Brainstorming with the Brothers
When Jesus looked up and saw a great crowd coming toward him, he said to Philip, “Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?” He asked this only to test him, for he already had in mind what he was going to do. Philip answered him, “Eight months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each one to have a bite!” Another of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, spoke up, “Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?” (John 6:5-9)
I’ll admit pretty readily I’m a poor brainstormer. It’s not that I don’t ever have ideas. I do. But I tend to overthink them. The packing tape of my mind is just a little too sticky sometimes and I can’t get them out of the box. And I’m even worse with somebody else’s ideas. They hardly have them out of their mouth and onto the table – or the whiteboard if you’re one of those – before I’ve figured out why they won’t work.
I’m a lot like Philip here, not quite enough like Andrew.
Here in the sixth chapter of John, Jesus has again gathered a crowd on account of the amazing and miraculous things they had seen Him do. He’s sitting with His disciples on a hillside, contemplating yet another miracle. In the other gospel accounts, it appears that the disciples had come and suggested to Jesus that, because they were pretty much in the middle of nowhere, it would be best that He send the people away to find themselves something to eat. And Jesus flips them on their ear by telling them to feed the people. You give them something to eat, He tells them. We remember again, they are in the middle of nowhere.
John puts a little different spin on it, showing Jesus to have taken hold of a teaching moment with His men. He asks Philip a question, and according to John, does so in order to test Him. He already knows He’s going to do the cool thing here. He wants to know if Philip can see it coming. He wants to know if His guys have seen enough of Him yet to know that He can handle a hungry crowd. When Jesus asks Philip “Where can we get some food for all these folks?” the Message translation says that “He said this to stretch Philip’s faith.”
Philip looks around. And he sees a lot of people. A multitude. Five thousand. At least.
He looks a little further, and doesn’t see a McDonalds sign. No Cub Foods. He pulls out his GPS and realizes they are hopelessly far away from the nearest buffet. And besides, even if there was a place to eat right across the road, how would they pay for it? He reaches into his tunic pocket and finds just a couple of copper coins. “Eight months’ wages would not buy enough.”
Bad idea, Jesus. We don’t have the resources. No place to go. No way to pay. Just can’t do it.
Send the people home. Tell them to go find themselves something to eat. They’ll understand. This wasn’t advertised as a Lunch ‘n Learn.
And then along comes Andrew. Andrew was always coming along. And he always had somebody with him. This time, Andrew has the kid with the food. It’s not much, and Andrew is quick to point that out. But he’s trying. He’s brainstorming an answer to feeding a big bunch of hungry people.
The problem for Andrew was that he was brainstorming in the same conference room with somebody like me, somebody like Philip. He puts his idea out there, kind of a crazy one, and then ducks a little because he knows Philip is going to tell him how crazy his idea is. “Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish.” And then he qualifies it. “But how far will they go among so many?”
To Jesus, he says, “Look, maybe You can make something of this. I found a kid with a few things to work with. A little fish, a little bread. I’ve seen You do more with less. Remember that water and wine thing You did? Think You could make something happen here?” And to Philip, he turns to the side and mutters out of the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t want to look too stupid if Jesus can’t pull it off. “Yeah, I know. Really dumb. All that will feed is that one kid, maybe one other. Sure won’t feed five thousand. Don’t know what I was thinking there.”
Jesus jumps up and makes His teaching moment count. He takes that food, thanks the Father for it, and they pass it around. And around. And around. Everybody eats, and there is food left over.
He wants Philip to have greater faith. He wants him to be able to get past what seems possible. What makes sense. What is reasonable. Philip, get past that and see what I can do. Believe Me for more. Dream with Me. Believe me for what’s not possible.
He wants to stretch Philip’s faith.
But He wants to stretch Andrew’s faith too. You’re on the right track, but Andrew, go all the way with Me. Don’t stop short. Don’t worry about what Philip thinks is silly. You believe I can do it. Follow with Me all the way through. When you believe Me, and I know you do, stand tall with it. Don’t duck.
Brainstorming by faith is risky business. You might look stupid. Somebody might tell you you’re crazy.
High risk investments often have the greatest yields.
Jesus wants to stretch my faith too: Believe Me for more. And then don’t duck.
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When You Can’t Have Your Quiet Time Without Gagging
“The person with such an infectious disease must wear torn clothes, let his hair be unkempt, cover the lower part of his face and cry out, ‘Unclean! Unclean!’ As long as he has the infection he remains unclean. He must live alone; he must live outside the camp.” (Leviticus 13:45-46)
A funny thing happened while I was reading Leviticus today. That’s an interesting thing all on its own, since there’s not that much funny in Leviticus.
I was reading in chapter 13, which, while it has some important teaching for the people of Israel, I just couldn’t help but find a little icky. Well, more than a little icky.
You might know that I have something of a terribly overactive gag reflex, such that simply brushing my teeth can turn into a complete heave-fest at times. But I can’t say I’ve ever been provoked to gag by reading the Word as I was today. And I hate to say that I was. It’s not how I feel about the Word generally speaking. But it’s the truth this time.
Leviticus can stimulate your gag reflex?
Trust me, just thinking about it right now is doing it to me all over again. I’m feeling a little twitchy. Perhaps I’d best get to it before something happens here at my computer.
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Here we go. Moses gave instructino about various conditions that could make a person ritually unclean, as well as the various processes by which the unclean status would be confirmed by the priest and also by which the person could be restored.
We’ve been all through the different types of food that were clean and unclean. There’s the process by which a woman be purified after childbirth. And then there’s a section all about the ceremonial uncleanliness of fabrics spoiled by mildew which would give even an insurance claims person pause.
And right between them is this long, detailed portion addressing the issue of infectious diseases. The various types of sores and skins lesions by which a person was made ritually unclean, the means by which they could be purified, the methods by which the priest could distinguish between infectious diseases and harmless rashes.
I’m starting to feel it again.
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Getting beyond the difficult details for me, in verse 45 the text goes a little further in defining what a person with one type of these diseases must do because of his condition.
He was to wear torn clothes and keep his hair messy. But this was more than just what I do on a Saturday.
This person also had to live outside the camp, alone. And he had to cry out “Unclean! Unclean!”
What a tragic thing.
Illness already upsets us. We worry. We fret. And we feel awful.
But I would expect that the slightest rash or sore on their skin would really send the Hebrews into a real state.
Was this an infectious disease that would require that they endure complete isolation?
Would this little scab on their arm mean they would have to leave their families, be completely ostracized by their community, and live alone?
And worse, would it mean complete humiliation as they looked like a mess, covered their faces, and shouted everywhere they went, “Unclean!”
Don’t look at me! I’m unworthy! I can’t be touched! I can’t be loved!
Don’t approach me. Don’t expose me. I’m not clean.
I must be alone.
I am not clean.
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You know, we’re not the Hebrews. We don’t have to panic every time we get a little something on our skin. We can see a doctor, get a prescription, maybe an excuse to skip a day of work, and we get better. We don’t have to make a wreck of ourselves and leave town.
But there’s a time for each of us when we have to recognize that, for other reasons, we’re unclean.
We fall short. We are not holy, we are not pure.
We are, in God’s presence, unclean.
And because of that, we look like a wreck. We don’t even have to cry out “Unclean! Unclean!”
Everything about us says it without the words.
And we have to live outside the camp, outside God’s presence.
Our sin won’t let us near Him.
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We don’t have to stay there though. God made a way to bring us back into camp. To allow us to be clean.
Ceremonially? Sure. But more than that.
Clean inside. Clean outside.
Through the cross, we can be made clean.
In the very first chapter of Isaiah, we’re told “Come now, let us reason together,” says the LORD. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.”
He washes us. We don’t have to shout that we are unclean.
And in Hebrews 10 we are told how we can enter the Most Holy Place with confidence, because of the blood of Jesus, and that we can “draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water.”
Now we can yell, holler and scream everywhere we go, “Cleansed! Cleansed!”
Cleansed by the blood of the Lamb!
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Stop With the Offerings Already
Then Moses gave an order and they sent this word throughout the camp: “No man or woman is to make anything else as an offering for the sanctuary.” And so the people were restrained from bringing more, because what they already had was more than enough to do all the work. (Exodus 36:6-7)
I love our church treasurer. She is a faithful steward of the resources entrusted to her. She sees that we meet our obligations. She pays attention to the charges that the bank dreams up to tag us with. She keeps really good track of the expense reimbursement checks that I tend to lose before I get home with them, and patiently replaces them for me when I realize they’re gone. (Usually that’s when she tells me she can’t get the bank reconciliation to work…because of my outstanding lost check). And she regularly encourages us during the prayer time during our monthly leadership meetings to be grateful for the way God provides for the needs of our church, through the generosity of His people.
One thing I’ve never heard her say is what Moses told the people here. “No man or woman is to make anything else as an offering.” She has never said what Moses said according to The Message translation, “Men! Women! No more offerings for the building of the Sanctuary!” Really, stop! Quit bringing the offerings already! No more!
This is unprecedented. Not only have I never heard our church treasurer say this, I’ve never heard of any church treasurer anywhere saying anything remotely like this. I’ve never heard of the people of God having to be restrained from giving more.
Can you imagine? The people had given so much that they were told they had to stop. They had to be restrained. Incredible.
Let me tell you what’s going on in the background here. Moses had gone up on Sinai to meet with the Lord and had received the stone tablets of the law. He was gone a long time. Too long. Or so the people thought. While he was gone, they gave up on him and managed to convince Aaron to build them a golden calf so they could worship it. Moses returns from his phenomenal experience with God on the mountain, and in his anger over their outrageous behavior breaks the tablets. God, in His anger, strikes them with a plague and says one of the most excruciating things in the whole of Scripture. He tells them they can still go to the land He promised, but “I will not go with you.” I’m going to come back to that another day. Today, we continue on.
Moses does Commandments: Take 2 on the mountain, and when he returns with the new tablets, he works with the people to plan for the building of the Tabernacle. The Tabernacle was a thing to behold, and there are those who have done some very good study about everything involved in it that my little brain just can’t wind itself around. So I’ll leave that to those who know it so well. I just want to look at where the resources came from to build it.
Back in chapter 35, Moses told the people that “everyone who is willing” was to bring to the Lord the various materials that would be needed to build this wonder. And so they went their separate ways and “everyone who was willing and whose heart moved him” brought their offering. They brought jewelry. They brought fine linens. They brought yarn. They brought goat hair and sea cow hides. (Yeah, I know. But it’s in the text. What do you want me to do?) They brought silver and gold and acacia wood. They brought gems. They brought spices and oils. All those who were willing brought what they had to offer. They brought their offerings.
Everyone who was willing. Everyone whose heart moved him.
God has a way of providing. He instructed them to build this Tabernacle, a work of beauty and of art that they had never seen before. He had specific plans, specific designs, and he called out a couple of craftsmen and artists to head up this project. They couldn’t just whip it together. They needed the resources from the people. They depended on God to move their hearts to generate the offerings they would need to have all the material required to complete the project. To complete the work.
And moved they were.
Their hearts moved them and they gave. And they gave. And they gave.
They gave to the point where they had to be told to quit. Stop it. Stop bringing the offering. That’s enough.
Men! Women! No more offerings!
God uses His people to provide for His work. He resources His dreams by moving the hearts of His people to give.
And when it works, when people allow themselves to be moved, and they give to the all fullness that their willing hearts can give, it overflows. It’s more than enough.
A willing heart. A moved heart. An abundance that exceeds our wildest dreams.
When we give ’til He tells us to stop.
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Guest Post: Down to the Potter’s House
My friend Elizabeth tends to have some pretty amazing insights into our relationship with the Father. Sometimes she processes on the page, taking what God’s saying and working it out by writing. But she also has the ability to process on a canvas. I thought the combination of the two in this case was pretty compelling, and hard to resist. She’s taught me a lot over the past few years about brokenness. I find myself rather honored she allowed me to add her voice to A Different Story today. — Lyla
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God shapes us in His hands. He is the Potter. But even though we are the clay, we tend to decide for on our own when we’ve reached completion. So we set ourselves on the shelf to dry. But God looks at us and sees what He wants us to be. The beautiful and amazing vessel that He wants to create with His very own precious hands. So He takes us off the shelf. And He breaks us. He has to, because we’ve made ourselves unmoldable. Sometimes He shatters us beyond recognition. But then He picks up each piece of our broken lives and dusts it off. He reshapes it, molds it, smoothes the edges and works with that piece until, through our surrender and His masterful hands, He creates the perfect piece. Then He puts that one in place and reaches for the next. On and on He goes, working with every single piece until we are put back together.
If you have ever tried to re-piece a broken pot, you know that some parts will never fit back together. There are holes and gaps left between the pieces. And you can never fully hide all the cracks. A broken pot will never look exactly the way it did before it broke. But the holes and gaps and cracks become a thing of beauty and glory. For as the Potter puts the pieces back together, He also places His light inside of us. It bursts forth from those holes and cracks so that all who walk by and see the pot will be drawn closer by the light spilling from inside.
“So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as it seemed best to him.” Jeremiah 18:3-4
Where Old Vending Machines Go to Die
“His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’” (Matthew 25:21)
There’s an odd sight in the cafeteria at work right now. Right near the exit there is a growing lineup of disabled vending machines. Empty and abandoned. There’s a couple of Coke machines and this pitiful old coffee machine with a bum leg that looks like it’s going to tip over any time.
The old coffee machine has been replaced by a fancy new one with lattes and cappuccinos made to order. You can control how dark the coffee is, how sweet, and what size portion. And if you want to go green, you can even use your own mug. Who wouldn’t swap out the machine that was ready to fall over on its side for this shiny new one with all the cool buttons? But the Coke machines, now that’s a strange deal. The beverage vendor, a Pepsi distributor by all appearances, took all the Coke products out of the old Coke machines and put them in his Pepsi machines. I’m not completely clear on the real story here except that he apparently distributes both. But I don’t want the facts to mess up my version of the story anyway, so I’m not going to try hard to understand what’s going on there.
See, the way I like to look at it is this. The master of the beverage vendors came and took the Coke and coffee away from the lazy and broken down machines and gave it to the others as a reward for their faithful and productive service.
Aren’t you glad you don’t see the world through my lenses sometimes?
Here’s the thing. Another story you probably know pretty well. A story Jesus told in a series of parables to help people understand the Kingdom. How we need to be ready for it. How we need to be faithful to Him with the resources He has entrusted to us. How we are to invest in what matters and make the most of every opportunity.
In this story, Jesus tells of a man going on a journey who called his servants together and put them in charge of various portions of his property. He gave them authority over his stuff while he was away. He knew his servants well enough to know what he could entrust to them, and how much. He knew what they would do with it. And so he didn’t just divide it into equal shares. He didn’t distribute his wealth – or the responsibility – evenly. He gave to each according to his ability.
And then he left.
When he returned, he called them together to account for what they’d done with the resources he’d entrusted to them. He’d given one man five talents (a unit of money). We’re not told in the text exactly what he did, except that he put the money to work. And he doubled it. He came back to his master with not just the five he was given, but with ten. To another he gave two. And he doubled his as well. The master knew these two would do well. That they would immediately start using their resources and gain a significant return. These two guys brought back a one hundred percent return on the master’s investment. They put their resources to work. And it was fruitful. The master was delighted with the outcome. To both of them he said, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’
Then there was the third guy. The third guy. The master knew him. He knew what he would do, what he was capable of doing. So he gave him one talent. Only one. He didn’t give him nothing. He wanted to give him a chance to bring a return on his investment. But he didn’t give him so much. He didn’t tie up a lot of resources with this guy who might just not do a thing.
And that’s what this guy did. Nothing. He was afraid of what the master would do to him if he lost the money, and so he dug a hole and hid it away so he could give it all back, intact. He was paralyzed with fear and did nothing. And for this man, the master had no kind words. He did not tell him he was pleased that he took such good care of his money. He did not tell him it was a brilliant plan. He did not thank him for his efforts.
He told him he was wicked. And lazy. He chastised him for not at least going and putting it in the bank to earn interest. What a stupid thing to do, burying his master’s valuable resources in the back yard.
And he took away the one talent from the third servant, and gave it to the one who now already had ten. He had shown he was trustworthy and faithful and that he would use that additional talent just like the others and gain a great return. The third guy had shown he was not faithful, not to be trusted, and he was left with nothing. He was cast out in to the darkness.
It seems to me that if the third guy had gone out and used his one talent and lost it, returned to the master with nothing at all but a report of having tried to turn a profit, the master still would have been more pleased than with this idea of having done nothing.
The Coke machines weren’t performing. They weren’t producing a return. They weren’t using their resources to sell Coke. So they lost their Coke. Their Coke was taken and given to the machines that already had Pepsi. To the ones that would earn a greater return on the owner’s investment. And the Coke machines have been set aside, waiting to be taken away to wherever it is that old vending machines go to die.
God entrusts us with much. No matter who we are, or what we’re capable of, whatever God has given to us is of great value to Him. And He desires that we put it to use, that we see a return on the investment. He’s given us material resources, physical resources. He’s also given us spiritual resources.
Take a look around. No matter how you cut it, we have been given so much. When He calls for an accounting, I don’t want to be in the back yard with a shovel trying to remember where I buried all His stuff. Where I hid His treasure. I want to be able to show Him the return on His investment.
The most incredible words we could ever hope to hear the Father speak are contrasted here with the most devastating.
Well done, good and faithful servant. Come and share your Master’s happiness.
You wicked, lazy servant. Throw that servant outside, into the dark, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.
We can have the Pepsi and the Coke too.
Or we can be cast aside with the broken down coffee machine.
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Back to School Tips from the Gospel of John
Not until halfway through the Feast did Jesus go up to the temple courts and begin to teach. The Jews were amazed and asked, “How did this man get such learning without having studied?” Jesus answered, “My teaching is not my own. It comes from him who sent me. If anyone chooses to do God’s will, he will find out whether my teaching comes from God or whether I speak on my own. He who speaks on his own does so to gain honor for himself, but he who works for the honor of the one who sent him is a man of truth; there is nothing false about him. (John 7:14-18)
Today all the guys at my house go back to school. Like anybody else who’s ever gone to school, I’m sure sometimes they are amazed, and a little annoyed, at the kid who can always seem to ace tests without really studying. They just always seem to know the stuff without ever having cracked a book.
Jesus was apparently seen by at least some of the people as one of those guys. It was the time of the Feast of the Tabernacles. Jesus’ brothers tried to get him to go and make more of a name for Himself. He was doing these miracles, but He really hadn’t fully revealed Himself. It doesn’t appear that Jesus’ brothers fully got Who He was and what He was about. He told them no, the time is not right. I’m not going to the Feast yet, but you go ahead.
He came to the Feast about halfway through. Yeah, one of those guys too, who could skip class and get by with it. And He went straight to the temple to teach. The people are still trying to figure out Who He was, whether He was from God. And when they heard Him teach, the people were amazed. Simply amazed.
How did this man get such learning without having studied?
What’s interesting is that they don’t ever really say here that what He was saying was untrue. They just don’t get how He know this stuff, how He understands this stuff. How did He get such learning without having studied? See, they don’t know Him from His regular studies at the temple. They don’t remember seeing Him there all the time to study. They don’t remember teaching Him this stuff. So if they didn’t teach Him, how did He learn? How did He get so wise?
They can’t get ahold of this idea that somehow, someone could know without having studied, leastwise not having studied under them.
They saw themselves as the source of knowledge. If they didn’t impart it to Him, how did He get it?
They didn’t leave room for the reality that Jesus was of God, and being of God, He possessed all of God’s wisdom. Intrinsically. He had everything God had. And for wisdom and knowledge? God had a lot. Enough to amaze these folks at the temple.
This is the same One who amazed the people at the temple years ago when He opened their eyes to the Word as just a 12-year old.
If we didn’t teach this guy, how come He knows so much?
If He didn’t study, how did He pass the test?
We’re not Jesus. We still need to study. But the same wisdom, the same knowledge, is available to us. We need to spend time with the Father to go deep into it. God’s a good teacher. He uses all the latest teaching methods. He knows that we learn by seeing, we learn by hearing, we learn by doing. We need to let Him teach us through His Word, through our experiences, through our relationships, through our ministries.
In the end, it’s all about the wisdom we get from Him. It was what Jesus had from the Father that caused such amazement and consternation amongst the Jews.
Maybe we all go back to school.
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Getting Your Picture with Jesus
As Jesus went on from there, two blind men followed him, calling out, “Have mercy on us, Son of David!” When he had gone indoors, the blind men came to him, and he asked them, “Do you believe that I am able to do this?” “Yes, Lord,” they replied. Then he touched their eyes and said, “According to your faith will it be done to you”; and their sight was restored. Jesus warned them sternly, “See that no one knows about this.” But they went out and spread the news about him all over that region. (Matthew 9:27-31)
Isaac recently returned from a trip to Nashville for a youth gathering. His group soon became known for their bright green shirts, each with a word from the theme for the week emblazened on the front so that when they all stood in line, in the right order, the group spelled out “Becoming the Hands and Feet of Jesus.” Isaac’s word was “Jesus.” A few times during the week, folks wanted to have their picture taken with him so they could say they got their picture with Jesus.
In Matthew 9, all kinds of people wanted their picture with Jesus. He was out on His big miracle tour, healing people everywhere He went. He’d finished the Sermon on the Mount, healed a whole bunch of people, calmed a storm, raised a young girl from the dead and experienced His power going out when a woman of great faith just reached out and touched His cloak as He went by. Now a couple of blind guys are following Him, wanting their chance for the miracle, hoping for their chance at life. Have mercy on us, Son of David! Heal us! We want to see! We believe You can do this!
They acknowledge their faith that He can heal them, He touches their eyes, and now they can see. Now they can see. Those of us who can see, who have always been able to see, can’t get this fully. We can barely imagine what it would be like to see, for the first time. We imagine, and surely we imagine only very poorly. We can only know being able to see after never having seen while it’s still in the context of knowing what it’s like to see. What these guys experienced is simply beyond comprehension. It had to be absolutely overwhelming.
And in the midst of the outrageous new experience they were having, one they’d given up years ago ever hoping to have, Jesus takes a stern tone with them. They were dancing and jumping around or maybe just wandering around and looking. Just looking. Looking at everything they could possibly take in. And suddenly Jesus, this One Who touched them in such a marvelous, miraculous way, gets all serious on them.
“See that no one knows about this.”
What? Why?
He’s just done the most amazing thing that these guys could ever hope to experience. He gave them their life back. And now they are not supposed to tell?
He had His reasons. He had His timing. He intended for the world to know, at the right time. But this wasn’t it. So guys, I’m happy to do this for you, because of your faith and because it brings glory to My Father. But keep it between us for now. See that no one knows about this.
And just how were they supposed to see that no one knew? They looked different now. And they saw differently. They saw. How could they possibly hide this?
Well, we know from the text they never found a way to pretend they still couldn’t see. Matthew says they went out and spread the news about Him all over the region. The Message is a little more blunt. “But they were hardly out the door before they started blabbing it to everyone they met.”
If this were today, these guys would have had their cell phones out, taking pictures. “Hey, Dave! Here, take my phone. Get a picture of me with Jesus! This is so cool. I’ll actually be able to see the picture this time.” And they would have emailed them to everybody on their contact lists and posted them on Myspace and Facebook. This is the guy that healed me. This is the One that gave me my sight, gave me my life. I want you to know what’s going on with me. I want you to know Him.
They couldn’t be silent. Even though Jesus told them to. They went and blabbed it to everyone they met.
What Jesus instructed these men to do seemingly was the exact opposite of their hearts’ response to what He had done. A heart that had been healed, that had been rescued from death, would want to shout from the rooftops. That heart would want evidence of its lifegiving experience posted on the Internet. Jesus told them to be quiet. Don’t tell. Don’t let anyone know. (Not yet.) But they couldn’t do it. They blabbed it everywhere they went. They sent out the emails with their picture with Jesus.
These guys were like Jeremiah, who couldn’t keep it in either. He lamented that if he had to keep it in, not mention Him, not say His name, God’s Word would burn in him. Jeremiah was weary of holding it in, and found he could not do it. Just like these guys. They just couldn’t not tell.
Today Jesus tell us the opposite. Tell everybody. Get up on the rooftops and scream it at the top of your lungs. I’ve come to bring sight to the blind. I’ve come to bring life to the dead. I’ve rescued you. I’ve saved you. I’ve forgiven you.
And sometimes, sometimes, we act like He gave us the command He gave the blind guys. Don’t tell anybody. See that no one knows about this.
Oh, ok. Jesus, I can do that. I was hoping You’d ask that. I’d be glad to keep this between You and me. I can keep my faith a private thing. I can do that.
And we do.
But He gave us a different command. Turn on the light where it’s dark. Open the doors where they’re closed. Get up on the rooftop. Hit the send button. I’m here. I’m ready. Bring the people to Me.
I want to be like these guys. Unable to contain myself over the good new of what He’s done for me. I want to be shouting it from the rooftops. I got my picture with Jesus. I want to send it to everyone I know.
I want everyone to know how to get their picture with Jesus.
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Isaac’s friend Monti wanted his picture with Jesus. He’s a friend Isaac met at the rescue mission in Nashville, a graduate of their rehab program. Monti’s had an impact on Isaac, and others. You can read his story, listen to his music, and be inspired at http://www.myspace.com/montimusiconline.
Keep the Doo-doo in the Litter Box
Write this to Sardis, to the Angel of the church. The One holding the Seven Spirits of God in one hand, a firm grip on the Seven Stars with the other, speaks: “I see right through your work. You have a reputation for vigor and zest, but you’re dead, stone-dead. Up on your feet! Take a deep breath! Maybe there’s life in you yet. But I wouldn’t know it by looking at your busywork; nothing of God’s work has been completed. Your condition is desperate. Think of the gift you once had in your hands, the Message you heard with your ears—grasp it again and turn back to God. If you pull the covers back over your head and sleep on, oblivious to God, I’ll return when you least expect it, break into your life like a thief in the night.” (Revelation 3:1-3, The Message)
(If you’re offended by bathroom talk, you might want to skip this post.)
The kitten taught me something. Something besides the daily reminder that she remains in my house and still needs a new home. In some ways, I’ve actually been impressed with Sanchez. Cats apparently are kind of smart. Smart enough to train themselves to use a litter box. To my amazement, she’s yet to have an accident on the floor.
There’s a funny thing I noticed the other day though. When she gets done with her work, she spends a fair amount of time scratching in the box, presumably to cover up what she’s done and keep the place nice and tidy. This must come through the same instinctual route as learning to use the box in the first place. But when she’s done scratching, there’s litter all over the place. And the other stuff in the box is still exposed. Still sitting right there in the open. And sometimes, for all her work to clean up the place, she manages to just throw pieces overboard, out of the litter box and into her bedding area.
She does all the right stuff. She just doesn’t seem to get why she does it. She doesn’t understand the point, so she doesn’t really get the job done.
John was told in Revelation to write to the church at Sardis that they were doing all the right stuff. They had a great reputation for all they were doing. They looked like they were full of life. But God saw right through their work. In the NIV, it says their deeds were not complete. They looked alive but they were dead. The church at Sardis was doing everything right. And yet they were doing nothing right at all.
There’s no point in using a litter box if you’re just going to toss the poop back out when you’re done. There’s no point in looking like we’re alive if we’re really stone-dead.
We couldn’t figure out for a while why Sanchez’ box kept smelling so bad. We knew she was using the litter box. And she was doing such a good job of scratching afterward. Then we found the doo-doo hiding behind the litter box, stinking the place up. There is simply no point in going through the motions and making it look one way when it is in all truth the complete opposite. All it does is mask the problem and keep it from getting cleaned up.
Sanchez sometimes looks like she’s doing it all right, but she’s throwing poop around. She’s just going through the motions.
The church at Sardis looked like they were really alive, but they were dead. They were just going through the motions.
Same for me. Just doing stuff to look like I’ve got it right is like kicking doo-doo out of the litter box. Acting alive when I’m dead just stinks the place up.
My heart has to be in what I’m doing. And that means I need to let God have my heart fully, completely.
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Don’t Let God Talk to Us
When the people saw the thunder and lightning and heard the trumpet and saw the mountain in smoke, they trembled with fear. They stayed at a distance and said to Moses, “Speak to us yourself and we will listen. But do not have God speak to us or we will die.” (Exodus 20:18-19)
I think a lot of Moses. I’m impressed with his faith, his obedience, his boldness. After a reluctant start, Moses really stepped up and carried the day. He led a thick headed, stiff necked, stubborn bunch of people who often lamented that they had to go to the Promised Land instead of getting to keep on being slaves in Egypt. But as much as I’m impressed with Moses and wouldn’t mind at all having a chance to sit down with him for a slice of manna and a cup of water from a rock, if I had the choice between having Moses speak to me or having God speak to me, I’d have to pick God. No contest.
But the Hebrews? Naa. God scared ‘em. Way too much.
This moment between the people of God and Moses comes just as God has come to them on Sinai and is giving the people His commands. The ten plus some. And the people have gotten a little freaked out, in the Hebrew vernacular. This whole appearance of God Himself is all very worrisome to them, and they tell Moses, “Just you talk to us. Don’t let God talk to us. If God talks to us, we’ll die. We’ll just die.”
Now, in the Israelites’ defense, I’ll say that the whole lead-up to this event was pretty fearsome. God’s invited the people to obey Him fully, and to become His treasured possession. In His advance work, God had instructed the people to spend three days in preparation. They were to be consecrated. For those days, they were not to go up on the mountain, nor to touch it. If they did, they would be put to death. It was to be marked off and not until the horn sounded were they to go up on the mountain. When it was time, God would come in a dense cloud on the mountain and speak to them. They agreed that they would obey everything God said, and they set about to their preparation.
But then the time comes, and the horn blows, and the Lord has spoken. At that moment the people stretch beyond fearing God, that reverent awe and respect we looked at the other day, and reach into the realm of being afraid of Him. Of being scared of Him.
Moses, don’t let God talk to us. You’re ok. We’re ok if you talk to us. And we’re ok if you talk to God. But don’t let God talk to us. That’s too scary. We’ll die.
Think about what God said before. Look how tender He is toward His people.
“You yourselves have seen what I did to Egypt, and how I carried you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself.”
“Out of all nations you will be My treasured possession.”
“You will be for Me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.”
He wants to be with His people. He wants to be close. He carried them on eagles wings and brought them to Himself. They will be His treasured possession.
But the people are just so scared.
Too scared to see His desire for them. Too scared to see His compassion for them. Too scared to see His vision for them.
So they ask Moses to continue to mediate. To continue to stand between them.
Because if God speaks to them directly, they will die.
Crazy thing is, if they’d have let God speak to them, what a life they’d have had. If they’d have sat at the table face to face with God, just imagine what they could have experienced. But they kept living their relationship with God through Moses, not taking it as their own. Missing the chance to experience fully His desire. Missing His tender and compassionate touch.
Letting God speak to me might be a fearsome, awesome thing. But it shouldn’t scare me to death.
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Fearing God Fearlessly
“Now I know how fearlessly you fear God; you did not hesitate to place your son, your dear son, on the altar for Me.” (Genesis 22:12b – The Message)
This account of Abraham’s near-sacrifice of his son Isaac, of relinquishing his grip on the very fulfillment of God’s promise, just keeps on giving. I’d guess that if I went back and read this again a month from now I’d see something altogether new. Maybe I’ll do that. But today, look at it with me just once more.
Look at that half-verse we were talking about yesterday. Only look at it this time in The Message with me. The word selection stops me.
“Now I know how fearlessly you fear God.”
Abraham feared God fearlessly.
At first glance it hardly makes sense. But think about it a little more.
In taking Isaac with him to the mountain with the intent of giving him up as a sacrifice to the Lord, literally as a burnt offering, there was plenty for Abraham to fear. Oh, he had cause to be fearful.
There was the fear of losing his son, his only son, losing that which he must have valued most in all the world.
There was the fear of giving up his dream for good, of letting go of his legacy, of walking away from the promise God made to him that He would make of him a great nation and that he would have descendants too numerous to count. They were already old when he and Sarah had Isaac. Ending Isaac’s life would surely also end any hope of a dream fulfilled.
There was the fear of what Sarah was going to do to him when he got home and she found out what he’d done. Read back a little bit. The text doesn’t suggest that he consulted with Sarah before he left with Isaac for the mountain. She would have been given no opportunity to protest, no chance to even say goodbye to her son. This was Sarah’s only son too, the son whom she loved. Sarah would have his head.
There was the fear of what the neighbors would say, and what they would do. At best it would be “Crazy old Abraham. Killed his own son as a human sacrifice.” At worst, they may attempt to extract justice for such a deed.
There was the fear of wondering if he’d called it wrong. What if God didn’t really tell him to do this? What if he missed it? What if God were speaking completely figuratively? What if it were only Sarah’s new enchilada recipe that kept him up last night? What if God had told him no such thing? And then what if he went through with it? Then what?
And there was of course the fear of looking into his son’s eyes, his trusting but confused eyes as he lay bound on the altar, his father’s hand poised with a knife to slay him. He faced the fear of the excruciating pain that would accompany looking back into his son’s desperate, pleading eyes, the eyes of one fully dependent on him in the moment of realization of what could only appear to Isaac as utter betrayal.
Fears within. Fears without. Abraham had much cause for fear.
Yet he fearlessly turned his attention from the fears within and without and acted instead on his fear of God.
Abraham had plenty of things to be scared of. God wasn’t one of them. This fear of God didn’t reflect a scariness about God. It was a response of awe and reverence, of honor and respect.
And that fear of God was sufficient to make him fearless in the face of so many terribly scary things. He let his fear of God lead. He let his fear of God go before him. And his fear of God was so great that those scary things, those very fearsome prospects diminished in God’s shadow. He became fearless in his fear of God. In his pursuit of the things of God. In his brokenhearted submission to the hand of God.
What scares me today? Will I let my fear of God lead? Will I fearlessly fear God?
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You Have Not Withheld Your Son
“Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld from Me your son, your only son.” (Genesis 22:12b)
I observed yesterday that when God asked Abraham to give Isaac back — to give up his son, his only son, his son whom he loved — that He knew what He was asking. He knew how it would feel for Abraham. God had a deep and abiding understanding of what that was going to be like.
God had a Son. An only Son. A Son Whom He loved. And though it was many, many years yet to come, He would place His only Son, Whom He loved, on the altar too. He would provide a Lamb, His only Son, at the right time for the most painful and most significant sacrifice the world has yet known.
I don’t believe for a second that during this moment with Abraham God wasn’t thinking about that. That as He asked the unthinkable of Abraham that He didn’t have a complete and full awareness of what it was like for Abraham, though He had not yet given His Son, His only Son, His Son Whom He loved. I believe that always in God’s mind there was an awareness of the impending grief of the sacrifice He’d yet to fully make. And He knew exquisitely what Abraham would be feeling when faced with that impending grief of his sacrifice of his son.
God knew. It wasn’t an accident. God doesn’t do that. When He told Abraham to make the sacrifice, He told him in the way He did on purpose. “Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love” and sacrifice him as a burnt offering. He didn’t have to say all that. He could have just said “Sacrifice your son. Sacrifice Isaac.” It would have been clear enough. But God knew. He understood. In ways we just can’t get. He called Isaac Abraham’s son, his only son, his son whom he loved. He knew what He was saying.
Similarly then, I don’t believe for a second that there wasn’t something very profound in the words He’d use later to commend Abraham for his faith and obedience. A phrase He’d use twice before the encounter had ended. He commended Abraham for fearing Him by saying, “Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld from Me your son, your only son.” You have not withheld your son from Me. That was how God knew and confirmed that Abraham feared Him.
“You have not withheld from me your son, your only son” confirms something for me, too. And for you. Change the words up just slightly, because I’m not going to say this as from God to Abraham. I’m going to say it as from me to God.
“Now I know that You love me, because You have not withheld from me Your Son, Your only Son.”
God did not withhold His Son from me. Nor from you. He gave Him up, freely, painfully. He could have withheld Him. He could have said no. He did not. He did not withhold His Son, His only Son, Whom He loves.
Because Abraham did not withhold his son, God knew that Abraham feared Him. Because God did not withhold His Son, I can know that He loves me.
This speaks ahead to what Paul would write in the fifth chapter of Romans: “But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” The enormous sacrifice demonstrates His love.
Abraham did not withhold his son, his only son, his son whom he loved.
In so doing, Abraham showed his fear of God. His profound trust in God. His desperate dependence on God.
God didn’t withhold His Son, His only Son, His Son Whom He loved.
In so doing, God showed His love for us.
He has not withheld His Son from us.
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On the Mountain of the Lord It Will Be Provided
So Abraham called that place The LORD Will Provide. And to this day it is said, “On the mountain of the LORD it will be provided.” (Genesis 22:14)
You ever read some of these Biblical accounts and think, “Oh my goodness, how bizarre”? I ask, a lot, “God, why did you do stuff like that?” Sometimes I have a little trouble getting it to come home where I live. There’s a very familiar story that strikes me as just that bizarre. But yet, the truth of it does come home if we let it.
Remember that mess that Abram and Sarai made back in Genesis 16? If we rejoin them later, after God has renamed them Abraham and Sarah, we find that despite everything, despite their impatience and their own self-sufficient attempts to force His promise into being, we find that God did ultimately bring this couple a son. They called him Isaac (an excellent name) because of the promise and because through Isaac, God brought them the laughter that Sarah could now admit to.
God kept His promise, gave them their son, and the nation building had really begun. After another episode with Hagar and Sarah we won’t get into today, it appeared that all was well.
All was well, that is, until (I can hear the Spongebob voiceover in the goofy pseudo-French accent saying this) “Some time later…”
In the first verse of Genesis 22, we hear that “Some time later God tested Abraham.” And we already know the outcome. Even referring to it as “testing Abraham” tells us the outcome. But Abraham didn’t have the benefit of 20-20 hindsight like we do. He had to do the whole painful ordeal walking by faith. And faith alone.
Isaac was the fulfillment of one of the hugest promises ever made. He was the first star in that sky full of stars too numerous to count. He was the key to this nation that God was to make of Abraham.
So what was God possibly thinking when He asked Abraham to give him back?
You probably know the story. One day God told Abraham, “Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love, and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains I will tell you about.” He says right out that He knows this is Abraham’s only son, his son that he loves. He knows how huge this is, what He’s asking Abraham to do. Your only son, whom you love. God had a Son, an only Son, One that He loved deeply. God knew what this was going to feel like. But He asks him all the same.
God, who seemed to take forever to Abraham in fulfilling the promise, in giving him Isaac, now asks him to give him back. As parents we give God our kids, we intentionally acknowledge that they belong to God, that they are a gift, and we trust Him to care for them. But God asks Abraham to do more. To give Isaac back in a horrible, painful way.
This same Abraham, who earlier went along with Sarai’s impatient plan to circumvent God’s work in order to build this nation themselves, now fully submits. He quietly does the hardest thing God would ever ask him to do. He takes Isaac with him to sacrifice on the mountain.
As they walk, Isaac finally asks the question. The one Abraham didn’t want to answer. “Where is the lamb for the burnt offering?”
Where is the lamb?
You can’t see it in the text, but Abraham gasped a little for air. He clenched against the tears that started to form. The kind that are forming in my eyes as I think about what it would be like giving up my own Isaac, or my Josiah. Only those tears stung Abraham’s eyes much worse, because he was doing it, not imagining it. Abraham steadied himself. He gripped the knife tightly in his hand, kept willing his feet to move on forward, and gave the only answer he could bear to give: “God Himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering, my son.”
God Himself will provide the lamb.
Remember, Abraham didn’t know how this would end. He believed God would have him follow through. God will provide the lamb. He knows God gave him Isaac. He believes Isaac is now the lamb God would provide.
And they walked on.
I said before that this one does come home. Do you have trouble sometimes believing God fulfills what He’s promised? That He is slow about it, teases you with it? I do sometimes, to be honest. I wonder if He’ll do what I believe He’s said He’ll do. There are those times when He asks us to give the promise back. He asks us if we trust Him enough to be faithful.
Just like He asked Abraham. He asks me. Do you trust your Daddy?
He promised. In His time, long after Abraham thought He would or should, He delivered. And then He asked for it back.
So you know how it ends. Abraham gets as far as tying Isaac and placing him on the altar. I can’t begin to imagine how that was for either of them. How wrenching. For the son to trust his father enough to allow him to place him on an altar (the text says nothing of Isaac struggling against his father). For the son to trust his Father enough to give what he prizes the most just because He asked (the text says nothing of Abraham struggling against his Father).
Knife raised to end Isaac’s life, to let the dream die, to end any hope of the promise to be fulfilled, Abraham hears the words of rescue. “Abraham, Abraham! Do not lay a hand on the boy.” God provided a ram, one stuck nearby in a thicket. There would be no need to follow through. But God observes, “you have not withheld from me your son, your only son.”
Long after, it was said of this place that “On the mountain of the Lord it will be provided.”
God asked Abraham to trust Him enough to not only fulfill the promise, but to give it back. To fully trust his Father.
On the mountain of the Lord it will be provided.
I have to go to the mountain of the Lord to prove it sometimes. To see that He’s really going to provide.
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Slicing the Salami
Then Abraham spoke up again: “Now that I have been so bold as to speak to the Lord, though I am nothing but dust and ashes, what if the number of the righteous is five less than fifty? Will you destroy the whole city because of five people?” ”If I find forty-five there,” he said, “I will not destroy it.” (Genesis 18:27-28)
One of the things I have the opportunity to do often in my job is negotiate. Injured parties want to be compensated, and they come to the table with an idea of what they think they’re entitled to. I also have an idea of what I think they’re entitled to. We don’t usually start out in the same place. So we negotiate to try to find a place somewhere in between we can both live with. We both give enough to be able to reach an agreement. Or as a mediator recently told me, the goal is to get to an amount we both find mutually disagreeable. There are all kinds of tactics we use on both sides of the negotiation to try to reach that mutually disagreeable agreement.
It’s one of those tactics that I think Abraham put to use with God in Genesis 18. He certainly didn’t participate in any continuing education workshops or webcast training sessions to learn the technique. But he sure knew how to use it. The section heading in my Bible calls this account “Abraham Pleads for Sodom.” If I’d have been writing the captions, I think I’d have named it differently. I think Abraham was doing what today is known as “Slicing the Salami.”
Slicing the Salami is a negotiating tactic that understands that you’re more likely to gain a concession from the other party if you don’t make a big demand or request all at once. You don’t eat a whole salami at once; you eat it in slices. In negotiation, you make smaller, incremental demands. The gradual moves make the final outcome more palatable for the party making the concessions.
Read this whole account in your Bible. It’s not too long. Sodom is out of control. Its sin as a community has become so heinous that God has determined to destroy the whole of it. He tells Abraham of His plan, and Abraham does plead with God to relent. He calls on Him to be true to His character: “Far be it from you to do such a thing—to kill the righteous with the wicked, treating the righteous and the wicked alike. Far be it from you! Will not the Judge of all the earth do right?” And then he makes his request, asks for his first concession. He doesn’t ask God to do nothing. He doesn’t ask Him not to act. He doesn’t ask Him to preserve everyone without condition. He asks Him to “spare the place” if fifty righteous people can be found. And God agrees.
So Abraham continues. What if only forty-five? That’s just five less than fifty. You wouldn’t destroy the place for just five, would You? (Did you see how the baseline moved? Now it’s just a matter of five, not fifty.) No, God says, for the sake of forty-five I will not destroy them.
Each time, Abraham is cautious, but bold: Don’t be angry, if I may be so bold. He’s bold, alright. Asking God to turn back His wrath. Asking Him to stay His hand. Asking Him to relent. He’s bold.
But he’s also humble. He recognizes that he’s not God, he is man. He is nothing but dust and ashes. He’s humble.
That mix of boldness and humility is powerful.
God, what about only forty? Slice. What about thirty? Slice. What about twenty? Slice. And so God agrees. He responds to Abraham’s bold humility. If 20 righteous men can be found, he says, I will spare the place.
Lord, don’t be angry, but let me ask one more thing. One more slice of the salami.
What if there are only ten found? Slice.
For the sake of ten, I will not destroy it.
For the sake of ten. We just went from destroying the whole place, no matter what, to relenting if there were fifty righteous men found, all the way to holding off if there were just ten righteous men. All a series of slices. Slices made in profound boldness. Slices made in profound humility.
God was willing to come to the negotiating table and meet Abraham there. He responded to Abraham’s faith. And his boldness. And his humility.
I’m not suggesting any professional development courses to hone our negotiating skills so we can be better prayers. I am suggesting we approach the table to meet with God in boldness and in humility.
And in anticipation that God will come to the table too. He’s already there, waiting.
300 Years of Walking with God
When Enoch had lived 65 years, he became the father of Methuselah. And after he became the father of Methuselah, Enoch walked with God 300 years and had other sons and daughters. Altogether, Enoch lived 365 years. Enoch walked with God; then he was no more, because God took him away. (Genesis 5: 21-24)
There’s something about reading all the way through the Word. You don’t get to skip over the parts that don’t fully capture your attention. Like reading the geneologies. In the fifth chapter of Genesis, there is a long list of who was born to whom and how long they lived. Outside of these folks just living some incredibly long lives, it all kind of starts to get a little numbing. They start to look a lot alike: Altogether, Seth lived 912 years, and then he died. Or after he became the father of Jared, Mahalalel lived 830 years and had other sons and daughters. Altogether, Mahalalel lived 895 years, and then he died.
There’s one guy though, if you read along through them all, that stands out. His name is Enoch. The son of Jared. And the father of Methuselah. We don’t hear a whole lot about him in Scripture. But his account is just a little bit different.
You see, the Word doesn’t say how long Enoch lived. And it doesn’t say when he died.
For all the others it says “after he became the father of So-and-so, Such-and-such lived x-number of years.” But for Enoch it says that after he became the father of Methuselah he “walked with God 300 years.” He didn’t just live his life. He walked with God. What he did was somehow different enough from the rest of these legends that it bore noting that he “walked with God.” For another 300 years after Methuselah was born.
He walked with God for another 300 years. He did so much more than just living.
He walked with God — he was marked by a tight and intimate relationship with the Father where he desired the things God desired, he ran after God’s heart, he lived consistent with his identity that was so fully wrapped up in God. Hebrews 11 briefly refers to Enoch, observing that he was commended “as one who pleased God.” Seems that would have to be what it meant to have walked with God. For another 300 years.
And after 300 years? He didn’t die. God just took him. God said he got to be with him, right then and there.
While other guys lived long and full lives, Enoch walked with God for 300 years. I can’t say what these other guys were doing, whether they pleased God, whether they would spend eternity with Him. But we do know Enoch walked with him in a special way. A way that stood out, that warranted a special mention when God breathed out His Word in the text of Genesis. He walked with Him in such a way that when it came time for him to go home to be with God, God skipped the dying part and just embraced him and welcomed him into his rest.
I know I have no interest in living 300 years. By the time 300 years have passed since I was born, I would really like for at least 200 of them to be in that amazing place God has prepared for me. But I would like to leave a legacy of having “walked with God” for however many years I’m here. I don’t think I have so much desire to be known for any more than that.
Because if I can be known for simply having walked with God, I can’t see where I’d have lacked anything.
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Timber!
“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.” (Matthew 7:3-5)
It’s almost like Jesus had recently been to the circus and had seen a couple of clowns doing this act he describes. One has this chunk of timber sticking out of his eye, and the two go through their choreographed antics while he tries to help get a eyelash out of the other clown’s eye. The imagery is huge exaggeration. But it works. Can you honestly picture a guy with a board or a log sticking out of his head trying to accomplish anything, let alone the intricate work of trying to help a friend with a speck in his eye?
The guy with the protruding log can’t do a thing. Every time he turns his head, he knocks something over. Worse, he slams the other guy in the head every time he moves. And this is the poor guy he’s trying to help. Somehow, in the midst of it all, he has no idea that this is going on. His vision is completely obstructed by this board of his.
Helping a friend with a speck in his eye is delicate work. It requires great care and gentleness. Care and gentleness that are simply impossible to give when you keep bludgeoning the person with your own log. Care and gentleness that are impossible to give when you can’t get close enough to see what you’re doing. Care and gentleness that are impossible to give when you’re thrown off balance by the weight of your own deficiencies.
Jesus doesn’t say not to help our brother with the speck. He says to take the plank out first. He tells us that we have to get that thing out of our eye before we can do anything helpful for anybody else. We need some help extricating the log from our own socket.
And a remarkable thing will happen when we do that.
With the plank in our eye, we became obsessed with the speck. All we could see was the speck. And we wouldn’t rest until we fixed that, even if it meant that we beat our brother silly with the board in our eye.
But once the lumber is out of our eye, we can see clearly. And we see our brother in a whole new light. Now we can see our brother and respond to him with the care and gentleness he deserves, the care and gentleness he requires. Now we can actually be helpful. To our surprise, we might even find out that there wasn’t a speck there at all. That maybe we were just seeing some of the residue of our own plank. With our own log out of the way, we can approach and get close enough to our brother to begin to meet his needs.
There’s a monstrosity sticking out of my eye. And though it’s obvious to everyone else, I can only see the speck in my brother’s. Somebody help me out with that.
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The Big Knife
Be even-tempered, content with second place, quick to forgive an offense. Forgive as quickly and completely as the Master forgave you. (Colossians 3:13, The Message)
Nicholas Cage and Cher once did this great little movie together called Moonstruck. As the story goes, Cher’s character, one Loretta Castorini, is a widow in her late 30s who is about to remarry, to Johnny Camarreri. Unlucky in love, her first husband was killed by a bus. At Johnny’s request, she goes to meet his estranged brother, Ronny, to try to persuade him to put the past behind him and come to the wedding. Ronny is a bitter and angry man working in the ovens in the family bakery. Years earlier, Ronny had lost his hand while cutting bread for Johnny, and subsequently lost his girl as well. He always blamed Johnny for the mishap and the miserable life that he had lived since. So now they have “bad blood” between them and Ronny just can’t get past it.
In the heated exchange between Ronny and Loretta, Ronny finally slams his prosthetic hand down on the cutting table and shouts, “I ain’t no [bad word] monument to justice! I lost my hand! I lost my bride! Johnny has his hand! Johnny has his bride! You want me to take my heartache, put it away and forget?”
Then he turns to a mousy young woman who works in the bakery, and privately loves Ronny, and yells, “Chrissy, over on the wall. Bring me the big knife. I want to cut my throat.”
You want me to take my heartache, put it away and forget?
Well, um, yeah Ronny, we kind of do. We want you to do something with it. Something different than what you’re doing.
I’d never tell you to pretend your heart doesn’t hurt. But there’s a difference between grieving and experiencing our pain and diving headlong into dwelling on it to the point of ruining ourselves. Ronny’s been dwelling on his heartache for a long, long time. He’s been bathing in his bitterness and rage. He’s given himself a miserable life in the ovens hating his brother, blaming him for his terrible losses.
Paul had seen it hundreds of times. The people of God, the Body of Christ, bitter and unforgiving. Refusing to let go of their heartache. Refusing to forgive their grievances. Content to go on saying that there’s just “bad blood between us.” Each day, growing more hateful and bitter. And destroying everything around them.
We are grieved and offended, and we call for the knife. “Chrissy, over on the wall. Bring me the big knife.” My throat, someone else’s heart. Doesn’t really matter. I ain’t no monument to justice.
Once again, Paul says there is another way. A better way. He says to leave the big knife on the wall. Yes, you were grieved. Yes, you were offended. Yes, you were deeply wounded. But forgive. And quickly, like God did for you.
We think there are just two choices. Dive in and dwell in it, or put it away and pretend it never happened. Either one eats us alive. Either one makes us want the big knife.
The other choice, the one we overlook, is to forgive, quickly, as God forgave us. We recognize and acknowledge our pain, we don’t pretend it isn’t there. But neither do we hold it like a treasured possession while it quietly drains all the life right out of us.
Leave the big knife on the wall. You don’t have to be a monument to justice to just learn to forgive, and quickly.
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Solid Food Update
“Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.” (Isaiah 55:1-2)
Sanchez, our orphan kitten, had a rough few days. On the vet’s orders, you’ll remember, we cut off her milk supply. No more formula. She had to start eating solid food so she could mature.
Let me tell you, she wasn’t impressed.
For three days, we set out Friskies and water for her. Even started the first few feedings by lacing the cat food with just a smattering of formula on top. She licked it off and left the rest of the food there like she hadn’t even noticed it.
Wouldn’t eat a thing.
On the third day of her hunger strike, she succumbed to a delicate whitefish blend.
The hunger pains had to be pretty intense by then.
So she gave in and ate her Friskies.
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And now? Now she’s insatiable.
She can’t get enough.
Used to be she’d stand at our feet if she thought we might be mixing up a little milk for her, and she’d let out an occasional meow. Nothing major, just enough to let us know she was ready and waiting.
Now if she thinks there’s even a chance the food is coming out (even if I’m just brewing coffee) she hops around where we’re standing and yells at the top of her lungs.
Where’s the good stuff? I want my Friskies! Is it salmon today? Maybe the roast beef dinner?
Oh, come on! What’s taking you so long?
And when she finally gets her food dish back, she snorkles through it in just minutes, licking out every last morsel she can find.
And she’s ready for the next meal as soon as she finishes the first.
Now she wonders what all the fuss was about. It was as though she spent herself on what was not food, what would not satisfy. Now she eats what is good, her soul delights in the richest of fare. And we find that she is much more content on the whole.
Yes, she’d still like to chew my hand right off my arm. But now it’s all in good fun, not because she’s hungry and cranky. Now she’s content from time to time, when she’s not chasing shadows around the living room floor or stalking someone’s bare foot, to just curl up beside us and purr.
She is eating what is good and has delighted in the richest food.
And so she cannot get enough. She has enough to fill her, oh yes. But she earnestly desires more. She knows when she eats that “there’s more where that came from.” And oh, she wants it.
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So how about you? Still on your own hunger strike?
Lapping up the milk now and again but not sure you want to commit to the Friskies?
There’s a lot in life that offers to satisfy, and never really does. There’s a lot we spend ourselves on that is not bread, is not food.
God offers us real food for free. Real food that leaves us full and content. Real food that meets our real needs.
Take it from Sanchez.
Don’t spend yourself on what is not going to satisfy. Eat what is good.
Your soul will delight in the richest food.
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Out of Egypt: God Is in the Details
“But take this staff in your hand so you can perform miraculous signs with it.” (Exodus 4:17)
One more look at Exodus for now, and very briefly at that…
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Now that Moses has at last relented, he prepares to meet his brother Aaron and go back to Egypt. Before his amazing encounter with God at the bush is over, however, God tells him one more thing.
But take this staff in your hand so you can perform miraculous signs with it.
Moses, just one more thing before you go. Don’t forget your staff.
Don’t forget your staff. You’ll need it.
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Think God is all big-picture? That He’s not in the details?
Think again.
Yes, God is big-picture.
He gets what’s important and doesn’t want us to sweat the small stuff. Not to worry.
He wants us to see the vision, get the wider view.
But He’s also all about the details. The finer points. The little things that matter.
He takes interest in the little things we might think He just overlooks. He doesn’t overlook our little things. He cares deeply about them.
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He’s big-picture, sure.
But oh, the little details matter to Him.
Because we matter to Him.
Don’t forget your staff.
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Out of Egypt: Send Someone Else
But Moses said, “O Lord, please send someone else to do it.” (Exodus 4:13)
Moses is still rearing up, but his excuses get weaker by the word. He’s just told God that he doesn’t speak well, and so he should not be the one to go. God answers with a question.
I hate that.
Just who do you think gave man his mouth?
At least God does answer His own questions, though.
Is it not I, the Lord? Now GO; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.
It is God who gave us what we have in the first place, and He knows what we need for which tasks. He does not give us responsibilities He has not equipped us to carry out.
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Moses is desperate. He has no other good lines to use.
He throws in his final, all-or-nothing punch: Just send somebody else.
What? Did he actually say that straight out?
The Word says that at this point God’s anger burned against Moses. While we ask our questions, make our excuses, God seems to still bring us along, working with us, patiently answering all our fears. He has it all worked out, and there is nothing to be found in our “rational” objections that can stump God.
But flat out refuse to obey or insist that He do things our way instead of His? I think we’ll see His anger burn.
I don’t like that. I don’t want to be there.
He’ll answer our questions, work through it with us.
But when the time comes, He will just say Now GO.
GO.
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Despite Moses’ rebellion, God has it all figured out. He did all along.
Moses’ brother, Aaron, may go along and speak for him. I knew all along that you would act like this, and I planned for this. Aaron is already on his way to meet you.
Here’s how it’s going to work: Moses will speak to Aaron and put words in his mouth. God will help and teach both of them. Aaron will speak to the people for Moses as if it were Moses’ own mouth and as if Moses were as God to Aaron.
If Moses would have stopped panicking and objecting long enough to hear God out, he would have found that all his fears were already covered in God’s planning and foresight.
I have to keep this in mind as the Lord leads in various directions. If I will take the time to be quiet and really hear what He wants to do, I’ll find that He already has it covered, already has me covered.
There is no reason to be afraid to move out in faith.
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Paul asks the Romans, and us,
How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent?”
God asks Moses the same question, essentially.
How are My people going to be released without someone going to speak to Pharaoh?
I picked you. I gave you Aaron.
I’m sending you, not someone else.
You need to go.
Now.
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Time’s a wasting. There are Israelites to rescue. Now GO.
Time’s a wasting. There are people who need to hear. Now GO.
I can say “Just send someone else.”
Or I can just GO.
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The Conversation