naturally tend to organize my thoughts about the world and my place in it without figuring God into the picture. It’s not that I lose touch with reality, but I do lose touch with the ground of all true reality.

God is the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. He is the King of kings and the Lord of lords. He is the creator of all things and nothing was created except through Him. He is the all-knowing, all-seeing, all powerful, almighty God of the universe. In Him we live and move and have our being. He is the un-moved mover. He is the one trustworthy and unshakeable thing. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. He is for us. He is with us. He will never leave us or forsake us. He will comfort us and protect us. He will guide us and direct our steps. He is in us and all around us. He is the Reality under, around, in, through, behind, and beyond all reality.

I know this to be true, but I forget so easily! When I forget, I lose perspective. It happens so subtly that I don’t usually even notice when I have lost it. It’s like putting my keys in my pocket without remembering that there is a hole in the pocket. The keys slip out unnoticed and it isn’t until I have some need of them that I even realize that they are gone. I don’t notice that I have lost perspective and lost touch with Him until something, or someone, in the world rubs me the wrong way. Then it quickly becomes apparent to me that something is missing. I have lost the key that unlocks the mysteries of life and that provides the peace to carry me across the stormy seas of life. In that moment the lack, the loss, is almost tangible; and yet, even then I don’t always recognize what is awry. I often try to solve the problem apart from Him and apart from the right perspective, like trying to jam some foreign object, anything I find at hand, into a lock to make it open when I’ve lost the key. Often, it’s only later that I realize what I have done and why.

But God is not only great, He is also good, gracious, and merciful. He meets me again if I will but turn to Him. He truly does draw near to those who draw near to Him. As I open His Word and seek His face, I find myself renewed and refreshed. I find my perspective is realigned as I am reminded of the Truth. I find myself relaxing into His sovereignty and His love for me. After all, we are more than conquerors in Him. If He is for us, who can be against us?! He quiets me with His love and rejoices over me with singing. He is with me, His rod and His staff they comfort me.

So, I return to His Word day after day, not just to study principles or to gain knowledge of the Scriptures, but to get to know God. He meets me in and through His Word. His Spirit illuminates the Word and speaks to me through it. He guides me in paths of righteousness for His Name’s sake. He draws near to me and empowers me anew for the challenges of the day. He puts the key back in my hand and reminds me about the hole in my pocket. He shows me the way and tells me to walk in it. Maybe today I’ll remember. If not, I can trust He’ll meet me again tomorrow, but I do hope to remember.

He Speaks So Personally

A friend and mentor sent something to me yesterday. He has been wrestling with the silence of God and he had done some reflecting and writing on the subject. It was very interesting for me to read his thoughts on the matter as they were quite different from my own. He even went so far as to record what he thought God was saying to him about the silence and why it was there. I was puzzled at first because the voice he was quoting didn’t sound like God to me. It’s not that what he was recording was unbiblical, or in any way contrary to the revealed nature and character of God. The difference was one of tone and vocabulary.

It was as if my friend tape recorded a conversation with someone we both knew well and then played it back to me and asking me to name the person on the recording, and I was unable to correctly identify him. Something in the intonation or the manner of speaking was unfamiliar, but not inconsistent with what I know about my friend. Then, when I’m told who is on the recording I slap my head and say, “Of course, that’s right, I just couldn’t put my finger on it!”

I am in awe of the way that the God of the universe meets with each of us so personally. His immutable nature is exactly that, unchangeable. He does not turn or change like shifting shadows. He is the Rock, the only unmoved mover, the foundation of all creation. He is the only fixed point in our constantly changing environment. I do not mean to intimate that He is shifting or shifty, that He is tricky or fickle; rather, He is so kind as to meet us where we are and to speak our language, the language of our minds and of our hearts.

When God speaks to me he does it in English. Modern, or perhaps post-modern, American English is the medium through which we communicate with one another. He uses vocabulary and imagery that resonates with my soul. He knows all the formative experiences of my life for He has planned everyone of my days before one of them came into being. He knows how to speak my language; He even uses idioms. He speaks everyone’s language. That’s the beauty of it!

The incarnation was the clearest expression of God’s ability to enter into a particular place in time and space to reveal Himself. He took on the very form of a man, but not the form of every man. He took on a unique form, the form of a first century Jewish carpenter living in Roman occupied Palestine. He spoke Aramaic and probably Greek. He certainly did not speak English, German, Chinese, or Swahili. He entered in to that milieu completely. He became one of them and therefore one of us. He connected with them as a peer, He spoke their language, and in doing so demonstrated his ability to connect directly and personally with everyman in every language.

God still meets with us. He still comes to us speaking the language of our hearts. According to the Bible, God is the creater of all languages. The Bible is the most translated book in history because God is constantly translating heaven to earth and earth to heaven. He is the God who wants to be known, the God of revelation, the God of speech.

So, my mentor and friend hears the voice of God, and even the silence of God, differently than I do. That is as it should be, for God is speaking to him personally and intimately. When God speaks to me, He speaks my language. When God speaks to you, He will speak your language. There is so much beauty and diversity in the way that the unchanging and unchangeable God of the universe interacts with His children. May we ascribe to Him the glory that is rightfully His and to each other the freedom that is our inheritance as His dearly loved children.

The Family of God

The call to follow God has always been a call to community. Since Adam and Eve, God has been calling individuals to Himself. We each individually choose to answer that call, or to reject it, but when we choose to answer His call and to draw near to Him, we are not just answering the call to an individual relationship with God, but we are also answering the call to join the community of God, the family of God.

This image of the Family of God is used repeatedly throughout the scriptures. In the earliest times it was a literal family, the family of Adam and Eve, the family of Noah, the families of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. These early families are both literal, historical, families, and also “types” for the broader family of God that would be revealed more fully only much later. These early families demonstrate the unity and the complexity of following God in community. They serve as both encouraging symbols and as illustrations of the problems that come with living in community.

We must resist the temptation to romanticize the family. Living in community has many benefits but it also brings with it many burdens. G. K. Chesterton, in answering those who generally attacked the family as being bad because it is uncongenial, or difficult, replied:

“Of course the family is a good institution because it is uncongenial. It is wholesome precisely because it contains so many divergencies and varieties. It is, as the sentimentalists say, like a little kingdom, and, like most other little kingdoms, is generally in a state of something resembling anarchy. It is exactly because our brother George is not interested in our religious difficulties, but is interested in the Trocadero restaurant, that the family has some of the bracing qualities of the commonwealth. It is precisely because our uncle Henry does not approve of the theatrical ambitions of our sister Sarah that the family is like humanity. The men and women who for, good reasons and bad, revolt against the family are, for good reasons and bad, simply revolting against mankind. Aunt Elizabeth is unreasonable, like mankind. Papa is excitable, like mankind. Our younger brother is mischievous like mankind. Grandpapa is stupid like the world; he is old, like the world.”

Chesterton is hitting on a point that is of great value to those of us who are called into the family of God. When we entered into the family of God, it is not as an only child in exclusive relationship to our Father, but rather we were adopted into a family with many brothers and sisters. Jesus is the firstborn among many brothers. We are adopted into a family and we must learn to live with our brothers and sisters in the faith. Chesterton strips away the romantic notion that living in community, in family, will be easy or comfortable. We are wildly divergent in our gifts and temperaments, our likes and dislikes, our callings and our character; and yet, we are called to live and work together.

The process of living in this kind of environment, learning to love one another, to esteem others more highly than ourselves, to serve those whom we may not even like, is a kind of living sacrifice. It requires that we die to ourselves a bit more every day. The beauty of the Cross is that while death is never comfortable, it can be transformational. Death is no longer defeat, but is now the point of redemption. If we are willing to fill up in our own bodies what remains of the sufferings of Christ for His Church, we will find that we are transformed in the process. To live in community is to experience some of the greatest joys available to us on earth, and also to place ourselves in the flaming crucible of transformation. The fires of community both warm our souls and burn away the dross. May we never draw back from all that He wants to do in us and through us in community!

Silent? Perhaps.

I have often heard it said that God is silent. That there are times in our lives when we will be desperate to hear His voice, to experience His presence, but He will not speak and will not manifest His presence to us. I have been taught that is anthropocentric and presumptuous to expect that God will speak to us or to expect to meet with Him at any given time. The corollary to this seems to be that humility on my part requires me to be content to know about God and to trust God in these times of silence. When God doesn’t speak, He can still be trusted.

I am sure that this is true. God is trustworthy regardless of my experience. God is the LORD, the creator of heaven and earth, the Almighty God who does whatever He pleases. All true. And yet, He is the self-revealing God. He is the God who seeks relationship. He hearkens unto our cry. He fixes His eye on His children and bends His ear to listen for and to our prayers. He is not mute like the idols, He can and does speak to His children. I don’t think it is presumptuous to expect Him to speak or to be genuinely surprised by His silence… if He is indeed silent.

I cannot speak for others, but I am wondering how often God is truly silent. Is it that He isn’t speaking, or that we are not hearing Him? It maybe that God truly is silent at times, that He may refuse to manifest Himself to His children for reasons that only He fully knows. I do not mean to rule out this possibility, but I am realizing that often He is speaking; my failure to hear Him doesn’t necessarily mean that He is distant or silent.

Recently I have been going through a trial. Not just an inward trial, but also an outward trial, a conflict with another person. I have been asking God to solve this problem, and have been frustrated by His silence. Then, just this morning I realized that God has not been silent or distant. He has been present and speaking. He hasn’t chosen to solve my problem, and so I interpreted His “failure” to solve the problem, or to answer me according to my questions and concerns as silence. In fact, as I reflect on it, God has not only been speaking to me in general about my heart or about other things in my life, but He has even been talking to me about this conflict. I just didn’t like what He had to say, so I wasn’t really paying attention. I was “blowing off” the advice and counsel He was offering because it didn’t fit my paradigm or my desires. None of what I was hearing from Him was helping to solve the problem so I simply paid it no mind.

As I reflect on this I think back to other times in my life, other times where God seemed to be silent. As I do so, I find that He has been consistently speaking to me. God is revealing Himself, is in fact speaking, everyday. He speaks to us through His creation. He speaks to us through His Word. He speaks to us through His people. Sometimes He also meets us during worship, or in dreams, or impresses things upon our hearts or minds directly, whispering to our very souls. So, why do I fail to hear Him? I have already addressed my current malady of simply not wanting to hear what He has to say, but there are other reasons as well.

Sometimes I have failed to hear Him because I have filled up my life with noise and activity. I have “drowned out” the voice of God in my life by keeping myself too busy, and my mind to full of other information, to hear the whisper of His voice. My inner senses have been overwhelmed with input and the cacophony of voices has made it nearly impossible to pick out the voice of my Good Shepherd. Solitude and silence have been the answer for these times. I must take time to still my body and soul, to block out all the other voices, so that I might hear the steady and quiet call of my Lover to come away with Him. My heart is like a pool of water that has been all stirred up and I can’t see clearly through the turbid, silt laden water to see beneath the surface. But, if I wait in stillness the waters calm, the silt settles and I can see with crystal clarity through to the bottom of things.

Sometimes I have failed to hear Him because I have simply not pursued Him. His Word is available to me every day, His “pre-recorded” messages are there for me listen to whenever I would take the time, or make the time, to do so. Often when I do make the time, a miracle happens and the Word comes alive through the agency of the Spirit and these “pre-recorded” words turn out to the very Logos of God alive and active speaking to my very soul. But, if I do not choose to turn my attention to His Word, I miss the opportunity to meet with Him. Sparks do not fly every time I open the Word to seek His voice, but if I never sit down and read I miss the opportunity for the electric chemistry of our meeting. Even when sparks do not fly and the meeting is less electric, opening the Word is like reading old love letters or old correspondence from a friend or mentor and I hear His voice in that way, as an echo, a reminder of the connection that we share, the history of our relationship.

I don’t believe that God is nearly as silent as we sometimes make Him out to be; rather, I believe that I have much to learn about becoming a better listener. I cannot presume to know what He will say, but it is not presumptuous to expect Him so say something.

The Invitation to the Valley

I have been on an interesting journey recently. Lately I have felt the draw, the urge, to deal with some deep issues in my life. I believe it is the Lord beckoning me to return to the depths of my soul. These are the deep places, the oft dark places, the places from which my motivations and desires spring. These are the places that go unexamined most of the time, and that is not a bad thing in and of itself. To visit these wild regions of the heart is a perilous and consuming thing. You could not live in this place forever, but to reject the invitation to this part of the journey would be to reject the invitation to growth, to healing. It would be to reject the invitation of God.

Accepting this invitation is like entering a deep gorge. At first there is some excitement as you marvel at the view, the vista is grand, the scenery interesting. The sense of adventure is almost palpable. The canyon gapes before you and you see the path winding downward, and you can hardly wait for the adventure to begin. As you follow the path downward the walls grow ever higher on either side of you. Their immensity is awe inspiring. The shadows start to grow deeper and fall more and more across your path. As you move deeper into the defile you start to grow somewhat apprehensive. What will be around the next bend? Where is this road leading you? You start to slow down. The path feels familiar under your feet. It is as if you have been here before, but it is not a comfortable kind of familiarity. It is simultaneously familiar and frightening. You start to feel anxious. The hair stands up on the back of your neck. The canyon walls are no longer beautiful or interesting to your eyes. They now seem more ominous as they tower over you. They seem to close in on you as you move ever onward, ever downward.

You start to feel like turning back. Now the canyon is so dark that you are really afraid. You can’t see the way forward clearly, but you are beckoned onward. The walls are so close now that you are bumped and bruised. You remember this feeling. You remember this fear. This is what you ran from years ago. This is what you spent so many years avoiding. These are the feelings you have been denying and protecting yourself from for so long. Now the canyon has narrowed so far that you have to turn sideways and push yourself through the crevice before you. The only way forward will be painful, but to turn back is unthinkable. You have come this far. He beckons you on. He assures you it will be alright. But can you trust Him? He has allowed you to be hurt before. Can you trust Him?! Where else can you go? Who else has the words of eternal life? And so, you plunge yourself in the crevice, getting scraped and scratched, battered and bloodied, trusting that He will not mislead you, that He has not lead you here to abandon you. You cannot see where He is leading, but you choose to trust.

As you struggle on fear grips your heart. You have been down here a long time. You are not sure how much more of this you can take. You start to doubt. What if you were wrong? What if you have deceived yourself and He didn’t really ask you to take on this journey? After all, you it doesn’t seem like anyone else is taking a journey like this. How come you have to do this while others seem to do just fine without having to endure the darkness, this dark night of the soul? And then you see a glimmer of light ahead. At first you’re not sure you didn’t imagine it. No, there it is! There is a light ahead. Just a bit further on and you’ll be through. You push yourself around the last bend, through the narrow passage and suddenly a new vista breaks forth before you and you are free!

As I have answered His call and followed this path, I have been brought to deep places of hurt and of healing. I have had old wounds exposed and received new healing. I have found that He is trustworthy after all. So, here I raise my “ebenezer” and say, “thus far He has carried me”. I have yet another experience of His faithfulness to look back on. I hope I will not be much longer in the valley, as it is the valley of death, of self-mortification; and yet, I would not avoid this painful part of the journey. I know myself and Him better for having accepted His invitation. I have a new level of freedom. I will have to stand firm to remember and to live in this freedom. I will have to struggle to remember the lessons learned in the valley as I return to the highlands. I will have to resist the temptation to return to life as it once was, as I lived before. But I trust as He was with me in the valley, He will be with me on the highlands as well.