Category: Gratitude

What Will You Ask For?

Focal Passage: I Kings 3:5-12

I was in elementary school the first time I heard about King Midas. Mrs. Wallace, my third-grade teacher, introduced this piece of classical Greek literature to her class of farm kids.

If you recall the story, after extending kindness to one of Dionysus’ servants, the Greek god granted King Midas one wish.

Midas asked that everything he touched would turn to gold. It was a great wish as long as he touched a pile of stones or a palace wall. It was less desirable when he touched a rose or the turkey leg on his plate. It became a horrible curse when his daughter rushed to him in excitement and wrapped him in a hug. Just like the stones and the turkey leg, she, too, turned to gold.

While the story turned out okay in the end, Mrs. Wallace reminded us of the dangers of greed and pride. Then, as if we might find someone willing to grant us anything we wished, she told us to be careful what we ask for. She said it with such mystery in her voice, I don’t think I asked a question of any kind for the rest of that semester.

Midas wasn’t the only one to be granted a wish. It turns out that King Solomon faced a similar decision one night when God, the creator of the universe, came to him in a dream.

King Solomon spent the day offering sacrifices and incense in worship to God. In his exhaustion, he laid down to sleep. At some point in the night God spoke to him in a dream and asked that important question.

Look at I Kings 3:5.

Ask for whatever you want me to give you.

Solomon began with his heart in the right place. He responded to the blank check God offered to write by acknowledging that God had already done so much. He thought of God’s faithfulness and his promises to his father David. He thought about the joy of being David’s son and watching him serve as King of Israel.

Then Solomon got more personal with is gratitude that God had worked through circumstances to make Solomon king.

There is something innocent and intentional in his gratitude to God. Solomon recognizes he is where he is because God is faithful. That God, in his mercy and grace, did as he promised to David and to his people. By acknowledging God’s grace, Solomon expresses what is in his heart. Notice, though, that the grace Solomon senses is not the common grace God extends to all his creation. It is deeply personal.

Solomon, born to David and Bathsheba, was a child born of adultery, abuse of power and murder. Knowing how his life started, Solomon understands that his elevation as king is a clear act of God’s mercy and grace. Solomon knows where he is and who he is only because of God’s grace.

That’s when Solomon proved himself a wiser king than Midas. Look at I Kings 3:7-9. His thoughts express his gratitude.

Now, O Lord, my God, you have made your servant king in place of my father David. But I am only a little child and do not know how to carry out my duties. Your servant is here among the people you have chosen, a great people, too numerous to count or number.

Solomon was given an opportunity of a lifetime. Knowing it was within God’s power to grant, Solomon could go full bore Midas, asking that anything he touched might turn to gold. He could ask for immortality. He could ask for great victories in every battle, building a reputation to be feared and a powerful empire that no one could conquer.

Instead, in a moment of clarity and self-awareness, Solomon shared his vulnerability. He humbled himself before God, acknowledging that the situation overwhelmed him. The burden of leading God’s people weighed heavy on his shoulders and his spirit. Solomon realized his youth and inexperience could be a problem. Setting aside the pride that often comes with kingship, he understood his need for guidance as he governed God’s people.

At that point Solomon gets around to answering God’s question.

So give your servant a discerning heart to govern your people and to distinguish between right and wrong. For who is able to govern this great people of yours? (I Kings 3:9)

Solomon prays for wisdom and a listening heart. There isn’t a modicum of selfishness in the request. It’s not wisdom for wisdom’s sake. It’s not that he wants to be known as a wise king. His concern is for those he rules. That his own actions would reflect God’s will for Solomon and for God’s people.

When Solomon asks God for a discerning heart, he is asking for the ability to distinguish between good and evil, truth and error. To see what is helpful and not harmful. His request involves deep insight, moral sensitivity and spiritual wisdom. Rather than just knowing stuff, Solomon desires wisdom that transcends knowledge.

It’s the kind of wisdom that comes from God alone into a heart that is grateful, humble and focused on doing the will of God as he leads.

I studied this story recently as I prepared to teach my Bible Study class at South Main Baptist Church in Pasadena. Something about the passage caused it to keep resurfacing in my thoughts as if there might be something more I needed to learn. So, I spent some time looking again at the story.

The first thing that struck me this time was that God initiated the conversation during Solomon’s dream. Solomon had yet to voice his insecurities. Unsure if he had the ability to lead God’s people effectively, Solomon surely fretted over every decision. Doubting himself. Second guessing every call he made. Yet, he kept those thoughts to himself.

God, who certainly knew Solomon’s angst and fears, extended an invitation to the king he anointed. In essence, “Ask for whatever you want me to give you.”

Think about that for a second in a broader context that encompasses you and me. God wants to give us what we need to be the person he called us to be. It’s his fervent desire. So much so that he stands ready to provide what we need even before we know to ask for it.

It’s as if he’s telling you and me. “I’m here. I’m ready to help. I sense your struggle. Tell me what you need from me.” I find that both stunning and almost unimaginable!

It’s not that God doesn’t know what we need and is just waiting for us enlighten him. It is that he’s wanting us to reflect honestly on who we are, where we are in life and what we need from God to become the person he wants and needs us to be.

So, the passage tells me that God, in his generosity and grace, approaches his people eager to give us what we need.

Jesus encouraged his disciples with a similar thought. Once, after his disciples were so moved by Jesus’ prayer, they asked him to teach them how to pray as he did. He gave them a example to follow and then he said something that echoes what God shared with Solomon.

So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds and to him who knocks, the door will be opened. (Luke 9-10)

But, he didn’t stop there. Jesus, with, I suspect, a playful gleam in his eye and a giggle on his lips, went on to explain that God, like any good father, wants to say yes to our requests if he can.

Which of you fathers if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead? Or if he asks for an egg will give him a scorpion. If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your father in heaven give the Holy Spirt to those who ask him! (Luke 11:11-13)

I don’t know whether the parallel is intentional, but it connected with me. See if this makes sense to you.

Jesus is promising a gift from God greater than anything else he could give us. “How much more will your father in heaven give the Holy Spirit.” That’s God in us. Always. His thoughts. His guidance. His counsel. His wisdom. Available to us if we only open our hearts and listen.

Now look at what God grants Solomon.

The Lord was pleased that Solomon had asked for this. God said to him, “Since you have asked for this and not for a long life or wealth for yourself, nor have asked for the death of your enemies, but for discernment in administering justice, I will do what you have asked. I will give you a wise and discerning heart so that there will never have been anyone like you, nor will there ever be.” (I Kings 3:10-12)

Is it a stretch to believe that the wisdom to discern and administer justice grows from the work of the Holy Spirit in our lives? The spirit of God within us who is our counselor enables us to listen with the ears of God, to act as his hands and feet, to discern right from wrong with the heart of God?

Is seems to me that when Solomon asks for a discerning heart, when he asks for wisdom, he’s asking for God’s spirit to guide his every thought and deed in ways that honor God. And God grants that request, not just to Solomon, but to us when the spirit comes upon us at the moment we give our lives to Christ.

It is this spirit that offers the discernment and wisdom we need to live the life to which he has called us. We just have to break down all our self-created barriers that keep us from accessing the spirit to the fullest.

That’s really the second truth revealed in this passage in I Kings. It goes back to what Mrs. Wallace said. Be careful what you ask for.

It’s Solomon’s response to the blank check he had been given that defines the rest of the story. In response to God’s invitation, Solomon demolished those barriers by sharing openly what was on his mind.

None of us want to be vulnerable, much less show that side of us to the world around us. The king was no different in that regard than each of us. In this critical moment with God’s invitation hanging in the air, Solomon opened his heart to God with the kind of deep humility that only the truly overwhelmed can know.

Look how Eugene Peterson says it in The Message.

And now here I am: God, my god, you have made me, your servant, ruler of the kingdom in place of David my father. I’m too young for this, a mere child! I don’t know the ropes, hardly know the ins and outs of this job. Yet, here I am, set down in the middle of the people you’ve chosen…

In that moment, we’ve invaded the privacy of his mind where Solomon is alone with his thoughts. We see him, at his most vulnerable: lost in his role and admitting to God that he is helpless on his own.

When given the chance to ask for anything, Solomon chose a listening heart. He chose discernment and wisdom. Even in his fragile state, Solomon realizes that his role in God’s kingdom is not about power and might, it is about serving. It’s about leading with love and justice.

Solomon’s humble heart reminds me that I don’t have to know everything. Even if it’s only in my quiet self, I can acknowledge my vulnerabilities and lay them before God, instead of pretending I have it all figured out.

All I need is the spirit’s indwelling presence that imbues me with a heart that listens and discerns truth. A heart dependent upon the wisdom of God available through the spirit’s counsel.

It’s something James, the half-brother of Christ, reminds us about at the beginning of his letter to believers.

If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him. (James 1:5)

So, the creator of the universe, our father, extends us the same invitation that he extended to Solomon. “Ask for whatever you want me to give you.”

What will you tell him?

Thinking Points

When God tells you, “Ask for whatever you need me to give you?” what is the first thing that comes to your mind? How honest and vulnerable are you willing to be?

How can you cultivate a heart that seeks wisdom and discernment over personal gain or comfort?

In what areas of life do you need to invite God’s indwelling spirit to guide your thoughts and decisions more fully?

What barriers keep you from hearing the spirit’s wisdom and guidance in your daily life?

Thinking About Forgiveness

Focal Passages: Luke 23:26-43; Colossians 3:12-13

It may come as a surprise to you, but I can carry a tune. My bucket may be a little larger than most good singers, but I can still hit a few notes the first time I try. In truth, I sing quite well…when I’m alone in my car…with the radio turned up high.

That elevated opinion of my singing abilities echoed clearly as I drove across town this week with the volume cranked up, singing loudly and proudly along with Don Henley as he blasted out his soulful rendition of Heart of the Matter. Sing it with me.

“I’ve been trying to get down
to the heart of the matter,
but my will gets weak and
my thoughts seem to scatter,
but I think it’s about forgiveness.”

You can stop singing now because that’s when I stopped singing and started thinking about forgiveness. Not specifically the forgiveness Henley was singing about, but rather the forgiveness extended to me by God, family and friends and the forgiveness I need to extend to others. When I got home, I realized it was time for a deeper dive into forgiveness.

What better place to start than with the one who died to forgive. Join me in Luke 23.

Those verses find Jesus nailed to a cross, suffering an agony you and I cannot comprehend, condemned to death by arrogant Jewish religious leaders and conniving Roman politicians. The witnesses who testifying in Jesus’ sham of a trial lied. Now, a crowd that days earlier cheered him as they waved palm branches amid shouts of Hosanna, hurled insults as they slandered and mocked him.

“If you’re the king of the Jews, come down off the cross and save yourself.”

Their shattered illusions about the promised Messiah overflowed in bitterness and hate. As he suffered unimaginable pain leading to his death, the religious leaders smiled, quite pleased with how it all played out. Pilate, who granted permission for the execution, washed his hands of the sordid affair, thankful he tiptoed through the political minefield.

Through it all, not one looked at the man on that middle cross and said, “I was wrong.” Not one said, “This is a mistake.” Instead, they laughed. They jeered. They celebrated.

Then, Jesus uttered what noted Christian author Ray Pritchard called one of the most profound statements in the entire Bible, “the finest, purest, highest example of forgiveness.” At a time when we might find our will weak and our thoughts scattered, Jesus thought about forgiveness!

Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing. (Luke 23:34)

Pritchard wrote, “Jesus, the Son of God, the one who knew no sin, the only truly innocent man who ever walked this sin-cursed planet, in his dying moments uttered words that still ring across the centuries…Those 11 tortured words sweep away all our shabby excuses. They reveal the barrenness of our hearts; they rip the cover off our unrighteous anger and show it for what it is.”

I always assumed Jesus was talking to his father about forgiving the Pharisees who forced the issue. Forgiving Judas who betrayed his love. Forgiving Pilate who turned his back on innocence. Forgiving the gathered crowd lining the road to Golgotha who spat upon him as that splintered beam of wood scraped across his whip-torn back. Forgiving the disciples who denied him and ran away. Forgiving the Roman soldiers who wielded the hammer and nails and gambled away his clothes. Forgiving the thief on the cross who, in his own pain and shame, mocked and reviled Jesus. Forgiving the angry crowds who insulted him and misunderstood who he was.

It is more comfortable to think that way. They certainly needed his forgiveness.

Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing.

As he approached his death on the cross, the words carried a meaning beyond the moment. What if he was really saying, “Father, forgive Kirk. He is not born yet, but when he is, he will do things beyond reason. He will not fully understand what he is doing. Even now, through this sacrifice, forgive Kirk.

So, now? Are you thinking about forgiveness?

Paul tells us Jesus did what was necessary. What God planned from the beginning of creation as he hung the stars and moon: Jesus would die for my sins, your sins and the sins of the world. The unknown writer of Hebrews spells out that covenant promise when he declares that “…without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness…so Christ was sacrificed once for the sins of many.” (Hebrews 9:22, 29) 

What Jesus did on the cross and through his resurrection stands as truly the most life-changing act in human history. He died as a substitute for the death we deserve because of who we are and how we live. We are not much different in the grand scheme of life than the unyielding religious leaders, the jeering crowd, the grimly efficient Roman soldiers and the fearful followers who denied their association with Jesus.

I certainly don’t deserve his forgiveness, but I felt it the moment I gave my heart to him as a nine-year-old boy. I feel it, time and time again, when as a man I walk my own path instead of the path he needs me to walk. His forgiveness is there every time I seek it.

If you are a believer in Christ, I know you understand that. If you’ve not yet turned your life over to him, I pray you will find his forgiveness and start a new life lived in the light of his forgiveness and the sunshine of his grace.

There are two sides to every coin, as they say. It is easy to bask in the beauty of God’s forgiveness. We should live each day in gratitude for grace extended. Absolutely. The other side of the coin, though, can make us uncomfortable. Jesus did not just forgive us so we could feel better about ourselves and our past mistakes. His forgiveness comes with a command to forgive those who hurt us.

That’s where it gets messy for many of us. Most of us can agree with the idea of forgiveness in the abstract. The real challenge arises when we are personally wronged and contemplate offering forgiveness to someone who hurt us deeply.

“You don’t know what he did to me.”

“You should have heard what she said about my kids. You’d be angry, too.”

“They should suffer like they made me suffer.”

“No one has ever hurt me like he hurt me.”

“How can I possibly forgive her when she keeps telling those lies about me?”

C. S. Lewis devoted a chapter of his book Mere Christianity to the idea of forgiveness, calling it fundamental to the Christian faith. He said, “Everyone says forgiveness is a lovely idea until they have something to forgive.”

I am not saying forgiveness is easy. When the offense cuts to the core, forgiveness can be difficult. Living like Christ requires his followers not just to admire forgiveness from a distance, but to actually practice it. To forgive even when our baser instinct says, “I’ll bury the hatchet, but it will be somewhere between your shoulder blades.”

There was a time when Jesus found Peter thinking about forgiveness. With irritation written all over his face, Peter plopped down beside Jesus and asked him how many times he had to forgive someone who offended him. Thinking he was being magnanimous, Peter seemed to think seven times was an acceptable number. He sought Jesus’ confirmation.

Rather than seven times, Jesus offered seventy times seven, which in Peter’s mind seemed too much like ever and always. Given Peter’s confused look, Jesus just jumped with both feet into a parable about a forgiven servant who could not forgive the debt someone owed him.

Read Matthew 18:21-35 for the full story.

Essentially, Jesus told Peter that forgiveness is evidence of Christlike behavior and a natural outgrowth of the mercy offered by Christ’s sacrifice on the cross. It is unlimited grace extended to others because of how much God, through Christ, has forgiven us.

When he gave the believers in Ephesus instructions on Christian living, Paul encouraged them to live differently than the rest of the world. He said,

Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ, God forgave you. (Ephesians 4:32)

It was a motivation for forgiveness Paul echoed with the Colossian church. Look at what he said in Colossians 3:12-13.

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.

So, I’m thinking about forgiveness.

No. There is nothing easy about forgiveness. It was anything but easy for Jesus as he hung on the cross experiencing a physical pain and an emotional agony as he bore my sin and yours. Yet, that act of forgiveness that extends beyond the cross to my life and yours demands that we respond to the hurt others inflict upon us with the kind of compassion and love that forgives even the most harmful attack.

It doesn’t mean we pretend it never happened. It doesn’t mean letting people walk all over you. It doesn’t mean making excuses for other people’s bad behavior. It simply means letting go of the hurt so you can begin to restore the broken relationship.

Forgiveness is evolution. A risk. A leap that opens us up to both the possibility of repeated hurt or restored relationship. It is a leap God makes every time we seek his forgiveness. If he forgives us, shouldn’t we be willing to make that same leap for those who desire our forgiveness?

If you are having difficulty forgiving, maybe the heart of the matter is just a matter of heart. A matter of loving others as Christ loves us.

In the middle of all that hurt, when your will gets weak and your thoughts seem to scatter, maybe it is time to think about forgiveness.

Thinking Points

What are some common excuses you use to avoid forgiving others?

 

From the cross, Jesus said, Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they’re doing. What does his statement reveal about the nature of true forgiveness? How does that idea contrast with your usual response to being wronged?

 

How does recognizing the depth of God’s love and forgiveness toward you shape your ability to (or struggle) to forgive others?

 

Peter wondered if forgiving someone seven times was sufficient. What are the dangers of placing conditions or limits on your willingness to forgive?

The Mind of Christ

Focal Passage: I Corinthians 2:10-16

I read the passage several times in recent years, I’m sure. The notes in the margin of my Bible tell me so. I am always amazed at how God opens my eyes to his inspired word, often opening a new line of thought. There is, it seems, always something new to learn and discern.

In a conversation with my sister this week, we talked about the state of our country and the world today. Troubled by the hateful and divisive rhetoric and the internal and external conflict that pits person against person, group against group and nation against nation, we both wondered at what seemed to be the lack of wisdom, compassion and understanding. I remember thinking, “What kind of mind makes these kinds of decisions?”

Two days later, I sat down to read a passage in I Corinthians which oddly enough speaks to mindset of those called as God’s people. I had to think about the state of my own mind and whether my mind was where it needed to be.

Listen to what Paul tells the Corinthian church. Don’t just read it. Read as if Paul sent the letter to you.

“…The spirit searches all things, even the deep things of God. For who among men knows the thoughts of a man except the man’s spirit within him? In the same way, no one knows the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God. We have not received the spirit of the world but the spirit who is from God, that we may understand what God has freely given us. This is what we speak, not in words taught us by human wisdom, but in words taught by the spirit, expressing spiritual truths in spiritual words. The man without the spirit does not accept the things that come from the spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him, and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually discerned. The spiritual man makes judgments about all things, but he himself is not subject to any man’s judgment: “For who has known the mind of the Lord that he may instruct him?” (I Corinthians 2:10-16a)

Then Paul adds this one phrase in this passage that I have missed time and time again.

“But we have the mind of Christ.” (I Corinthians 2:16b)

As I try to make sense of how I should think amid today’s disturbed world, this phrase was a 2” x 4” across my nose. It certainly got my attention.

We have the mind of Christ.

Before we get too deep into what that means, let’s briefly explore the context of Paul’s first letter to the Corinthian church. The church in Corinth experienced wave after wave of division and conflict. Arguments over theology or ministry pitted one faction against the other, each thinking they were wiser than the other. Corinthian culture drew upon the influence of Greek philosophy and human wisdom.

Early Christian apologist Aristides, an Athenian philosopher who converted to Christianity in the 2nd century, said of Corinth, “On every street in Corinth one meets a so-called wise man, who has his own solutions to the world’s problems.” (That sounds eerily familiar to our culture today.)

This cultural pattern invaded the church like a virus and spread. Paul spent the early part of his letter addressing the difference between worldly wisdom and God’s wisdom.

Paul tells the church that a person without God’s spirit cannot accept or understand the things that flow from the spirit of God. It is foolish sounding to him because the things of God are spiritually discerned…revealed to believers by his indwelling spirit. That’s a critical point because it is the basis for understanding “the mind of Christ.” It is the basis for grasping the importance of relying on God’s spirit for understanding and wisdom.

If believers, as spiritual beings, are to “make judgments about all things,” it is the mind of Christ we must use to help us discern the truth and determine what we should say and how we should live.

I’ve shared a lot in the past writings about my journey in understanding what it means to be made in the image of God. Equally, this one phrase about having “the mind of Christ” opened a new avenue of study into understanding who we are in Christ. How he shares his mind with us through his spirit. How his mind should set us apart from the culture around us. It is his invitation for us to discover rich spiritual truths and explore a deeper relationship with God.

Let’s look again at I Corinthians 2:16.

For who has known the mind of the Lord that he may instruct him? But we have the mind of Christ.

Paul first quotes Isaiah 40:13, drawing on this Old Testament passage to emphasize God’s wisdom and mind are beyond human understanding. At the same time, it challenges us to contemplate God’s desire to teach us his will and way.

In Jesus, believers are given access to God’s wisdom, God’s mind, if you will, through the Holy Spirit. The spirit is a gift God gives us when we profess Jesus as Lord of all. Jesus told his disciples there would come a time when he was no longer with them physically. When he left God would send “the Counselor.”

…The Holy Spirit whom the father will send in my name , will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. (John 14:26)

His spirit is not something we have to work to acquire, but we must learn to use the mind of Christ within us. To let it teach us and remind us of what Jesus said and did. To help us understand the mind of Christ by providing insight into scripture and how it applies to life. He gives us the vision to see the world differently. To see others, their hurts and their needs, through the eyes of Christ. He gives us the desire then to act upon what we see in service to others, extending grace to those around us while holding ourselves accountable to God’s truth.

Let me underscore that last part. Living with the mind of Christ means we hold ourselves accountable to his word and will. We cannot lay claim to the mind of Christ and treat others with contempt or to engage in the hateful rhetoric or acts we see around us. Such attitudes and actions are not compatible with the mind of Christ.

Paul contrasted our human inability to comprehend God’s mind on our own with the insight gained through the indwelling presence of the “mind of Christ.” Even on our best days, our understanding of the purpose and plans of God is limited. Isaiah alluded to this limitation. I think that’s why some scripture jumps out at us with deeper meaning, depending on the season or circumstance of our lives.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” (Isaiah 45:8-9)

The unknown elements of life cause confusion. At times we question or doubt God. However, we are repeatedly assured of God’s love and that he always knows the path ahead of us. The good news is we have what Isaiah didn’t have. We have the mind of Christ and that is life-changing.

We are no longer restricted by the limited wisdom of man. Our identity as “new creations” through our faith and trust in Christ, allows us to embrace, experience and exemplify the mind of Christ exhibited during his ministry on earth.

Christ showed us how to live a life of love, sacrifice, wisdom and grace. It was on his mind and in his heart always…in every encounter with every soul. Writer Jamie Wilson said that experiencing the mind of Christ is transformative, “…not a mere change in perspective; it is a radical shift in how we approach life and our relationship to God and others.”

It was a theme Paul carried to the Philippian church, as well, when he encouraged them to be united in Christ, possessing compassion and tenderness toward others. He urged them to be like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose. He said, “Let this mind (attitude) be in you which was also in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 2:5)

It carries a responsibility as Christians to cultivate a mindset that looks like Jesus. That thinks, lives and acts in all things, in all ways and at all times with compassion and a servant’s heart just as Jesus did.

I can’t speak for you, so I’ll just share my thoughts. My life experiences, my fruitful and my failed efforts at living life, have taught me that my understanding of God’s will for my life is imperfect. My background, education and experiences offer beneficial insight, but true wisdom is a God thing. It is his alone. I have to be willing to let go of my ego and follow where he leads every day.

I find it hard to seek and understand the mind of Christ if I am not truly engaged with him. If my prayer life is stilted, if my Bible study is superficial, if my fellowship with other believers is inconsistent, I miss opportunities to grow in the mind of Christ. Connecting with God through his word and through worship and praise, helps align my thoughts with his thoughts. I find that’s when clarity comes.

Having the mind of Christ carries a responsibility of reflecting him to others, inviting them to share in his love. Jesus thrived on his relationship with the father. It ignited the passion he had for sharing his love with others. If I embrace the mind of Christ, it deepens my own relationship with the father. My passion for sharing Christ’s love is at its highest when I am most connected to the mind of Christ.

I suspect it’s no different for you.

Think of the change the world would experience if all who professed a faith in Christ lived as if they had the mind of Christ. Our approach to ministry, outreach, service, governance and life in general would be much different.

Make this our prayer:

Father, help us remember that we are called to reflect Christ’s heart and mind in all our relationships. Let the mind of Christ guide our decisions, our thoughts, our words and everything we do. Help us avoid adding to the world’s divisive rhetoric and even more destructive behaviors. Help us seek to heal wounds by trusting in your wisdom and living in the mind of Christ so that others may see and experience the transformative power of God’s love.

Amen.

Thinking Points

What does it mean to you personally to have “the mind of Christ?” How does it shape the way you view and interpret current events or the culture around you?

 

In what ways might you be relying on human wisdom rather than God’s spirit to inform and guide your decisions?

 

How might your interactions with others and your social and political outlook differ if you approached the compassion, humility and grace exemplified in the mind of Christ?

 

Are there habits or patterns in your spiritual life—inconsistent worship, Bible study, prayer or fellowship—that hinder your ability to experience the mind of Christ?

 

In what areas of life do you most need and desire God’s wisdom this week? How can you actively seek it through his spirit this week?

 

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My Dad

Background Passages: Psalm 73:26; Galatians 5:22-23; John 1: 45-51; Psalm 23

I seldom use this space to get personal, I generally prefer to stay with the lessons God is teaching me each week. Today seems an exception.

My Dad passed away on October 5, just five days short of his 98th birthday. In the days since, we’ve been busy arranging the memorial service he planned years ago, pulling all the pieces together to reflect on a life lived so well for so long.

On one hand, it’s hard to grieve deeply when he lived independently every day of his life except for the last week before he died, even if his ability to do everything he wanted to do was somewhat restricted by the ordinary frailties caused by almost a century of living. He lived in the moments God gave him, knowing others had it much worse than he did.

On the other hand, the grief I feel runs deep, measured by the tightness in my chest caused by this new hole in a heart already riddled with the scarred holes of those loved ones lost over time.

The last time Robin and I visited with my 97-year-old Dad in Amarillo and the last two times we spoke on the phone he talked about being tired. While there may have been real physical manifestations of fatigue, I suspect he meant something much different. I think he was ready to go whenever God was ready for him.

The doctors could not give us a medical reason for Dad’s death. In language that Dad would probably enjoy, I think his tractor just ran out of butane.

David, the Psalmist, might have diagnosed Dad’s situation more eloquently.

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. (Psalm 73:26)

Dad’s flesh and his heart failed. I’m confident, however, that he knew God as his portion and strength for eternity.

I believe it is God’s desire for us to live our lives as Christ lived his. To be Christlike in the things we say and do. To me and to many he touched through his life, Dad was a mirror image of Jesus. Paul described what being a reflection of Jesus looks like in his letter to the Galatians.

“But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23)

In all I read in scripture, those words describe my Jesus. I look at that list and know my Dad exhibited that same fruit like he was working a spiritual farmer’s market. Those traits were on display in his life for all to see and share, offered without cost or expectation.

If you needed love, he gave it. Peace, he shared it. Patience, he extended it. Kindness, he showed it. Goodness, he breathed it. Faithfulness, he lived it. Gentleness, he exuded it. Self-control, he modeled a bushel of it.

I wrote an article about my Dad on Father’s Day a few years ago. Dad never liked being the center of attention and fussed at me lightheartedly for “writing his eulogy” before he was gone. It wasn’t intended as a eulogy, but under today’s circumstances, it seems to fit.

What follows below is an excerpt from that article. I’m cutting out the things that tell you what Dad did and leaving the part that tells you who he was. For that, I’ll simply remind you of the story Nathaniel, of one of Jesus’ disciples.

Nathaniel, born and raised in Cana in lower Galilee just a few miles from Nazareth, worked as a part-time fisherman and a full-time seeker of God’s truth. As Jesus began his ministry, Nathaniel followed the new rabbi for several weeks, listening to his teaching, probably sitting in the back row or on the edge of the crowd, getting his own measure of his teaching. He found Jesus’ conversations in the synagogue rich with meaning and purpose. The stories told to the multitudes penetrating…challenging the listener to think more deeply about God’s word. Nathaniel was intrigued by this carpenter from Nazareth.

On one particular day, Phillip, one of Jesus’ new disciples, grabbed Nathaniel’s arm with a sense of urgency and excitement. “Come and see,” he said. “We have found the one whom Moses wrote about and about whom the prophets also wrote. Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.”

Knowing the scripture as he did, Nathaniel had trouble believing that the promised one would come from Nazareth. Not yet knowing that Jesus was born in Bethlehem, he states as fact, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

It was not a putdown as we have been made to believe through the years. He questioned because this “fact” didn’t align with scripture. When Phillip and Nathaniel approached, Jesus stood to greet him. With a smile and comment that conveyed immense respect, Jesus said, “Here is a true Israelite in whom there is nothing false.”

Whenever I think of that story and the high praise Jesus rained upon Nathaniel, I think of my Dad…My Dad is a true child of God in whom there is nothing false. While certainly not infallible, he lives his life with the utmost integrity. What you see is what you get. And you get a whole lot of good.

As a child growing up and an adult trying to find my own way in the world, Dad’s lifestyle laid out a set of undeclared expectations I still try to meet. He loved my Mom completely and with full devotion. That was a gift to his three children that he modeled each day. They endured good-natured ribbing, with a healthy dose of sarcasm, and laughed freely. Dad was her biggest supporter and she was his. His ability to love his wife and family openly was, and is, one of my greatest blessings in life.

Farming was not the easiest life to live. Dad would have supported any career path we chose, but we all knew his preference was for us to find another line of work. As a result, he raised a lawyer, a doctor and me. Dad instilled in all of us a serious work ethic, an attitude I see reflected in my brother and sister in the work they do. He worked hard and did what was necessary to support his family.

While we may not have had a lot of material things, we were never poor…in reality nor in spirit.

Dad spent long hours in the field, but he also knew how to rest. He understood that there was a time and place for everything. He learned how to leave the worries of work on the tractor and come home focused on his family. He could also put things beyond his control in proper perspective. If the crop was hailed out, he spent little time moaning about his bad luck and more time thinking about his next steps. This attitude toward life impacted me greatly.

Dad continues to teach me a great deal about our relationship to others. I don’t think I ever heard a prejudiced word escape my father’s lips. Given the time period in which he grew up, that’s pretty amazing. He taught all of us that a person’s worth is measured by who he is and not by what he looks lie. Worth, to Dad, is not measured by political preferences, religious beliefs or immigrant status. A person should be measured by how he lives each day, how he treats others, the value he adds to the world. To treat anyone differently is just wrong.

I watched Dad as I grew up. If he found himself in a fractured relationship for any reason, he did his best to set it right, even if it meant having difficult conversations. Most of the time, those conversations led to a deeper friendship or, at least a mutual, respectful understanding of the other’s position.

These things and so many others make my Dad a great man in my eyes. However, if you know my Dad or ever met him, it would not take long to understand that his relationship with God is his greatest gift to his family and friends.

If you look back to Nathaniel’s encounter with Jesus, you find Nathaniel stunned that Jesus used such kind words to describe him. “How do you know me?” asked Nathaniel. Jesus replied, “I saw you under the fig tree.” Sounds rather cryptic to us, but Bible scholars say it was not an uncommon occurrence for students of scripture to congregate under the trees, unroll a scroll to study and discuss God’s word. I like to think that Jesus was so aware of his surrounding that Nathaniel’s desire to know God more intimately did not go unnoticed by the savior.

After a long day at work, it was not uncommon to see Dad sitting in his recliner, studying his Sunday School lesson…His discussions and debates with my Mom about scripture were often lively and always deep. Just reading the words of the Bible at face value is not enough for Dad. He wants to find its core meaning and its common sense application. The Bible for Dad is not spiritual pabulum or an outline of denominational theology, it is a blueprint for practical daily living. Its message drives the way he lives and loves.

I read back through that study and see it written in present tense. It’s difficult to shift into past tense. Because his memory lives on, he will always be.

I could regale you with stories about my Dad in hopes that you could know him as I did, but I can think of nothing better than this. Dad was Nathaniel in my eyes…a man in whom there was nothing false. He was and will always be that man. Though it is probably a pale shadow, I sure hope you can see a little of him in me.

My uncle, Les, Dad’s brother, is a retired pastor and chaplain. He has a gift for words. In his recent blog about his grief at Dad’s death, he paraphrased Psalm 23. Maybe the language isn’t as poetic as David’s, but it’s written in the practical language of West Texas. I think Dad would have liked it. May it bring you the same comfort it brings me.

The Lord is like my shepherd; I really don’t need a thing. It’s like I’m walking in these green pastures among rippling streams. Maybe I should be afraid, but I’m not; God and I seem the same, and everything’s great. I am comfortable here. They’re setting a huge table and there’s a ceremony to welcome me: Me! Warts and all. I think I’m going to be just fine here. I feel only goodness and love in my soul. I live in the Lord’s house, and besides, I have an eternal contract. (Psalm 23)

That about sums it up. As Les added, “Resurrection boasts nothing good ever dies.”

I will rejoice for a life well lived.

I Can Do All This

Background Passages: Philippians 4:4-13

Richard Swenson, author of Contentment: The Secret to Lasting Calm, tells a story about his seven-year-old granddaughter who accidentally stepped in a pile of dog droppings with both tennis shoes. Together, she and her dad found a suitable stick, sat down on the curb and began scraping the mess from the treads of her shoes.

After a few minutes the little girl stopped. She looked at her Dad and then at the brown stuff now piled in the gutter. “You know, Dad,” she said. “This would be a very good meal for a dung beetle.”

Swenson pointed out that the contentment range of little children is a mile wide from end to end. He uses the term “joy beacons” to describe a child’s ability to always see the silver lining. He said, “The laughter from just one child is enough to lift a crowd of fifty. Where do they get this capacity…to make happy connections between a shoe full and the disgusting culinary habits of ugly beetles?”

Psychologists tell us that four-year-olds laugh 26 times a day more than adults. That fact alone makes it clear why Jesus would occasionally spent time with children in his lap and arms. I think the human side of him needed, at times, to be reminded that God gave our hearts an amazing capacity for delight and contentment, even in the most difficult of times. Children, God’s ambassadors to the cynic, find equal contentment, according to Swenson, “in a puddle or a pigeon, a worm or a waffle.”

It’s this idea of contentment that has been on my heart lately. When did we lose that sense of delight and contentment? More importantly, why do we lose it?

Richard Carlson, author of Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff, suggested that our discontent comes from external circumstances. “We tend to believe that if we were somewhere else—on vacation, with another partner, in a different career, a different home, a different circumstance, or if we could somehow go back to the good ol’ days—somehow we would be happier and more content.” Simply put, Carlson said, “We wouldn’t.”

Psychologists will gladly tell us how to find contentment. Some of their thoughts are helpful. Some are not. I think to find the truth about contentment requires a trip to a first century house prison in the middle of Rome.

As first century prisons go, this one wasn’t all that bad. Paul had certainly experienced worse. Acts 28 tells us the apostle found himself under house arrest, chained at times to a bored Roman guard. Because the judicial system of the time did not provide three square meals a day, the prisoner was forced to provide his own housing and support. Limited in his ability to ply his trade as a tentmaker, he had little to sustain his daily life. Most of what he had on which to survive came from money and supplies shared by his friends and followers.

The worst part of his confinement for Paul must have been the restrictions on his ability to share his faith. To do the work God had called him to do. He could have visitors and speak freely about his savior within the walls. He could not spend time in the synagogue or the local market talking about his favorite subject…Jesus. Though his reach was limited, God’s was not. Paul continued to open the hearts of those who heard his message.

Given all he had experienced that brought him to this place and all he experienced while locked behind four walls, one might think Paul struggled to find contentment. Apparently not.

While imprisoned, Paul wrote several letters to the churches he helped establish. One of those churches was in Philippi, a Roman city in Macedonia. It was a letter thanking them for their contribution of provisions and money to support him in his time under house arrest.

He wrote a couple of things in this letter that I have read all my life, but only connected when I read them again this week. (That’s the funny thing about scripture, the Holy Spirit will reveal truth you need to hear when you need to hear it.)

Read his words as one under house arrest.

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again. Rejoice!. Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:4-8)

That sounds more like a man sitting on the porch of his mountain cabin, sipping a nice diet coke, with his feet up on the rail, watching the squirrels jump around in the trees. It doesn’t sound like a man chained to a surly and sweating Roman guard.

Rejoice. Don’t be anxious about anything. In every situation and in all you need, pray with thankfulness. Find peace beyond the understanding of men…the kind of peace that sets at ease your troubled heart and worried mind.

You see, despite all he had been through that brought him to Rome…the unjust accusations of Jewish leadership back in Judea and the cowardice of the Roman authorities who knew his innocence…Paul still found himself waiting for a trial that could either set him free or hand him over to be killed. Yet, he says, rejoice. Don’t worry. Be at peace. Be content.

Easy to say, difficult to do, right? It seems counterintuitive when faced with an impending divorce. Life-altering injury or illness. Decisions over aging parents. Rebellious children. Financial loss. Angry neighbors. Death of a spouse. Social unrest.

How does one keep from shrinking into dark depression when encountering any single one of these conditions, much less when several seem to hit at once.

Paul gives us a clue, I think.

“Finally, dear brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me or seen in me—put it into practice and the God of peace will be with you.” (Philippians 4:8-9)

Perhaps the first step in finding contentment amid the garbage of life is to scrap it into the gutter and find the silver lining by concentrating on the noble, the right, the pure and admirable. To get our hearts and minds pointed at the things of God rather than the things that seem to be slapping us around. To find his presence and his peace in the blessings he lavishly provides to those who love him.

Paul found the blessing in the gifts sent by the Philippians. He felt it as he welcomed Epaphroditus as the bearer of the gifts and unwrapped the supplies that they sent to help sustain him. Like a care package of Mom’s chocolate chip cookies sent to a hungry soldier mired in an inhospitable foxhole. It was just what he needed to lift his spirits and remind him that he was not alone.

“I rejoiced greatly in the Lord that at last you renewed your concern for me. Indeed, you were concerned, but you had no opportunity to show it. I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is like to be in need and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. (Philippians 4:10-12)

Paul truly understood the ups and downs of life. His life as a Pharisee elevated his social standing and financial condition. He lived a life of relative luxury provided by his position as an up-and-coming religious leader. It all changed on the road to Damascus when he encountered the living Christ in a blinding blaze of light.

For the sake of Christ, Paul walked away from a life most others would envy to give himself to the work God called him to do. It was never easy. Paul once wrote the Christians in Corinth about all he had endured since committing his life to Christ.

If you read 2 Corinthians 11:22-29, you’ll find that Paul spent multiple times in prison and not always the house arrest kind. Five times he was given 39 lashes with a whip. He was beaten with sticks, pelted with stones, shipwrecked three times, and constantly on the move. He crossed raging rivers, faced bandits along the roads and the murderous threats from Jew and Gentile alike.

Paul faced danger in the city and in the country. On sea and on land. He had gone without sleep and known days of hunger and thirst. He was cold and naked. And amid the physical distress, he felt the daily pressure of his concern for the people in the churches he had founded…an overwhelming burden.

When you understand all Paul endured, it makes his words to the Philippians even more forceful. “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstance.”

Paul didn’t find contentment by trying to fix his circumstances, he found it by fixing his eyes on Jesus. By concentrating on living the life God had called him to do. By focusing on the noble, the right, the pure, the lovely and the admirable. In other words, by living a Christ-like life in all he did and all he said.

That’s difficult to do under the pressures and burdens we bear. Paul had a “secret” though. A secret he shared openly with the Philippians and with those of us for whom life has bound us to house arrest, limiting our ability to do the things we want to do.

“I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:13)

I’ve read this verse a thousand times, I bet. As I learned in the school business, though, first learning is hard to overcome. When I first learned this passage, it was in the language of King James.

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

The message I heard from well-intentioned youth ministers and pastors was that God would empower me through his strength to do everything and anything I wanted to do. That’s the lesson that stuck for that verse. While there is a measure of truth in that thought, it has not been my experience. If that were so, I would have walked on the moon with Neil Armstrong like that childhood dream promised.

No. I don’t think that’s what Paul intended. When Paul says he can concentrate on the noble, the right and the pure; he can find contentment when he has plenty and when he has nothing; he can overcome every adverse circumstance of life. “I can do all of this,” Paul says, “through him who gives me strength.”

There is a difference in “I can do all things…” and “I can do all this…,”  especially within the context of Paul’s life and most decidedly in the context of ours. The first seems more of a promise that our wildest dreams will be ours. The latter suggests that my ability to live well through the good and bad times of life depends on my ability to tap in and trust in the strength Christ provides.

We are incapable of dealing with everything that sticks to the bottom or our shoes within our restricted power and limited strength. However, we can fix our eyes on Jesus. Think like Jesus thought. Live like Jesus lived, facing every circumstance with the same grace with which Jesus faced the sin of the world.

Through the strength Christ provides through his word and his spirit, we will find that silver lining. We’ll find we can be content in all of this tough stuff with which we are dealing.

I truly don’t know how you define contentment. I only hope you find it in Christ. All other definitions are severely lacking.

Maybe the best starting point is to be thankful for the eternal presence of Jesus in your life. Dr. Toyin Omofoye is an author and clinical pharmacist. She said, “Contentment is realized when gratitude becomes a lifestyle.”

So, when you’re facing what you can’t fix on your own, be grateful that you can do all this…all that is required to make it through…because of the strength of Christ in you.

Amen?

Amen!

Grateful

Background Passage: Psalm 106:1

We approach the most joyous of holiday seasons from Thanksgiving to Christmas this year under the darkening shadow of Covid-19 as the long-promised fall surge in corona virus cases hits our nation with a vengeance.

We continue to endure a bitter political season that has fractured our country with seemingly no one willing to walk the higher ground. Suspicion invades our hearts, leaving our country teetering in its wake.

Many among us feel…

Isolated and alone.
Divided and angry.
Worried and scared.
Suspicious and accusing.
Pessimistic and hopeless.

That seems to be the condition of the world. I’m not so naive that I cannot see these issues or feel their impact around me. As a Christian, I am not immune to its gravity, but I refuse to let these events steal my joy.

I…we…have so much for which to be grateful even during this uncertain time for God’s gifts and grace transcend pandemic and politics. Surrounded by family, friends and God’s ever-present love, there is a place of peace even in the turmoil of the day. For such things, I am eternally grateful.

So, I remind myself in this week of Thanksgiving to take a deep breath and relax.

We use the term “overwhelmed” to express that feeling of being swamped by the circumstances around us. We rarely, if ever, talk about being simply “whelmed.”

Yes, it’s a word defined in Webster’s Dictionary as “an act or instance of flowing or heaping up abundantly; a surge.”

Rather than feeling overwhelmed, I want us to feel whelmed…to feel a surge of thanksgiving as we reflect on the blessings of life granted by a loving God.

I cannot speak to those things for which you could be grateful. You alone can do that.

As I sit in the quiet of this moment, I am thankful for my parents, my brother and sister, my wife, my two sons and their wives, and my grandchildren. I am grateful for an extended family of “laws and in-laws” who have forever accepted me for who I am. I am grateful for love given and love received.

I am grateful for friends from childhood to present day who, even today, continue to create and share in the best moments of my life.

I am grateful for God’s gift of this community as a place of service and belonging. A people who let me serve and who served me in my times of need.

I am grateful for a church who for four decades has been my spiritual foundation, filled with fellow imperfects who love each other into a more perfect understanding of God’s grace and peace. A people who know their responsibility to be the face, the hands and feet of Christ not just within the walls of the church, but in the city, state, country and world beyond.

I am grateful to my God who saved me and loves me in spite of myself. Whose presence brings healing and comfort to every hurt and need in my life. Whose blessings and grace deepen the joy I feel in my connections and relationships with those I encounter. Whose spirit continues to open my eyes to the vitality of his word.

A host of scripture speaks to our need to express thankfulness to our God. Here are a couple of my favorites.

“Oh, give thanks to the Lord for he is good; for his steadfast love endures forever.” (Psalm 106:1)

The language of the psalm is an imperative, a command. To the believer loved by God, the call to thanksgiving is not an option. Thankfulness ought to be our natural response as recipients of God’s unmerited favor.

We respond with thankfulness because of God’s goodness. Our limited understanding of goodness, tempered as it is through our lens of sin, is a pale facsimile of goodness that is truly in God. Jesus told us as much in Luke 18:19 when he told the rich, young ruler, “no one is good, except God alone.”

To declare that God is good is to know with certainty that his every word and act is always true and right. It is his goodness that offers redemption to a sinful world…the ultimate act of goodness through the sacrifice of his own son.

When you read “steadfast,” think resolute, unwavering. God’s love never fails. Never abandons. Never falters. Never withdraws.

God’s love always provides. Always sustains. Always nurtures. Always remains. Always embraces. Always comforts. Always endures.

Thanksgiving is a good day to remember. If you dig deeper in Psalm 106, you find that the people of God lost their way when they failed to remember what God had done for them.

“…they did not remember your many kindnesses…” (vs. 7)
“…they soon forgot what he had done…” (vs 13)
“…they forgot the God who saved them…” (vs. 21)

I don’t ever want to be guilty of their forgetfulness. I think that’s why the Psalmist makes his statement in the form of a command, “Give thanks…,” as an on-going directive to always remember what God has done for us.

We are a forgetful people with short-term memories and a “what have you done for me lately” mentality. Thanksgiving is remembering in gratitude a God who does not forget his people nor his promises.

Those people I mentioned earlier, the ones for whom I expressed my gratitude, they came into my life sent by God to be a part of my life. They have been before and beside me the face and hands of his steadfast love and his unfathomable goodness all the days of my life.

I am eternally grateful.

Thank you, God.

Dancing with God

Background Passages: John 10:10; Psalm 116:13-14, Deuteronomy 30:19-20; Psalm 30:11

Have you ever noticed how you can find connections in random things? I read four seemingly unrelated things this week and found a connection I’d like to share. I hope it make sense when I put it on paper. Let’s play connect the dots

Dot One

As a part of my devotional studies this week I read a passage out of John. It is a lengthy story that is a part of the “I am…” statements of Jesus.

The man, blind since birth, dipped his hands into the Pool of Siloam as he was instructed, carefully washing the mud ball from his eyes. After he had done so, “the man went home seeing.” His rejoicing captured the attention of friends, neighbors and Pharisees. Because it was the Sabbath, a quick investigation ensued, leading the religious elite to Jesus. After a bit of verbal wrangling, Jesus explained to them…

“I have come that they might have life and have it abundantly.”

John 10:10 is one of my favorite verses, hinting at a life Jesus promises all who put their faith and trust in him. It’s hard to explain that concept to one who doesn’t believe in Christ. When we try to live life on our own it is easy to get disillusioned and disoriented. The chaos that confronts us at every turn saps the life right out of us.

Life with Christ, on the other hand, becomes worth the pain of living. Our relationship to Christ brings with it the possibility of a new joy, a new vitality, in the face of life’s troubles…if we embrace it.

Hang on to that thought.

Dot Two

My uncle, the Rev. Leslie Lewis, is the pastor of a Lutheran church in a farming community near Lubbock. One of his published devotional thoughts this week talked about taking up the cup of salvation as described by the songwriter in Psalm 116.

Leslie wrote about taking up the cup. “That’s the nature of relationship. All we can do is take the cup. The cup being life, with all its circumstances as it comes to us. For God comes to us as our life.”

Think about that for a second. “God comes to us as our life.” Life is messy, isn’t it? Disordered? Chaotic? God with us amid the chaos.

We find ourselves in a global pandemic, restricted in what we can do and where we can go. Unable to reach out and touch those we love. Even in the middle of something as broad as this, the other burdens of living don’t go away. Fractured relationships. Missing paychecks. Poor decisions. Sickness. Misunderstandings. Life easily becomes unbearable and disorienting if we let it. It is relentless in its attack. Each day brings new burdens to face. Doesn’t sound all that abundant, does it?

Leslie continued, “Sometimes we see life coming at us and are tempted to pray as our lord did, ‘If it be possible let this cup pass from me.’ But the relationship with life demands we take the cup…take responsibility for what is coming to/at us. A loving relationship with God is no more than willingly accepting the cup; the person, the circumstance of life as an invitation to dance with God.”

I love that! “An invitation to dance with God.” Abundant living is not the absence of all the issues that life throws at us for this life we’ve been given to live is both beautiful and ugly at the same time. Nor is it hiding ourselves behind a veil of religiosity.

Leslie shared that we Christians tend to hide behind pious platitudes, made empty because we don’t live the truth buried deeply inside them. “God is in control.” “God will never give us more than we can handle.” When life has us in its talons, our heart is not in them. We live on the surface of our faith, not in its depths. Hide behind the curtain of pious living.

Jesus later said as much to the Pharisees.

“You hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. First, clean the inside…” (Matthew 23:25-26)

Taking up the cup means embracing all that life holds and finding a way to dance our way through it with the Father. Leslie added, “Life is not for sissies. Those who only want to play it safe will never know the riches of his love.” Never know what it means to live the abundant life.

Hold on to this dot and let me take you to another.

Dot Three

I picked up a book this week from my personal library which I have not read in more than 45 years. Dancing at My Funeral, written by Maxine Dunnam in 1973, is about the joy that comes in the present from living an authentic, Christ-filled life.

In her book, Dunnam argues that the thirst for real life is as old as creation itself. That God built within us the desire to experience life at its fullest…in abundance. In Deuteronomy, God, through Moses, tells the Hebrew people…

“I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now, choose life so that you and your children may live and that you may love the Lord your God, listen to his voice and hold fast to him. For the Lord is your life…” (Deuteronomy 30:19-20)

Dunnam writes, “Here ‘life’ and ‘death’ don’t signify ‘existence’ and ‘nonexistence.’ Rather, they hold a promise that existence can be enriched and thereby become real life.” Authentic life. Abundant life. “You can have a dead life or a real life—one that is lived in confidence, hope and gratitude.” And, if we’re truthful, we’ve all known Christians who were the “walking dead,” those who allowed life to suck the joy out of their relationship to God. That’s not what God intended.

Like my uncle, Dunnam argues that Christians tend to cloister behind the walls of the church or wrap ourselves in the cloak of spirituality to avoid the hazards of the world. Dunnam says real life is not in the avoidance of problems, but in our dynamic relationship to God. Staying connected to him while facing the world as it comes and ministering through the problems and the pitfalls. Abundant life is God’s gift in the middle of the messiness of life.

God offers us the same as he offered the Hebrew children. Choose life! Choose abundance!

Dot Four

Real and abundant life is an experience. The work of God is making us real. In the story of the Velveteen Rabbit, written by Margery Williams, the worried rabbit is told by the wise old Skin Horse that it takes a long time to become real.

“It doesn’t happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully made. Generally, by the time you are real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

God’s call to abundant living is a call to love and serve others. Those acts of service will often leave us with hair loved off, eyes dropped out and a little loose in the joints. You may look ugly in the sight of the world, but they don’t understand. God loves our mangy, bug-eyed shabbiness that comes from an abundant life of sacrifice.

Connect the dots

What does abundant life mean to me? It means desiring the fullness of life that only a relationship with God can provide. Willingly serving and loving others. It means embracing our cup…this life…as it comes with all its joy and despair…all its turmoil and tests…all its passion and grace. It means to choose this life…to love God, to listen to his words and hold tightly to him at all times. It means living a real, authentic faith evidenced by a cup as clean on the inside as it is on the outside. It means full joy and contentment in a relationship with a loving Father.

It means dancing with God.

“You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; You have loosened my sackcloth and girded me with gladness.: (Psalm 30:11)

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.

Drinking from Wells I Did Not Dig

Background Passage: Deuteronomy 6:10-12

I came across rather obscure a passage of scripture this week while looking for the focus of my writing. I read it…and moved on, searching for something different. No matter what I read and studied this week, that passage kept invading my thoughts.

In this passage in Deuteronomy, Moses has just wrapped his arms around the stone tablets upon which were etched God’s commands for his people. The list of “thou shalt” and “thou shalt nots” intended as a framework of righteous relationship with the Father and with his people.

Moses reminded them of the great promise of God to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob to give them a land that would belong to them…a land flowing with milk and honey. Then, he encouraged them to claim that promise as their own. The land God promised, according to Moses, held within it everything they needed in life. God would grant them…

“…cities you did not build, good things you did not provide, wells you did not dig, and vineyards and olive groves you did not plant…”

Every time I tried to move away from the passage, I found myself back in Deuteronomy thinking about how the people of Israel would drink from wells they did not dig. Every time I thought about it, I thought about how often I have quenched my thirst for God from wells I did not dig.

I found my first taste of God’s well water from loving parents and a family who made faith a priority. From that little Baptist church in Ropesville where I grew up and a bevy of Sunday School teachers who shared their hearts and souls. From a Baptist Student Union at Texas Tech that served as a cistern of Christian friends who met my needs for fruitful fellowship. From a time serving as a youth minister in Wolfforth where God taught me more than I taught the young people I served.

I drank again from wells I did not dig from a marriage partner whose life is Jesus personified. From children who have matured in their own faith as an encouragement to mine. To a home church in Pasadena with pastors and friends who invested in my life, shaping my witness and my service. To a profession in public education that opened as a calling to help those in need. To a life in which every moment is a testament of God’s grace, forgiveness and purpose.

In each moment, I drank from wells I did not dig. I am grateful for each time I drew water from those wells.

After reminding his people of God’s unmerited gifts that awaited them in the promised land, Moses added a warning.

“…then, when you drink and are satisfied, be careful that you do not forget the Lord who brought you out of Egypt…”

There it is. The reason this passage kept creeping back into my heart. God placed so many people…so many wonderful opportunities…in my life that allowed me to drink and be satisfied. Too often I forget how hard it must have been for those in my life to dig that well. I forget how God’s hand moved in my life so I found every well when when I needed it most.

The living water God promised through his son, Jesus, flowed through the lives of all these people who offered me encouragement, support, discipline, wisdom, hope and love. The clearest, coolest water I have ever had the privilege to drink…and it was all from wells I did not dig.

I sit here today having lived in cities I did not build, enjoying good things I did not produce, drinking for wells I did not dig and eating from vineyards and groves I did not plant. The promised land God gave me.

To all who offered me a taste of their water, thank you. I offer praise to God who provided your shovel and showed you where to dig.

With Gratitude to the Giver

Background Passage: 2 Corinthians 4:15; Psalm 9:1

I sat in the audience of my grandson Eli’s second grade Thanksgiving program at Turner Elementary School with my cellphone camera on record. The children, dressed in traditional Pilgrim suits made of construction paper and colored with crayons, shared the history of that first Thanksgiving feast among the Pilgrims and Native Americans. They recited their parts and sang a couple of cute songs. Eli, my oldest grandson, nailed the closing speech without stumbling over a single word, making his parents, his little brother and his grandpa quite proud.

The Thanksgiving story they shared with their parents had changed little from the somewhat sanitized version of that first Pilgrim settlement my classmates and I told our parents 58 years ago. No matter. The songs sounded delightful. The kids looked cute. Their excitement more than a little infectious.

One of the songs they sang struck a chord with me. A catchy tune to be sure, filled with expressions of thanks for things young children enjoy…recess, summer, friends, family, etc. It wasn’t so much the things for which they shouted their thanks that made me think. It was the question posed repeatedly within the song. “What are you grateful for?” We won’t quibble with the prepositional grammar. That’s not the point. The use of the word “grateful” rather than “thankful” caught my attention, making me think about the difference in these words we often view as synonymous.

Why is that distinction important to me? Gratitude seems to hold deeper meaning than mere thanks. I can say thank you to someone who opens a door for me when carrying a heavy box. I can express thanks to a friend who gives me a birthday card. I can express my thanks to the cashier at the checkout stand when they give back my change. Though they may be sincere in expression, they are far more often mannerly responses to ordinary acts.

Gratitude, on the other hand suggests a deeper feeling of inner delight that rises unforced from the heart. Not a verbal response, but an emotional outpouring. Gratitude is the feeling of joy that rises in one’s heart when thinking about the giver, not the gift. The doer, not the deed. The actor, not the act.

The apostle Paul, under the inspiration of the Spirit, chose his words carefully…always. I sometimes think those who translated the original scripture into the various translations of the Bible available to us today were less careful, choosing words that fit more readily into the common vernacular of their intended reader.

Paul wrote his second letter to the Corinthian church and spoke of the difficulties faced in presenting the gospel in a hostile world, giving God the glory for every inch of progress made in spreading the gospel of Christ. Paul spoke of his willingness to suffer and the future hope he had in Christ.

“All of this (suffering and effort) is for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God.” (2 Cor. 4:15)

I’m not a Bible scholar learned in Greek. Any insight I have into the scripture, especially as it makes distinctions in the choice of Greek words, is a gift from commentaries and commentators more gifted than I will ever be.

It seems in this passage, the translator’s use of the word thanksgiving missed the mark, the unique play on words, that Paul originally expressed. The Greek word for grace is charis. The Greek word for thanksgiving used in this passage is eucharistian, derived from charis or grace. Eucharistian is often translated gratitude. So Paul essentially says, “so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause gratitude to overflow to the glory of God.”

In other words, gratitude grows best in the garden of God’s grace…a direct response to the unmerited gifts from the Father…the feeling of inner joy you hold for one who has graciously given to you.

In Paul’s passage to the Corinthians, Paul knows that as God’s grace draws more and more people to him, those who now recognize themselves as recipients of God’s grace have joy swelled up in their hearts toward the one who extended grace to them. A cycle of grace and gratitude born from God’s extended grace to us that circles back to cause our own heart to jump for joy and gratitude toward the one who was so gracious to us.

So here’s the point I’m probably not making very well. It’s Thanksgiving. During this holiday we take ample opportunity to offer thanks to God for those things in which we delight. Family. Friends. Health. Work. Community. Freedom. Smiles. Laughter. Memories. Hands to hold. Perhaps we find ourselves thankful even for recess and summer. These are among the many blessings for which we give thanks.

Care must be taken that our thanks do not end with the gift. Care must be taken to express our heart-felt gratitude to the giver of all of these blessings. The one who graced us with these life gifts. The God whose grace and gifts are sufficient in every way.

Paul said as the gospel of Christ spreads throughout the world that it causes “gratitude to overflow to the glory of God.” God’s greatest gift of grace through his son, Jesus Christ, causes our gratitude to overflow and glorify God. I like that idea and think it offers great insight into the true nature of Thanksgiving. Our gratitude for the blessing of Christ in our lives, the blessings he gifts us with in life, still must overflow to the glory of God.

So, I’ll ask the question that Eli and his classmates asked, “What are you grateful for?”

When you answer, join me and let your gratitude extend beyond the gifts. Let your gratitude glorify God as the giver of every blessing.

“I will give thanks to you, Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonderful deeds.” (Psalm 9:1)