Category: Encouragement

When God is Silent

Background Passage: Matthew 15:21-28; Mark 7:24-30

It had been an emotionally brutal and tiring time in Jesus’ life. Opponents within the religious hierarchy grew more brazen and belligerent in their handling of Jesus. His popularity challenged their reputations and status with the people of Israel.

Jesus’ disciples struggled with their identity and understanding of his teachings. Inconsistent in their faith. Unsure of the nature of his “kingdom of heaven.” The people who followed him seemed more interested in his miracles than his message.

As he pressed through these things, Jesus received word that John the Baptist, his cousin and the man who so beautifully set the stage for his ministry, had been beheaded at the order of the regional governor. A foreboding reminder of the inevitable outcome of his own life.

Jesus bore the weight of his responsibilities, emotionally and physically spent by the constant demands on his spirit and his time. Jesus needed to get away with his disciples to recharge his batteries and spend a little more time teaching them, opening their eyes to the needs of the Gentile world.

Perhaps that’s the reason he journeyed northwest of Galilee to Sidon and Tyre, a region he rarely traveled. Mark tells us he spent some time in the home of someone he evidently knew…a place where he hoped to find some privacy without the press of the crowd and the pernicious power plays of the Pharisees.

Along the way a Canaanite woman, a Gentile from the area, came to him with a serious problem. Her daughter was sick, suffering terribly from demon possession. The young mother pleaded with Jesus, begging for mercy from the “Son of David,” a popular, political title. She recognized him initially only as a great man of power. Her last hope.

What happens next is unexpected and unusual. The woman calls out to Jesus for mercy and healing…and he ignores her. Scripture says,

“Jesus did not answer a word.”

He continued walking to his destination while the woman continued to follow and beg. Jesus remained unmoved. The verses make us uncomfortable. This is not the Jesus about whom we want to read. The man we’ve seen touch without fear an unclean leper. The man who placed compassionate hands on the eyes of a blind man. That same sensitive and empathetic miracle worker that we know seemed to turn his back on a woman crying out in need.

Despite his silence, the woman stayed after Jesus. So persistent was her pleading that the disciples grew impatient and irritated. “Heal her or don’t,” they seemed to say to Jesus. “Just get rid of her. She’s getting on our nerves.” The implication…she’s not one of us.

Jesus finally speaks. What he tells the disciples, likely overheard by the Gentile woman, seems even more harsh than his silence.

“I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.”

The words imply that because the woman is not Jewish, Jesus is not responsible for her need. He has no role to play in this life episode. And, we grow more uncomfortable by his apparent disregard.

Finally, Jesus arrives at the house that was his intended destination. Despite his earlier comment, the woman followed Jesus, still asking for his intervention to save her daughter. The woman didn’t let a doorway stand as an obstacle. She came into the room with Jesus, knelt at his feet. With tears flowing down her cheeks, she cried,

“Lord, help me!”

There is a change in her address and her demeanor. Jesus’ silence and his statement of God’s purpose and plan, the conceptual became reality. “Lord,” she cried. No longer political and popular, but a clearer understanding of the true nature of God’s son. Humility took her to her knees in reverence and worship.

The lessons didn’t end there as Jesus continued to teach. He wanted her to fully embrace this new relationship by challenging her cultural perspectives…by challenging the cultural perspectives of his disciples.

“He replied, ‘It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to their dogs.”

No! He didn’t just say that, did he? The Jews’ hatred and prejudice toward any Gentile ran deep. To call a Gentile a “dog” was the pejorative term of the day. An insult of deepest intent. If you weren’t feeling uncomfortable yet, you probably are now.

Thankfully, the true meaning gets lost in our translation. The word Jesus used for “dog” is not the same word interpreted as “cur,” the slanderous meaning used by Jews toward most Gentiles. The term Jesus used is a word that speaks of a puppy, the beloved family pet who was fed from the family table.

I’m betting the woman’s ears picked up on the difference. I’m betting the disciples did as well. She heard his gentle, teasing tone. Saw the light dancing in his eyes. The grin on his face. A playful smile of understanding now on her face, she responded lightly in kind.

“Yes, Lord, but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”

This woman recognized what I often fail to see. Any mercy from a loving God is good grace. She knew that a crumb of grace from Jesus would be life-changing for her daughter. She would not rest until she received even a small portion of his loving mercy.

Jesus reacted to her words with great joy.

“’Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.’ And her daughter was healed from that very hour.”

What I’ve come to realize over my lifetime of study is that Jesus never did anything, never went anywhere without a purpose. So in touch was he with the will of his father that nothing surprised him. For example, Jesus once ignored the normal route to Jerusalem by cutting directly south through Samaria. He did so not to save a few steps from a long journey. He did so knowing he would encounter a woman at the well in need of the living water only he could give.

I believe he went to this knowing he would encounter someone along the way who needed his touch. Maybe he didn’t know exactly who would come, but he knew someone would reach out to him. I believe he went to this place to open his disciples eyes to the possibilities of a broader ministry beyond their personal boundaries.

Nevertheless, Jesus did not react to this woman the way he reacted to others who came to him. Jesus wasn’t just having one of those bad days where he didn’t want to deal with anyone. That’s too much…well…too much like me.

We certainly aren’t to just excuse his behavior and write it off as we whisper to one another, “You know, he’s dealing with a lot in his life. We should cut him some slack.” Jesus, the perfect representative of God’s love on earth, didn’t get annoyed like that. That wasn’t who he was at any time of his life on earth.

If his response seems so out of character, there must be a reason. What could make Jesus behave this way?

Let me offer a thought.

As with most of his encounters, Jesus asked questions or led a challenging conversation, or gave a look that required people to scrutinize their own beliefs. To see their relationship to God through a different lens. This woman, and his disciples, needed that lesson.

I see Jesus’ response to the Canaanite woman in the same light. His silence was disconcerting to her. Made her uncomfortable as it would make us. Jesus needed her to look inside her heart to find a true faith. He needed her to understand who he truly was so she could get the most out of this relationship.

The woman had a choice when met with Jesus’ silence. She could have walked away angry. “He doesn’t care.” “He’s not the man I hoped he would be.” “He doesn’t love me.” It’s a natural reaction of the brokenhearted. When my prayer seems to get no response from God, I tend to sit around, impatiently drumming my fingers on my Bible, muttering under my breath, “You promised to”…”You said you would”…always wondering why he is not responding to my petition.

The delay in God’s response, his silence, is sometimes only because my faith needs to catch up to my situation, giving me time to align my will with his. I can’t do that if I walk away from the conversation.

Jesus wanted this Canaanite woman to think about her request. To think about what she was asking of him. To explore her motivation. To reflect on why her heart was calling out to him and why it was telling her this was the man to see. Jesus’ silence made her think and dig more deeply into the relationship she was seeking with him. He was giving her time to let her faith catch up to her need.

Jesus eventually broke his silence, but his response was not what she wanted or expected. Jesus reminded her and his disciples that his God-given purpose was to bring salvation to the Jews first. To fulfill God’s covenant with his people. His disciples were destined, however, to play a different role. They needed to see it modeled in front of their eyes.

Again, it would be out of character for Jesus to turn her away because she was not Jewish. It was as if he was telling her, “Think! This is who I am. What is it you really desire? What will it take for you to understand me.

The woman could have walked away in anger again at this point. “You’re not going to help because I’m not Jewish? Really? Fine, forget you!” Her growing faith and her inquisitive heart wouldn’t let her walk away. Perhaps without knowing why, she knew she had to stay engaged in conversation, trying to understand what Jesus was really telling her.

Isn’t that the way it works with us? When I grow frustrated that my prayers are not answered or my needs are left seemingly unmet, I can turn my back on God and walk away, or I can stay connected and engaged with him, trying to glean a clearer understanding of his will in my life. Rather than walk away, I ought to be saying, “What are you trying to teach me, God? What am I missing here?”

It crystalized for the woman and his disciples when Jesus talked about feeding the puppy from the table scraps. It was at this moment that Jesus seemed to know she was on the precipice of understanding. He dangled the bait one more time, hoping she would take it…hook, line and sinker.

I also think it’s at that moment that the Canaanite woman figured it out. She told Jesus she would be satisfied with just a measure of his mercy. Because of who he was even a morsel of his grace would be sufficient to satisfy her need. That’s when Jesus recognize in her the genuine faith of a true believer.

“Woman, what great faith you have!”

You see, the longer we stay in touch with Jesus…even through the silence and the confusion…we allow ourselves the opportunity to be taught by the master teacher the deeper lessons of faith. The woman’s perseverance and patience in a trying time enabled her to see more clearly what God required of her.

God wants us to have that same kind of faith. Persevering. Patient. Pushing through the silence to get to a deeper understanding of who Jesus is and what he can do in our lives.

The silence of an unanswered prayer eats away at us, especially in a world so accustomed to instant gratification. What we want, we want now. Not tomorrow. Now. When our prayers are met with silence, it is easy to walk away. We do it all the time. We struggle with life and presume God no longer cares. When circumstances take a hard turn, we stop coming to Jesus. When Christian brothers or sisters disappoint us, we criticize the hypocrites and abandon the church.

Some of the best teachers in my life were those who refused to accept my half-hearted efforts, knowing I was capable of more. They pushed, probed and prodded to get me to broaden my understanding. That’s what Jesus was doing for this Canaanite woman. His silence asked her to not give up, to keep seeking, to keep knocking until she found what she needed most.

It’s the same lesson we must learn. When we arrive at that place…when worship is real and genuine…that’s when prayers are answered in a way that matches our will to God’s will. Not the other way around.

Maybe that’s what we need to think about the next time our prayers are met with silence.

Seeing the Big Picture

Background Passages: Genesis 50: 15-21; Jeremiah 29:11

You’ve probably heard the business fable. A story with a moral.

A traveler encountered three stone cutters working in the roadside quarry. Eager to discover what they were working on, the traveler asked the first man what he was doing.

“I’m cutting stone,” he said, returning to his work.

No wiser than before, the traveler walked to the second man. “What are you doing?” He asked.

The second man continued working and gave a more elaborate response. “I’m shaping this stone so it is perfectly square and will fit neatly against that rock over there.”

Still unsure, the traveler approached the third stone cutter. He asked, “What are you doing?”

The stone cutter stopped his work, looked into the distance as if seeing a vision no one else could see. He replied reverently, “I’m building a cathedral.”

I was reminded of this story this week as I visited with a friend of mine who is a hospital administrator. We talked about how hard it is for some people to see how their plans and actions…how their managerial decisions…impact the rest of the organization. We talked about how important it is for leaders to help others see and embrace the bigger picture.

What is true in the business world also rings true in the spiritual realm. There is a real need to see God’s bigger picture.

The selfishness of a sinful world limits our ability to see God’s purpose and plan. Our disobedience, and the sinful choices of those with whom we interact, can put a hiccup in that plan. God continues to guide our lives, however, in ways that work through those misguided and often sinful decisions to put us where he needs us to be at any given point in time doing what he needs us to do to accomplish his will…his big picture.

When we trust enough to look beyond our own desires, God opens our eyes to a deeper meaning and purpose.

Consider the life of Joseph.

Joseph, the first child born to Jacob and his beloved Rachel. Ten older half-brothers, born to different mothers, resented their father’s show of favoritism to their younger sibling. Genesis 37:3 tells it plainly as it sets the stage for all that is about to happen. “Now Israel (Jacob) love Joseph more than any of his other sons…”

Joseph didn’t make it easy on them. The teenager basked in his favored status, wearing his expensive and colorful robe, gifted to him by his father, wherever he went. A constant reminder to his brothers that he was dearly loved and highly favored.

Joseph was a dreamer without a filter. His constant visions and musings painted him as their lord and master…stories he seemed to love sharing with his brothers. He delighted in telling them they would one day bow down to him. Twice he shared similar dreams and scripture says his brothers were jealous, angry and “hated him all the more.”

Taunted by one too many of Joseph’s dreams, the brothers’ resentment took a nasty turn.

You remember the story. Joseph’s brothers were tending the sheep in the rocky hillsides of Judea. After a time, Jacob sent Joseph to find his brothers.

“Go and see if all is well with your brothers and with the flocks and bring word back to me.”

That Joseph was not already with his brothers tending the sheep in the hillside was probably already a source of irritation among the brothers. When they saw him coming in his ornamental jacket, they stewed in murderous contempt. Not wanting to bloody their own hands, they simply dropped Joseph into a deep and dry well, intending to leave him there to die.

The fortuitous passing of a camel caravan presented a more lucrative option. The brothers pulled Joseph from the well and sold him for 20 shekels as a slave to the traders bound for Egypt. With a torn and tattered coat and a little goat’s blood, the brothers returned to their father, false concern etched on their faces, allowing their father to jump to the certain conclusion that his beloved son had been slaughtered by wild animals.

Betrayal.

Joseph probably bears some responsibility for the fractured relationship that existed between he and his brothers, but his brothers violated the expectations of that bond of brothers when they chose bitterness and hate over forgiveness and love.

You probably know the rest of the story as well. Through his God-given gift of interpreting dreams, Joseph rose to a place of prominence in the Pharaoh’s government. During a famine in the land of Israel, the brothers journeyed to Egypt to buy food and came face to face with the unrecognized brother they betrayed. In a series of events to see if his brothers had changed their hearts, Joseph eventually revealed himself to them, extending his forgiveness and inviting the whole family to live in his land of plenty.

It seems that the brothers always expected the heavy foot of revenge to eventually stomp on their heads. They believed that Joseph’s forgiveness and love was a face he put on as long as their father was alive. When Jacob passed away, they just knew Joseph would seek retribution.

They sent word to Joseph offering their lives as slaves. When the brother’s word’s reached Joseph he cried, saddened at the thought that during their time together in Egypt, he had failed to reassure them that they had been forgiven already.

He sent for his brothers. They threw themselves at the feet of Joseph offering again to be his slaves, hoping he would find enough forgiveness in his heart to spare their lives.

Then, he pulled them to their feet and scripture said, “he talked kindly to them.” His words meant to calm and reassure.

“Don’t be afraid. Am I not in the place of God? You intended harm for me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.”

“God intended it for good…”

I read the story of Joseph and wonder how long it took him to get to that point. How long did it take him to see the bigger picture of God’s purpose and plan?

I suspect there were many nights while enslaved that he choked back the bitterness. Plenty of times when he languished in prison for crimes he did not commit where he blamed his brothers for his plight.

Maybe he began to see what God had in mind as he was called to interpret the Pharaoh’s dream. Maybe he caught a glimpse of God’s purpose when he rose through the ranks to become Pharaoh’s second in command. Maybe he finally saw God’s bigger picture when famine hit the land of Israel and his people came to Egypt for his help. Maybe it wasn’t until he saw the faces of his brothers that he knew how and why God had worked in his life.

Through his life, Joseph teaches us a great lesson. Everyone one of us will face betrayal, hurt, tragedy…a constant litany of struggles that enter and exit our lives. As we live and work through those problems, we have a tendency to focus too closely on the issue at hand…to fail to see the forest for the giant redwood in front of us.

If we’re not looking for the big picture, it’s easier to hold a grudge and more difficult to forgive. Easier to wallow in misery and more difficult to recover. Easier to abandon the joy of life and more difficult to accept and move on.

So how do we get to that point?

We…I…have difficulty at times really understanding that things that happen in life are within the control of an all-powerful and all-knowing God. It’s the old, “why does God let bad things happen to good people” argument. I can accept that all God’s plans are good. I just know that not all of man’s plans are good. Understanding how God can untwist the messes I make and get me back on the path he intended is mind-boggling. Yet, time and time again, I’ve experienced it.

It boils down to trust. It boils down to seeing beyond my situation and trying to see the circumstances of my life through God’s eyes…to see what he wants to accomplish in and through me. I will never get there if I focus on the mess I’ve made or the dirt the world throws in my face.

God’s plan for my life…for your life…is a good one despite the difficulties and hardships we face. It should always be our prayer that God will use whatever happens in our lives to bless our lives and the lives of others.

Jeremiah shared God’s promise to the people of Israel that their exile from their land would not last forever as long as they turned to God. The promise God offered Israel is the same promise he offers us.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

God’s plans are always bigger and better than any plan I come up with on my own…a reality for which I am eternally grateful.

Where Does My Help Come From

Background Passage: Psalm 121:1-8

Our muscles ache a bit after hiking eight or so miles each day for the past four days through Big Bend National Park. It’s not that the hikes were particularly strenuous, it’s just that my wife and I did little to get ourselves in shape for four days of hiking in the mountains and canyons in Southwest Texas. 

One of the joys of being retired is the ability to travel in the off-season when everyone else is still at work or school. We found in our hiking that we were often the only people on the trail. Rarely did we encounter any other hikers during our excursions. As a result, every trail, every vista, every mountain, every canyon seemed shrouded in silence and majesty…a place God sculpted just for us to enjoy.

During our first day of hikes, I found myself repeating in my head a verse from Psalms 121.

“I lift my eyes to the mountains, where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.”  

I looked the verse up when I returned from our hike that evening. Psalm 121 is a series of verses that the Israelites recited prior to any journey to the temple of Jerusalem. The psalm implies that the pilgrim is still a distance from the city and pondering the dangers of the journey ahead. He finds peace as he lifts his eyes toward Mount Zion where he believes his God dwells. 

For the pilgrim to Jerusalem the journey was danger-filled. Bandits. Wild animals. Heat. Thirst. It was not an easy trip. These things made him anxious. As he alertly scans the road ahead, he wonders who will help him if he falls into trouble. In his heart he asks, “Where does my help come from?” 

It is question asked and answered by a man of faith. “My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.” No equivocation. No faltering. He knows God is his source of help and protection.

But the psalmist goes on to remind all of Israel of the security they have in God. 

“He will not let your foot slip…”

“The Lord is your shade…”

“The Lord will keep you…”

“The Lord will watch over your coming and going…”

The psalmist knows his all-powerful God, the creator of the universe, loves him and will be a constant presence in his life…keeping him on the right path, providing comfort in difficult times, watching his every step. The same holds true for every person of faith.

This psalm brought comfort to the pilgrims facing a long journey to Jerusalem.

I also mind a measure of peace in the psalmists words. The psalm teaches me that…

God is bigger than all my troubles. I see the majesty and beauty of God’s creation laid out along the trail I’m hiking. The creator of all this grandeur is a constant presence in my life. Nothing I encounter in life trumps that. The one who carved the canyon over eons, takes the time to carve out the path in front of me. All I have to do is follow the trail. “He will not let my foot slip.”

God stays close to me. To find relief from the heat of the sun, I must be protected from it by the shade of a rock or tree. That which provides shade must be nearby. It’s not just that God is never far away from me. It’s that he is always by my side. He always stays close…even in the heat of trouble or storm. He is my close protector. 

God watches over me. The creator of the universe loves me so much he that he watches over me. The word doesn’t suggest a casual glance my way from time to time. God doesn’t just check up on us from time to time. It speaks to the ever diligent parent whose eyes never stray from the child at play in the park, constantly scanning the area for signs of any threat. God watches over me. 

God’s concern is constant. Look at the imagery the psalmist uses. “He will not slumber nor sleep.” That’s amazing in itself. With all the evil in the world today, God never takes his eyes off me. He guards my coming and going “now and forevermore.”

Given the words of the psalmist and the truth he reveals, it’s amazing that I still anxious.  I don’t need to worry, but I do from time to time. While such worry may suggest I don’t think God is willing or able to help in my specific circumstance, it’s more often true that I’d just rather do it myself. That’s when I get myself into trouble. 

No the truth is clear. Where does my help come from? It comes from the Lord. 

It just took a few beautiful mountains to remind me.

Cast Your Troubles

Background Passages: Matthew 6:25-34, Luke 12:26-34; John 14:1, Philippians 4:7

The optimism that seems to accompany each new year fades quickly. Most resolutions we make to change the direction of our lives crumble in the reality of old habits and events beyond our control. Within days of our initial optimism we find ourselves mired again in the swamp of anxiety.

Certainly, in our lives and in our world today, we can find reasons to worry without looking very hard.

That could be why many psychologists call our time the “anxious generation.” In New York magazine recently, Jean Twenge, a social researcher from San Diego State University said that anxiety among young people is at an 80-year-high. As bad as it has been since the Great Depression.

Sadly, Christians are not immune to worry, but our faith should provide a buffer to dampen its effect. Jesus said as much during an anxious time for the disciples in the days leading up to his crucifixion.

“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me.” John 14:1

Jesus speaks to the deep trust we must hold in God as we deal with the most difficult times in our lives. But, worry isn’t limited to times of deep crisis, is it? Our tendency is to worry about the little things and the things we cannot control.

I don’t know why Jesus started the conversation we find recorded in Matthew 6 and Luke 12. Scripture doesn’t tell us. It’s not hard to imagine the scene based on the context provided by Luke and Jesus’ introduction to the passage.

Jesus and his disciples just encountered a man who came to Jesus to settle a financial dispute…asking for his inheritance that his brother controlled.  He was a man self-consumed, one who could not see beyond his own desires and the things of this world. He asked Jesus to convince his brother to give him his inheritance immediately. Jesus responded with a parable about those who pursue wealth at all costs, even to the detriment of their eternal condition.

The disciples must have wrestled with its meaning, perhaps even expressing their own fears and apprehensions about the struggles of life. Jesus took the time to explain.

“…I tell you, do not worry about life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. For life is more than food and the body more than clothes…Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?”

Worry changes nothing.

Jesus spoke to them of the ravens who neither planted nor harvested, yet God provided for them. He talked of the flowers that do not labor or spin yet are clothed more beautifully than the finest garments any king might possess. He talked of the grass in the field that is abundant one day and tossed into the fire the next.

At its heart lied an argument that ran counter to the ways of the world.

Anglican Bishop John Taylor Smith of England autographed his books on the inside of the front cover with the same message every time. The last stanza of his poem alludes to the point Jesus made to his disciples in Luke about living lives not consumed by worry. He wrote:

The worried cow would have lived till now
If she had saved her breath.
But she feared her hay wouldn’t last all day
And she mooed herself to death.

When you see the lilies spinning in distress,
Taking thought to manufacture loveliness;
When you see the little birds build barns for store,
That’s the time for you to worry, not before.

Jesus explained it with less whimsy.

“…you of little faith. Do not set your heart on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it. For the pagan world runs after such things and your Father knows you need them. But seek his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.”

The message: If God’s created order takes care of the smallest of his creatures, how much more will God take care of your needs.

Jesus challenged his disciples to trust in God’s provision and worry less about the things that ultimately do not matter. He encouraged them to focus instead on the kingdom of God and their work within it.

The lesson still rings true, even in our fearful and worrisome world.

In a dramatic statement of “do as I say, not as I do,” it seems to me that we worry when we focus on the wrong things. I’m guilty as charged. Matthew’s retelling of this story adds a word that Luke does not include. Jesus concluded his teaching by stating a sad truth about life.

“Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

No matter how rose-colored our glasses, each day poses its own unique set of problems we must face.

We worry when we quit living in the present…in the now. Worrying about what has already happened is useless. Worrying about tomorrow is fruitless. We stop worrying when we learn to live in God’s will one day at a time. It is this day and what we do with it that matters.

Theologian William Barclay writes that worry and anxiety are basically irreligious…worldly and not spiritual. He said, “Worry is not caused by external circumstances. In the same circumstance, one man may be absolutely serene and another man worried to death. Both worry and peace come, not from circumstances, but from the heart.”

Jesus said much the same thing in Luke as he ended his teaching. He said,

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

What my heart desires is my treasure. So what will I desire for today?

I wish I could say I never worry about things, but I do. Those moments slip up on me when I give no thought to faith. When my faith is lacking. When my heart focuses on worldly things. When I’ve treasured something other than my relationship with a loving Father in heaven who I know deep down will provide whatever is needed through every circumstance.

A new year begins. I’ll offer no petty resolutions I cannot keep. Instead, I’ll offer a renewed commitment to the kind of faith that allows me to walk through life circumstances unafraid of any outcome. I commit to putting my faith and trust in God at the center of my heart. With that comes the kind of peace that crucifies all worry and fear. With that comes peace.

“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 4:7)

That verses speaks to being content with living in the present when every temptation of the world tries to steal our joy. It offers praises to a loving God who will protect my heart and mind from the agony of anxiety. It is my trust in Christ that carries the day.

May this new year bring you peace through the unmeasured grace of God.

What’s Your Burning Bush

Background Passages: Exodus 3, Exodus 4, Mark 2:1-12; Mark 5:32-28

Not that it matters, but do you know the name of the instrument used by the ophthalmologist during an eye examination…the gizmo with the chin rest and all the dials and levers? I didn’t know its name either until my last visit with my eye doctor. I asked this time. Now I know. It’s a phoropter.

You’re welcome.

A phoropter is the instrument used to measure refractive error and determine your visual acuity. The patient sits behind the phoropter with chin in place and views an eye chart. The doctor changes lenses and other settings while asking a series of insightful questions.

“Is this better? (Click) Or this?”

As the doctor narrows in on the proper measurements, the distinction gets more difficult to determine. That’s usually when I start feeling like I failed the test. We went through the pattern again during my recent eye exam with the same questions, but this time, as we narrowed down the acuity, he simply asked,

“What can you see?”

It’s a fair question then. It’s an even better question when you look at its deeper, spiritual implications. I found at least one answer in the life of Moses.

This was not his first
brush fire.
A careless ember from a campfire.
A lightning strike.
All it took in the arid wilderness
to start a fire.
He had no idea how this one started.

After 40 years in Midian,
Moses had seen his share of wildfires.
At first glance,
this one looked no different.

Weary from an endless day.
Leading his sheep to
greener pastures
Moses saw the fire as he crested the hill.
A quick assessment deemed it a
minimal threat.
He thought,
“A little sand.
Smother the fire.
Problem solved.”

Moses took a few steps toward the flame.
He stopped abruptly in his tracks.
First,
Cautious.
Curious.
Then,
Confused.
Confounded.

For a long moment,
Moses stared intently into the
heart of the flame.

“Moses saw that,
though the bush was on fire,
it did not burn up.
So Moses thought,
‘I will go over and see this strange sight—
why the bush does not burn up.’

In that moment,
Once Moses saw something more
than a typical fire…
Only then,
did God call out,
“Moses!”

Apparently, Moses wasn’t the excitable type.

In one of the most understated sentences uttered by an Old Testament character, Moses, saw that the bush was not burning. He calmly said, “I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up.”

I’m pretty sure my response would have been a bit more dramatic…something like, “Holy Moses!…”

I’ve heard this story many times since I was a child. Saw it played out on flannel board and in children’s plays. I’ve heard multiple sermons about God calling Moses to lead his people out of Egypt.

What struck me this week about this story was not that God called Moses to do important work, but that God didn’t call Moses’ name until the shepherd noticed something never before seen. The sight itself was not unusual. At first glance, Moses saw a fire that he needed to put out. Nothing more. Then, he noticed something different.

“When Moses saw that, though the bush was on fire, it did not burn up…”

Then, and only then…only when Moses noticed that the bush was not being consumed by the fire did God call his name. God waited to call until Moses opened his eyes.

So I also wonder, after 40 years in the Midianite wilderness…how many signs from God did Moses miss before the burning bush captured his attention?

The question to me becomes personal. What signs from God have I missed? What is it I need to see before God can call me to do important work? What do I need to notice before he calls my name?

Really, what or where or who is my burning bush?

There is a difference between seeing and really seeing, isn’t there? I can see my wife’s shoes and not notice that that they are new. (A fact for which she says she is forever grateful.) I can see her dressed for a night out and not notice how pretty she is. (One of my less than redeeming qualities.)

When you really think about it. Jesus saw things that most people don’t see…ever.

Everywhere the disciples went with Jesus, they saw the crowds that followed. They saw the multitudes of people and the problems they caused. Mouths to feed against their meager resources. “We have no food to feed them. Send them away.”

Andrew, bless his heart, saw a child with five loaves and two fishes. Even in his seeing he didn’t really notice. “What difference will these make among so many?”

Jesus, scripture says, “saw the large crowd and had compassion on them.” He noticed their hurt. Their need. He looked past their empty stomachs and saw into their empty hearts. He glimpsed the same five loaves and fishes and saw an opportunity.

In Mark, Jesus saw the friends leaning over the hole in a roof of a packed house after lowering their paralyzed friend to the floor in front of him. Where I might focus on the man lying in front of me, scripture says Jesus “saw the faith” of his friends. Where I might have noticed a man in need of physical healing, Jesus noticed a man whose sins needed forgiveness. Where I might have been uncomfortable with the Pharisees and scribes mumbling in the background, Jesus saw their devious and wicked thoughts.

Jesus noticed things others couldn’t see.

Give Moses credit. Where I might see a fire, Moses saw a burning bush that was not being consumed. It wasn’t until he noticed the difference that God could speak to an open heart.

So, it begs a question…

What is my burning bush? What is your burning bush?

A neighbor we wave to, but never visit?
A homeless man we’ve passed every day on our way to work?
An estranged son or daughter whose phone call we don’t return?
An unfilled place of service within our church?
The person we know who keeps questioning our faith?
The scripture verse that keeps popping into our thoughts?
A need in our community that goes unmet year after year?

What is it you see every day, but never notice? Who is the person God is using to get your attention? Your burning bush and mine will most probably me different. That’s because he needs us to do different things. To touch different people. He has something special for you and me. The signs are everywhere…if we will just take the time to notice. He can’t call our names until we do because until we notice we won’t hear him call.

Here’s the rest of that story. From the burning bush God called Moses to do an extraordinary thing. A task so great Moses felt unworthy. Think about that. Staring at a bush that wouldn’t burn and hearing God’s voice from its flame, Moses thought of reason upon reason why he shouldn’t or couldn’t do this work.

His excuses are the very ones I use to give myself permission to ignore the call…

Who am I? They won’t listen to me. God says, “I will be with you.”
Who are you? God says, “Tell them, ‘I am who I am.’ Tell them who I am.”
They won’t believe me! God says, “I will give you what you need to show them.”
I don’t talk very well. What would I say? God says, “I’ll give you the words.”

You and I will offer up every excuse to keep from doing what we know God wants us to do. But, God will answer every excuse if we just make ourselves available. Here’s the absolute truth of the matter. God doesn’t show us a burning bush to capture our attention unless we are ready, with his help, to do his work.

William Hazlett, a 19th century English essayist, social commentator and philosopher noted that through mankind’s history “…millions saw an apple fall from a tree, but only Isaac Newton asked why?

Maybe it’s an apple falling from a tree or maybe it’s a burning bush. Whatever it is, take time to look at the world around you and really notice what you’re seeing. When you notice what you’re seeing, I believe you’ll hear God call your name.

No more excuses. No more justifications.

What is your burning bush?

It’s So Very Good

Background Passages: Genesis 1:1-2:3

Most of you know I grew up on a farm near Ropesville, Texas. Small town. Great people. The South Plains equivalent to Garrison Keillor’s Lake Wobegon “where all the women are strong, all the men good looking and all the children are above average.”

Growing up on that flat and treeless farmland on the South Plains of Texas provided endless vistas. The old joke says that in that part of the state you can watch your dog run away from home for three days. The horizon stretches forever in every direction.

That area of Texas has a desolate beauty all its own. You may have to live there for a bit to understand it, but it is a unique part of God’s creation.

That didn’t keep me from dreaming of far off places as I sat in Mr. Wallace’s sixth grade geography class. I saw pictures of places and things around the world I never thought I would see.

Decades have passed and I’ve been blessed to see many of those distant places in our travels. I am drawn to the wonder and beauty of God’s creation.

This week Robin and I are in the Canadian Rockies seeing yet another marvelous work of the Creator’s hand. While staring at the glow of a universe of galaxies and stars above Banff, it’s humbling to think these are the same stars and galaxies at which I stared as a child in the darkest nights out on our farm in West Texas.

Then, in the awestruck quietness of the evening, I recalled these words:

“In the beginning God created…”

Hear in those words the majesty and glory of a God so powerful he spoke the universe I see into being.

“In the beginning God created…” Please don’t make this a flashpoint for a bitter debate between a literal week in history or evolutionary process, spanning billions of years. Consider it simply man’s best effort to comprehend the incomprehensible. How he did it matters little. Why he did it pulses with eternal consequence.

In the beginning, God created a universe to open the possibility that you and I might freely decide to join him in relationship. Everything around us designed to focus our attention on him…to provide for our physical, emotional, social and spiritual well-being.

I’ve been reminded of the grandeur of God’s creation and my connection to him on a personal level. Felt him the mist of the waterfalls. Seen him in the deep forests and high meadows. Touched him as I dipped my hand in the pristine waters. Marveled at his majesty mirrored in his high mountains. An explosion of the senses.

Everything I’ve seen this week draws me to Genesis. Allows me to give thanks for God’s creation. To give thanks for giving me this life I’ve lived…and the one to come.

I am drawn to Genesis…to the beginning of his love for me.

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.

And God said, “Let there be a vault between the waters to separate water from water.” So God made the vault and separated the water under the vault from the water above it. And it was so. God called the vault “sky.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the second day.

And God said, “Let the water under the sky be gathered to one place, and let dry ground appear.” And it was so. God called the dry ground “land,” and the gathered waters he called “seas.” And God saw that it was good. Then God said, “Let the land produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to their various kinds.” And it was so. The land produced vegetation: plants bearing seed according to their kinds and trees bearing fruit with seed in it according to their kinds. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the third day.

And God said, “Let there be lights in the vault of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark sacred times, and days and years, and let them be lights in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth.” And it was so. God made two great lights—the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars. God set them in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth, to govern the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the fourth day.

And God said, “Let the water teem with living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the vault of the sky.” So, God created the great creatures of the sea and every living thing with which the water teems and that moves about in it, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. God blessed them and said, “Be fruitful and increase in number and fill the water in the seas, and let the birds increase on the earth.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the fifth day.

And God said, “Let the land produce living creatures according to their kinds: the livestock, the creatures that move along the ground, and the wild animals, each according to its kind.” And it was so. God made the wild animals according to their kinds, the livestock according to their kinds, and all the creatures that move along the ground according to their kinds. And God saw that it was good.

Then God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.” So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.

God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.”

Then God said, “I give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of the whole earth and every tree that has fruit with seed in it. They will be yours for food. And to all the beasts of the earth and all the birds in the sky and all the creatures that move along the ground—everything that has the breath of life in it—I give every green plant for food.” And it was so.

God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the sixth day.

Thus, the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array. By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so, on the seventh day he rested from all his work. Then God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.

What I see around me shouts to the existence of a Creator God who dragged his finger lightly across the landscape to carve the valleys and uplift the mountains I see around me.

I am eternally grateful for the beauty of the world around me. And, the amazing thing is, he did it all for me…and for you. I sit tonight staring at the stars reflecting on all I have seen today. I have to agree with his initial assessment.

It is good.

So very good.

Faith to Dig a Hole in the Roof

Background Passages: Mark 2:1-12 and Luke 5:17-26

In a world where so many people are hurting, it’s difficult to understand why there are so many empty pews in our churches. Many people blame organized religion for its lack of compassion and concern. Perhaps the fault lies not in the institution but in our individual response to God’s call for ministry and service.

The world seeks help for its problems, but no longer trusts the church to be its answer. When it tries, the world tends to ridicule our efforts, painting them with unintended ulterior motives. As a result, many well-intentioned Christians no longer make the time or effort to heal the brokenness they see in their families, friends and community.

We can learn a valuable lesson from a familiar story in Scripture about what it means to take the initiative in meeting the needs of others and persistently breaking through the barriers that prevent us from doing what we are called to do. Mark and Luke both share an early account of Jesus healing a paralyzed man in Capernaum.

*****

When Jesus taught, people noticed a difference between the words he shared and the hollow recitations cited by the religious leaders of the day. With Jesus, they sensed vitality and life…an authenticity and authority to his teaching that was lacking in the synagogues. Couple his unique teaching with the miracles he shared with the needy and the hurting and Jesus became a national celebrity.

Jesus’ reputation as a master teacher and miracle worker spread across Galilee and Judea like wildfire, prompting people to leave their homes to hear him teach and see him work. Drawn by his compelling words of truth and the hope of healing, crowds followed Jesus wherever he went.

On this particular day, Jesus was invited to teach in a home in Capernaum. It didn’t take long for word to spread. They came from Capernaum and throughout Galilee to hear him speak. Others who had journeyed from Judea, including a group of religious leaders from Jerusalem, caught up to him in this seaside village. As the day progressed, Jesus found himself teaching to a standing-room-only crowd.

The Pharisees took the choice seats in the house where Jesus taught. The rest of the people packed into every nook and cranny, blocking the doorway and leaning in windows trying to catch his words. The crowd eventually spilled out into the street outside, making it impossible for anyone else to get close enough to hear.

Four men traveled for days between villages, constantly following the rumors of Jesus’ location, only to find that he had moved on by the time they arrived. They carried a litter between them, bearing a friend whose body was broken and paralyzed, unable to lift even a finger.

Hearing so much about Jesus’ ability to do the miraculous, they had to get their friend before the great healer. They knew Jesus was their friend’s only hope. As they entered Capernaum, there was a buzz in the town. Jesus was here, teaching in a house near the sea.

Moving through the twisting streets, they followed the crowd to the place where Jesus was teaching. The press of the crowd so great and the people so inconsiderate the men could not get anywhere near the door. Each time they tried to get close they were pushed and shoved to the back of the crowd.

They laid their friend underneath a tree and sat beside him, full of disappointment and despair. One of them kept looking at the house, noticing that they could reach the stairs to the roof. Again picking up their friend, they climbed the steps to the roof of the house. With sticks and fingers, they began to chip away at the mud-covered branches. They work until their fingers began to bleed and they dug some more.

At last, one of them managed to get his hand through the roof. They increased their effort with renewed hope. If they could just get the hole big enough they could lower their friend into the room where Jesus sat.

Inside the room, an arrogant Pharisee looked puzzled and irritated as he brushed the dirt from his sleeve, looking angrily at the ceiling. Jesus, for his part, kept teaching with one eye on the ever-expanding hole above his head.

Finally, even Jesus had to stop what he was doing, the hole and the frenzied activity too great to ignore. With effort, the men began lowering their paralyzed friend by rope into the room until he was resting at the feet of the healer. Perspiring and covered in dirt, they peered into the hole they created and shared the man’s story with Jesus, begging him with such sincere words to heal their friend.

To the chagrin of the religious leaders whose brightly colored robes were flecked with dust and twigs, Jesus acknowledged the great love of these four men who sacrificed their time and energy for their helpless friend. Compassion poured from Jesus’ heart as he knelt beside the stricken man. Nodding in approval of the faith they demonstrated and addressing the man’s deepest need, Jesus held a quiet conversation with the paralyzed man before laying his hand upon his chest in prayer and telling him his sins were forgiven.

The Pharisees muttered to one another in their dusty robes, denouncing Jesus privately for his blasphemy.

“Why does this fellow talk like that? Who can forgive sins but God alone?”

Without hearing their words, Jesus knew their hearts. Never allowing his eyes to leave the man resting on the cot, Jesus responded to their thoughts.

“Which is easier? To say to this paralyzed man, ‘your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Get up, take your mat and walk?”

After a moment his eyes bore into the hearts and souls of the religious leaders until they cringed under the intensity of his gaze. “I want you to know the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.”

With a deep breath, he paused and prayed. Then, he smiled at the four men poking their heads through the hole in the roof and extended his hand to the paralyzed man. “Get up,” he said as he pulled him to his feet. “Take your mat and go home.”

Every miraculous healing pointed to the power of God demonstrated in Jesus. For anyone paying attention, each act of healing was proof conclusive of God’s power within him. The people left the home amazed at all they had heard and seen.

*****

The story reveals a lot about Jesus. Like the Pharisees we have much to learn about the power and authority we can find in him. But, I find a more personal message in this cherished story demonstrated by the faith of the four friends.

The accounts of this story we find in Mark and Luke are almost identical. Almost word for word. But Luke, the physician, uses a phrase that Mark does not include. Luke wrote this about Jesus,

“And the power was in him to heal the sick…”

On a day when the Holy Spirit was filling Jesus with great power, there was no one present who needed his help. Jesus’ audience that day consisted of people who loved to hear Jesus teach. There were present also a few religious leaders who felt a little threatened and challenged his every word. Yet, other than this one who was brought to Jesus by four wonderful friends, there is no mention of others who were present in need of healing.

On nearly every other occasion where Jesus taught the crowds, we read about the sick, blind, disabled and demon-possessed so desperately in need of Jesus’ touch. But not this day. Given what happened to these four men and their paralyzed friend, we can surmise that many of the sick and helpless were sent away, pushed to the periphery of the crowd. They were not invited inside.

So, despite having the power in him to heal the sick, there was no one present for him to heal…until four men traveled a great distance and refused to go away. I find that moment when they climbed on the roof instructive for my life as a Christian.

Could it be churches have empty pews because we don’t take the initiative to reach out to those in need and bring them to Jesus? Could it be that we find reasonable excuses to disregard the needs of others?

You see, faith demands that we take initiative to bring others to Christ. It wasn’t as if these four friends lived next door to the house where Jesus taught. The scripture implies that the paralyzed man and his friends journeyed over time and distance until they caught up with Jesus. It was an exhaustive effort to carry their friend across hill and valley to reach Jesus.

They didn’t wait for Jesus to come to their village. They didn’t send a messenger begging for Jesus to come for a visit. They didn’t wait for Jesus to just happen by. They didn’t simply tell their friend to find his own way to Jesus. They dropped what they were doing. They picked up the bed and they carried their friend to Capernaum and cared for his needs along the way.

What could happen in our churches if we took the initiative to bring others to Christ? To be enough of a friend to pick up the litter and carry it over time and distance until our hurting friend found the spiritual healing he or she needed and desired. Faith requires us to take the initiative to bring the lost and hurting to Jesus. Faith without service is no faith at all.

There is more to learn in the example of these four friends.

Could it be that churches have empty pews because Christians give up when challenged? Could it be that those who need our help get turned away at the door because we would rather just listen to God’s word than live it?

When these four friends arrived at the house they found every natural entrance blocked by the crowd. Carrying a paralytic and pushing through the unyielding wall of humanity proved impossible. It seemed they had come all that way for nothing.

They could have blamed the unsympathetic crowd. The poor choice of venue that didn’t allow enough people inside. They might have even blamed the paralyzed friend for hurting himself in the first place. When faced with the obstacles, they could have simply gone home. Their faith would not allow them to give up so easily.

Instead, they refused to let the obstacles stand in the way of the healing their friend needed. They found another way. They climbed to the roof and dug in.

You see, sometimes faith requires us to carry the litter to the roof and start chipping away at the dirt and branches until the hole is big enough to let us lower a hurting soul at the feet of our Lord. Faith demands persistence.

Persistent faith digs through a roof. Persistent faith wraps a rope around our hands to bear the weight of those in need.  Persistent faith often leaves us with dirt on our faces, cuts on fingers and rope-burned hands.

Yet, this much is true. When we take the initiative to bring others to Christ and when our faith is persistent in pushing through every obstacle that might prevent us from introducing others to our savior, good things will happen. We will find the power of Christ available to heal and help those in need.

What would happen to the empty pews in our churches if we took the initiative to introduce the world to Jesus? What would happen to the empty pews in our churches if we never gave up or gave in to the obstacles and distractions that stand in the way of ministry and service.

I suspect we might have a hard time finding a place to sit…and that would be just fine.

Your Servant is Listening

Background Passages: I Samuel 1:1-21

We live in a time when it seems people have a hard time hearing God speak. The noise of our technology, the rattle of the personal and global sabers and the drone of strident political debate drown out God’s voice.

Some might suggest that the low tide of our spiritual lives is a result of God backing away from us. That he has little to say because we have proven ourselves unworthy. Maybe. But, I don’t think that thought is consistent with the character and nature of God. More than likely, we are at fault. When we no longer hear God speaking it’s more likely because too few of us want to listen.

Life in America today reminds me of a distant time in Israel, when too few of God’s people listened for his call and direction.

“…In those days, the word of the Lord was rare; there were not too many visions.” (I Samuel 3:1)

I first heard the story as a child. The passage was sanitized somewhat to protect me from the more sordid details. It is the opening verse in the story of God’s call to Samuel to serve as his prophet in Israel.

You probably remember the story as I do. Samuel forever portrayed as a young child, sleeps in the temple after being dedicated to God’s service by his grateful mother, long unable to have children. As he serves in the tabernacle, he is one night awakened three times from his slumber. Samuel assumed the voice calling his name was his surrogate father and mentor, Eli, the priest. Two times Eli sent him back to bed telling him he was dreaming.

The third time, Eli realized that the boy was being called by God. He told him simply, “If you hear the voice again, answer, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” For the fourth time, the voice called to Samuel who responded as he had been instructed. “Your servant is listening.”

That childhood lesson ended there. The teaching clear. God calls. I must listen. This is a lesson I still need to hear, even as a senior adult. However, there is more to this story for those who want to take it to the next level.

First, God’s call is personal. When God speaks it is a personal message just for me. If his call were generic and meant for everyone, it would be far too easy to dismiss it. To lay at the feet of someone else. “That task is not for me. Let the church staff do it. That’s why we pay them.” When God calls, he is calling me. His call is applicable to my life. My call to service and ministry. It is personal.

Secondly, his call is penetrating. God does not need to speak in a voice of thunder that can cut through the noise, rattle and droning that dominate our lives. Don’t get me wrong. I’m living testimony that God will sometimes use a 2” x 4” across the nose to get our attention. His quiet call to salvation and service is capable of cutting through the most hardened heart and the most reluctant soul.

Thirdly, God’s voice is persistent. God’s will is not easily thwarted. He does not give up on us without a fight. So, when we don’t hear him the first time, he will call again…and again…and again. He will call out our name. He will tap us repeatedly on the shoulder. If we still do not respond, he will nudge another to remind us to listen, just as he nudged Eli. I’m grateful that he is persistent in drawing me to him.

While the story teaches much about the work of God in making the call, it also teaches us a lot about the response he desires from us.

First, I must make myself available to him. When Samuel heard the voice, he immediately got up from his slumber and responded to it. True, there first few times he didn’t know who was speaking, but he responded. He opened his heart to the possibilities. When God called Isaiah years later to carry a message of repentance to his people, the prophet responded in much the same way as young Samuel, “Here I am. Send me.” It has been the right response for ages. “Here I am.” I am available.

Secondly, Samuel eagerly responded. Each time his name was called, Samuel ran to Eli. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t walk. He didn’t wait until morning when it was more convenient. He got up and ran to the one he thought was calling with eagerness and anticipation. “Here I am,” he said. His actions said, “What can I do for you?” Samuel possessed a heart that was ready to be moved. A mind open to the possibilities. A spirit willing to act. It’s not enough to be available. We must be ready to respond immediately to God’s instruction.

Finally, Samuel served obediently. The children’s story ends with Samuel available and eager. The message for the rest of us takes it one step further. It calls for obedience.

If we remember the beginning of the chapter, Samuel lived during a time in which the people of God had a hard time hearing him speak.

“…In those days, the word of the Lord was rare; there were not too many visions.”

Israel’s spiritual leaders lost their focus. Eli, the priest, had grown old and complacent in his faith. His sons, also priests, used their positions of power to satisfy their own personal desires. They desecrated the sacrifices. They extorted payments from those who came to worship. To his credit, Eli confronted them about their sin, but they refused to listen. Eli, ultimately, failed to discipline them for their evil deeds, even after being warned of God’s displeasure.

The failure of the spiritual leaders led to the failure of the people to worship God fully. To allow him to lead and direct their lives.

God eventually told Samuel he was about to do a new thing in Israel that will make the “ears of everyone who hears of it tingle.” When God called Samuel, he placed upon him a heavy burden. Change was coming. God would assert his control over the lives of his people in an effort to draw them back to him, but it would come at a cost to Israel…to Eli and his family…and to Samuel. It would be Samuel’s responsibility to announce God’s judgment to Eli, man who served as father and teacher in his life. It would fall upon Samuel to chastise a king and a nation.

Despite the cost, Samuel did as God required. Because of his faithful obedience, scripture tells us,

“The Lord was with Samuel as he grew up and he let none of his words fall to the ground.” Samuel proved trustworthy in the word of God that he proclaimed. As a result, all of Israel knew him as God’s prophet.

Living as we do in a nation that prides itself as a “nation under God,” it’s sometimes hard to find the evidence of it. It feels as though we have drifted away from God and his purpose for our lives. I wonder what it will take for us to return to a place where our words and our actions reflect the will and purpose of God?

God’s message will always be personal, penetrating and persistent…calling us as individuals to respond to his voice. For when enough individuals respond with availability, eagerness and obedience, our words…which are God’s words… will not fall to the ground unheard and unnoticed.

Maybe all it takes are enough of God’s people saying, “Here I am, Lord. Speak, for your servant is listening.”

Return the Copper Nails

Background Passage: Psalm 51

A Christian man worked for a shipbuilder. The owner of the company considered himself an atheist. With disdain, he constantly mocking his employee for the futility of his faith, treating him with disrespect and contempt.

The Christian man was building a boat for his family in his backyard for his family. Because he could not afford them, he began stealing copper nails from the shipyard to use on his personal project. At first, just a handful. Then, he stole them whenever he needed more.

Perhaps it was the bosses attitude that convinced him that taking the copper nails was justified. Perhaps he felt he was owed more than he was paid. In every other way, the man’s life was exemplary. Yet, when it came to copper nails, he chose to ignore the voice of God within his heart.

*****

He was God’s chosen king. A faithful servant. Courageous warrior. Slayer of giants. Skilled musician. Leader of men.

David, a shepherd boy from Bethlehem, found himself called by God and anointed by Samuel as King of Israel. Such was the depth of his character that God called him, “A man after my own heart.” David earned that distinction. His reputation for humility, reverence, devotion and faithfulness created an aura about him, recognized by all he encountered.

Yet David, this man of God, experienced moment of abject failures. At times, human weakness consumed him. Consider his actions on a cool and sleepless night.

David walked onto the balcony of his palace overlooking the city below. In the moonlight, he watched as a beautiful woman bathed in the moonlight. Struck by her beauty and consumed with lust, he sent his servants to bring Bathsheba to him. What began as a night of illicit passion ended in pregnancy.

His folly did not end there. In a series of Machiavellian maneuvers, David compounded his sin. He was not swept away by circumstance …simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nor did he act on impulse. David’s sin was meticulously planned.

To protect his position, David devised a plan to bring Bathsheba’s husband, Uriah, home from battle to be with his wife. When Uriah refused to indulged in his own desire because his men were still at war, David schemed again. He sent the commander on a suicide mission. When Uriah was killed, David took Bathsheba as his wife, somehow rationalizing his actions as acceptable.

Like David, we face our own crisis of character. Sometimes we find the strength to walk through the danger to the other side. Sometimes we fail to be who we desire to be. Who God intends us to be. We engage in the sin that eats away our moral fiber. Rather than correct our path, we swallow our guilt. Push it deeper into the darkest recesses of our souls.

Such efforts seldom work. There comes a day when we must face the sin. Face the consequences of our choice. Do I keep living this way? Separate from the will of God? Do I repent and find a new way to live?

Sin we bury always rises to the surface when we least expect it. On a beautiful spring day when the prophet Nathan stood before the king, he brought words that would dredge up the long-buried sin David tried to hide from himself and from God.

Nathan spoke of a rich man who hosted an important visitor for an important dinner. As host, the rich man prepared a huge banquet in the honor of his guest. However, rather than slaying one of his own sheep for the table, he ordered his servants to take and butcher the prized lamb of the poor farmer next door. It was this lamb he served to his important guest.

David interrupted before Nathan could finish the story. Incensed. Furious.

“As surely as the Lord lives,
the man who did this deserves to die!
He should pay for the lamb four times over
because he did such a thing and
had no pity.”

The king’s anger echoed in the chamber, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Then, quietly and with no joy, Nathan said,

“You are the man.”

In that instant, the sin David buried in his soul, flashed before his eyes, a painful reminder of his spiritual failure. The burden of guilt welled in his eyes as he struggled with the weight of his mistakes. Hear the agony of his voice.

“Have mercy on me, O God,
According to your unfailing love;
According to your great compassion blot out my transgressions.
Wash away my iniquity and
Cleanse me from my sin.

“For I know my transgressions,
and my sin is always before me.
Against you have I sinned and done
what is evil in your sight.”

David’s story could parallel the hubris and folly in my life and yours a hundred times over. Time and time again we fail to live up to the standards of God. We fail to live up to the image of Christ. Then, in some way the Holy Spirit calls us to drop the pretense and take a good hard look at the face in the mirror.

When the eyes staring back at us break our hearts, maybe it’s time to throw ourselves at the mercy of a Father who loves us deeply. David came down from his throne and knelt before the throne of God with a changed heart, acknowledging his sin. Taking that first step toward reconciliation.

Once he confessed his failure, David knew that God only could take his sin away. Pleading for God to erase the sin from his heart. Seeking forgiveness and restoration.

“Cleanse me with hyssop and I will be clean;
Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.”

For all his failure, David knew what God required of him. He knew God wanted more from David than someone simply going through the motions. God desired a changed heart.

“You do not delight in sacrifice or
I would bring it.
You do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
A broken and contrite heart.”

It is one thing to acknowledge my sin. I can know that what I’m doing is against God’s will and still do it. Simply going through the motions will not suffice. My life will not change until my stubbornness is crushed. Until God pries opens my heart and breaks down my resistance. I change my life only when my spirit is broken and my heart sincerely open to God’s direction.

A contrite heart doesn’t make excuses or attempt to justify one’s sin. God is not interested in empty apologies or halfhearted resolutions. A contrite heart expresses with real and deep sorrow our personal rebellion against God. A contrite heart desires to live differently. A contrite heart also knows that change is not possible without God’s forgiveness.

David knew the power of forgiveness to renew his life. Consumed by guilt, he asked simply for God to allow him to hear again “joy and gladness;” to allow his “bones to rejoice.” Then in some of the most beautiful verses in all scripture, David expressed his desire to experience a new life in the presence of God.

“Create in me a pure heart, O God,
And renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Restore the joy of your salvation and
grant me a willing spirit to sustain me.”

A pure heart is intent upon living within God’s purpose and plan for its life. Focused on doing right. One where every thought and action reflects the teachings of Christ. It is only then that the joy we experienced when we first allowed Jesus into our lives is restored in perfect purity. It is only then that we find ourselves again content in our own skin. It is only then we can look into the reflection in the mirror and smile.

*****

For weeks the Christian man happily hammered the copper nails into his sailboat. Then, one Sunday, the pastor spoke about the two thieves surrounding Jesus on the cross. From that day forward, every stroke of the hammer pounded his sin more deeply into his heart.

After days of guilt, he laid his sin before God in repentance. He went to his pastor and confessed what he had done. He also knew he should also confess to his boss, but also knew it would give justification for the man’s arguments against his belief in God. He felt he could not confess his sin because it would reinforce the man’s disdain for God.

For weeks he struggled until he finally told his boss everything and paid him back for the copper nails he had taken. The man expected to lose his job. To his surprise his boss accepted his payment and said, “Any God that would cause a man to admit his failure might be a God worth knowing.”

All I know is that in my own life I’ve nailed a few stolen copper nails into my own boat. And, from time to time, I still do. Yet, it is not the way I want to live. When I am right with God and with those around me, I know true joy.

It is good to know that we serve a God who forgives a repentant heart. It’s good to know that our mistakes do not have to define us. God’s forgiveness frees us to serve again.

So God waits patiently for the contrite and broken heart to call out to him…

“Create in me a pure heart;
renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Restore the joy of my salvation.”

It’s time to return the copper nails so we may be useful again. That’s my prayer for all of us.

Strain the Camel

Background Passages: Matthew 23:23-24; 2 Timothy 1:7

I don’t much like weeding the garden. Well, that’s not exactly true. I hate weeding the garden.

Recognizing it needs to be done from time to time, I started in one small corner and began pulling up the blanket of milkweed that covered the topsoil. Painstaking and boring. I finished a 10-foot section of ground and looked back on what I had accomplished. All the milkweed was gone. Yet, there in the middle of the flowerbed I just cleared stood a very proud, 18-inch dandelion with a bright, yellow flower on top. So focused on the little weeds, I missed the big, ugly one right in front of me.

I wonder if that was what it was like for the Pharisees as they settled into their comfortable lives. So focused were they on complete obedience to the letter of law that they missed its intent. So comfortable in the routine of religion, they ignored the needs of a lost world, never practicing what they preached.

In other words, they laboriously pulled the milkweed, but ignored the dandelion. Jesus’ call to righteous living put a spotlight on the dandelion.

In the last days of Jesus’ ministry prior to his journey to the cross, we find him spending more and more time grounding his disciples in the deepest fundamentals of faith. The more he talked about the kingdom of God, the more his opponents protested, pressured and plotted to eliminate him.

Instead of a concentrated effort to discern the truth the Pharisees made a concerted effort to discredit every word he spoke. They picked at the minuscule and ignored the material. A master of hyperbole, Jesus challenged their hypocrisy. The religious leaders of the day took great care to cross every “t” and dot every “i” in their quest for religious piety. So focused were they on the legalities of religion, they missed the point of faith.

Jesus acknowledged that they regularly gave their tithes of mint, dill and cumin, but he chided them for failing to practice the important matters of the very law they claimed to obey. Where is justice? Mercy? Faithfulness? “You should have practiced the latter without neglecting the former.”

Jesus took them to task for their improper perspective. “You blind guides! You strain out a gnat, but swallow a camel.”

Had I been standing next to Peter and John that day, I’m pretty sure the snicker I failed to choke back would have drawn an ugly glare from the closest Pharisee and a pained glance from Jesus that said, “Really? That’s your contribution to this debate?”

What a powerful commentary Jesus made with a tongue-in-cheek comment. It is a brilliant analysis of the problems preventing the Pharisees from accepting the new truth Jesus brought to the world. They were so driven by the principle of not eating what they deemed unclean that they would use a cloth to strain their drink to make sure they would not accidentally consume the tiny, filthy insect. Yet, they never seemed to see the camel they swallowed whole.

Had I been walking next to Jesus later that afternoon, I suspect I might have apologized and rationalized my inappropriate behavior. “I’m sorry, Jesus, but that was a good line. Pretty funny. Did you see their faces?”

I think Jesus would have put his arm around me and said with a rueful smile, “It might have been funnier if it weren’t also true in your life, too, my friend.” As my mind reeled, I’d hear something about ignoring the 4” x 4” beam in my own eye.

I am, at times, guilty of the same Pharisaical behavior. The Pharisees practiced their faith. They made dedicated effort to comply with the ritual and rules, focusing in extreme measure on the “thou shalts” and the “thou shalt nots,” while spending precious little time on the “love thy neighbor.” Being right was a higher calling than doing right. I may not always be that different.

You and I live in a time when it’s fashionable to be hypercritical. To declare ourselves politically and socially holier than thou. You and I live in a time when pronouncing our truth rides roughshod over proclaiming his truth. When we love the sound of our own voice rather than seeking to sound the voice of love. Such arrogance drives people away from the very one to whom our deeds and our words should point and proclaim.

It’s easy to play the Christian card in a world struggling to do what’s right. Attend church every week. Sing a few songs. Sit through the sermon. Study his word in Sunday School. Gather up a few old clothes to give to the poor every now and again. Now, somehow, I’m better that that other poor soul. It’s not that these things are wrong. Like Jesus reminded the Pharisees, these are things that should not be neglected.

However, when we focus on the “things” of our religion to the exclusion of the crucial matters of our faith…justice, forgiveness, love, compassion, truth…

…we become critical rather than encouraging…

…we divide rather than bring together…

…we falsely elevate our standing in the eyes of God, and…

…we fail in the deeper call of Christ.

We wonder all the time how the Pharisees could be so obtuse, time and time again failing to recognize the truth of Jesus’s words because they threatened to push them out of their comfort zone. The truth is they lived in fear of the kingdom of God that Jesus personified. It upset their apple carts and threatened to pull down their carefully constructed walls that isolated them from a world in need.

Jesus tells them, “You put on a good front. Make a good show of things. But, your heart cannot see what I see. Until it does, you will continue to go through the motions, critical of those less “pious,” feeling safe and comfortable within the walls you built around you.

“Until you see the world through my eyes and move past the ritual and routine, you’ll keep straining that gnat and eating that camel.”

Jesus calls me to keep doing those things I ought to be doing, but to focus on what matters most. I must set aside the fear that keeps me from embracing in love a world that knows no better way. I need to step outside my comfort zone. To challenge what I believe and dig deeper until God teaches me the next thing I need to know to become more like him. Fear stared the Pharisees in the face and gripped their hearts. It does the same to me at times.

When he needed to encourage Timothy, the young pastor of Ephesus, Paul reminded him,

“God did not give us a spirit of timidity and fear, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.”

I also find that encouraging. My ability to move past the trappings of religion and into a full expression of faith rests not in my own ability, but in the power of God through his spirit within me. My desire to love others will not come from the goodness of my own heart but from a realization of sacrificial love and mercy God extends to me every day. My desire to see the needs of those around me and to, therefore, act, comes from the discipline to be more like Christ every day in every way.

I don’t know if you feel the same way at times, but, if we assume we’re doing pretty well at filtering out our gnats, maybe it’s time we both strain the camel.