Peace, Love & Joy

Background Passages: John 14:20-27; John 15:9-17

They sit in our utility room unopened. Last Christmas, we were asked to hold onto two gifts for my niece. One is a heart-shaped stool that belonged to her grandmother. The other a present for my niece’s daughter. My niece knows they are here. Life circumstances keep getting in the way. Like most of us, when she thinks about it, the time is not convenient to pick up the gifts. Then, it’s out of sight, out of mind.

So, here we are eight months later, the gifts still sit in our house, unclaimed. Hold that thought for a bit. We’ll pick this up again later.

*****

What a strong sense of melancholy Jesus must have felt as he stood in the corner of the upper room listening to the light-hearted banter, a carry-over from the excitement of his triumphant entry into the city that morning. His disciples, buoyed by the throng that met them outside the gates and the welcoming shouts of praise they heard that morning, gathered for the evening meal, exuberant and enthusiastic.

The savior knew his inevitable fate. Knew the echoes of praise now in their ears would ring hollow in the days to come. Scripture tells us the disciples, caught up in the moment, seemed clueless to the end game soon to play out on a hill outside the city. Jesus stood prayerfully in that upper room. So much to say. Would they hear? Would they understand?

Over the course of the evening, the mood grew progressively more serious. More somber.

Washing of feet.

Pronouncing betrayal.

Breaking of bread.

Sharing of wine.

This do in remembrance of me.

Gone was the fervor of the morning. In its place, confusion and concern. It was an evening filled with questions.

Peter. “Where are you going?”

Peter again. “Lord, why can’t I follow you now?”

Thomas. “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?”

Philip. “Lord, show us the father and that will be enough for us. “

Jesus spent these last moments available to him to teach again the truth of who he was. Offering comfort that only he could give to those who would, in a matter of hours, find their world flipped upside down. These questions are familiar to us…as are Jesus’ answers.

To Peter. “Where I go you cannot follow…”

To Peter again, “…I tell you the truth, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.”

To Thomas. “I am the way, and the truth, and the life…”

To Philip: “Anyone who has seen me has seen the father…I am in the father and the father is in me…”

In response to their growing fears, he promised they would never be alone. That he would send a comforter and counselor. In the middle of that expansive narrative, he offered words we often forget.

“On that day, you will realize that I am in my Father, and you are in me and I am in you.”

Much of my personal Bible study over the past year explored what it means to live in the image of God. How are we to live the Christ-like life we are called to live? Given our sinful nature, it feels almost impossible. Yet, verse after verse of scripture shows us how…revealed in the life of Christ. This verse offers as great a hope that I can live in God’s image as any I’ve discovered. “…I am in my Father, and you are in me and I am in you.”

Living in the image of God is as simple as allowing Jesus, who is in us, to be the boss of our lives. To take control of every aspect of it. Of course, that’s easier said than done. I know. I fail miserably at it each day, it seems. Yet, the greater possibility exists that I can respond to the challenges of this world as God would like for me to respond because his presence in my life is a constant.

Give that some thought. He is in me. He is in you.

As the narrative in John 14 and 15 continued, Jesus touched upon three attributes of his life that he gifts to us when we place our trust in him. These teachings stemmed from yet another question asked by a disciple we don’t hear from often…Judas, not Iscariot, sometimes called Thaddaeus.

“Lord, why do you intend to show yourself to us, but not to the world?”

Thaddaeus missed the point. Jesus tried explaining to him and the other disciples that he reveals himself completely to those who call upon him. Those who place their faith in him. Those who love him. People who live by the world will never understand Jesus until they open their hearts to him.

The teachable moment continued. Jesus gave us more insight into his character, offering that which he possessed to his disciples, and by extension, to us. It comes as a gift, one we will need to accept if we are to live like Christ.

“Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. “

The world’s idea of peace is the absence of conflict. We know from Jesus’ life that living as he lived will not end struggle, but may in fact, add to it. Jesus said, “My peace I give you.” What is the peace he gives? William Barclay says it conveys the idea that we have all we need for our “highest good.” He wrote, “The peace the world offers is the peace of escape, peace that comes from the avoidance of trouble.” The peace Jesus offers, Barclay says, is the peace which “no experience of life can take from us.” A peace that is not dependent on life’s circumstance.

Jesus lived his whole life under the shelter of this peace, woven into his spiritual DNA. It was an essential part of who he was. Despite all he was sent to do and all he had to endure, Jesus’ spirit was never threatened.

His peace is part and parcel of the gift of salvation. As he lives in us, his peace is gifted to us. Not just any peace, but his peace. The same spirit of peace that carried him through every temptation, every trial, every test exists within us as his gift to those who know him. We just have to claim it and remove it from its box, allowing it to pervade every corner of our being. Living in the image of God, in the image of Christ, means abiding in his peace.

A few verses later in Chapter 15, Jesus continued his teaching to the troubled disciples. He asked them to picture a grapevine, declaring himself the vine and urged them to see themselves as the branches who can and must bear fruit.

Buried in that familiar passage is another verse that speaks to the very nature of Jesus Christ. Jesus personified love. It motivated everything he said and everything he did. He felt the all-encompassing love of his father and passed that love on to those he encountered. Love filled his heart and soul.

“As the father has loved me so I have loved you. Now, remain in my love…love each other as I have loved you.”

He revealed the depth of his love for those who believe in him…“as the father has loved me so I have loved you.” He loved his disciples, he loves us, with all the love the Creator holds for his created. It is not that way in a world without Christ. The world loves until it is disappointed. The world’s love turns quickly to ambivalence or hate, again, based on outside circumstances.

Jesus told his disciples to remain in his love. What is Jesus’ love? He provided the illustration.

“Greater love has no man than this, but to lay down his life for a friend.”

We are called to love one another. That’s not just a call to love other Christians. We are called to extend God’s love to our fellow man. Few of us may be called to mortally sacrifice our lives for another as Jesus did. Each of us, however, is called to personally sacrifice in service to those in need. Such selfless sacrifice provides evidence of our love.

The great news is that because he abides in us, we don’t need to rely on our human capacity to love. We get to draw from the deep well of God’s all-encompassing love within us. What a gift!

We see in the scripture that God has given us his peace and his love. He didn’t stop there. He urged his disciples to remain obedient to all he had taught them; to all God called them to do. Obedience to God’s will opens his gift of joy.

“I have told you this so my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.”

Living as the world lives is easy. It requires little stamina. One just floats with the flow regardless of where it leads. Jesus told his disciples that his way was hard. Living in the image of God, standing firm in faith, demands we swim against the prevailing current. Yet, despite the difficulty surrounding the Christian journey, the path we follow ought to be joyous.

There is always joy in doing the right thing. Joy in living a purposeful life. Joy in letting Christ control your day to day living. In knowing you have been true to the commands of Christ.

Jesus lived his life on earth as the personification of peace, love and joy. These fruits of the spirit were embedded within his nature. They are part of the image we hold of him. A part of who he was as a man. Despite the rigors of his mission and ministry, no outward circumstance would ever strip from him that essential part of his spirit and personality.

Peace.

Love.

Joy.

Those life-sustaining characteristics he embraced are now embedded in all who believe in his name. He promised it! “You are in me and I am in you.” He gifted his peace, his love and his joy to each of us.

Here’s the thing. It’s not just that he put the capacity to experience these things into our hearts for us to develop and grow. His peace, love and joy in its fullnes reside within us already fully developed and available through the presence of the Holy Spirit. The indwelling presence of Christ in the form of the Holy Spirit gives us access to the heart of Jesus…to the all-to-often untapped potential and power of Christ in us.

To his peace.

To his love.

To his joy.

These great gifts sit in the utility room of our hearts waiting to be claimed. They will never be enjoyed and experienced until we pick them up. Take them home. Put them to good use. Our unclaimed gifts of the God’s Spirit keep us from living as the image of God.

Jesus said, “My peace, my love and my joy I give to you.”

Maybe, just maybe, it’s time we opened the package.

What Are You Doing Here?

Background Passage: I Kings 18 and I Kings 19: 1-18

Just hours earlier, God’s great prophet called down the fire of God upon the water-soaked altar he built on Mt. Carmel, in defiance of the king who had led Israel down a path of wickedness. Now, Elijah hid in the shadow of the broom bush near Beersheba after a marathon sprint from the place of his greatest victory. Running for his life under the weighty threat of a vengeful queen who shook with anger at the impotence of her gods and impertinence of Israel’s prophet.

What a difference a day makes! One minute he’s basking in the warmth of an all-consuming fire that proved the power of the God who sent him. The next day he’s gasping for breath, unable to face the coming day. Wishing for death to come on his terms, not at the hands of a queen who wants to make him suffer.

Falling into an exhausted slumber, Elijah awoke to God’s messenger offering a meal of hot bread and cool water. After more rest and another meal, the prophet wandered south, away from his fears and toward the same mountain where God once spoke so clearly to Moses.

We find him 40 days later, trembling in the dark recess of a cave halfway up the mountain, knees clutched to his chest, feeding on the fear that gripped his soul. Overwhelmed and feeling alone, Elijah wallowed in self-pity.

Emotionally exhausted.

Spiritually spent.

During the still of the night, the voice of God penetrated the noise of all that troubled his soul, asking one of the most pertinent questions the Creator can ask his created.

“What are you doing here?

On one hand, it sounds like a rebuke. God chastising his prophet for his lack of faith and trust. On the other hand, maybe it’s a gentle nudge. God prodding his prophet to set aside his fear and spend a moment in self-reflection.

Elijah responds, reciting the condition of his soul. “I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to the death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now, they are trying to kill me, too.”

God, hearing the despair that poured from Elijah’s heart, said simply, “Go. Stand on the mountain for the Lord is about to pass by.”

I can see Elijah as he leaned upon his staff to leverage himself from the ground, the weight of the world upon his back. He limped to the mouth of the cave where he had been hiding and leaned heavily against the rock.

As he stood gripped in his fear, the wind howled, tearing boulders from the cliff. The ground shook with a powerful earthquake. A fire scorched the valley beneath him, searing every tree and bush in sight. Elijah saw evidence of God’s presence, but heard nothing. Then, in the quiet aftermath of an incredible display of power…in a whisper that tickled his ear…God’s quiet voice asked again,

“Elijah, what are you doing here?”

*****

What are you doing here?

What a great question! Elijah witnessed one of the greatest demonstrations of God’s power on Mt. Carmel. He participated in it. Served as the agent through which God accomplished his plan and purpose. For a brief moment in time, Elijah stood on the top of the world certain that everything for which he had worked for the past three years would come to pass. When repentance failed to come and trouble stood on the horizon, Elijah ran away.

Within hours of his great victory, Elijah lost his nerve. Lost his desire to serve. Lost his will to live. The prophet who boldly challenged the king who had led Israel into depravity found himself huddled in a cave wrapped in a cloak of self-pity and discouragement.

How often do we act like Elijah? Filled with the glow of God’s presence and power after a time of ministry and mission. Basking for one minute in the mountain top experiences God grants to those who faithfully serve him only to lose our nerve when faced with the counter circumstances of life and the world’s challenge to our faith.

We run from the mountain top while the sound of God’s latest victory in our lives still echoes from the cliffs. With all the speed we can muster, we move as far as we can from the source of trouble and the source of our power.

Distressed.

Disturbed.

Despondent.

How quickly we allow the tables to turn! We withdraw, feeling like we’re the only one fighting the battle. Ready to quit. Ready to abandon the God who needs our hands and voice. We run until we find ourselves hiding in a cave where we think our enemies and our God cannot find us.

It takes God’s relentless love to draw us back, not through a powerful demonstration of his might, but through a whispered word of quiet rebuke intended not to reprimand, but to cause us to reflect on the choice we just made.

I don’t know about you, but there are times when I have spent so much time in my cave that I have decorated it and called it “home.” Invariably, God finds a way of getting my attention. Then he asks that simple question.

“What are you doing here, Kirk?”

If this is where you find yourself today I suspect, if you listen, you’ll hear the whispered words of a loving father asking you the same question. “What are you doing here?”

Here’s what I know. God still needed Elijah. Once he got his attention, he told him, “Go back from where you came. There is so much more to do. You are not alone.”

He was not finished with Elijah and he is not finished with me or you. When we find ourselves hiding in our cave of our own choosing, God calls us, like he did Elijah, to change our focus. When we see again the world through his eyes, our perspective changes. We quit staring at our circumstances and look again at the possibilities and opportunities still open to us.

So, I ask you the same question I hear all too often, “What are you doing here?”

Through God’s Eyes

Background Passage: Ephesians 1:18-19

As the story goes, Cambridge University hosted a debate between a learned science professor, a self-declared atheist, and a Christian pastor. The professor offered his reasoning for asserting God “existed” only as a figment of human imagination. Grounded in rationale thought and scientific understanding, the professor offered that no rationale human being could look at the universe and believe in a Creator God, much less one active in the world.

The Christian pastor countered with a quick argument. Getting the professor to acknowledge that there is still much in the world that science and rationale thought cannot explain, the pastor suggested that it might be possible that God exists within that body of knowledge yet unknown. That someday man might discover through rationale thought and scientific understanding that God does indeed exist. The Christian pastor claimed victory when the scientist agreed to that possibility.

It makes a good story, I suppose, but a God that can be explained by some unknown data set, seems somehow less…Almighty or Sovereign. To prove God’s existence using some aspect of human understanding seems to me to thwart the purpose and power of faith.

Noted theologian C. S. Lewis, sadly no relation, offered a statement in his work entitled, Is Theology Poetry? that hit the nail on the head. He wrote, “I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen; not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.”

Lewis embraced faith over fact because his belief transformed the way he saw the world. Faith internalized and deeply held allows us to see the world around us, and the people within it, through God’s eyes. And that, I feel, is a significantly different world view that seen by those who live without a personal faith in Christ.

Given the chaotic and confused condition of life in the 21st century, we need our faith, our Christianity, our ability to see the world through the eyes of God, to make sense of things. How is a child of God to react when the world around us chooses to confront rather than console? To argue rather than understand? To divide rather than embrace? To hate rather than love?

If we see the world and all within it are, through the lens of the true faith, we accept that we carry an incredible responsibility to live as Christ lived. Instead of taking part in the divisive dialogue, we should encourage one, through our witness and walk, to console. To understand. To embrace. To love as Christ loved us.

The sun’s light illuminates all that we see. Because it does, we know it is real. The Son’s light reveals the world to us in its splendor and its ugliness. We can share its splendor, unleashing its beauty so it can shine in the face of ugliness. If we choose to live in him, we can see the world as he does—using the extraordinary vision with which he blessed us to bridge the distance between the Lord who loves and lost and lonely among us.

I have to admit the world I see today is a shadowy place, filled with uncertainty and chaos. Though I try to see through my Father’s eyes, I have a hard time wrapping my head around hatefulness. Lewis said it is his faith in Christ that opens his eyes. Paul took it a step further when he prayed for the believers in Ephesus.

“I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe.” Ephesians 1:18-19.

Without God’s corrective vision, I look at the world and feel…hopeless. Paul tells me it can be different if I let God adjust or enlighten the eyes of my heart. When I can see the world through his eyes, I find hope and purpose.

Scotty Smith, pastor of Christ Community Church in Franklin, TN, writes a blog for The Gospel Coalition. He summed it up better than I ever could in this prayer to God.

“…this text makes a ton of sense to me. Apart from the work of your Spirit and the corrective lens of the gospel, it will be impossible for me to see what you intend for me to see with awe-producing clarity. So, indeed, Lord, open the eyes of my heart. Heal my shortsightedness, my far sightedness and the astigmatism of my soul. I want to see all things from your perspective, including the hope to which you have called us. To see with the eyes of hope means that I will be able to discern your heart and hand at work everywhere.”

I particularly like that last sentence. When we see through the eyes of our Christian faith, the eyes of hope, we can see God at work in all things. We see with awe-producing clarity our place in his redemptive work. Understanding that, I no longer see this world as an ugly place. It is a field ripe for the harvest.

His Eye Is On The Sparrow

Background Passages: Matthew 10:29-31; Matthew 6:26-27, 34; Philippians 4:6-7

In an age of contemporary worship music, there must remain a place in worship for the old hymns of faith. The messages of these songs, which stand the test of time and testimony, resonate within the depths of life’s most trying circumstances, grounded us again in the rich history of faith.

In the midst of trying times in our country and difficult days in the life of my family, I found myself thinking this week of one of those old standards, His Eye Is On The Sparrow.

The words to the song, penned in 1905 by Civilla Martin, became one of the most influential gospel hymns of the 20th century. The words were based on the inescapable optimism and faith of a woman known only as Mrs. Doolittle of Elmira, NY. The elderly woman, bedridden for more than 20 years, lived with her permanently disabled husband. Her husband continued to work each day despite having to propel himself to work each day in a wheelchair. During the initial encounter, an abiding friendship developed between the two families.

As they visited one day, Martin asked Mrs. Doolittle the secret of their happiness and hopefulness. As she beamed from her bed, Mrs. Doolittle responded, “His eye is on the sparrow and I know he watches me.” The enduring and endearing faith inspired Martin to write the cherished hymn.

The song still touches God’s people, helping us find solace despite sorrow. Allow us to be lifted by steady conviction that God’s eye never wanders from us or our plight. The marrow of the song comes from a moment of reassurance found in Matthew as Jesus offered comfort to his disciples as he sent them in pairs into the countryside to share the gospel of Christ.

To ease their anxious hearts, he said, “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet, not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the hairs on your head are numbered. So, don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” (Matt. 10:29-31)

Another time, Jesus encouraged his disciples to set aside their fears about the future. “Look to the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? …Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. ..” (Matt. 6:26-27, 34)

These verses serve to remind me that worry is an enemy of faith; that we must lay the concerns of this world and this time at his feet. The words of reassurance never promise an end to the bad times, but they do promise that we will not walk alone. For despite the turmoil in the world and in our lives, we God’s eye is upon us always.

That promise alone moves us from peril to peace. As Paul wrote to the church in Philippi, “And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 4:6-7)

So the words of the old hymn linger in my thoughts…

Why should I feel discouraged?
Why should the shadows come?
Why should my heart be lonely,
and long for heaven and home?

When Jesus is my portion,
my constant friend is he.
His eye is on the sparrow,
and I know he watches me.

I sing because I’m happy.
I sing because I’m free.
His eye is on the sparrow,
and I know he watches me.

His eye is on the sparrow,
and I know he watches me.

Amen, and again, amen.