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What if God said this to us?

August 27, 2011 in Biblical Justice

I read this verse the other day and felt a bit of a painful punch in the gut. I don’t think these moments happen often enough for me when I read my Bible really. But I was struck with it’s poignancy. Imagine, for a second, that God directed these very words at you and your church:

I hate, I despise your feasts, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies…Take away from me the noise of your songs; to the melody of your harps I will not listen.

Ouch! I looked at several different translations, and they all seem to say “I hate, I despise…” which in and of itself caught my eye. As you have probably noticed, translations often differ widely on the specific wording. Apparently there isn’t much confusion on how to translate that part.

I’m starting to write about this theme of “missing God” quite a bit, and thinking even more about it. I am realizing that I have a tendency to read negative passages like this by putting myself on God’s side as he lambastes the Israelites. Since I of course read my Bible, go to church, and live a good Christian life, this doesn’t apply…right? Plus the context of this verse, as I’ll share in a minute, is very strongly for justice. I’m passionate about justice, so I don’t need to hear this lecture from God, right?

Pause.

If I believe that I understand God, Christ, and the Christian faith simply because I read the Bible and go to church, I have made a grave error.

If I believe that, I have made the same error the Pharisees of Jesus’ day made. And I think I’m making the same error the Israelites are making here. Their faith was a mere religious checklist and as long as they did all the religious feasts and solemn assmblies, they were pleasing in God’s sight, right? God says not. Because as soon as I look for a checklist to complete, the minute I lean on my own understanding of the Bible and my own religious fervor as my hope, I have quit leaning on Christ. Our human intellect is a marvelous gift, and I don’t think we use it often enough. But we must recognize our limitations, and we must not be luled into a false sense of security that we “know” God and Christ because of what we do.

So, back to the verse, what does God tell the Israelites?

“But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”

Now I think we have to be careful here not to look at this as some new item on the same checklist. It isn’t. I think what we should learn here is precisely the opposite. God isn’t interested in us completing a list of religious todos. He is interested in our heart. Just as religious feasts and solemn assemblies can be mere todos for us to check off our religious checklist so too can the pursuit of justice. I think a desire for justice, for the Christian, should come out of a thriving and abundant personal relationship with God. I hope that my own ambitions are skewed to reflect the desires of God’s heart

I leave you with the “unabridged” scripture. May you and I seek to know God, and worship in a way that is pleasing to Him.

I hate, I despise your feasts,
and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.
Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings,
I will not accept them;
and the peace offerings of your fattened animals,
I will not look upon them.
Take away from me the noise of your songs;
to the melody of your harps I will not listen.
But let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.
Amos 5:22

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Satisfaction

August 7, 2011 in Devotional Thoughts, Thoughts of the Day

I was reading the account of the Samaritan women at the well recently. One of those well known passages in Christianity. But I was struck by several verses:

The first:

“If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.”

John 4:10b

I was struck by this verse because Jesus seems to say to her: “if you knew who I am” in a way that–to me–sounds like he thought she at least might have a chance to figure it out. Maybe even a little provocative: “duh! c’mon, can’t you figure it out?” In other words, it isn’t as though he excuses her from being blind to his true identity; she had at least a chance of figuring it out. I suppose its mostly interesting to me because I have been thinking a lot about what it means to see Christ lately. I’ve written about it before. I realize that I arrogantly assume that, because I am a “good” Christian, I of course would recognize Christ in the flesh if I saw him. The more I am reading the gospel accounts, however, the more I have doubt in my real ability to see Him. Most people, including this Samaritan woman, really seem to have no clue when they saw him. I doubt I could have done much better in their shoes, really. (Not that I think it is impossible either, I just realize that I must not “lean on my own understanding”)

But really more interesting is that this is his response to her question, of basically, “why are you, a Jew, even talking to me?” Jesus doesn’t just come out and tell her. Why? It seems like it would have been so much easier to say “because I’m God” or something like that.

The other verse that struck me was the disciples prodding Jesus to eat some food:

Meanwhile the disciples were urging him, saying, “Rabbi, eat.” But he said to them, ”I have food to eat that you do not know about.” So the disciples said to one another, “Has anyone brought him something to eat?” Jesus said to them, ”My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to accomplish his work…”

John 4:31-34

Simple enough, his disciples are concerned about him. Earlier, at the beginning, it said he was tired from his journey. But he gives them a strange response: “I have food to eat that you do not know about.” They, of course, take him literary, which just completely baffles the disciples. Then, Jesus gives an explanation: ”My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to accomplish his work.”

What a picture of true satisfaction! Can you imagine being so immersed in God’s will, that you considered that food? Life? Can you imagine be so concerned about the concerns of God, that you  forget the needs of the body? No, I don’t wish to promote aestheticism, but I do wish I were more focused on doing the work of the Kingdom rather than promoting my own interest–which is, I’m pretty sure, what 90% of my time really ends up being about: me.

Anyway, the entire passage is beautiful, in my opinion, and probably could feed an entire series of writings. But I’ll leave it there for now. May you and I seek to recognize Christ as he is, be satisfied in the work of the Father, and may we be open to his leading.

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Recentering

July 6, 2011 in Thoughts of the Day

I came across a great quotation today that I thought would be worth sharing, especially in light of my post yesterday. Currently, I am reading Making All Things New: An Invitation to the Spiritual Life, which is a fantastic book. Nouwen begins the book talking about our modern, busy lives. I’ve had many conversations about the modern life, modern busyness, and balancing the spiritual life with “secular” life; so I found this quotation thought-provoking:

It is important for us to realize that Jesus in no way wants us to leave our many-faceted world. Rather, he wants us to live in it, but firmly rooted in the center of all things …. [Jesus] speaks about a change of heart. This change of heart makes everything different, even while everything appears to remain the same.

Jesis asks us to move our hearts to the center, where all other things fall into place. What is this center? Jesus calls it the kingdom, the kingdom of his Father.

{ Making all things New, page 42-43 }

At first read, it’s just a restatement of the familiar “be in the world but not of it” idea that Christians often (rightly) parrot. But I think Nouwen captures an essence of this delicate balance of Christian life in this world very well. We are to refocus on the Kingdom, just as Jesus did.

This is the freedom Christ offers: death to self and life in Him. When we refocus on that kingdom, and that reality, we experience true freedom. Christ does not call us to forsake all things earthly, rather we are called to refocus so that we are no longer concerned primarily with the physical kingdom around us, but the kingdom of the Father.

May you and I find the strength and the courage to recenter our lives on that kingdom.

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True Freedom

July 4, 2011 in Christian Life, Thoughts of the Day

Independence day. Undoubtedly, many of us are celebrating today by enjoying time off and spending it with family and friends. Today is a reminder of our country’s heritage and freedom. I would like, however, to offer something that I have been thinking about a lot: what is true freedom for the Christian? I would like to suggest that the freedom we celebrate today, on July 4th, is at best a pale shadow of the freedom Christ offers to us, and at worst an idea that lures us into a false conception of Christ’s freeing work on the cross.

Let me start out by saying that I by no means wish to “bash” our country or its principles. As a historian, I recognize the uniqueness of our country’s founding, and our ideals; we are indeed blessed with a freedom that many people today and throughout history have not been. I am glad that I can choose my own government—that our government in theory works for us and not the other way around, that I can worship as I please and where I please, live my life as I please, and so on and so forth. But the problem with that list, for the Christian, is that word I.

Christians believe they have freedom in Christ. But what is this freedom? Is it to do as we wish and live as we please? No. Paul tells us in Romans 6:6,7 that “our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be destroyed, and we might no longer be enslaved to sin. For whoever has died is freed from sin” And the more I see the power of sin in my own life, the more I see how the word “enslaved” is so appropriate. But Paul does not end there:  (verses 17 & 18) “But thanks be to God that you, having once been slaves of sin, have become obedient from the heart to the form of teaching to which you were entrusted, and that you, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of righteousness.” We are dead to self and alive in Christ. We are all familiar with Galatians 2:20: “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

Freedom in Christ, then, is fundamentally about far more than little old me. In fact, Paul goes so far as to say that he is no longer living his own life—he is dead to self, but that it is Christ living in him. I should no longer be concerned with my own desires, but the desires of Christ. Not that all human desires are wrong or should be ignored, but rather that I submit them to Christ my master.

Do you see the paradox with what we call “freedom” in America? Freedom here is the freedom to do whatever you wish with your life, and be free of governmental control, religious control, and free from tyranny. Freedom in Christ is the freedom to no longer be concerned about your own life, and to no longer be enslaved to your own sin, but to wholeheartedly give your life to Christ and live for him. To call him Lord and Master: two words that are inherently, not “free.” To be completely free from yourself, your desires, and your sin is true freedom.

Again, I by no means believe there is anything immoral about experiencing what I am calling “American” freedom. Indeed, we are arguably better enabled to serve Christ and live for him because of it. But I hope we can see the limitations of that freedom too. And I hope we can see that our freedom in Christ is completely independent of secular freedom, and perhaps even stands in stark contrast to that secular freedom. Christians living under the most oppressive governments, or Christians who are physically enslaved to someone, can still experience freedom in Christ, and perhaps they even have experienced that freedom more fully than we who live in “free” countries.

I leave you with the words of Christ from John 8:31-36 :

To the Jews who had believed him, Jesus said, ‘If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples.  Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.’

They answered him, ‘We are Abraham’s descendants and have never been slaves of anyone. How can you say that we shall be set free?’

Jesus replied, ‘Very truly I tell you, everyone who sins is a slave to sin. Now a slave has no permanent place in the family, but a son belongs to it forever. So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.’

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Failure.

February 19, 2009 in Christian Life, My Christian Walk

Failure. It’s something we don’t like, do we? Failing a test isn’t fun. Letting someone down (failing them), isn’t fun. Failure isn’t something anyone sets out to do.

Yet, we still do.

Probably, just by reading what I’ve written, you may have had some failure come to mind. A specific instance where you failed. If you didn’t, I could probably ask you to think of something, and you could probably come up with at least some instance of failure in your life.

Failure can take all shapes and forms. No one likes it, and I’m sure we all wish we could avoid it. Some failures, however, in the long run are very small. Not all failure leads to guilt. But one area of failure in particular, sin, does lead to guilt. Often tremendous guilt.

I’ve had several late nights lately. In the past 7 days now, I have had three nights I’ve gone to bed after am. James doesn’t do that. Not even for homework. But get me in a good conversation, and I’ll stick around. And my conversations, and just my life, have got me thinking. Something I do a lot of.

I will venture a guess that if you thought any about your failures, while there may be plenty of ‘every day’ failings (maybe not doing well on a test, being insensitive, etc), something bigger than that probably came to your mind. What that failing actually is probably different for each individual. But universally I feel fairly safe in guessing that most people have failed in some way that they feel incredible guilt for. At least I have yet to meet someone who doesn’t feel that way.

It’s not the kind of conversation that comes up often. But either directly or indirectly, I have yet to meet a person who doesn’t seem to have some area of life they truly feel like a failure in. Not just a mistake: A failure.

It could be a lot of different things, but a very common one is in the area of sexuality. Maybe not for everyone, but I’m going to guess again here and say that most people deal with, or at the very least have dealt with, guilt for something in the area of sexuality. That could mean 101 different things, but it comes to a core issue.

As a side note, (for this really ought to have its own note) I think this is for two reasons: one, our sexuality is such an intertwined part of our existence, that a sexual sin really is a “sin against yourself”. But also, the Christian culture promotes the idea of sexual purity—save yourself for marriage. I’m all for that, but I think it has a major downside in the way it’s talked about. No one ever talks about healthy sexuality, only the ‘list’ of things you can or can’t do. As a result, I think we have this idea that our sexuality is like a piece of paper. Every failing, every sin, is like ripping a piece of that paper off. And if that is what our sexuality is like, it means that every piece of paper is ripped forever. It’s damaged. Forever.

And so, if you feel like you’ve sinned sexuality, you probably also feel like you are no longer ‘whole’.

Like you’ve given away a piece of your heart. A piece of paper.

And you probably feel like you will never get that back. Even though you know you are forgiven, you feel like you have made a mistake that cannot really be redeemed. Forgiven yes, redeemed no. You feel as though a part of you will never be right.

And that’s hard. How do you even share something like that? What would people think of you if they knew? After all, you are the only person who has ever made a mistake like that—or are you?

Do we become so isolated in our guilt, that we close that area of our life off? I think we do. We are afraid of it. It’s ugly. It doesn’t matter what it is, it seems like a blackness that borders on unpardonable. It seems like something that no ‘Christian’ should deal with. Yet we do. And not just a few people, I think most people do.

I don’t think that’s the idea God has. Yes, it is sin, and sometimes it is ugly. But to treat yourself as less-than-whole is to do a disservice to God, and the redemption he works in our lives. To act as though you are a piece of paper, and your failure ripped that paper apart in a way that can never be repaired, is wrong. And here is what that kind thinking does: it opens the door to guilt. And guilt gives the enemy a tool to remind you of your shortcomings

And if the enemy has a tool to ‘beat over your head’, he will do it.

So why give him the tool in the first place?

Why not recognize that God has promised forgiveness, but redemption. Freedom. It means we don’t have to be guilty. It means we aren’t a piece of paper, with a huge tear in us.

I think a better image is that of a scar. A scar, as we are all well aware, starts as some kind of wound. I have a small scar on one of my fingers. I remember to this day how I got it. There was a piece of coral in one of the bathrooms of my house. It was right next to an electrical outlet, and I was unplugging a radio. In the process of unplugging the radio, I ran my finger across the coral and was left with a deep, bleeding gash. It hurt, a lot. It was one of those cuts that was really small, and compared with the wounds some people get, it was insignificant, but man it hurt! For several days, I know I was painfully aware of the qualities of coral.

I don’t feel pain on that finger anymore. It’s healed. But guess what, I have a scar there. I don’t remember exactly when that event happened, but it was at least 5 years ago, if not longer. Some scars go away, but I don’t think this one is going to. It’s small, but I know it’s there. Some scars even still hurt at times. My finger doesn’t hurt very often on that scar, but every once in a while it does. If my hands are really cold, or hot, I can sometimes feel a specific pain in that scar. Most people with scars probably are aware of this.

I think that image of a scar is much better than paper. You are a whole person, even with scars. Scars, generally, don’t keep you going about life in any way. But they are still there. Guys like to talk about their scars. I don’t think at the time the wound is something that people go, “Oh that is going to be an awesome scar!” No, it hurts. But as the years go by, and all that’s left is a scar, it often becomes a story.

A story.

What if failure became a story?

What if it already has? By experiencing failure, we also are a part of the greatest Story.

It’s here that, guess what, I have a song I’d like to share. It’s actually a little older, by Steven Curtis Chapman. If you have related to this in any way, I’d like you to listen to it. The only place I can find it is one youTube video: (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tkupxMAzlnM). It’s not great quality, but listen anyway. And read the lyrics.

Was God smiling when He spoke the word and made the world?
And did He cry about the flood?
What does God’s voice sound like when He sings, when He’s angry?
These are just a few things that the angels have on me

Well, I can’t fly at least not yet
I’ve got no halo on my head
And I can’t even start to picture heaven’s beauty
But I’ve been shown the Savior’s love
The Grace of God has raised me up
To show me things the angels long to look into
And I know things the Angels only wish they knew

I have seen the dark and desperate place where sin will take you
I’ve felt loneliness and shame
And I have watched the blinding light of grace
Come breaking through with a sweetness only tasted
By the forgiven and redeemed

And someday I’ll sit down with my angel friends
Up in heaven
And they’ll tell me about Creation
And I’ll tell them a story of Grace

Well, I can’t fly at least not yet
I’ve got no halo on my head
And I can’t even start to picture heaven’s beauty
But I’ve been shown a Savior’s love
The Grace of God has raised me up
To show me things the angels long to look into
And I know things the Angels only wish they knew

Through our sin, ugly as it is, we have a great gift. Yes, it’s hard. It’s painful. There are things we wish we could change and do differently. We’ve failed. But because of those failures, we can see something truly awesome. Grace.

In our broken state, the only thing we can cling to is God. We have seen the desperate and lonely place were sin leads. But we’ve also seen something far better. We have seen the blinding light of grace come in and meet us right where we are at. I like how the song puts it, “a sweetness only tasted by the forgiven and redeemed.”

Just think about that a bit.

We’ve been show the love of God, in a very personal way. In way, though I wish I was free from failure, I don’t know how else I’d want it. Yes, I’ve made mistakes. Big mistakes. I’ve dealt with guilt, I’ve dealt with sin. And, most likely, that won’t change this side of Glory. But, through that pain, I am left with something that is utterly amazing. For in the depth of my depravity, I can see something that can only be seen because of that depravity. And though I wish I hadn’t failed, if that’s what seeing the love of God mean, I wouldn’t trade that. In the ugliness of my sin, I am left with something utterly beautiful.
I am left with a story.