You are a messed up person.
In fairness, so am I. Really, we all are. We broken, bent in places deep down. We don't care about others like we should. We do some really stupid and hurtful things to ourselves. We put too much value in the wrong stuff. And the strange thing is, we do all these things that do us harm in the name of doing 'what feels good.'
I don't know when it happens to us, but we get broken. It must be early on, before we are able to remember what it was like to not be broken, to not be so messed up. And while I don't know when we break, I have a theory about what goes down when we do.
Selfish
At some point, we become self aware. We know we exist. And on heels of that comes the thought that we are, simply because we exist, the center of the known existence. Don't believe me? Look at a toddler not getting what they want. Or look at any person, really. Some get over the intial thought that someone dares to disagree with our clearly superior viewpoint quickly and we barely notice it. But others rant and rave, cite their credentials, and remain indignant. We become far more concerned about ourselves than anyone, or anything in all of Creation. We do what we do because it feels right, it feels good to us. Even when we do good things, it really boils down to doing to feel good about ourselves or receive some award. It's an 'all about ME' world to us. Which means the natural progression is elevate ourselves to...
godhood aka Pride
Yep. We think we are gods. WE decide our fates, WE make our rules, WE are the one others should bow to. Oh, we'd never say that, that's what madmen and egomaniacal supervillains and surgeons ( it was in a movie I once saw) say. But in our actions, we reveal the truth. When we justify breaking the rules of religion or the state, we are claiming our 'godhood.' When we demand our way, we claim it. When we think less of another person, we scream it. And since we are 'gods', we better get what we want. Like, now.
The Twins of Indulgence
Greed and Lust are the twins of indulgence. They come from the idea that we deserve whatever we want. They come from a place of intitlement, of ownership of something that others just don't yet know we possess. While our greed reveals itself in our need and pursuit of more money, possessions, or prizes, lust reveals itself in our inability (or lack of desire) to keep ourselves controlled. Why shouldn't we get what we want and do what we want? Are we not 'gods?'
And from there, our brokenness grows. Like a cracked windshield in cold weather, the brokenness grows until we are shattered. Our world comes crushing down on us when we realize we have done this to ourselves. We've thought ourselves untouchable, masters of our destiny.
We bought our own lie.
So we try to fix it. We go to meetings. We read books. We self limit. We medicate. We make apologies. We try to do good to make up for the wrong.
We treat the symptoms.
All of the things we do in our brokenness are symptoms of the greater disease: at some point, we made ourselves the most important thing in Creation. Notice our reaction to the brokenness is doing stuff that is focused on what we can control, what we can do to better ourselves. It is still all about ME.
There is exactly ONE thing that can fix what is broken about us. One thing that can, over a lifetime, close up the cracks and fill the holes that tear us apart.
Jesus told us that he came like a doctor to heal the sick- not the well. And the Great Physician realizes that your pride and greed and lust and countless other sins are the symptom of the disease of not putting God first. So He heals us in the place we first contracted the disease- our heart. He speaks to us there and says that He loves us- not because we are so awesome, but because the Father is. Jesus doesn't love us because of who we are- He loves us because of who He, the Father and the Holy Spirit is.
The cure to our brokenness is to see and accept that it is not about us, it is about God. And until we do, our attempts at fixing ourselves will only leave us more broken. Trying to make things right apart from Christ is impossible. He is the ONLY cure.
You are a messed up person, just like me. But Jesus isn't. And in that, there is hope.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
The Storm of Being Known
As I write this, a cold front is blowing in. By 5, the temp will have dropped by 20 degrees, by 7 the wind chill will be in the twenties and the wind itself will be gusty. Not to mention that it's kinda drizzly and damp. For those of us in Texas, this is about as close as we get to "the weather outside is frightful."
Needless to say, the weather has me wanting to lock the door to the house, light a fire, crawl up in a blanket and hide from the world. I love the colder weather because it lets me just relax, in my safe, warm den.
It's why I like storms in general, actually. For me, there is nothing better than cozying up in a 'safe place,' and not being bothered by people. Yes, I am not a people person, despite being a pastor. I don't mind being around people, but it drains me. I've come to think that part of the reason it drains me is most interactions with people is about both of us trying to find a 'safe place.' You know, talking about what's comfortable, easy and not at all painful or personal. I also grow weary in large groups of people because I get real tired of holding up my mask- aka my defensive false self- so I can be like everyone else, who incidently, are also often holding their masks up as well.
There is no more draining exercise for me than hanging out with people who don't want to reveal what's really going on with them, despite claiming to be open and transparent. They hide behind sarcasm, arrogance, religion, or knowledge. They don't admit when they make mistakes, or they try to redesign what they did so that it's not really a mistake. And they never, ever admit their weakness. When they do, they admit it in a safe way. They never come out and say, "I struggle with an addiction to pornography, " or "I have a tendency to be an arrogant jerk," or "I'm worried about what's going on." No, they make vague, spiritual sounding admissions like, "I'm having a tough time, but trusting God." It sounds good, but it's missing something:
An actual request for help, from God or His church.
We don't want to ask for help- maybe a vague, "I need prayer for some stuff,"- because it makes us look weak, unspiritual. When in actuality, admitting our failures and fears is key to ACTUALLY trusting God. Matthew 11:28-30 has Jesus asking us to give these fears to Him: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”. And most of us do give it Him.
But there is more: we need to give it to each other.
Brothers and sisters, if someone is caught in a sin, you who live by the Spirit should restore that person gently. But watch yourselves, or you also may be tempted. Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. If anyone thinks they are something when they are not, they deceive themselves.--Galatians 6:1-3
Our attempts to mask our failures and fears are actually a deception perpetrated unto ourselves, by ourselves. I think we fail to do this because it would be like going out of our safe, warm den on a blustery, damp winter night. We've made a fire that gives us comfort while we sip our coffee/hot cocoa in our pj's, and we quite like just sitting here, not bothered by anyone. But this metaphorical storm doesn't let up like the one coming tonight for me will. This storm will grow, and we will hide, deeper and deeper until we are trapped in a prison that we call our 'safe place.' We will be disconnected from the ones who want to help us and, ultimately, we will begin to be disconnected from Jesus. Because the more deception that "I'm OK!" we pour on, the more we believe the lie that we don't need help.
As much as we would love to stay safe, we need to take our problems to those who love us: family, close friends, and especially fellow Christ Followers. Now, I don't think we need to share EVERY LITTLE PROBLEM- that would be rather High-School-Drama-ish, don't you think? But we do need to take the things we can't handle, the things we are tempted to hide from others, to the people who not only can help, but want to.
So, sometimes we need to put down the mug of warm beverage, put on a coat and douse the fire, then open the door and walk into the storm. We've got to face the raging problems- not alone, but with those who love us. If you're dealing with something you try so hard to hide behind some sort of mask- share the burden with someone who will pray for you, someone who will check up on you. Someone who will love you unconditionally.
It's one of the big reasons Jesus came to us.
PS: I don't get to relax by the fire tonight, I too have to go into the literal storm of cold and put up posters for our church around town and campus. And you know what, I'm doing with some fellow Christ followers- giving up comfort for a night to go shed a little hope (hopefully) into the lives of those who need it.
But after that- the fireplace and hot cocoa are on!
Needless to say, the weather has me wanting to lock the door to the house, light a fire, crawl up in a blanket and hide from the world. I love the colder weather because it lets me just relax, in my safe, warm den.
It's why I like storms in general, actually. For me, there is nothing better than cozying up in a 'safe place,' and not being bothered by people. Yes, I am not a people person, despite being a pastor. I don't mind being around people, but it drains me. I've come to think that part of the reason it drains me is most interactions with people is about both of us trying to find a 'safe place.' You know, talking about what's comfortable, easy and not at all painful or personal. I also grow weary in large groups of people because I get real tired of holding up my mask- aka my defensive false self- so I can be like everyone else, who incidently, are also often holding their masks up as well.
There is no more draining exercise for me than hanging out with people who don't want to reveal what's really going on with them, despite claiming to be open and transparent. They hide behind sarcasm, arrogance, religion, or knowledge. They don't admit when they make mistakes, or they try to redesign what they did so that it's not really a mistake. And they never, ever admit their weakness. When they do, they admit it in a safe way. They never come out and say, "I struggle with an addiction to pornography, " or "I have a tendency to be an arrogant jerk," or "I'm worried about what's going on." No, they make vague, spiritual sounding admissions like, "I'm having a tough time, but trusting God." It sounds good, but it's missing something:
An actual request for help, from God or His church.
We don't want to ask for help- maybe a vague, "I need prayer for some stuff,"- because it makes us look weak, unspiritual. When in actuality, admitting our failures and fears is key to ACTUALLY trusting God. Matthew 11:28-30 has Jesus asking us to give these fears to Him: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”. And most of us do give it Him.
But there is more: we need to give it to each other.
Brothers and sisters, if someone is caught in a sin, you who live by the Spirit should restore that person gently. But watch yourselves, or you also may be tempted. Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. If anyone thinks they are something when they are not, they deceive themselves.--Galatians 6:1-3
Our attempts to mask our failures and fears are actually a deception perpetrated unto ourselves, by ourselves. I think we fail to do this because it would be like going out of our safe, warm den on a blustery, damp winter night. We've made a fire that gives us comfort while we sip our coffee/hot cocoa in our pj's, and we quite like just sitting here, not bothered by anyone. But this metaphorical storm doesn't let up like the one coming tonight for me will. This storm will grow, and we will hide, deeper and deeper until we are trapped in a prison that we call our 'safe place.' We will be disconnected from the ones who want to help us and, ultimately, we will begin to be disconnected from Jesus. Because the more deception that "I'm OK!" we pour on, the more we believe the lie that we don't need help.
As much as we would love to stay safe, we need to take our problems to those who love us: family, close friends, and especially fellow Christ Followers. Now, I don't think we need to share EVERY LITTLE PROBLEM- that would be rather High-School-Drama-ish, don't you think? But we do need to take the things we can't handle, the things we are tempted to hide from others, to the people who not only can help, but want to.
So, sometimes we need to put down the mug of warm beverage, put on a coat and douse the fire, then open the door and walk into the storm. We've got to face the raging problems- not alone, but with those who love us. If you're dealing with something you try so hard to hide behind some sort of mask- share the burden with someone who will pray for you, someone who will check up on you. Someone who will love you unconditionally.
It's one of the big reasons Jesus came to us.
PS: I don't get to relax by the fire tonight, I too have to go into the literal storm of cold and put up posters for our church around town and campus. And you know what, I'm doing with some fellow Christ followers- giving up comfort for a night to go shed a little hope (hopefully) into the lives of those who need it.
But after that- the fireplace and hot cocoa are on!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
The Deep Breath before the Plunge
I'm waiting for something.
I remember as a kid, saving up points or UPC's to send off for a special toy or something, and I remember the anticipation, the edge of my seat eagerness that was there every time I opened the mail box for the 4-6 weeks it would take. The joy of finding that long awaited thing was almost more powerful than the joy of having that thing itself. The reason was that the wait was heavy.
You may know this heaviness I speak of. It's there when you are waiting for the beginning of that first date, or the job interview. It's sitting there, in the pit of your stomach as you wait for the doctor's diagnosis or the words from your wife, "It's time." The heaviness is almost more than you can bear, even if the birth the event is a terrible thing, you want the wait to end so you can do something about it.
This is especially painful for those of us with the patience of a fruit fly. Waiting doesn't just hurt me, it kills me. Right now, I sit here, waiting for this semester at our church to begin. I'm waiting to see what God does, and I believe He will be doing something amazing- not just because I have to, but because I can feel it. The anticipation is sitting heavy.
I feel this way, because God has lead me to an idea. It's not a revolutionary one at all, in fact, it's thousands of years old. The idea is to ask myself, and all of you- "Who do you say He is?" The idea is to call us all back to Jesus, the Man/God who changed the world by not fitting into it. To look at Him with eyes not tainted by our prejudices or our inclinations, but to look at Him for who He was- and is.
I believe that the world is messed up. In fact, it is so messed up, I don't think we can fix it. We won't forever end all wars, we won't cure every disease, we won't love everyone. We won't take good care of the things that should matter to us, and we won't succeed at the things that do really matter.
We will fail, because we are fallen.
But He isn't.
So, while we can't save the world with our activism, philanthropy, politics, environmentalism, science, medicine, or religion- He already has. We just haven't fully accepted His offer. Some never will. But those of us who do believe in the Rescuing Jesus, we will be able to work with our activism, philanthropy, politics, environmentalism, science, medicine, and religion; tied inextricably with Jesus; toward the fixing of things. By His power, and in His timing.
Until then, we wait. We seek the small moments, like a semester of seeking to find who Jesus is with some other people seeking Him just as passionately. And we wait and wait patiently.
As the book of Romans has it in chapter 8, verses 22-25
We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.
So I take a deep breath, before the start of this year with our church, before the time with my family and friends, before the search for Christ. I take a deep breath before the great plunge in to hope.
The hope of redemption.
I remember as a kid, saving up points or UPC's to send off for a special toy or something, and I remember the anticipation, the edge of my seat eagerness that was there every time I opened the mail box for the 4-6 weeks it would take. The joy of finding that long awaited thing was almost more powerful than the joy of having that thing itself. The reason was that the wait was heavy.
You may know this heaviness I speak of. It's there when you are waiting for the beginning of that first date, or the job interview. It's sitting there, in the pit of your stomach as you wait for the doctor's diagnosis or the words from your wife, "It's time." The heaviness is almost more than you can bear, even if the birth the event is a terrible thing, you want the wait to end so you can do something about it.
This is especially painful for those of us with the patience of a fruit fly. Waiting doesn't just hurt me, it kills me. Right now, I sit here, waiting for this semester at our church to begin. I'm waiting to see what God does, and I believe He will be doing something amazing- not just because I have to, but because I can feel it. The anticipation is sitting heavy.
I feel this way, because God has lead me to an idea. It's not a revolutionary one at all, in fact, it's thousands of years old. The idea is to ask myself, and all of you- "Who do you say He is?" The idea is to call us all back to Jesus, the Man/God who changed the world by not fitting into it. To look at Him with eyes not tainted by our prejudices or our inclinations, but to look at Him for who He was- and is.
I believe that the world is messed up. In fact, it is so messed up, I don't think we can fix it. We won't forever end all wars, we won't cure every disease, we won't love everyone. We won't take good care of the things that should matter to us, and we won't succeed at the things that do really matter.
We will fail, because we are fallen.
But He isn't.
So, while we can't save the world with our activism, philanthropy, politics, environmentalism, science, medicine, or religion- He already has. We just haven't fully accepted His offer. Some never will. But those of us who do believe in the Rescuing Jesus, we will be able to work with our activism, philanthropy, politics, environmentalism, science, medicine, and religion; tied inextricably with Jesus; toward the fixing of things. By His power, and in His timing.
Until then, we wait. We seek the small moments, like a semester of seeking to find who Jesus is with some other people seeking Him just as passionately. And we wait and wait patiently.
As the book of Romans has it in chapter 8, verses 22-25
We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.
So I take a deep breath, before the start of this year with our church, before the time with my family and friends, before the search for Christ. I take a deep breath before the great plunge in to hope.
The hope of redemption.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Watching the Ball
I was awesome in T-ball.
I could hit, field, do all sorts of great stuff. I played for two years, and then for some reason, I took a season off. That key season was the one where you move from hitting a defenseless, motionless ball off a tee, to defending yourself from a hurtling projectile. As a result, I never really learned how to hit a baseball well. No matter how many times I was told to "Keep my eye on the ball!" I never acquired the motor skills necessary to consistently make contact. Occasionally, everything would line up just right and I'd get a hit. Mostly, I counted on my small stature to attain a walk, as once I was on base, I was a great runner.
I last played baseball as a high school sophomore. I had one hit all season, and it happened to be a hit caught on film for the local paper. But after that season, I retired from baseball. My career ended, I firmly believe, because I took my eye off the ball for that season when I was 6 or 7. I never recovered. (Interestingly, in college, I played slow pitch softball, and had a near 1.000 batting average. Apparently it was the speed and size that was the problem for me.)
The cliche' of keeping your eye on the ball is, even if overused, a good one. We could all use a bit more focus from time to time. I mean, it is so good, we find that a couple thousand years ago, God wanted to us know the importance of focusing on the right thing. He didn't use the ball analogy, as the people He was addressing knew nothing of the not-yet-invented baseball, but the heart is still there in Hebrews 12:1-2.
"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." (emphasis mine)
The problem of not keeping your eye on the ball in a baseball setting is that if you don't focus on the ball, you are easily distracted by the crowd, the other team, the noises, the stress, the heat, the centerfielder picking flowers, etc. The same problem applies to life: not focusing on Christ gets you distracted by stress, problems at work, your fears, your favorite show, little gods. Taking your eye off the ball for a pitch means you miss the ball and get a strike, a minor slip up. But when we take a full season off from 'watching the ball,' returning to the game becomes a lot harder.
When we 'take a break' from focusing on God, the longer it goes the harder it becomes to pray, so read scripture, to even find God. The other things in life begin to grow. The 'little gods' of our human appetites grow larger. Our fears become more debilitating. Our stresses blind us. It may seem that there is no way for us to ever regain the relationship we once had with Jesus.
But Jesus is not like baseball.
I often look around at my own life and see that I've taken a bit of a sabbatical from God. I may still read the Bible or pray, but it's hollow, it's going through the motions. When I realize this, and realize the depth I've fallen from where I was, I wonder- How can I regain what was lost?
Romans 8:27 says, "And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God." Even when our eyes wander, His does not. He searches us, and He steps in for us. When we've gone so far, He has not left us. We may lose the skill to hit a baseball, but we will never be lost from God, once we have chosen Him.
We get our focus back in many ways. God speaks to us, calls us back to Himself in many ways. Friends, a song, a scene in a movie- all glimpses into the world of God we have casually or purposefully ignored for a season. And since He knows our heart, He knows what we need to be called back. And when we open our eyes to see if He's still there, when we finally decide to see if we can still watch the ball- He puts the pitch right where it needs to be, at just the right speed for us to make contact again.
The break I took between T-ball and fast pitch killed my baseball career, but thankfully, the countless breaks I've taken from God have never broken me so far away from Him as to prevent my return. Because unlike me and my pursuit of hitting the ball, God is relentless in His pursuit of me.
I could hit, field, do all sorts of great stuff. I played for two years, and then for some reason, I took a season off. That key season was the one where you move from hitting a defenseless, motionless ball off a tee, to defending yourself from a hurtling projectile. As a result, I never really learned how to hit a baseball well. No matter how many times I was told to "Keep my eye on the ball!" I never acquired the motor skills necessary to consistently make contact. Occasionally, everything would line up just right and I'd get a hit. Mostly, I counted on my small stature to attain a walk, as once I was on base, I was a great runner.
I last played baseball as a high school sophomore. I had one hit all season, and it happened to be a hit caught on film for the local paper. But after that season, I retired from baseball. My career ended, I firmly believe, because I took my eye off the ball for that season when I was 6 or 7. I never recovered. (Interestingly, in college, I played slow pitch softball, and had a near 1.000 batting average. Apparently it was the speed and size that was the problem for me.)
The cliche' of keeping your eye on the ball is, even if overused, a good one. We could all use a bit more focus from time to time. I mean, it is so good, we find that a couple thousand years ago, God wanted to us know the importance of focusing on the right thing. He didn't use the ball analogy, as the people He was addressing knew nothing of the not-yet-invented baseball, but the heart is still there in Hebrews 12:1-2.
"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." (emphasis mine)
The problem of not keeping your eye on the ball in a baseball setting is that if you don't focus on the ball, you are easily distracted by the crowd, the other team, the noises, the stress, the heat, the centerfielder picking flowers, etc. The same problem applies to life: not focusing on Christ gets you distracted by stress, problems at work, your fears, your favorite show, little gods. Taking your eye off the ball for a pitch means you miss the ball and get a strike, a minor slip up. But when we take a full season off from 'watching the ball,' returning to the game becomes a lot harder.
When we 'take a break' from focusing on God, the longer it goes the harder it becomes to pray, so read scripture, to even find God. The other things in life begin to grow. The 'little gods' of our human appetites grow larger. Our fears become more debilitating. Our stresses blind us. It may seem that there is no way for us to ever regain the relationship we once had with Jesus.
But Jesus is not like baseball.
I often look around at my own life and see that I've taken a bit of a sabbatical from God. I may still read the Bible or pray, but it's hollow, it's going through the motions. When I realize this, and realize the depth I've fallen from where I was, I wonder- How can I regain what was lost?
Romans 8:27 says, "And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God." Even when our eyes wander, His does not. He searches us, and He steps in for us. When we've gone so far, He has not left us. We may lose the skill to hit a baseball, but we will never be lost from God, once we have chosen Him.
We get our focus back in many ways. God speaks to us, calls us back to Himself in many ways. Friends, a song, a scene in a movie- all glimpses into the world of God we have casually or purposefully ignored for a season. And since He knows our heart, He knows what we need to be called back. And when we open our eyes to see if He's still there, when we finally decide to see if we can still watch the ball- He puts the pitch right where it needs to be, at just the right speed for us to make contact again.
The break I took between T-ball and fast pitch killed my baseball career, but thankfully, the countless breaks I've taken from God have never broken me so far away from Him as to prevent my return. Because unlike me and my pursuit of hitting the ball, God is relentless in His pursuit of me.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Never Too Far
We've all been in that conversation or situation where someone just oversteps the bounds of acceptable conversation. The joke gets a little too personal or too off-color, the observation made goes a little too deep and at best, there is awkwardness. At worst, a relationship is damaged or ended.
I like to think I've gotten better about catching on when the direction discourse is taking is making someone uncomfortable. And I definitely never cross the boundary with my actions- mostly because I have personal space issues myself. But there have been times when I have taken something a bit too far, and the remorse, for me, is almost immediate. To know I've hurt or at the very least cause some awkwardness for someone bothers me- especially if its unintended. Now, there have been times when taking it too far becomes necessary to wake a person up to the mistake they are making, but it is a slippery slope of when and how that is appropriate.
When the question of, "Did he go to far?" is applied to God, I believe the answer is always no. There are many times we could look at with human eyes and say, "I can't believe he went there." Uzza being killed for touching the Ark of the Covenant, the entire book of Job, any time He wiped out entire populations, and many of the things Jesus and his disciples said come to mind. But none of these crossed 'that line.'
Honestly, it's not the actions themselves that aren't across the line- they, in and of themselves, are- it is the character of the one committing the action. When we 'take it too far,' both our actions and our fallible nature as people contribute to the line crossing. It's that whole, " remove the plank from your own eye before taking the speck out of your brother's" (Matthew 7:5, paraphrased). We are not, as we currently exist, just. Oh, sure, we try to be, and we are called to seek justice, but we will forever fall short, for we are imperfect. We, in our attempt to correct someone or help someone, will fail as often as we succeed. That doesn't mean we stop trying to help others, and occasionally confront them.
But none of this applies to God. He is perfect in His justice AND His mercy. That's why God never takes it too far. His justice, His harshness is taken to the extreme so that when (and it is a when, not an if) His mercy is offered, it too is offered to the extreme. I say 'offered,' because God's mercy is never bestowed until it is accepted. And it must be accepted.
Job could have rejected the blessing of God to restore Him on the basis that the Lord 'took it too far.' But he didn't.
The annihilation of entire populations may seem harsh, but it is done as mercy for the Israelites- that they not be lead into a life of slavery to false gods. (Also, and this is just me, but looking at the story of The Fall of Jericho in Joshua, they killing of all living things in the city may have been a mercy killing for all those crushed but not killed by the massive failure of the city's massive walls.)
And the biggest 'too far' moment of all time: He killed Jesus, so that His mercy would be infinitely offered...and bestowed to those who accept it.
Our God does not take it too far. He may wound us with His actions, but it is with a surgical precision meant to heal us. He may commit or allow actions that make no sense, but He is so much beyond our understanding that it is hard to question why He does what He does.
In the midst of the harshness and incomprehensible acts of God, I challenge you to remember that while "The LORD is a warrior..." (Exodus 15:3), the truth is that "God is love" (1 John 4:16) as well. He wounds us that He may heal us. And He make no mistake- the cliche that he doesn't give us more than we can handle is bull. He always takes us beyond what we can bear, but He never takes it too far for what He can bear.
We just need to trust Him.
I like to think I've gotten better about catching on when the direction discourse is taking is making someone uncomfortable. And I definitely never cross the boundary with my actions- mostly because I have personal space issues myself. But there have been times when I have taken something a bit too far, and the remorse, for me, is almost immediate. To know I've hurt or at the very least cause some awkwardness for someone bothers me- especially if its unintended. Now, there have been times when taking it too far becomes necessary to wake a person up to the mistake they are making, but it is a slippery slope of when and how that is appropriate.
When the question of, "Did he go to far?" is applied to God, I believe the answer is always no. There are many times we could look at with human eyes and say, "I can't believe he went there." Uzza being killed for touching the Ark of the Covenant, the entire book of Job, any time He wiped out entire populations, and many of the things Jesus and his disciples said come to mind. But none of these crossed 'that line.'
Honestly, it's not the actions themselves that aren't across the line- they, in and of themselves, are- it is the character of the one committing the action. When we 'take it too far,' both our actions and our fallible nature as people contribute to the line crossing. It's that whole, " remove the plank from your own eye before taking the speck out of your brother's" (Matthew 7:5, paraphrased). We are not, as we currently exist, just. Oh, sure, we try to be, and we are called to seek justice, but we will forever fall short, for we are imperfect. We, in our attempt to correct someone or help someone, will fail as often as we succeed. That doesn't mean we stop trying to help others, and occasionally confront them.
But none of this applies to God. He is perfect in His justice AND His mercy. That's why God never takes it too far. His justice, His harshness is taken to the extreme so that when (and it is a when, not an if) His mercy is offered, it too is offered to the extreme. I say 'offered,' because God's mercy is never bestowed until it is accepted. And it must be accepted.
Job could have rejected the blessing of God to restore Him on the basis that the Lord 'took it too far.' But he didn't.
The annihilation of entire populations may seem harsh, but it is done as mercy for the Israelites- that they not be lead into a life of slavery to false gods. (Also, and this is just me, but looking at the story of The Fall of Jericho in Joshua, they killing of all living things in the city may have been a mercy killing for all those crushed but not killed by the massive failure of the city's massive walls.)
And the biggest 'too far' moment of all time: He killed Jesus, so that His mercy would be infinitely offered...and bestowed to those who accept it.
Our God does not take it too far. He may wound us with His actions, but it is with a surgical precision meant to heal us. He may commit or allow actions that make no sense, but He is so much beyond our understanding that it is hard to question why He does what He does.
In the midst of the harshness and incomprehensible acts of God, I challenge you to remember that while "The LORD is a warrior..." (Exodus 15:3), the truth is that "God is love" (1 John 4:16) as well. He wounds us that He may heal us. And He make no mistake- the cliche that he doesn't give us more than we can handle is bull. He always takes us beyond what we can bear, but He never takes it too far for what He can bear.
We just need to trust Him.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Love is Violence
If you have ever loved someone, you know this: Love Hurts.
With love, you can hurt someone or be hurt by someone. It may be a word, an action, an inaction, or a even a thought that does the violence, but a violence is nonetheless done. Just this past weekend, at a family gathering, I snapped a picture of our six year old. As I looked at the picture in the view finder, I made an audible grown. For the face I had captured was not the cute little six year old, but a face that seemed a good fifteen years older. That little face brought a flood of feelings and anticipations: the first time she'll not want us to walk all the way to the door of school, the first boy, the first date, college departure; having to let her go a little at each juncture. In that picture, I loved her so much, and was so injured in my heart because of it.
When we love, there is a violence inside of us, a passion that more than turns our heart, it tears it. This emotional hurt doesn't just come from bad things, but good as well. Seeing one we love succeed swells our heart to a breaking point, watching them find their own way makes our heart break at the thought that when they find it, they won't need us as much.
And there is the thing: when we watch those we love grow as people, we are not just seeing them go through difficulties and victories- we are sharing in them. Our hearts hurt because they are attached to those we love, and the pulling and tugging that goes on as our connection is stressed and strained and relaxed and back to stressed is a violence. I believe its why we have such a hard time loving a lot of people, it just hurts us too much.
Now imagine how God feels.
We have a very small, relatively, number of people we are called to love. God loves every being who has ever lived- and even those who have yet to live. Each heartbreak they experience, each swelling hope they find, He feels it. He smiles at their happiness and when the gravity of emotion swings the other way, His heart breaks in their sorrow.
His love is an active love, more so than any of our love. He has taking great action to show us His love, and to make His love available to us. He has gone to war for His beloved, His chosen. He spent much of the Old Testament fighting literal wars for the hearts of the Israelites. He has waged a spiritual war from the beginning for the souls of Mankind. His violent love reached a peak when, out of His love for us and for His own holiness, He killed His own Son. Make no mistake, God SENT Jesus to die. And I believe Jesus knew it was out of love that He sent him to die. Love for us. Love for His Son. Love for all of Creation.
God is love. John says this in 1 John. If we know that love hurts, what must the existence of God, who is love, be like? If God is love, He cannot be some fat, lazy, inactive God who merely observes the plight of His beloved. Would you sit idly by while your beloved went to their death, or would you rise up to fight for them? God is moved by love, and there are times His movements are violent. There are times that His love for us moves Him to violently shake our lives to wake us up. There are times He must violently defend our honor, or even violently rebuke us. In it all, I believe God suffers with us in our trials.
He truly feels our pain.
And because He loves, He endures.
And if we love Him, then we too must endure. When He doesn't make sense. When He doesn't seem to speak. When He doesn't seem to act. When He seems harsh. When He convicts and punishes us.
Because all of that is God working through the pain of His existence.
Because God is love.
With love, you can hurt someone or be hurt by someone. It may be a word, an action, an inaction, or a even a thought that does the violence, but a violence is nonetheless done. Just this past weekend, at a family gathering, I snapped a picture of our six year old. As I looked at the picture in the view finder, I made an audible grown. For the face I had captured was not the cute little six year old, but a face that seemed a good fifteen years older. That little face brought a flood of feelings and anticipations: the first time she'll not want us to walk all the way to the door of school, the first boy, the first date, college departure; having to let her go a little at each juncture. In that picture, I loved her so much, and was so injured in my heart because of it.
When we love, there is a violence inside of us, a passion that more than turns our heart, it tears it. This emotional hurt doesn't just come from bad things, but good as well. Seeing one we love succeed swells our heart to a breaking point, watching them find their own way makes our heart break at the thought that when they find it, they won't need us as much.
And there is the thing: when we watch those we love grow as people, we are not just seeing them go through difficulties and victories- we are sharing in them. Our hearts hurt because they are attached to those we love, and the pulling and tugging that goes on as our connection is stressed and strained and relaxed and back to stressed is a violence. I believe its why we have such a hard time loving a lot of people, it just hurts us too much.
Now imagine how God feels.
We have a very small, relatively, number of people we are called to love. God loves every being who has ever lived- and even those who have yet to live. Each heartbreak they experience, each swelling hope they find, He feels it. He smiles at their happiness and when the gravity of emotion swings the other way, His heart breaks in their sorrow.
His love is an active love, more so than any of our love. He has taking great action to show us His love, and to make His love available to us. He has gone to war for His beloved, His chosen. He spent much of the Old Testament fighting literal wars for the hearts of the Israelites. He has waged a spiritual war from the beginning for the souls of Mankind. His violent love reached a peak when, out of His love for us and for His own holiness, He killed His own Son. Make no mistake, God SENT Jesus to die. And I believe Jesus knew it was out of love that He sent him to die. Love for us. Love for His Son. Love for all of Creation.
God is love. John says this in 1 John. If we know that love hurts, what must the existence of God, who is love, be like? If God is love, He cannot be some fat, lazy, inactive God who merely observes the plight of His beloved. Would you sit idly by while your beloved went to their death, or would you rise up to fight for them? God is moved by love, and there are times His movements are violent. There are times that His love for us moves Him to violently shake our lives to wake us up. There are times He must violently defend our honor, or even violently rebuke us. In it all, I believe God suffers with us in our trials.
He truly feels our pain.
And because He loves, He endures.
And if we love Him, then we too must endure. When He doesn't make sense. When He doesn't seem to speak. When He doesn't seem to act. When He seems harsh. When He convicts and punishes us.
Because all of that is God working through the pain of His existence.
Because God is love.
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