Can't Sleep?

For those like me who sometimes cannot sleep, I love these verses from Psalm 4 and the commentary that follows:

6 Many, LORD, are asking, “Who will bring us prosperity?”
Let the light of your face shine on us.  

7 Fill my heart with joy
when their grain and new wine abound. 

8 In peace I will lie down and sleep,
for you alone, LORD,
make me dwell in safety.

G. Campbell Morgan (British Bible Scholar) points out that David finds safety in solitude with God.

“The thought of the word alone is ‘in loneliness,’ or as Rotherham renders it ‘in seclusion’; and the word refers to the one going asleep. This is a glorious conception of sleep. Jehovah gathers the trusting soul into a place of safety by taking it away from all the things which trouble or harass . . . the tried and tired child of His love is pavilioned in His peace.” 

God wants us to BOTHER him?

Matt Chandler on Prayer:

Does God want you to be miserable?

From Jon Acuff:

When people talk to me about geography in Nashville, I do one of two things:

1. I nod my head and pretend I know what part of the city they are referring to.
2. I tell them, “I don’t know where that is. We just moved here.”

Neither one of those two responses is entirely true. Pretending I know is not true and saying we just moved here isn’t true. We’ve lived here for 18 months. So why don’t I know my way around town yet?

Because I kissed geography goodbye when I was a kid.

I decided a long time ago that I didn’t have room in my head for street names or directions or addresses. I realized I had limited real estate in my brain and essentially told geography, “Kick rocks chump.”

Would it be fair to say that, as a young boy, I predicted a future in which we would all have handheld GPS units? Is the term “visionary” one we should use to describe me? Tough to say, but the reality is that years ago I bid adieu to both geography and math.

As a writer, math is my Achilles’ heel. The mere mention of numbers makes me cringe. I am approximately one year away from not being able to help my 8-year-old with her math homework. I hate math.

Which is why I used to think God would call me into the mission field to teach calculus.

My fear was that, if I gave God my life, if I turned over all my hopes and dreams to him, he would instantly make me train to become a “mathlete.” I’d have to get an abacus and complicated calculator and spend my days doing things I hated to do.

Why?
Because I thought that’s how God did things.
And I’m not the only one who thinks that way sometimes.

I do a joke when I speak to church groups. I say, “Every Christian knows that the first thing God does if you give him your life is make you move to Africa to become a missionary. You’ll go zero to hut in about 4.2 seconds.” And folks laugh, but there’s a crazy truth behind that joke. If we think the first thing God will do to us if we come close to him is the worst thing we can imagine, then we serve the worst God ever.

If you’re not wired to be a missionary in Guam, if nothing about that feels at all like what God has uniquely created you to do, why would he immediately call you to that task if you trusted him with your life?

That’s an extreme example, but you’d be surprised how often I saw that happen last year. Because I wrote a book about closing the gap between your day job and your dream job, a lot of people have talked with me about figuring out what they’re called to do.

And it’s amazing how many people think being a Christian means doing the opposite of what you’re passionate about.

A chaplain told me that one of his college students came to him and said, “I’m conflicted. I really want to serve the Lord, but I love film making. I don’t know what to do.”

That word “but” is such a beautiful trick by the enemy. That young man felt alive and filled with joy when he made films. In those moments, though, he couldn’t imagine that God was happy about that, or enjoyed him making films or could be served and glorified through film making.

He didn’t say, “I really want to serve the Lord, and I love film making.” He said, “I really want to serve the Lord, but I love film making.”

I don’t know how exactly we got here. I think, in some ways, it’s an extreme over-correction to the prosperity gospel. When you talk about how good God is, people can’t wait to say, “He’s not an ATM machine in the sky who magically gives you whatever you want?” But who ever said that? Who said that a life filled with the joy of God was devoid of hardship or never full of moments where you must mourn as loud as you dance?

I’m sad for a culture where there is serving God on one side, and on the other side of that is joy. Where those two things are believed to be separate. Where we are forced to take our individual talents, put them under our bed, apologize about them and try to fit the handful of “serving opportunities” that match our definition of Christian.

I think back to the conversion of Paul.

Do you remember before he became a Christian? When he was called Saul?

He was a bold, powerful, vigilant persecutor of believers. And then God met him on the road to Damascus and turned him into a quiet, meek bookkeeper who spent his remaining days in a cave alone transcribing ancient texts.

Not at all! God turned him into a bold, powerful, vigilant promoter of belief.

He didn’t squelch what was inside Paul. He didn’t ignore the talents he himself had placed there. If anything, he called them out in deeper, louder, more beautiful ways. He showed Paul what it really meant to be Paul!

Maybe you will be a missionary. Maybe that’s the call you will get. But if it’s not, please don’t for a second believe that God wants you to be miserable. That he wants to call you into an adventure where your true gifts will shrivel up and die. That his chief aim is to make sure you never experience joy in his presence.

Because that’s not the kind of God who would ever love you enough to send his son to die for you.

Only Two Religions

Decades ago, when Dr. Harry Ironside finished preaching the gospel to a university audience in California, he was approached by a student who asked:

Dr. Ironside, there are literally thousands of religions, how do we know which is true?

Ironside replied:

Well, before we can get into the question of which one is true, we need to clarify something. There are not thousands of religions. There are not even hundreds of religions. There are only two: one which tells you that salvation comes as a reward for what you have done, and one which tells you that salvation comes by what somebody else does for you. That’s Christianity. All the rest fit under the other. And if you think you can get your salvation by your own efforts, then Christianity has nothing to say to you. But if you know you need to be saved, then you are a candidate.

You are an enemy and I'm not a Sinner

Luke 6:27-29  “But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them."

“Forgiveness flounders because I exclude the enemy from the community of humans even as I exclude myself from the community of sinners. 

But no one can be in the presence of the God of the crucified Messiah for long without overcoming this double exclusion — without transposing the enemy from the sphere of the monstrous… into the sphere of shared humanity and herself from the sphere of proud innocence into the sphere of common sinfulness. When one knows [as the cross demonstrates] that the torturer will not eternally triumph over  the victim, one is free to rediscover that person’s humanity and imitate God’s love for him. And when one knows [as the cross demonstrates] that God’s love is greater than all sin, one is free to see oneself in the light of God’s justice and so rediscover one’s own sinfulness.”
     ― Miroslav Volf

Celebrating God’s Disruptive Sovereignty

A Prayer Celebrating God’s Disruptive Sovereignty

Heavenward by Scotty Smith

Remember this, keep it in mind, take it to heart, you rebels. Remember the former things, those of long ago; I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me. I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say: “My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.” Isa. 46:8-10

Holy and gracious Father, I offer you no pushback this morning for being addressed as a rebel. I not only rebel against your commandments, I also rebel against your gospel—for it seems too good to be true. That’s why I need a Savior as big as Jesus. My only hope is in knowing that you will complete the good work of salvation you began in me. Your purposes will stand. You do all that you please, and it pleases you to justify, transform and glorify rebels like me… Hallelujah!

Indeed, I have great hope in knowing you are God and I am not. This truth is both disruptive and comforting. Disruptive, because there are some things I’m desperate for you to do—things that make all the sense in the world to me—things that seem in line with the truth of the gospel. But they’re not going to happen. You haven’t decreed them and no amount of fasting and praying will alter the perfection of your plan… Hallelujah!

Yet your sovereignty is profoundly comforting, because there are other things for which I don’t have the faith to trust you—things I cannot imagine coming to pass. Like an ax head floating on water, pebbles taking down a giant, lepers being instantly healed, dead churches becoming gospelicious communities, again… these things happen according to your pleasure and in your timing.

Father, help me “fix it in mind and take it to heart.” You are God and you do as you please. No one can ultimately resist your will, and we’re foolish when we try. You’re not a manageable deity; you’re not predictable; you’re not programmable. You are mysterious—good, but mysterious. Hallelujah, many times over!

As I head squirm in a season of difficult decisions, I’m so thankful that you are a sovereign Father, having equal care for each of your children. I can trust you. I don’t have to panic. I don’t have to worry. I don’t have to take matters into my own hands. I don’t have to fear outcomes, “what ifs,” or “if only’s.” Second-guessing must surrender to gospel sanity.

Father, help me to want your purposes to stand more than I want life not to be messy. Help me to glory in your pleasure more than I obsess about my future. Help me to accept disruption as a necessary part of transformation. There’s no comfort like the comfort which comes from knowing you, and calling you Abba, Father. So very Amen I pray, in Jesus’ trustworthy name.

The Guy who just Gave you the Finger

This is from Russell Moore who is Dean of the School of Theology at The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary.

Whenever I start to get discouraged about the future of the church, I remember a conversation I had a few years ago with evangelical theologian Carl F. H. Henry on what would turn out to be his last visit to Southern Seminary before his death.
Several of us were lamenting the miserable shape of the church, about so much doctrinal vacuity, vapid preaching, non-existent discipleship. We asked Dr. Henry if he saw any hope in the coming generation of evangelicals.

And I will never forget his reply.

“Why, you speak as though Christianity were genetic,” he said. “Of course, there is hope for the next generation of evangelicals. But the leaders of the next generation might not be coming from the current evangelical establishment. They are probably still pagans.”

“Who knew that Saul of Tarsus was to be the great apostle to the Gentiles?” he asked us. “Who knew that God would raise up a C.S. Lewis, a Charles Colson? They were unbelievers who, once saved by the grace of God, were mighty warriors for the faith.”
Of course, the same principle applied to Henry himself. Who knew that God would raise up a newspaperman from a nominally Lutheran family to defend the Scriptures for generations of conservative evangelicals?

The next Jonathan Edwards might be the man driving in front of you with the Darwin Fish bumper decal. The next Charles Wesley might be a misogynist, profanity-spewing hip-hop artist right now. The next Billy Graham might be passed out drunk in a fraternity house right now. The next Charles Spurgeon might be making posters for a Gay Pride March right now. The next Mother Teresa might be managing an abortion clinic right now.

But the Spirit of God can turn all that around. And seems to delight to do so. The new birth doesn’t just transform lives, creating repentance and faith; it also provides new leadership to the church, and fulfills Jesus’ promise to gift his church with everything needed for her onward march through space and time (Eph. 4:8-16).

After all, while Phillip was leading the Ethiopian eunuch to Christ, Saul of Tarsus was still a murderer.
Most of the church in any generation comes along through the slow, patient discipleship of the next generation. But just to keep us from thinking Christianity is evolutionary and “natural” (or, to use Dr. Henry’s term “genetic”), Jesus shocks his church with leadership that seems to come like a Big Bang out of nowhere.

Whenever I’m tempted to despair about the shape of American Christianity, I’m reminded that Jesus never promised the triumph of the American church; he promised the triumph of the church. Most of the church, in heaven and on earth, isn’t American. Maybe the hope of the American church is right now in Nigeria or Laos or Indonesia.

Jesus will be King, and his church will flourish. And he’ll do it in the way he chooses, by exalting the humble and humbling the exalted, and by transforming cowards and thieves and murderers into the cornerstones of his New City.

So relax.

And, be kind to that atheist in front of you on the highway, the one who just shot you an obscene gesture. He might be the one who evangelizes your grandchildren.

Prayer for 2012

Covenant Prayer by John Wesley

I am no longer my own, but thine.
Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt;
 

Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
 

Let me be employed by thee or laid aside for thee,
exalted for thee or brought low by thee.
 

Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
 

I freely and heartily yield all things
to thy pleasure and disposal.
 

And now, O glorious and blessed God,
Father, Son and Holy Spirit,
thou art mine, and I am thine. So be it.
 

And the covenant which I have made on earth,
let it be ratified in heaven.  

Amen.

Christmas and Mr. Shoe Doctor

This is by John Coleman.  He is a friend from college and law school. He left the practice of law to go to seminary and was the rector at Ascension Episcopal in Montgomery.

I wasn’t sure where the conversation was going, or if it would be a conversation at all.  I went to get my car washed.  As I was waiting, a man, whose apron identified him as Mr. Shoe Doctor asked if I would like to get my shoes shined.  I sat down at his stand and the revelation started.

He would call out a day of the week and then take a rag and slap it against my shoe.  “Monday.  WHAP!  Tuesday. WHAP!  Wednesday.  WHAP!”  I suppose this is routine, at least the part about the rag, when getting your shoes shined, but this moment seemed anything but routine.  I could tell by the cadence of his voice that he was about to tell me something.   It was barely more than a whisper, spoken to the air more than me, but it was building in intensity.  He went on, “Thursday.  WHAP!  Friday.  WHAP!  Saturday.  WHAP!  Sunday.  WHAP!”

 And then he paused and said, “Everyday.”

 “Everyday?”  I asked, thinking after all that there was surely something more.

 “Everyday!”  He said.

 I decided to push a little.  “Everyday, what?”

 “Everyday is holy.  Each day is a day to tell about the Lord.  That’s the business I’m in and business is good.”

I discovered that Mr. Shoe Doctor (I asked him his name and he just pointed to the apron) had shined shoes in many places.  He liked to talk about Chicago’s O’Hare airport, so I figured he served there the longest.  He told me about his life.  How he had lost a son and moved back to the area to take care of his mother.  He got excited when he talked about being diagnosed several years ago with cancer and how God had given him his life on this earth back through treatment and remission.  Each story was peppered with talk about Jesus, Holy Scripture and faith.  He said God had been so good to him that he had to tell it, and tell it he did.

I’ve been thinking about my feet ever since the encounter with the Shoe Doctor.  Feet probably aren’t what most contemplate during the holidays, but, the more I think about it, the more it seems fitting.  After all our feet, literally and figuratively, carry us into the season and beyond to tell about what God has done.  The familiar hymn instructs us to “go tell it on the mountain” that salvation was born on Christmas morning.  “How beautiful on the mountains” the prophet Isaiah tells us “are the feet of those who bring good news.”  (Isaiah 52:7).

I sometimes wonder if my feet really carry me to the places in this world that need to hear the good news.  Of course, I join with the world to shout it during Advent and Christmas, but when the tree is by the curb, the children are back in school and everything returns to “normal” where do my feet carry me?  Do I really look for the opportunities God gives me to “tell it?”

The angel Gabriel appeared to Mary with the announcement that she would conceive and bear a son.  After a moment of questioning and doubt her response was resolute. "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word."  (Luke 1:38).

This “Yes” to God took Mary on a journey to the manger, but following the singing and the visiting royalty, the journey continued.  It was a life filled with joy and anguish.  There were some parts that I’m sure Mary would have avoided but her feet, with God’s help, carried her through.  She gave birth to salvation on Christmas, but she continued to give birth to salvation through her life in the world by nurturing a life with Christ and following the call of God.

The angel appears to all of us this Advent and echoes the words he spoke to Mary.  “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.”  (Luke 1:28).  We are favored and blessed, not because of what we have done, but whose we are.  We may pause and look around, thinking the angel is surely asking someone else.  Mary did it too.  We may question our qualifications and ability, but make no mistake-each of us is being called.  We are asked to bear Christ in the world through our lives, not just around the tree or at a Christmas pageant, but everywhere, even at the car wash.

Our shoes are shined and ready to walk.  Where will our feet carry us and will we have the courage to tell it? Everyday.
 

Lost Sheep? Prodical Sons? GOOD NEWS FOR YOU

Before Christ’s coming into the world, all men universally in Adam were nothing else but a wicked and crooked generation, rotten and corrupt trees, stony ground, full of brambles and briars, lost sheep, prodigal sons, naughty unprofitable servants, unrighteous stewards, workers of iniquity, the brood of adders, blind guides, sitting in darkness and in the shadow of death: to be short nothing else but children of perdition, and inheritors of hell fire.

But after [Christ] was once come down from heaven, and had taken our frail nature upon him, he made all them that would receive him truly, and believe his word, good trees, and good ground, fruitful and pleasant branches, children of light, citizens of heaven, sheep of his fold, members of his body, heirs of his Kingdom, his true friends and brethren, sweet and lively bread, the elect and chosen people of God.

— Church of England
"Homily on the Nativity"