The list scrolls through my head of the myriad ways I could spend the next 40 minutes. There's homework, prayer, floor events. Treasury Op, phone calls home, letters to be written. There are books on my shelf eager to be read in leisure (which I'm increasingly learning does not exist naturally), papers waiting to be written and people eager to engage with. The floor need swept, the laundry done and we won't even start talking about the state of my bathroom — let alone my own lack of hygiene at the moment.
And yet, with this sea of things to do cluttering my brain cells, I am refreshed and open-eyed. I should be exhausted. I promised myself a nap, and yet, here I sit mere inches from my bed, gazing out my window — at a brick wall. But I can't stop smiling.
A professor mentioned last night that there is a different kind of prayer than petition. She talked about being with God, enjoying his company, resting with him.
I was stunned that we needed to cover this. I thought that was the essence of the Christian life, but judging by the looks around the room, this was a foreign, and not too welcome, concept. Time with God, in the minds of my academic classmates, involved lists and study and discipline.
In Greek class today, my professor, who gives me more homework than I have in any other class, talked about how Americans work too much. Its was a beautiful irony. His point was that we thrive on our to-do lists and gain pleasure out of crossing things out. Americans are defined by their labors and find it difficult to rest.
I am an American. Behind my internet browser is a vibrant, colorful calendar of all the things scheduled in my life, with a list too long display beside it, offering each of the things I need to do: Greek homework, run to the Bank, talk to Professors. I live by my agenda. I wake up each morning, scan the calendar and embed the image on the forefront of my brain so that I may go from one task to the next without missing a beat.
Yet, somewhere along the line, I learned to savor the sweetness of God. If you ask me about my quiet times, I would tell you I never miss them; they saturate my day. If you asked me how frequently I read my Bible, I would shamefully tell you that there are days its not read. If you asked me about intercession, I would inform you that I have a list, but that I don't always lift it before God.
Those are my weaknesses, and things I need to work on, yet I am so grateful that my life is filled with a God who loves being with me. I don't have to study his Word to live in his Word. I don't have to have an agenda to enter his presence: he dwells with me always. And that is reason enough to take a few moments away from my discipline and soak up his holiness.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
Our Response to God
Matthew 8:23-34:
I know. That's a lot of Scripture to throw out there, but I've been thinking about our response to divinity and these passages break my heart.
So the disciples have been following Jesus. They like the guy. He's been doing miracles all day, and a few days before, he was giving them a lengthy discourse on morals. People are flocking to Jesus. Everyone wants to talk to him, be healed by him, see him, and the disciples have been called by God to get to hang out.
And we, as American Christians who have been told our whole lives that Jesus is the Son of God, take that knowledge for granted. Sometimes I catch myself thinking that the disciples knew Jesus was the Messiah from the start.
They didn't.
So they're on a boat and a storm comes while Jesus is sleeping. You know the drill. Disciples: afraid. Jesus: sleeping. Disciples: wake Jesus. Jesus: rebuke wind and the disciples. Storm ends.
Sometimes, we get so familar with the story that we stopped being shocked. This is a crazy storm. They're on a little boat being tossed around. HOW ON EARTH IS JESUS ASLEEP?!? Jesus' sleep pattern is more than biological here. Its theological. Don't you think he had a lesson to be taught here? People don't sleep through heavy turbulence --- especially when waves are splashing on top of you.
So Jesus rebukes them, and that's a blog unto itself. The key, today, is their response. The disciples stand in awe, wondering what kind of man he is.
What kind of MAN he is. That's what the disciples think. They've seen miracles. They've heard amazing speeches. They've seen the world obey him. And they wonder if maybe its in the water in Nazareth. They see his finest divinity and dwell on his humanity.
How many times have you heard someone say that they would believe in God if he would work a miracle. How many times have I played Gideon asking God for some miraculous sign and then another. Its not the miracles that bring us to belief; its God's grace that opens our eyes. The disciples had enough evidence; what they needed, was some faith.
So that's sad enough by itself, but Matthew highlights our depravity by what story he chooses to follow it. So, the disciples, with Jesus, get off the boat in this place that no one goes to. There are crazy men living in tombs: it's like a scene from a B movie.
Look at what they say. "What have you to do with us, O Son of God?"
I looked. That's the first Christological statement in Matthew. Who says it? Demons.
That should humble you. The disciples, who have seen the awesome power of Christ, think about his humanity. The demons upon seeing him come out and speak to him AS GOD.
What do we need in order to believe? What silly things are we waiting on God to do before we'll claim him as our Savior?
It gets worse. Jesus sends the demons into a flock of pigs, who kill themselves. The herdsmen men run away. The passage doesn't clarify their emotions. We don't know if they were angry, scared or amazed. What we do know, is what they talked about. The passage says they "told everything, ESPECIALLY what had happened to the demon-possessed men"
They lost their whole herd of pigs, yet they focus on the men. They lost their jobs, but what they dwell on is not the animals, but the men who are freed from their demons. They focus on the MIRACLE and not the damage.
Yet, the next verse tells us that those from the city found Jesus and kicked him out.
Now, if you were focusing on the healing and the miracle that happened, would you ask the man to leave? I don't think you would. You ask someone to leave when they cause problems. Like killing your herd of pigs.
The herdsmen focused on the miracle. The town on the pigs.
My big point: Even when the situation is the same, our response to Jesus is different.
No amount of evidence changes the way we view God. We will either believe in him with all that we are, or we'll wonder what kind of man he is. Either we'll dwell on his goodness, or we'll focus on our burdens. So, how are you going to respond to God?
23 And when he got into the boat, his disciples followed him. 24 And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. 25 And they went and woke him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.” 26 And he said to them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. 27 And the men marveled, saying, “What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?”
Jesus Heals Two Demon-Possessed Men
28 And when he came to the other side, to the country of the Gadarenes, F24 two demon-possessed F25 men met him, coming out of the tombs, so fierce that no one could pass that way. 29 And behold, they cried out, “What have you to do with us, O Son of God? Have you come here to torment us before the time?” 30 Now a herd of many pigs was feeding at some distance from them. 31 And the demons begged him, saying, “If you cast us out, send us away into the herd of pigs.” 32 And he said to them, “Go.” So they came out and went into the pigs, and behold, the whole herd rushed down the steep bank into the sea and drowned in the waters. 33 The herdsmen fled, and going into the city they told everything, especially what had happened to the demon-possessed men. 34 And behold, all the city came out to meet Jesus, and when they saw him, they begged him to leave their region.I know. That's a lot of Scripture to throw out there, but I've been thinking about our response to divinity and these passages break my heart.
So the disciples have been following Jesus. They like the guy. He's been doing miracles all day, and a few days before, he was giving them a lengthy discourse on morals. People are flocking to Jesus. Everyone wants to talk to him, be healed by him, see him, and the disciples have been called by God to get to hang out.
And we, as American Christians who have been told our whole lives that Jesus is the Son of God, take that knowledge for granted. Sometimes I catch myself thinking that the disciples knew Jesus was the Messiah from the start.
They didn't.
So they're on a boat and a storm comes while Jesus is sleeping. You know the drill. Disciples: afraid. Jesus: sleeping. Disciples: wake Jesus. Jesus: rebuke wind and the disciples. Storm ends.
Sometimes, we get so familar with the story that we stopped being shocked. This is a crazy storm. They're on a little boat being tossed around. HOW ON EARTH IS JESUS ASLEEP?!? Jesus' sleep pattern is more than biological here. Its theological. Don't you think he had a lesson to be taught here? People don't sleep through heavy turbulence --- especially when waves are splashing on top of you.
So Jesus rebukes them, and that's a blog unto itself. The key, today, is their response. The disciples stand in awe, wondering what kind of man he is.
What kind of MAN he is. That's what the disciples think. They've seen miracles. They've heard amazing speeches. They've seen the world obey him. And they wonder if maybe its in the water in Nazareth. They see his finest divinity and dwell on his humanity.
How many times have you heard someone say that they would believe in God if he would work a miracle. How many times have I played Gideon asking God for some miraculous sign and then another. Its not the miracles that bring us to belief; its God's grace that opens our eyes. The disciples had enough evidence; what they needed, was some faith.
So that's sad enough by itself, but Matthew highlights our depravity by what story he chooses to follow it. So, the disciples, with Jesus, get off the boat in this place that no one goes to. There are crazy men living in tombs: it's like a scene from a B movie.
Look at what they say. "What have you to do with us, O Son of God?"
I looked. That's the first Christological statement in Matthew. Who says it? Demons.
That should humble you. The disciples, who have seen the awesome power of Christ, think about his humanity. The demons upon seeing him come out and speak to him AS GOD.
What do we need in order to believe? What silly things are we waiting on God to do before we'll claim him as our Savior?
It gets worse. Jesus sends the demons into a flock of pigs, who kill themselves. The herdsmen men run away. The passage doesn't clarify their emotions. We don't know if they were angry, scared or amazed. What we do know, is what they talked about. The passage says they "told everything, ESPECIALLY what had happened to the demon-possessed men"
They lost their whole herd of pigs, yet they focus on the men. They lost their jobs, but what they dwell on is not the animals, but the men who are freed from their demons. They focus on the MIRACLE and not the damage.
Yet, the next verse tells us that those from the city found Jesus and kicked him out.
Now, if you were focusing on the healing and the miracle that happened, would you ask the man to leave? I don't think you would. You ask someone to leave when they cause problems. Like killing your herd of pigs.
The herdsmen focused on the miracle. The town on the pigs.
My big point: Even when the situation is the same, our response to Jesus is different.
No amount of evidence changes the way we view God. We will either believe in him with all that we are, or we'll wonder what kind of man he is. Either we'll dwell on his goodness, or we'll focus on our burdens. So, how are you going to respond to God?
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Saved By Grace
Today, I finally confessed my theological beliefs to my father.
I know. It doesn't sound like that big of a deal, but it was.
My family is Wesleyan. Wesleyan to the core. When I was 12, my family attended a United Methodist church, the close cousin of our blessed Wesleyans. My grandmother stopped calling. Our relatives decided that until we got our act together, there would be no family Christmas. No birthday cards. No contact.
So, imagine the effect that admitting I am a Calvinist complementarian.
I told my father today that I did not believe what the Wesleyan church taught. I was hoping to sheepishly admit this in the middle of a business e-mail about internships and summer jobs. I was hoping that he would skim over the e-mail, forgetting altogether the details about my beliefs.
Of course, my father didn't miss it. He asked me to elaborate. To point out each doctrine that I disagreed with. This should come as no surprise from the man who read to us from the doctrinal statement of the church as a part of our evening devotionals.
After confessing my differences, he retorted back with his witty questions about if I were to die having commited murder.
It wasn't that I couldn't handle the question. It wasn't even that he asked. It was the reality that my father did not understand grace.
You see, if I am saved by grace from the hands of God then it doesn't matter what I do in my sinful nature. God doesn't love me because of what I do but because of who Christ is. He sees Christ when he looks at me, not my worthless hodge podge of sin.
I am saved by grace through faith not by works. And I will hold that until I die, with or without my family's approval.
I know. It doesn't sound like that big of a deal, but it was.
My family is Wesleyan. Wesleyan to the core. When I was 12, my family attended a United Methodist church, the close cousin of our blessed Wesleyans. My grandmother stopped calling. Our relatives decided that until we got our act together, there would be no family Christmas. No birthday cards. No contact.
So, imagine the effect that admitting I am a Calvinist complementarian.
I told my father today that I did not believe what the Wesleyan church taught. I was hoping to sheepishly admit this in the middle of a business e-mail about internships and summer jobs. I was hoping that he would skim over the e-mail, forgetting altogether the details about my beliefs.
Of course, my father didn't miss it. He asked me to elaborate. To point out each doctrine that I disagreed with. This should come as no surprise from the man who read to us from the doctrinal statement of the church as a part of our evening devotionals.
After confessing my differences, he retorted back with his witty questions about if I were to die having commited murder.
It wasn't that I couldn't handle the question. It wasn't even that he asked. It was the reality that my father did not understand grace.
You see, if I am saved by grace from the hands of God then it doesn't matter what I do in my sinful nature. God doesn't love me because of what I do but because of who Christ is. He sees Christ when he looks at me, not my worthless hodge podge of sin.
I am saved by grace through faith not by works. And I will hold that until I die, with or without my family's approval.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Dear God, I suppose I can settle for something you do for me.
Its funny the things we sing to God.
I love worship chapel. It is the single most refreshing thing in a crazy week, 40 minutes to meditate on God and sing out to him words more eloquent than my private groaning.
Sometimes.
Sometimes, worship chapel is the most frustrating 40 minutes of my life. I come to worship God in song and end up asking for all sorts of things and putting everything in my perspective.
Like telling God, "your grace is enough."
Really?
Really?
God created us. He's sovereign and powerful. Mighty and Righteous. Yet, we have the audacity to inform him, ever so kindly, that something he does for us is enough.
If God were cynical (and I'm grateful he is not) he would respond to our foolishness with "Oh golly gee thanks! You, who I created, who I redeemed, who I continually forgive, you are contented by something I give to you? Wow. I'm so glad you're happy. I'm so glad that as long as I seem gracious to you, you're happy. Because really, that's all I care about."
And, yes, I know my bitterness cannot be transposed onto God, but I think we're missing something. God is enough. Not his grace. God himself. I'm not contented with merely having grace from my God. That's not enough for me. I need all of him. Call me greedy, but I need God and all that he does. I need his justice, his mercy, his sovereign good will, his love, his benevolence, his omniscience. I need a God that's more than gracious.
And I have one.
So, I'm sorry, I can't sing along with you in a happy refrain telling my mighty God that one of his attributes is enough for me. I need all of him.
And more importantly, it's not about me. It's not about what I think is enough. I think I'm wasting my time crying out to God that's he sufficient. What he needs to hear is more like, "God, I trust you even when I don't feel your grace. Even when I'm discontented with you. God, you are my everything, even when I don't act like it. Even when I don't believe, I want to."
So, here's my prayer:
God, I don't really feel like your being all that gracious right now. I don't feel like you're enough. But I know you are more than everything I need and more than I can want. I know that my human mind can't comprehend how your grace works and can't understand your logic, but I trust it. I trust that you know what you're doing. And Lord, I don't say that to build your ego. I say it so I can remind myself of what you really are so that I may feebly attempt to worship you in a way that is honoring. You are worthy of the utmost praise, and I am incapable of giving it. But all I am, I lay before you. And I ask that you teach me how to love you more, not for my sake, but for yours.
I love worship chapel. It is the single most refreshing thing in a crazy week, 40 minutes to meditate on God and sing out to him words more eloquent than my private groaning.
Sometimes.
Sometimes, worship chapel is the most frustrating 40 minutes of my life. I come to worship God in song and end up asking for all sorts of things and putting everything in my perspective.
Like telling God, "your grace is enough."
Really?
Really?
God created us. He's sovereign and powerful. Mighty and Righteous. Yet, we have the audacity to inform him, ever so kindly, that something he does for us is enough.
If God were cynical (and I'm grateful he is not) he would respond to our foolishness with "Oh golly gee thanks! You, who I created, who I redeemed, who I continually forgive, you are contented by something I give to you? Wow. I'm so glad you're happy. I'm so glad that as long as I seem gracious to you, you're happy. Because really, that's all I care about."
And, yes, I know my bitterness cannot be transposed onto God, but I think we're missing something. God is enough. Not his grace. God himself. I'm not contented with merely having grace from my God. That's not enough for me. I need all of him. Call me greedy, but I need God and all that he does. I need his justice, his mercy, his sovereign good will, his love, his benevolence, his omniscience. I need a God that's more than gracious.
And I have one.
So, I'm sorry, I can't sing along with you in a happy refrain telling my mighty God that one of his attributes is enough for me. I need all of him.
And more importantly, it's not about me. It's not about what I think is enough. I think I'm wasting my time crying out to God that's he sufficient. What he needs to hear is more like, "God, I trust you even when I don't feel your grace. Even when I'm discontented with you. God, you are my everything, even when I don't act like it. Even when I don't believe, I want to."
So, here's my prayer:
God, I don't really feel like your being all that gracious right now. I don't feel like you're enough. But I know you are more than everything I need and more than I can want. I know that my human mind can't comprehend how your grace works and can't understand your logic, but I trust it. I trust that you know what you're doing. And Lord, I don't say that to build your ego. I say it so I can remind myself of what you really are so that I may feebly attempt to worship you in a way that is honoring. You are worthy of the utmost praise, and I am incapable of giving it. But all I am, I lay before you. And I ask that you teach me how to love you more, not for my sake, but for yours.
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