Tag: Faith

When God is Silent

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus did not answer a word.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lord, help me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus reacted to her words with great joy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let me offer a thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Woman, what great faith you have!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seeing the Big Picture

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Consider the life of Joseph.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Betrayal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God intended it for good…”

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

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

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

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

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

So how do we get to that point?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come To Bethlehem

Background Passages: Luke 2:1-20; Matthew 2:1-12

We often get caught up in the extraordinary events of that first Christmas.

      • An angel’s visit to a chosen, teenage girl.
      • A promised and pristine conception.
      • The birth of the Christ-child.
      • A choir of angels proclaiming “peace and goodwill” to everyone.
      • The shepherds’ worship of a Messiah.
      • The wise men’s gifts to a newborn king.

Yet, the Almighty God focused all the extraordinary acts of his perfect plan for the salvation of the world on the obscure, insignificant village of Bethlehem. Chosen from the beginning of creation as the place of the Messiah’s birth, God maneuvered the events of history and enabled the lives of his obedient people to open the gate of a stall and fill its manger with the perfect image of himself.

Sure. Prophecy told us it would be Bethlehem. Israel’s favorite king was born in the little hamlet and herded his sheep in the hills surrounding it. For hundreds of years it slept a few miles from Jerusalem and its Temple Mount. Until the day when Joseph, a direct descendant of David, obediently followed the governor’s law and made a five-day journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem to fill out his census and pay his Roman required tax.

Why Bethlehem?

God could have used any number of better-known cities in Israel to call his king and send his son. Instead, he chose Bethlehem.

If you pay enough attention to God’s work in history, he seldom used the magnificent to achieve his purposes. Far more often, God chose the humble and insignificant. The ordinary and mundane. When it came time to sing the final stanza of salvation that would one day hang on a cross and be raised from the dead, God pointed the world to a tiny village using a star bright enough so all who were willing to follow would find the baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes.

God didn’t send a king. He sent a servant.

God didn’t send a conqueror. He sent a carpenter.

God didn’t choose the temple city of Jerusalem or the royal city of Tiberias. He chose Bethlehem.

Why Bethlehem?

Here’s my thought.

For most of the people of the world, the coming of Jesus to Bethlehem was, and is, a curiosity. A Nativity scene in the courthouse. A painting on a Christmas card. A phrase in a Christmas carol. A tidbit of trivia that changes nothing.

For Mary and Joseph…for the shepherds and the wise men…for me…the coming of Jesus to Bethlehem was, and is, personal and powerful. A God-purposed encounter that changed everything.

God, through his son, Jesus Christ, will never force his way into our lives. Rather, he hangs a star above a stable and invites us to come to Bethlehem. He lets his angels sing and invites us to come to Bethlehem.

We must come to Bethlehem, not for the cold glitter and gold of a palace or cathedral, but for the chance to feel the warmth of a child held in our embrace…God in human form…a child to be adored and loved and worshiped. You see, the where is not nearly as crucial as the why.

Why Bethlehem?

Because Bethlehem is a place where God becomes personal…and powerful. A place where you can find the answer to your greatest longings of heart and soul. A place to see Jesus as God’s gift to you…God’s gift to a hurting world. A chance to embrace Jesus as savior and be forever changed.

Why Bethlehem?

Perhaps its time to come to Bethlehem and see for yourself.

A Different Spirit

Background Verses: Numbers 13:26-33, Numbers 14:20-24, Joshua 14:6-15

At one point about 10 days ago, someone posted a message on Facebook asking for information on Caleb, one of the 12 spies whom Moses sent into the Promised Land on a recon mission. “Was Caleb a good guy?” she asked. She based her question on the feeling that there were not many newborns today named Caleb.

Then, as I picked up the material for teaching my Sunday School class last week, the lesson was on Caleb.

Reflecting on both this disconnected incidents, I looked back at previous writings and resurrected a story I did in January 2016 about Caleb. I enjoyed reading it through again. I thought it might be nice to air it out one more time. The following is a reprint of A Different Spirit.

Flickering firelight
danced across his weathered face
as he paced worriedly behind his brethren.
Caleb.
One of the Twelve.
Scout.
Surveyor.
Spy.

Forty days Canaan.
Time to report.
The Twelve
gathered just outside the tent of Moses.
Circled the campfire.
Considered their conclusions.

For more than an hour
they talked.
The Twelve.
Leaders of their respective tribes.
Extolled the virtues of the land
God promised.
An accurate account of its…
Fullness.
Fertility.
Fruitfulness.

Grape clusters.
Too heavy for one man to carry.
Grain fields.
Bountiful and heavy with seed.
Grassy plains.
Suitable for grazing of vast herds.

They showed and shared the bounty.
Tasted its goodness.
Truly, without question,
a land flowing with
milk and honey.
Just as God promised.

Caleb.
Listened warily.
Prepared for the other shoe to drop.
“A land flowing with milk and honey,” but…

He heard their murmurings
during their journey.
A land of promise, but not potential.
What would be the point?
They would never possess
what they could not conquer.

Daunted
by the fortified cities.
Overwhelmed
by the vast armies.
Intimidated
by the giants in the land.
Caleb knew their hearts to be…
Torn.
Timid.
Terrified.

They grimaced and grumbled.
Fearful.
Fretful.
Worried about facing the descendants of great warrior tribes.
Amalikites.
Hittites.
Jebusites.
Amorites.
Canaanites.

“All too proud.”
“All too powerful.”
“All too much for us to handle.”

Caleb could listen no more.
He winced at the
fury of their faithlessness.
“We cannot attack.
They are stronger than we are.”
Caleb’s frustration boiling over
into an agonizing shout.
“Are you children afraid of the night?”

Every eye turned to the man of Judah.
Shocked at the outburst
from a man ordinarily subdued.
Moses locked eyes with his friend,
a wry glance,
as if to say.
“Okay, you’ve got our attention now…”

Caleb.
Took a deep breath.
Exhaled slowly.
Walked back to the center of the campfire.
Plucked a handful of grapes from the Canaanite cluster.
Voice barely above a whisper.
“Everything you said about the land is true.
We could not ask for more.
Lovely.
Lush.
Everything of which we dreamed while in Egypt.
Everything God promised.

“The people are many.
Cities walled and protected.
The armies experienced and well-equipped.”
Voice growing stronger as he
emphasized his point.

“You are right.
We cannot attack.
They are stronger than us…”
Caleb paused and looked the men squarely in their eyes,
fire of the campfire reflecting in his own.
“But they do not have our God on their side.
We do.

“We should go up.
Take possession of the land…
For with God,
we can surely do it.”

Silence.
The men averted their eyes from Caleb’s steady gaze.
Only Joshua stood with Caleb.
Then…
Arguments.
Counter arguments.
Lasted for hours.
No resolution.
As they disbanded,
Ten of the Twelve
spread panic among the people
until the whole community refused to claim the land
God promised.

*

Rebellion paid its price.
God lost patience with their
constant condemnation
of their covenant with him.
The Lord made a new promise to Moses.
“No one who treated me with contempt
will ever see the Promised Land.
Because my servant Caleb has a
different spirit and
follows me with his whole heart,
he and his descendants will inherit the land.”

For 40 years,
the Israelites wandered in the desert.
Time passed.
A new generation of Israelites prepared to enter
the land of God’s promise.

*

Joshua.
Stood on the hill east of the Jordan River.
Stared across the deep valley into
the rugged terrain of the Negev.
The ancient city of Jericho just below the horizon
lay between the river and the mountains.

Joshua’s task.
Divide the land among the Tribes of Abraham.
Take the land God promised his forefathers.
It would not be easy.

The Israelite leader heard the crunch of
stones under sandal.
Felt his friend of many years
standing at his side.

Joshua glanced to his right.
Nodded his head in simple greeting.
“Caleb.”

Though 85-years-old, Caleb stood…
Straight.
Steady.
Strong.
He smiled at his younger friend.
Let his eyes follow the gaze of Joshua
into the morning haze.
Stared deeply into the distant lands.
Thoughts dwelling upon the people they must defeat.

“Do you remember,”
asked Caleb quietly,
“what the Lord said to Moses about you and me?”
A question in need of no answer.
The two discussed that day many times
during their desert wanderings.

“I let my heart speak then about the possibilities,” said Caleb,
“though our brothers did not see it the same.
Yet, I have always followed God with all my heart and
always trusted his promises.”
He shrugged as if his next statement was a given.
“If God gave the land to us, then they,”
Caleb nodded toward the unseen enemy,
“they cannot defeat us.”

Caleb knelt on his haunches,
pushing aside the pebbles with his knife.
“You know as I do.
Our people fear the Anakites more than any other.
Their cities are fortresses.
Their men strong and tall.
‘Like giants,’ our people said.”
Caleb laughed softly,
knowing there was some truth to their words.

Then, he let out a long breath.
Stood and squared his shoulders.
Pointed to the rugged countryside across the river.
Toward the land of Anak and the giants.

“Give me those mountains.
With the Lord’s help,
I will drive them out just as he promised.”

Joshua.
Amazed at the faith of his old friend.
Nodded in agreement.
Placed his hands on Caleb’s head.
Offered a prayer and blessing for God’s
presence and protection.

Without another word,
Caleb turned and walked away with purpose.
Prepared to claim that which
God promised.

*

The Bible tells us that Joshua assigned Caleb the land he requested. The land filled with giants. The Bible tells us. The Lord helped Caleb defeat every enemy, opening the land to Caleb and his family. As history began to unfold. Caleb’s land became the land that gave life to David. The land that gave birth to the Messiah. Caleb’s faith became a critical cog in the plan and purpose of God.

The Bible tells us. Caleb experienced all God promised “because my servant Caleb has a different spirit. He follows me wholeheartedly.”

Too often we live a timid faith, recognizing the…

beauty of God’s promise.
bounty of God’s provision.
benefit of God’s presence.

But, altogether failing to embrace the role we play in God’s plan. We see the real or imagined giants living in the land we’ve been called by him to conquer…and we cower.

However, because he hold his plan in contempt, we wander the desert of our heart never experiencing the land God’s promised. “My servant Caleb has a different spirit. He follows me wholeheartedly.”

What does this mean?

Conviction.
Ten of the twelve believed God’s promise a lost cause. Though they saw his provision in the land, they lacked the conviction to claim it as their own. Caleb stood convinced that God would finish what he started when he brought them out of Egypt. Convicted of the truth that God would always honor his covenant.

We must recognize that God’s purpose and promise is more than unfilled potential. Our conviction moves us to act. Moves us beyond thinking the task ahead is impossible into a certain realization that all things are possible to those who are called according to his purpose. Conviction creates within us a different spirit.

Confidence.
As one of the twelve, Caleb walked among the same fortified cities. Stood in the shadows of the same giants. Yet around the campfire he demonstrated his complete confidence in the promise of God. “For we can certainly do this.”

Unwavering faith.
Unyielding trust.
Unbridled confidence.

We walk among the walled cities of a sinful world, knowing, without doubt, that we face a difficult battle if we stay on the path God chose for us. Life’s circumstances can seem…

Insurmountable.
Unconquerable.
Invincible.

In our own strength, we remain powerless to overcome. Yet, within the power of God, the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit, our confidence soars. Even as we walk among life’s giants, our confidence in the Father allows us to walk with a different spirit.

Courage.
Caleb begged Joshua, “Give me those mountains.” He asked for the assignment, not because those mountains represented the most fertile or the easiest enemy to defeat. Caleb wanted those mountains because they were the most difficult and dangerous. It was the land no one else wanted because of the obstacle it represented.

Conviction and confidence allowed Caleb to trust in God. Courage made it possible for him to take that first step toward victory.

Conviction.
Confidence.
Courage.

One leads to the other. All point to a personal God who desires only the best for us. Living wholeheartedly for God, living with a different spirit requires that we live each day convicted of his promise. Confident in his provision. Courageous within his presence.

Whatever walled fortresses prevent us from moving forward, whatever giants cause us to tremble, let us walk as Caleb walked. May God see in us a different spirit.

Clanging Cymbals

Background Passages: I Corinthians 13:1-13; I Corinthians 1:4-7; 3:1-2 and I Corinthians 12

Thankfully, I never experienced it.

A friend of mine in college was majoring in electrical engineering. His roommate never seemed to get up in time for that dreaded 7:30 a.m. English class. The snooze button on his alarm was his favorite friend.

Desperate, the roommate asked my friend for help. The future engineer purchased one of those cymbal clanging monkey toys and, with expertise beyond my capability, rigged it up to a clock and the light switch across the room. Then, every morning at the appointed time, the monkey would crash its cymbals incessantly until the roommate got out of bed and turned on the light.

Ingenious and diabolically annoying.

I think the arrangement lasted only three days before the monkey and its cymbals were found in pieces in my friend’s bed like the horse head in The Godfather. Message sent and received.

As I said, thankfully, I never had to experience it. I would not have lasted three days. There is a reason you never hear a cymbal solo in the band or orchestra. A cymbal by itself is just noise.

After Paul founded the church in Corinth, he moved his base of ministry to Ephesus. While spending a couple of years in that city, Paul began to hear disturbing reports about the divisions and factions developing in the church in Corinth. He eventually received a letter from the congregation asking for clarity on a number of issues the divided church faced. Paul penned a response (I Corinthians) designed to instruct and encourage a gifted, but fractured group of people who failed to shake the influence of the dominate culture.

Paul recognized that God gifted the people in Corinth to do the work he required of them, telling them they had been “enriched in every way…in all your speaking and in all your knowledge…” and that they “do not lack any spiritual gift…” (I Cor. 1:4-7) Yet, he admonished them for growing no deeper in their faith and understanding over the years.

“Brethren, I could not address you as spiritual but as worldly…mere infants in Christ. I gave you milk, not solid food for you were not yet ready for it. Indeed, you are still not ready.” (I Cor. 3:1-2)

Their shallow understanding of God’s teaching and an egotistic application of their giftedness, split the church. Paul recognized that the people of the church had grown little spiritually over the years. They took the basics of faith taught by Paul and did little to deepen their understanding. They still thought and behaved as spiritual children.

There is a richness to the Christian faith that makes living the life of Christ a process…a necessary investment of time, study and the lifelong application of our experiences with God that challenges our faith and dares us to dig more deeply into his truth.

What I knew of God’s word as a 9-year-old boy who just accepted Christ should not be the same as what I know almost six decades later. Any deeper understanding of God’s teaching requires effort on my part, the desire to learn from his word, from his revelation and through the private rebellions and the personal restorations I experience as a child of God.

Life compels us to ask the question. From the moment we accepted Jesus into our hearts, have we grown in our understanding of what God desires of us? Are we gnawing on the meat and bone of God’s word or are we still drinking the milk, with a stomach unconditioned for the deeper truths.

The lack of personal spiritual growth in the Corinthian church led to a great many issues Paul tried to address. He wrote to them about their struggles with sexual immorality and marriage and their insistence on personal rights that caused others to stumble in their faith. He spoke to them of worship and how to make the ordinance of the Lord’s Supper meaningful.

Then, in I Corinthians 12, he provided a powerful lesson about using their individual giftedness to benefit the work of the church rather than glorifying the gifted.

“God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that the parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it. Now you are the body of Christ and each one of you is a part of it. (I Cor. 12:24b-27)

How do you act as one body in Christ, each benefiting from the gifts of the other? Paul answered the question in the “most excellent way.”

“If I speak in tongues of men and angels and have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophesy and can fathom the mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains and have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.”

Resounding gongs. Clanging cymbals. Screeching clarinets. Paul says the spiritual gifts God shares with his people will grate on people…will annoy to the point of distraction and division… will cause them to close the door to the faith we practice…unless those gifts are grounded and used in the love of Christ.

Loving others as Christ loves may be the greatest mark of our spiritual maturity, particularly in a world in which hatred and division rules and agape love is in such short supply.

As Paul told the Corinthian church he tells us what that love looks like.

“Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy. It does not boast. It is not proud. It is not rude. It is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”

The deeper we dig into God’s word…the more we imitate the life of Christ…the more we begin to understand how loving one another in Christ lets us see the needs of those around us with selfless clarity.

Love is everything this world is not. When our words and actions do not reflect the kind of love Paul describes, we are little more than clanging cymbals…spiritually inclined, but annoying and hollow sounding.

The Corinthians needed to learn that the things in which they took pride would fade away. They needed to understand that love reigns supreme. As gifted as we may be, as great as our faith and hope are, love is greater. Theologian William Barclay said, “Faith without love is cold. Hope without love is grim. Love is the fire which kindles faith and love is the light which turns hope into certainty.”

Until love waters our souls, the roots of our faith and hope will never stretch deeper into God’s truth. We will miss every opportunity to shine God’s light into the darkness. Paul knew it was the missing piece in the Corinthian church.

God knows it is one piece of our lives that can keep us from fully experiencing God’s blessings and from extending God’s grace to a lost world.

I don’t know about you, but I needed to hear that word this week.

“And now, these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

Why Do You Call Me ‘Lord?’

Background Passages: Matthew 7:24-29; Luke 6:46-49; and James 1:22-25

I listened to Christian comedian Chondra Pierce on my car radio this week. After a serious moment in her show she began talking how she coped with the storms in her life by reading. She pulled out a book and began to read a profound passage from her favorite novel, The Three Little Pigs.

The dread and consternation she emoted while describing the plight of the porky home builders was quite humorous. She lavished such praise on the little pig who had the foresight to build his home, not of straw or sticks, but fire-hardened brick.

Almost immediately, my mind went straight to one of the earliest Bible stories I remember hearing as a child…the story Jesus shared of the men who built their respective homes on rock and sand. Old fairy tales offered a simple moral. Jesus’ parables offered the ordinary to teach the extraordinary.

That he was a carpenter and a stone mason added gravity to his words. For the better part of his adult life, Jesus lived with deep callouses on his hands layered by day after day of swinging hammers, sawing logs and stacking stones. Learning the trade at the side of his father, Jesus understood that the secret to building a sturdy house rested in the quality of its foundation.

The land surrounding Nazareth in Galilee consisted of rocky hills, deep and fertile valleys, interlaced with brooks, streams and dry gullies susceptible to flash flooding during the rainy season. Such storms threatened the unprepared. At an early age, Jesus learned to find bedrock when clearing land for a new home.

When he taught the multitudes, the master storyteller often drew upon his experiences and the familiar experiences of his audience to drive home a spiritual point.

On one such occasion in the hills of Galilee, a large multitude of people from “all over Judea, from Jerusalem and from as far away as Tyre and Sidon” on the coast of the Great Sea, gathered to hear Jesus teach and to be healed of their diseases. And, he taught them a great many things.

“…Blessed are the poor, for yours is the kingdom of God…”

“…Love your enemies; do good to those who hate you…

“…Do to others as you would have them do to you…”

“…Do not judge…Do not condemn…instead forgive…”

“…No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit. The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart…”

Jesus looked into the faces of the men and women surrounding him, a good many who were following him wherever he went. He could see the few who grasped the significance of his words. Far more, it seemed, sat waiting for a miracle, with eyes that failed to see beyond their physical need and hearts closed to the truths so freely offered.

As the silence grew uncomfortable, Jesus shook his head, the anguish in his heart evident to those who knew him best.

“Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord’ and do not do what I say?”

Before him sat a multitude that was really good at hearing the words Jesus preached and very bad about putting those words into practice. With that penetrating question, he shared a story drawn from the pages of their lives.

Jesus told about a man who wished to build a home for his family. He searched his property for the best site upon which to build. He had options. When he found a suitable site, he cleared the land, moved loose rock and soil until he reached the bedrock. Using tools and muscle power, he chipped away at the stone until it was level.

Then, he dug more deeply in the four corners, sinking the foundation firmly upon the rock. Once done, he stacked the stones, building the walls straight and level. After he moved his family into the home he built, a storm came. The winds howled. The streams rose in a torrent and pushed against the house. Because it was so solidly built on its foundation of stone, the house stood through the storm.

Jesus looked again at the crowd around him and made his case. The man who built this house is so much like “the man who comes to me, hears my words and puts them into practice.”

But, there is another man in this story who also wished to build a home for his family. He searched his property for the best site upon which to build. He had options. When he found a suitable site, it looked too much like work so he chose another place where the land was already smooth and level. Raking the loose dirt to prepare it, he stacked the stones, building the walls as straight and level as the soft soil would allow.

After he moved his family into the home he built, the storm came. The wind howled. The stream rose to a torrent and pushed against his house, just as it did the other. This time, though, the water began to wash away the dirt beneath the walls, undercutting their stability. The walls shifted in the wind. The roof fell. The house collapsed with a great crash.

Jesus clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in sorrow. This man, he said, is like the “one who hears my words and does not put them into practice.”

His unspoken question lingered in the air, clearly to anyone who was really listening. Which man are you going to be?

It’s a fair question. Not just on the mountainside at Jesus’ feet. It’s a fair question to those of us sitting in the pews of our respective churches.

I think it is important to know that Luke identifies the people who sat on the mountainside that day with Jesus as “disciples.” Not just the 12, but disciples nonetheless. These were not the paparazzi or the curious who just wanted to say they once heard the teacher speak. These were people who recognized the power coming from Jesus both in what he said and what he did. They were followers, learners…disciples.

Yet, like so many of us who are followers, learners…disciples, Jesus’ words were simple platitudes and proverbs that read well when embroidered on a pillow. They were not life-changing, foundational principles upon which they built their lives.

There have certainly been times in my life where I was content in the knowledge of Jesus I gained, neither needing, nor wanting, more. Content to sit in my pew, listen to a sermon, acknowledge the goodness of the words and never letting them direct my actions during the week. Pious platitudes planted in the sand.

It is a fair and justified question! What good is it if we call him “Lord, Lord” and don’t do what he says we must do?

We are called to be so much more. To do so much more. We live our lives doing what feels right at the time. Not listening to the warnings. Ignoring God’s wisdom. Building our lives out of straw and stones on sand that shifts with every raging storm and rising stream. Because our faith is not sufficiently grounded in the bedrock of Christ, life collapses around us.

The good news of God’s forgiveness and grace is that we are not stuck living in the sand. Our house can be rebuilt.

“Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But whoever looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom and continues in it…not forgetting what they heard, but doing it…they will be blessed in what they do.” James 1:22-25

These words say essentially the same thing as Jesus said that day on the mountainside. Hearing the word is one thing. Doing what the word demands takes it to a deeper level of commitment. Living as Christ lived…in his image…practicing what we preach…is the call of every believer.

But consider James who wrote this passage. Early in his life the half-brother of Christ heard the words Jesus proclaimed and probably liked the sound of them. Yet, he refused to build on that foundation. At various times, he tried to get Jesus to stop his ministry. Called him crazy.

Yet, after the storm of Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross and his resurrection brought his life crashing down around him, James cleared away the grass and the dirt until he hit bedrock. He rebuilt his life on the firm foundation of Jesus Christ and all he taught. His testimony changed. No longer ashamed to call him “brother,” James now called Jesus, “Lord,” putting into practice every dot, every tittle, every word.

It’s a parable, not a fairy tale. Building our lives on the firm foundation of Christ requires us to dig deeper into his word. Understand what the Holy Spirit is teaching us today. Open our hearts to new truth. And,put into practice all we hear and learn from him in our lives, extending to the lives we encounter each day.

Until we put God’s word into practice, our lives are just straw and sticks and sand.

So, the story begs the question.

Why do you call him “Lord”?

His Mercy is More

Background Passages: I Corinthians 15:17; Romans 6:4

The scene painted a great portrait of God’s Kingdom.

There we sat…A tired collection of English-speaking Americans from Baptist churches scattered over several states, sitting in the pews of a Peruvian Lutheran church, listening to songs sung and a sermon delivered by a Scottish-born pastor speaking, at times, in both English and Spanish. Our time of fellowship and worship transcended the diversity of its context.

Sunday worship kicked off an eight-day mission effort offering Vacation Bible School, medical care, work training and home construction for families in Collique, a proud, but high-poverty community north of Lima. Our efforts were directed by Operation San Andreas, a missionary effort organized by retired Houston cardiologist, Dr. Luis Campos.

I returned this week, exhausted from the work and the travel, only to find loved ones in the hospital for treatment and surgery. On the heels of medical issues, I found myself out of town on family business that needed my assistance. All of those issues turned out fine, but did little to remove the fatigue from my body and soul. This was my frame of mind entering Easter weekend. Not exactly ideal.

With hours on the road to return home, I reflected on my time in Collique and all that happened in the last week. Easter was made for this.

As a time to remember Christ’s death on the cross and a time to celebrate his resurrection, Easter offers hope in its fullest form. It is on this week of Jesus’ life upon which my faith rests. The faith that sustains me through difficult circumstances finds its expression in a resurrected Jesus. Paul said as much when he told the Corinthian church…

“If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile, and you are still in your sins.” (I Cor. 15:17)

While worshiping at The Union Church of Lima, the Rev. Angus Lamont led us in a song I had never heard. Each verse of His Mercy is More resonated with truth I needed to hear. The final verse, though, reached inside my heart and reminded me of God’s great give of love through his son, Jesus Christ.

“What riches of kindness He lavished on us,
His blood was the payment His life was the cost.
We stood ‘neath a debt we could never afford.
Our sins they are many,
His mercy is more.”

And, thus is the definition of God’s grace. While I have done nothing to merit God’s love, he loved just the same. When I look in the mirror, I see too often a reflection of my failure rather than the image of Christ who is in me.

Yet, God does not require my perfection, just my persistence. My daily desire to live as he leads. The song’s chorus speaks as strongly as the verses.

“Praise the Lord.
His mercy is more.
Stronger than darkness
New every morn.
Our sins they are many,
His mercy is more.”

As that song echoed in my ears, I found my body still weary, but my soul no longer worn. Easter is resurrection. Easter is restoration. Easter is revival.

Easter is my reminder that faith is not futile. I find in Easter my hope of salvation. I find in Easter my hope of eternal life.  Like the Apostle Paul, I find in Easter my hope for life abundant in the now.

“We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.” (Rom. 6:4)

Driving down the road toward home, I found in Easter my joy.

It is my prayer Easter speaks to you in the same way it speaks to me.

*****

Enjoy His Mercy is More offered beautifully by Matt Boswell and the Boyce College Choir.

 

Chase the Lion

Background Passages: II Samuel 23:20; Jeremiah 29:11

The list of places to see and things to do on our imaginary bucket list grows shorter each year. One particular trip remains unchecked. We want to go on a photo safari to Africa. After far too many trips to the zoo, I’d really like to see these magnificent animals in the wild…the way God intended them to be.

Certain movies create that kind of visceral response. The Ghost and the Darkness, a 1996 movie starring Michael Douglas and Val Kilmer, is one of those movies that triggers primal fear within me. The Ghost and the Darkness is based on a true story about the Tsave Man-Eaters…two African lions that terrorized the workers on the Uganda-Mombasa Railroad in western Kenya in 1898. Atypical of most lion attacks, Ghost and Darkness would stalk the campsite and drag their victims from the tents into the tall grass.

Work on the project ceased when the workers refused to enter the area. The railroad company hired famed British hunter, John Henry Patterson to track and kill the lions. In the story of man versus beast, the hunter became the hunted as the animals began intentionally stalking Patterson. Every time I watch it I find it absolutely terrifying. That we have yet to go on our photo safari may best be explained by that movie and my irrational fear of being mauled by a lion.

Maybe that’s why an obscure verse in II Samuel caught my eye.

“Benaiah, son of Jehoiada, was a valiant fighter from Kabzeel who performed great exploits. He struck down two of Moab’s best men. He also went down into a pit on a snowy day and killed a lion.” (II Sam. 23:20)

I don’t know why Benaiah felt compelled to jump into the pit with a lion when most of us would run the other way. It was cold. Snowing. Perhaps the lion’s ordinary prey grew scarce in the frigid temperatures. Maybe the lion was terrorizing the village. Regardless, Benaiah took it upon himself to chase the animal down. When it fell into a pit or tried to hide in a cave (depending on your translation), Benaiah jumped in after him.

If you stayed outside the pit like I would, you would probably hear the frightening roar of the angry lion and the shouts of a determined man. The sounds of a life and death struggle would echo from the depths. Then, silence. You might hear the scratching of someone or something scrambling up the walls of the pit. As you start backing away, you see a hand grab the overhanging tree branch. Benaiah drags himself out of the pit. He lies in the grass catching his breath, scratched and bloodied, but victorious.

In his book, Chase the Lion, author Mark Batterson uses this little known scripture to challenge the reader to face fear and chase the will of God even when the path looks far too difficult. He writes, “In every dream journey there comes a moment when you have to quit living as if the purpose of life is to arrive safely at death. You have to go after the dream that is destined to fail without divine intervention.”

As Christians we are taught from the beginning that God has a plan and purpose for our lives. What most of us find is that the dream he gives us scares us. His will looks far too difficult. Our natural tendency is to reject what looks too hard. We look for an easier path. But, Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” (Luke 9:23) In other words, I should set aside my own will and desire to follow the more difficult path God has chosen for me…the one that requires me to take up his cross every day.

He doesn’t call us to play it safe. If that was his intention, we would have little need for him. No. The life he chose for us will not be easy, but the victory is already won. Later Jesus said, “I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

God’s plan for each of us requires us to chase the lion. That’s not always the most comfortable thing to do. We see the path God has laid out in front of us. Solitary lion tracks in the snow. A distant blood-curdling roar. Suddenly, we see clearly that God’s path takes us outside our comfort zone, especially when the path we want to take looks well-traveled. Smooth. Secure. Safe.

The Bible gives us examples beyond Benaiah of those who chose to chase…

Noah chased his lion onto the ark.
David chased his lion to Goliath.
Jesus chased his lion to the cross.
Peter chased his lion onto the water.
Paul chased his lion to Rome.

Lest we think such courage is best left to Bible characters…

Martin Luther tacked his lion’s carcass to the door of the cathedral.
The Pilgrims chased their lion to a new world.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer chased his lion to a Nazi concentration camp.
Martin Luther King chased his lion to Selma.
Billy Graham chased his lion across the earth.

Knowing the difficulty of the task to which God called them, each of these biblical and modern day heroes of faith probably wished to run the other way at some point. Instead, they chose to chase the lion. Maybe at some point, they heard the same voice Joshua heard when he fearfully scanned the Promised Land from the safety of his bank of the Jordan River. Maybe they, too, heard the voice of God saying,

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage. Don’t be afraid. Do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9)

I don’t know what lions you’re facing. I know they all look frightening. I have faced a few of my own. All I know is that God wants us to chase his will. To follow where he leads. When we turn and run the other way, we’re missing out on the best God has to offer simply because it is his plan and not one we dreamed up on our own.

“I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

So when you hear the lion roar, know that his blessing comes in the chase. Our victory comes in the pit. Gather your courage and jump on in.

God Is At Work

Habakkuk 1:1-5; 2:4, 14, 20; 3:17-18; and Romans 8:28

Lately, we watch the news with a sense of morbid dread, waiting for another work of wickedness to destroy our comfortable complacency and erode the innate innocence of our children and grandchildren. I must admit God and I had a “come to Jesus” meeting over the past few days.

I shook my fist a little. Lashed out a bit. Questioned how he could sit by and watch events in Florida unfold without intervening. I finished my little fit and waited. Getting no immediate response, I huffed a bit more and went back to my worry and work.

It felt like an Old Testament week as I prepared for this devotional. I was in “an eye for an eye” mood. I scanned pages of scripture and read about Jeremiah complaining bitterly to God about the unfairness in the world around him. How evil men grow powerful and prosper. How righteous suffer. Jeremiah shook his fist at God.

Elijah hid in a cave. The prophet who had just won a major test of faith now cowered in a cave after being threatened by an angry and vengeful Jezebel. He complained balefully that he was the last godly man standing. That God had stepped aside, allowing him to be hounded and chased. Elijah shook his fist at God and wanted to die.

I read again about Job, God’s long-suffering servant. Plagued by calamities not of his making. Criticized by his friends. Struggling with the loss of those he held dear. Job lashed out critically to the Creator. “What does it profit us if we pray to him?” Job shook his fist at God.

I get it Jeremiah. I know where you’re coming from Elijah. I understand Job. That’s exactly how I feel.

Then, my eyes settled on Habakkuk. I didn’t intend to stop here. No one does a devotional on Habakkuk, right? But, this prophet joined me in shaking his fist at God so I kept reading.

In three short chapters, I discovered a God big enough to take my frustration and teach me about his presence and his purpose even in the middle of a perverse week.

Habakkuk spoke at a time when evil men ruled the day, punishing the righteous, inflicting violence upon them. “Why do you make me look at injustice?” lamented the prophet. “Why do you tolerate wrong? How long must I cry for help?”

My heart aches as Habakkuk’s aches. I see innocent children slaughtered again in a world run amuk. “Why, God, do we keep seeing this? Why do you put up with it? How long must we cry out for help?”

God’s answer to Habakkuk started a transformation in his outlook on life…an answer that lifted my own sagging spirit.

“Look at the nations and watch–and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.” (Hab. 1:5)

All that questioning I did…this was the start of God’s rebuttal. “Look, Kirk. I didn’t cause the wickedness in the world. Human choice creates catastrophe and chaos. Your choice. Their choice. My job is to work through tragedy using people of faith to restore the broken. Redeem the lost. Rescue the troubled. I know you don’t understand. I could explain it to you, let you in on the secret, but you wouldn’t believe it.

“Know this. You are not alone. Those who are hurting most are not alone. I can carry you, carry them, through this. I will never abandon you. Despite your sorrow and struggles, I will never give up on my children. I am at work even if you can’t see it.”

Every one of us who love and trust God can look back through our lives and see the hand of God at work through the best and worst times of our lives. In those times, when we seemed to be abandoned and alone, we can now see the winding path he guided us down to emerge from the haze into a clearer understanding of his presence in our lives. I think about those times in my life and…God’s right. Had he told me how he planned to bring me through the struggle, I would not have believed it possible.

I kept reading through the book and found these declarations of eternal truth God spoke to the prophet.

“…the righteous will live by his faith…” (Hab. 2:4)

Habakkuk was blind to the work of God as he stood there and complained. God said to him, “Trust me. Have faith in my work even when you see no evidence of it.” Like an arrow, the words pierced the anxiety in my heart.

Living by faith is a hard pill to swallow when we’re sick to our stomachs over what we see happening around us. It sounds so cliché. Yet, faith is often the only answer we have…at least in the beginning. God would eventually use Habakkuk’s voice to bring about his intentional plan for redemption. When I have no answers, faith is enough. Perhaps my faith in him…my trust, my belief…can touch those troubled by tragedy.

Two other verses offered a message of hope and promise to the prophet. The strife caused by evil evaporates in the face of God’s presence. Though the bad seems to reign, its power will fade.

“For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea…The Lord is in his holy temple; let all the earth be silent before him.” (Hab. 2:14,20)

Our pain in the middle of tragedy cannot be denied. I cannot imagine the grief of parents and family in the aftermath of such insanity. While we seldom claim the promise of God’s eternal victory in the middle of tragedy, grief-inspired blindness doesn’t make it any less true. God will conquer. I take heart in understanding in my core the simple truth that pain and suffering around me is temporary and transient…especially when considered on an eternal scale.

God sits on his throne. Like any good ruler he knows his kingdom and his people. His anguish over our suffering is real. When we seek an audience with him to complain bitterly of that which hurts us, he listens. He is big enough to handle our confusion, our anger, our frustration, our disbelief. When our emotion is spent he reminds us that he walks among us through life’s mud and muck.

That’s why the hue and cry to put God back into our schools sits so uneasily in my bones. God never left our schools. There are people of faith teaching and serving in every public school in America. There are prayers lifted up daily on behalf of children and families. There are children and young people who lift up prayers every day in the halls and classrooms across America. Heartfelt prayers far more meaningful than a rote or recited prayer over the intercom.

Still his presence was not enough to prevent another senseless act. Why? Not because we “took God out of our schools.” Evil gets its way because we forced God out of our lives, not out of our schools. Stop making God political. Make him personal. Then, and only then, can he make an impact in and through us.

Here’s the truth I know. God is on his throne. God is present in the lives of all who believe…in school and out. Always has been. Always will be.

Without question, the senseless school shooting in Florida tested my faith this week. I struggle for words in the moment for those most touched by such devastating loss. I struggle for answers on how we might prevent such madness from ever happening again. Right now, I have no words. No answers. While I will keep searching, I have only my faith that “in all things God works for the good of those who love him who have been called according to his purpose.” (Rom. 8:28)

Make no mistake. God is at work today. I may not see it. I may not understand it, but he is at work.

The book of Habakkuk ends with the prophet’s faith renewed and restored. Despite not knowing the end game, Habakkuk rested in the strength of his faith. He accepted as I do that despite every intrusion of wickedness that creeps into our lives, whether by our own design or the horrific act of another, God will create the best plan and path through it.

“Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior.” (Hab. 3:17-18)

Amen.

 

Wherever He Leads

Background Passages: Mark 8:27-36; Luke 9:18-25

Jesus slipped to the grass from the flat rock upon which he sat as he spent the last hour in prayer. The canopy of trees under which he now reclined with his back against the rock sheltered him from the late afternoon sun. Jesus glanced at his disciples gathered in a loose cluster about 40 feet further down the hill. As they finished their prayers one by one, they talked quietly among themselves, breaking out a small loaf of bread and passing it around, satisfying their hunger.

Jesus looked from his disciples down into the town of Caesarea Philippi, a bustling city 30 miles north of the region of Galilee. He watched the frenetic pace of the people as they finished the work of the day and headed home. He lifted his eyes toward the sheer cliff on the north side of the city. It rose 150 feet above the lush, green valley below. He knew the streamlet gushing from the massive grotto on the western edge of the cliff were the headwaters of the Jordan River as it flowed south to the Sea of Galilee.

The cavern was said to be the birthplace of Pan, the Greek god of nature. Worshippers still brought their offerings of fruit and grain, laying them at the altar.

His vision shifted to the gleaming temple of white marble which Philip, the region’s ruler, dedicated to Caesar Augustus, the Roman emperor whom the people considered a god. Before these temples and altars were built, Jesus knew his history well enough to know the whole area stood as a center dedicated to the worship of Baal, the ancient Canaanite god.

It was a deeply reflective moment. Jesus contemplated the scene spread across the valley below. Considered all he had done during his ministry. Felt his gut tighten when he thought about the cross to come. Had anything he said and done made a difference? Before he began his final journey to the cross Jesus needed to know. Did anyone really know who he was?

He turned to his disciples quietly talking and laughing in the ease of friendships forged by common experiences. His words cut through the comfortable conversation. “Who do the crowds say I am?”

They turned toward Jesus in a rustle of robes and shuffling feet. They were used to his probing. Knew an answer was required. “John the Baptist,” one blurted. “One of the old prophets brought back to life,” announced another. “Elijah,” another proclaimed.

Jesus glanced again at the city below, lost in thought for a moment. Then, he turned back to his disciples. “But what about you? Who do you say I am?”

Jesus held his breath, looking into the eyes of each of his closest friends. Their answers would make all the difference. Would he see blank stares of incomprehension? Would he catch so much as a spark of understanding that meant he had at least lit a torch in their hearts. He waited. Felt his heart thump anxiously in his chest.

How his soul must have soared when Peter stood among them, looked at his friends, then to Jesus, knowing that he answered for all of them. “You are the Messiah. The Anointed One of God.”

That moment sealed the deal for Jesus. He then taught them intently about the events to come. Suffering. Rejection. Death. Resurrection. Prophecies that left them frightened and confused. Then, he challenged them with words that echo still in the ears of every believer today.

“If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it. What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and yet lose or forfeit his very soul?”

The call of Christ demands that we deny self. It’s not a matter of dismissing our lives as unworthy or inconsequential in the grand scheme of God’s plan. Denying ourselves means to set aside our egos. Deliberately subordinating our will to the will of God. Opening our lives to the possibility that his plan for us is greater and more meaningful than the one we planned for ourselves. It means turning from where we wish to go to follow the path he lays before us.

The call of Christ demands that we take up his cross. Not just any cross…his cross. Jesus knew the horror of what lay before him. When Jesus was a boy, a Jewish rebellion in Sepphoris, just four miles from Nazareth, ended badly for those who fought against the Roman empire. Historians tell us more than 2,000 rebels were crucified, set in lines along the roadside as a frightful reminder of the power of Rome.

To face the cross was a vicious reality burned into the back of his mind. He, as well as anyone, knew what it meant to take up the cross. It stood as the inevitable certainty he faced by declaring a kingdom of God that rocked the boats of the pious and the political.

Today, taking up the cross of Christ means to live our life with the same focused commitment to God’s purpose that Jesus did. It means preparing for rejection in a world that does not understand. Letting nothing… no thought of ridicule, persecution, or embarrassment…prevent us from doing that which we know God desires us to do. It means looking at a world that dismisses Jesus as irrelevant and proclaiming in word and deed, “I belong to Christ!”

Denying ourselves. Taking up his cross. These are steps in the right direction. If we stop there, however, we miss that which matters most. The call of Christ demands we follow. It means spending our lives, not hoarding it. It means giving of ourselves, not taking from others. It means not playing it safe, but doing the right thing at all times and in all situations. It means not getting by with as little as we can for the cause of Christ, but investing ourselves completely in his ministry.

The way of the world always seeks to gain advantage over another. The goal of the world is to amass more wealth, power and glory than the guy next door. Jesus would answer that unbridled ambition with this question. Where is the eternal profit in that way of life? Jesus said one saves his life when he loses it in service to others.

As believers in Christ we have been called to follow the lead of Christ, not always knowing where it will take us. Doors open and doors close. Following his lead is not always easy, but it is always best.

I’m reminded of the old invitational hymn, Wherever He Leads, I’ll Go, written in 1936 by Baylus Benjamin McKinney. He penned the words to his poem after meeting with the Rev. R.S. Jones, a South American missionary who had been pulled from service. Because of a serious illness, he would not be allowed to return.

“What will you do?” McKinney asked his friend.

“I don’t know, but wherever he leads, I’ll go.”

From a simple conversation between two old friends poured the words that challenge us…challenge me…today.

“Take up thy cross and follow me,”
I heard my master say;
“I gave my life to ransom thee,
Surrender your all today.”

He drew me closer to his side,
I sought his will to know,
And in that will I now abide,
Wherever he leads I’ll go.

It may be through shadows dim,
Or o’er the stormy sea,
I take my cross and follow him
Wherever he leadeth me.

My heart, my life, my all I bring,
To Christ who loves me so;
He is my master, Lord and king.
Wherever he leads I’ll go.

The chorus of the song declares, “I’ll follow my Christ who loves me so.”

Wherever he leads, let’s go.