Following the Pillar
Young person, it's time you found God's plan for your life. Middle-aged person, have you come to know His purpose for you, or are you wandering aimlessly? What do you want to be when you grow up? What are you going to college for?
I'm sure many of us have heard this kind of question. How often do we feel like we have a satisfactory answer? There are some answers in Scripture, but they seem to apply in a general kind of way, usually. "For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them." — Ephesians 2:10 NASV This is a good verse to know, because it applies to all of us, but the questions asked in the first paragraph are very specific, and ask us to define what we see as the individual purpose God had for making us.
What is your emotional response when you hear such a question? "I should know by now. I feel guilty." "People my age seem to have a direction, why don't I? I must not be as spiritual as they are." "I wish I had something that I could say in response. I feel silly."
In response to this, I would like to take a look at a distinction: I believe that God will always reveal his will concerning our lives, but will sometimes choose to keep His plan hidden. To put this in practical terms, think of Him as your divine navigator, who says, "Turn left here", and "Take this exit", rather than one who gives us with a road map with our route highlighted. His plan is a master plan, and is too big for us, even when we try to limit it to the places where it intersects our personal lives. His will, on the other hand, is revealed in a general way through His word, and in a personal and immediate way through His Holy Spirit, who lives within each believer. Here are a couple of verses that illustrate what I mean:
His Plan: O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out! — Romans 11:33 AKJV
His Will: Your ears will hear a word behind you, "This is the way, walk in it," whenever you turn to the right or to the left. — Isaiah 30:21 NASV
When you walk along a pathway, it is difficult to see the hills, valleys, and turns between your position and your destination. What can be seen is the next decision, and the next obstacle. I believe that the passage from Isaiah is talking about this kind of immediacy. From a natural standpoint, we want to see around the next bend. We want to know why a certain pathway should be followed, and where that pathway leads. Perhaps it is a desire to grasp onto an illusion of control in our lives, and put our "stamp of approval" on God's leading.
The fact is that when God directs us, He expects a particular response. He expects us to trust His leading to the extent that we will follow it without asking what the results will be. Too often, we define success by examining the results of our actions, when the greatest possible success is to have followed God recklessly.
When it comes to results, we like to increase our pleasure, and minimize our pain. We have the desire to be able to match our actions with certain outcomes. The problem with both of these comes from the fact that we have limited vision and limited patience. Left to our own devices, we often choose what we see as short-term good over actual long-term good.
No call to obedience would be complete without mentioning the fact that God does not make a distinction between what we see as big decisions, and what we see as small decisions. Failing to follow God's instruction, no matter how seemingly small, is disobedience, as much as Jonah's attempted trip to Tarshish was disobedience.
Many of God's commands are immediate. They may be as simple as "Make this phone call", "Visit this person", or some such thing. Because we tend to be oriented to results, we may see these commands as less important. James 4:17 says, "Therefore, to one who knows the right thing to do and does not do it, to him it is sin." The fact is, we never know the impact such small things will have. I still remember and am blessed by the words of a friend, over twenty-five years ago, who simply said, "I'm glad you are here".
I have thought often of the pillar of fire and the pillar of cloud in the wilderness of Israel's wandering. The ninth chapter of Numbers explains how the pillar was God's way of guiding Israel during that time. In verse 22, it says, "Whether it was two days or a month or a year that the cloud lingered over the tabernacle, staying above it, the sons of Israel remained camped and did not set out; but when it was lifted, they did set out." If you look at a map of their wanderings, you can see that their route was anything but direct. Most of the time they spent in the wilderness was due to their disobedience, but even if they had obeyed completely, some of the route would not have made sense to a human planner. The fact is that God knew the whole route, and it was their responsibility to wait for His instructions, and then follow those instructions once they were given.
God gives us step one of His plan, and waits for us to carry it out. When he gives us the next step, it becomes the new step one. It is true that He will sometimes reveal His plan to us, but it is wrong to sit waiting for that plan and entirely miss His will. If Israel had failed to follow the pillar in the wilderness, they would have been left entirely without guidance. I can only imagine that the temptation was there for them, considering the fact that they found fault with God in so many other ways during that time.
In recent months, when people have asked me what I was up to, my reply has been that I am "recklessly obeying God". It's reckless because I don't know where the paths lead, exactly. On the other hand, nothing could be safer, since I know that God is entirely worthy of my trust. The result of this recklessness is that I have a sense of adventure in my walk that I have never had before. My obedience is no longer because of fear, but because of my delight in His ways.
I wish the same for my brothers and sisters in the Lord. If you have examples of the joy that has come to you as the result of following the pillar, I invite you to share with me and other readers in the comment section below.
Raging Ripples
Picture yourself by a pond on a windless day. You pick up a small stone, and throw it into the middle of the pond. The ripples slowly spread until they reach the pond’s edge. Your action has had an impact on the entire surface. This is a pretty picture, as long as the ripples are caused by a relatively small stone.
What if we look at waves that are caused by an earthquake, or maybe a larger-than-average meteorite? Disturbances of this kind result in waves that are much larger, waves that would be referred to as a tsunami. A tsunami is a raging and destructive force, but it follows the same rules of physics that govern the behavior of the little ripples from a stone dropped into a pond. Tsunami waves cross oceans, pass around the entire globe, and bounce off from continents, leaving virtually no area of the ocean unaffected.
This is a picture of the damage that can come as the result of traumatic events in our lives. Some trauma, such as the death of a loved one, is beyond anyone's control. Unfortunately, there is also trauma that is brought about as the result of decisions or actions of others. An example of this is child abuse. The four commonly recognized forms of child abuse or maltreatment are physical, sexual, neglect, and psychological. It is a sad fact that many people who read this have been the victims of such trauma, on either a short or long-term basis.
Here is where my word picture meets the application. I was the victim of childhood trauma, not from a family member, but from someone who lived nearby. The results of this trauma were like the results of someone dropping a huge rock in the pond of my life, so to speak. The resulting waves were not pretty ripples on a calm surface, but raging ripples, if you will. A tsunami had been triggered, and the destructive force of the waves were not to be seen immediately, much the same as a natural tsunami.
Many years after the initial event, I sat in a counseling session with my wife, and the counselor was helping my wife to express to me some of the pain I had caused her much earlier in our marriage. It was clear that this pain was an indirect result of the abuse I had suffered. This did not excuse me: it only underscored the way that the effects of trauma were continuing to cause pain in me and in those around me. As the picture came into focus, I was overcome with a desire to kneel in front of my wife, and beg her forgiveness. The counselor, however, stopped me, and told me that my apology would have to come later. My first conversation would have to be with God, and the second with a brother in Christ, after which I would be ready to offer an apology to my wife.
On the counselor's direction, I left the counseling session, and went to a place where I could be alone. I spoke aloud to Jesus, and wept as I told Him about the abuse, and about the emotional state I had been in the time leading up to and following it. I told Jesus that my boat had been rocked violently and how much it had hurt. I told Him I could see the rocking of my wife's boat as well. While the abuse had set unhealthy patterns in motion, I was aware that my wife's pain had been the result of my own choices.
There have been few times when I have expressed myself to Jesus so honestly, and with such open emotion. In one sense, I have always been aware that He knows all, and yet I have still felt that there were things I couldn't share with Him.
As I lay there talking and crying, I thought more of the picture of the boats rocking in the raging waves. I reflected on my pain, and cried out to Jesus, asking Him why He hadn't prevented such pain. I reflected on my fear, and begged Him to make the waves stop. It was at this moment that I remembered another boat. A boat on the Sea of Galilee, where the waves were raging. A boat filled with men who were afraid for their lives.
But Jesus was in the back of the boat, asleep on a cushion. So they woke him up and asked him, "Teacher, don't you care that we're going to die?" — Mark 4:38 NASV
Nothing could have captured my emotion more succinctly. My own heart feared something that I saw as worse than death, and that was the possibility of an unending death during my life. My heart had been crying out, "Jesus! Don't You care? Can't You see how much this hurts?" The men in the boat hadn't actually asked Jesus to help them. Instead, they had only express their fear and incredulity concerning the fact that He was asleep. His response:
And He got up and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Hush, be still.” And the wind died down and it became perfectly calm. And He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Do you still have no faith?” – Mark 4:39-40 NASV
As I considered this passage, I was immersed in its reality. The same Jesus who was in the boat on the Sea of Galilee was in my boat. I think that His sleeping in the boat was an expression of His faith in God, rather than a reflection on His level of concern for the disciples. Jesus does care for me, and He is not afraid. His words to the wind and waves didn't take the form of an argument or struggle on His part, but instead, they were an expression of His confident authority. The results? The wind died down. The sea became calm. Jesus stood up in MY boat. He spoke to the waves, and, ever so gently rebuked my lack of faith. My storm ceased, and the boat stopped rocking.
In the days that followed this experience, I still needed to do the work presented to me by the counselor. I shared my experiences with a brother in Christ, and shared how my subsequent decisions had caused pain to my wife. During this conversation, I had a very clear sense that I had forgiven the one who had abused me. God helped me with the difficult task of communicating this to my abuser, after which I was able to offer an apology to my wife, and ask her forgiveness.
The key to this whole experience was the fact that God used one of the accounts in Scripture to illustrate His power on my behalf. The experience on the Sea of Galilee was for the disciples, but it was also for me, and for you.
Are you in a boat that is rocking, for whatever reason? Are you paralyzed with fear, in pain from being tossed about, and nauseous with seasickness? Do you wonder where your God is? He is there in the boat with you. He is not afraid, and He has the power to calm the storm and the waves with a word. Give Him the sacrifice of your faith, and ask Him to smooth the raging ripples of the soul.
Fatherhood 101
This is not being written from the perspective of someone who thinks they have fully mastered fatherhood. I have made my share of mistakes, and my share of unwise decisions. My perspective is, instead, that of an observer of the high cost of spiritual and emotional orphanhood.
Over recent weeks and months, I have had conversations with people whose mental image of God is tainted by negative experiences with their earthly fathers. Rather than focusing on the negative, I would like to take a little bit of time to look at some of the things that every father should be doing. My desire is to challenge the reader to embark upon their own personal course of godly fatherhood.
Why focus on fathers? Part of the reason, admittedly, is the fact that I am a father myself, and feel more equipped to speak on this topic than on motherhood. There is another reason, though. God has chosen to identify Himself to us as our heavenly Father. There are other titles, but the title "father" is one that carries a personal picture of some sort or other for everyone. Whether a father was present or not, whether he was living during a person's childhood, whether or not he was kind, or patient or loving, are all things that will affect the way a person feels about the word father. By extension, it can have a profound affect on people's feelings about God.
I know a young man who was recently engaged to be married. He is not my son, but I am invested in his life, and in some ways, think of him as a spiritual son. I would like to address this article to him, but the truths that are expressed here will be applicable to all fathers, both present and future. I'll call him Richard.
An Open Letter
Dear Richard,
I was delighted to hear of your engagement. When you experience joy, it gives me joy as well. I still remember the joy of hearing of your decision to follow Christ, and this joy remains one of the greatest joys of my life.
You may ask why I am writing to you about fatherhood when you are just newly engaged. The reason is that fatherhood will be one of the most important and enduring thing that you ever do in your life. There will be plenty to learn about the practical day-to-day details of parenting when it happens to you, and I want you to be as prepared as possible for the spiritual role of fatherhood when it happens. As I mentioned in the introduction, my hope is that this will challenge you to begin a lifelong study.
While being a godly father is a lifelong study, the basic concept is simple but not easy. The concept is to devote yourself to the task of growing into a reflection of the image of your heavenly father.
Both you and I were raised by dads who desired good for us, and I believe I can say we both respect our dads. We need, however, to avoid the natural tendency to shape ourselves after other men and stop there. They may point in a good direction, but we need to look at our prime example of Fatherhood, God Himself.
A good place to start is to learn about Him, as I know you are doing. Pay attention to places in the Bible that refer to God as our Father. In fact, any scripture that mentions the attributes of God should be a place to stop and ruminate.
To be a godly father, and the best we can be, we need to be practical. Any knowledge that we have about the concept will need to be applied before it will do our children any good. With this in mind, I took a few minutes to talk to my children today, to see what they could tell me about how I have helped to shape their picture of God.
One thing that they mentioned was the fact that I leave no opportunity for them to doubt the fact that I love their mother. Since I am commanded by God to love her as Christ loved the church, I need to be reflecting divine nature in this area. (Read Knight in Dented Armor for more on this.) You have the opportunity to prepare yourself for marriage and possible future fatherhood by loving your fiancée now.
Another point mentioned by my children was the fact that I protect them. To me, this is hugely important. How can they feel safe as adults if they feel that "Father" refers to someone who is unconcerned with their physical, spiritual, and emotional safety, or even worse, causes them harm himself.
Presence is another idea one of my children brought up. I know many young people whose fathers are physically absent, because of abandonment or divorce, but in other cases, the fathers are out of the picture because they are spiritually or emotionally absent. I will be honest and admit that I have been more spiritually and emotional present at some times in my life than I have at others. Those times where I did a poorer job at engaging with them are times that I know they suffered.
A couple of additional points can be classified under the heading of love. My children can see that I am concerned for their wellbeing, that I know them, and that I can see their strengths. Love for your children needs to go beyond being a warm fuzzy feeling, and become something that is self-sacrificing.
I'm including a verse here that I find helpful:
Fathers, do not exasperate [stir to anger] your children, so that they will not lose heart. [be dismayed] - Colossians 3:21 NASV (Brackets are alternate translation.)
Yes, sometimes I need to do things that my children are not happy with. I work hard not to exasperate them though. The warning here is that doing so may make our children lose heart, or be dismayed. This loss of heart can be long-lasting, as I have found when talking to adults with fathers that did not heed this advice.
Your brother in Christ,
Peter
Conclusion
This letter and accompanying introduction and conclusion barely scratch the surface, but hopefully it is enough to challenge the reader to search for more.
I will close with a couple of points:
Sons need their fathers to be examples of the best definition of manhood. Strength under control, godly wisdom, fierce desire to protect women and children. Fathers must demonstrate respect for women, starting with their wives. As young men mature, they need to be given the opportunity to make the transition from boyhood to manhood. Fathers may not be able to make this transition easy, but we have the ability to make it more difficult. Let us trust in God to help us not to do that.
Daughters need to have their fathers protection. As they grow, shower them with love, and celebrate their beauty, letting them know that beauty starts within. Fathers must let their daughters know that nothing will ever cause them to lose Dad's love. It is important to get your wife's perspective and input, since she has the experience of being a young girl, where you do not.
Both sons and daughters need loving and gentle correction. Sometimes they will need to be jolted awake in ways that will make them uncomfortable. They must always know that your love is present during times of correction and discipline. Children need to be taught from the Word of God. The responsibility for this lies with parents.
Every father will make mistakes. When you do, go back to your children and apologize, and ask for their forgiveness.
Above all, trust in the power of the Holy Spirit who lives inside of you. This Holy Spirit is the spirit of God, THE FATHER. God is our example, but He also gives us the desire and the power to follow His example.
It Will Hurt Less if You Let Go
As a young man, I wasn't much of a daredevil or risk-taker. I preferred to keep both feet on the ground, and while I enjoyed riding my friend's dirt bike, I preferred to keep both wheels on the ground. In spite of this, my friend managed to convince me just once, to jump the bike. I lined up, revved up, and took off, launching myself off a dirt pile. Let's leave the story there for a moment, with me hanging up in the air on a dirt bike.
You may have seen my subtitle, "Gems from Scripture, Gifts from God's Classroom". All truth is contained in Scripture, but life offers many opportunities for the Holy Spirit to illuminate this truth. As we read through God's word, we may see a promise or a command, and give assent to it from a mental or intellectual point of view, or maybe even be awed emotionally by a sense of beauty contained in the words of our heavenly Father. And yet, it seems like there is nothing that compares with the clarity and reality we receive when the Holy Spirit writes His words on our hearts using the pen of life experience. An example of this is where we read, "My God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus." (Phil 4:19 NASV) I've always "believed" this to be true, but I gained a new level of understanding when I stepped out in faith, and found it demonstrated in practical ways.
Now, back to the young man on the dirt bike. A lot went through my mind in the couple of seconds I was airborne. "Wheee! Fence! Oh no!" To elaborate, it was exhilarating to be flying through the air until I realized that I was going to run into a fence shortly after landing. My body reacted in fear, my hands tightening on the handgrips, while at the same time my mind was fully aware that backing off on the throttle would require loosening my grip. In the amount of time I had left before landing, I was unable to get my hands to do what my mind knew that they should do. As a result, I plowed into the fence at pretty close to full throttle.
At the time, this experience was nothing more than a minor dirt bike mishap, with a few scrapes and bruises. Many years later, however, God would bring it to my mind, and use it to help me to navigate through a difficult and painful time in my life.
I refer to a time when my marriage hung in the balance. There were a number of factors that had brought me into this situation, and in many ways, I was responsible for where my wife and I were in our relationship. In spite of this, I had come to the place where I had an overwhelming desire to do what I could to make the marriage work and thrive again. At the same time, I had an overwhelming fear that it was too late, and with that fear came the fear of losing much of what was dear and precious to me. My wife was walking her own pathway with God, and seeking to do His will as well. Perhaps this fact should have been a reassurance to me, but still I feared.
I remember prostrating myself before God, and crying out to Him in anguish, and pain that was as close to despair as I had ever been in my life. There was a sense of impending disaster, and helplessness as I realized the fact that none of my best intentions or efforts would be enough to prevent this disaster from happening.
Somewhere during this time, I remembered my experience on the dirt bike, and the following words came to me: "It will hurt less if you let go." I thought of the struggle between sane logic and paralyzing fear, and remembered the fact that my dirt bike mishap would have hurt less if I had let go of the throttle. In the case of my marriage crisis, I could see truth in the suggestion that putting things into God's hands could not make things any worse. The stakes in my marriage were much higher than they were on the motorcycle, and as a result, the sense of fear I struggled with was much greater. My struggle came down to my willingness to believe that God would be with me whether or not my marriage survived. In some sense, I had made idols of my wife and children, expected them to be my source of happiness, and was living with the reality of the fact that I was expecting something from them that I should have expected only from God. Letting go meant making a conscious choice to let them off the hook, and acknowledge the fact that God needed to be my source of joy. There is much more that it meant to me, and that may be the topic of other articles. The truth remains, however, that whatever we hold onto in our lives has the potential of becoming an idol, and we must obey when God commands us to open our hand.
I began to reason about the idea of letting go. The thought of not being reconciled to my family was excruciating, and I knew that God's highest will was for marriages to last a lifetime. The thought of letting go seemed to be a betrayal of God's direction in this regard. As my thinking continued, however, I realized that I was putting more trust in my own abilities to save my marriage than I was putting in God's abilities. I would have to let go in order to save my family. As the reasoning continued, I began to ask myself what it was that I needed to let go of. The first answer that I came up with was that I needed to let go of everything else, and cling to God. Again came a quandary: "How can I let go and hold on at the same time? If I open my hand, nothing at all will be held within my grasp."
At the beginning of this article, I left the story at a point where I was hanging in the air on a dirt bike, knowing what was right, and yet was unable to do it. Now we are at a point in the narrative where I am in a similar position, only this time with much more fear, and the potential for much more pain. I'm going to leave myself hanging again, and bring in another thread.
I have a dear sister in Christ who has often asked me how I was doing. She had made it clear that she expected an honest answer, and so sometimes I would reply, "Hanging in there." Her response to this? "And you are being hung onto, too!" "That's true", I would reply, and then whatever conversation we were having would continue. I believed it, but I had not yet come to BELIEVE it.
Now, back to the middle-aged man locked in the struggle between faith and fear. I remembered the words of my sister. "You are being hung onto". Could it be true? Could I just let go? Or were her words just kind, well-intentioned words from a friend. It was so important to me to know the answer to this question, and I knew that God's word was the place to look. Here are the verses that the Holy Spirit laid on my heart:
Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?
Just as it is written,
“For your sake we are being put to death all day long; we were considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”
But in all these things we overwhelmingly conquer through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. — Romans 8:35-39 NASV
And the other:
And I give eternal life to them, and they will never perish; and no one will snatch them out of My hand. My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand. — John 10:28-29 NASV
And so the Truth of God's word supported the truth of my friend's words. Nothing can separate me from the love of God, and no on can snatch me out of His hand. God could be trusted with my family much more that I could be trusted. I came to believe that it would hurt less if I let go, and that I actually could let go. God's hand was, and is, strong enough to hold me together, and hold me to Himself. He was, and is, strong enough to hold my family together.
This is not to say that letting go is easy, or that it eliminates pain. It means that letting go is a choice of the will: choosing to trust God with the things that are important to us. It means that there is no way that we can do better than God can, and because of this, letting go is actually safer than holding on.
As I put control into God's hands, where it belonged, I found a growing trust in God's grace for me. His forgiveness was accepted, and I began to feel His love for me in a new way. As I embraced His love for me, I found this love spilling out to my family, who recognized its source.
And what of my family? We are still together. God's strength sustains us, and we trust in that strength. It doesn't make it easy, or totally pain-free, but it is a lot easier than it was when I was afraid to let go and let God take control. I have found since then that letting go is not a one-time act, but a way of living, and a repeated choice. I will always remember when God helped me to begin doing this in a new way. It is my desire that my story will give others the courage to do the same.
Taking off the Mud-Colored Glasses
A lot has been said over the years about the power of positive thinking. Change the way you think, and it will change your life. Think happy thoughts. Chin up. Turn that frown upside down.
When it comes to teaching children to have a positive self-image, parents often take the approach of protecting their offspring from anything that might reflect negatively on them. Schools have "contests" where every student comes out a winner, with the thought that this will help to build self-esteem, even though the ribbon the student takes home really doesn't represent any special distinction or individual value.
On the opposite end of the spectrum is the thinking that winning something is the key to self-respect. From this viewpoint, we have over-achievers who destroy their health and peace in search of that "win" that will give them the personal boost that they are looking for. Others may try to bolster their image of themselves by performing an endless series of good deeds.
With the "everyone wins" approach, no one is given a sense of personal value in the area that is so important: one that says that no one else could ever replace them. With the self-effort approach, people are lured into a frantic lifestyle that promises something but fails to deliver. Or, if they don't achieve their goals, that serves as reason to believe that they are, indeed, failures.
The fact is, however, that a positive opinion of self cannot be bestowed upon us by ourselves, nor is it something that can be forced upon us by others.
It is interesting that positive thinking seems to work at times, but other times it seems to be a hollow attempt to pull one's self up by the bootstraps. What makes the difference between helpful and unhelpful optimism?
I personally have struggled with a sense of not measuring up, somehow, of being second-rate. I had a sense that everyone around me was doing a better job at living life than I was, and that somehow I had been lost in the shuffle when it came to receiving God's grace.
God worked in my heart in areas of faith and confidence in Him. In some cases the process was gradual, taken in small steps, and other times He brought things my way that helped me to take a large step. One of the most significant of these came about two years ago. I had been doubting my worth, doubting God's love for me, and doubting His power within me. In preparation for a significant life lesson, God reminded me that all that is good comes from Him, and that all of His power was in me through His Holy Spirit.
In a conversation about two years ago, an old friend pointed out the impact my friendship made when we were much younger. I came to realize that God had acted through me to be an encouragement in ways that I could not have guessed at the time. It got me to thinking about the fact that God had been working in me and through me for a long time.
As a result of this, I was able to make the choice to begin to look at myself the way that God sees me. This is where truth comes in. The truth about me is this: Because of the work of Christ, God sees me as without fault. My mind wants to say, "Of course I know better: God sees me through rose-colored glasses". When put this way, the idea is ludicrous, but how many of us actually do this? We believe in Christ, and yet fail to believe the promises about what that faith means in our lives. God's perspective is correct, and yet many of us accept Satan's view of us rather than God's.
The truth here is so much better than trying to better ourselves through self-effort, or trying to make our children feel valuable by giving them meaningless ribbons. It goes way beyond just "positive thinking". The fact is that sometimes the truth can be painful, and it is possible to fear the truth because we fear pain. One of the amazing things about truth is the fact that it includes not only what is, but also what will be and what can be.
One example of this is God's law, which is true, but painfully cuts across human nature. Because of grace, however, we don't have to stay in that painful place. In that sense, truth hurts for a while, but hurts so that it can heal. This is because God's law "... has become our tutor to lead us to Christ, so that we may be justified by faith." (Gal 3:24 NASV) Once we encounter Christ, we are transformed from the inside out. Confidence in our value is no longer self-confidence, which is a form of pride, but God-confidence.
In my case, as I accepted the truth that I had already been transformed by God's grace and the truth that His power was within me, I was able to take off the mud-colored glasses that I had been looking through for many of the years of my life. Now I can look at myself and choose to accept what God told me He sees: a redeemed child of His that reflects His image, and an instrument of His power, love and grace towards others.
To quote John 8:32, "And you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free." (NASV) Positive thinking, then, will only be effective if it is true. Let us search God's word for the truth about Him, and the truth about ourselves. Doing so has been a source of great joy in my life, and will be for anyone else who loves truth and pursues it.
Earthen Vessels
In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. Oh the sixth day, God created a special treasure. The first man and woman in the garden bore the stamp of His image in similar and yet distinct ways, and because of the image they bore, they could be nothing but beautiful.
As creatures made by God, they were physically amazing, but the thing that set them apart from the rest of creation was the fact that God had given them eternal spirits, and infused them with the capacity to reflect His qualities. A holy, loving, creative, and perfect God, made Adam and Eve to be holy, loving, creative, and perfect.
It is difficult to understand why God would choose to do such a thing. Divine qualities now inhabited something that had been formed of dust. Something of great value was contained within something that had the potential for corruption — earthen vessels, as they are described in Scripture:
But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves. 2 Corinthians 4:7, NASB
God is wise, and what He does is always good, but it wasn't long before these earthen vessels, or jars of clay, became marred and dirty. Adam and Eve's immediate action after their sin was to cover up and to hide. What they did literally, we tend to do figuratively. In our lives, we struggle with the continual temptation to cover up and hide the dirt and scratches that arise as the results of our sin. If we give in to this temptation, it is like putting a veneer on the dirty and marred clay pot. It looks a little better on the surface, but in reality, it only serves to further obscure the beauty that lies deeper than the surface and deeper than the container itself.
There are times in our lives that we feel that our experiences are stripping away our dignity. Think of the picture of having the veneer come off. Sometimes when this happens, we work carefully to replace it, and even paint over it. We don't want people to see the "real us" (the clay pot).
If we allow it, however, God will succeed in pulling off the veneer, exposing what is scarred, ugly and defiled. He washes off the dirt. What He does next will hurt more than having the veneer pulled off: He breaks the earthen vessel. We lay in pieces, mourning, until we realize that our true identity in Christ had finally been revealed. In the sense of living in an earthly body, the treasure is still in an earthen vessel, and yet, in a sense, it no longer matters to us, because the focus isn't on the clay pot any more, but on the beauty inside.
This can be challenging. There is the pain of maintaining an illusion, in fear of what people might think if they know what we are like inside. The fact is, though, that all of us are descended from Adam and Eve, and all of us have inherited the brokenness and sinfulness. We can't hide this from God: in fact it was for this very reason that He sent the Redeemer. The work of Christ restores the nature and image of God within us. The very thing that we do to protect our image, obscures His image.
May God inspire us as we go through the experiences that break us. In the midst of pain, may we rejoice in the fact that His beauty, grace, and strength are being revealed in us. May we welcome the process, and turn our focus away from what people think of us or what we think of ourselves. May we wholeheartedly embrace the truth that when the Father looks at us, He sees the image of His Son.
This article is a personal testimony. God broke me so that I would get out of the way, and so that He would be glorified. As hard as it was to accept this when I was going through the most painful part of it, I now live with the joy of actually seeing His image within me. Although the work of God continues, I have learned to be more accepting of the process, which may still be painful, but is no longer accompanied by fear.
If you would like encouragement as you go through times of difficulty, or if you would like me to pray for you, head over to the contact page, and leave me a message. May God bless you.
Resurrection
Resurrection... the picture that word brings to our minds is one of joy, of triumph, and of power. The uncomfortable truth about resurrection is the fact that it occurs only after death.
Death is a condition that, naturally speaking, is final. One might say that it is a place beyond hope. Death occurs in the body, but during our natural lives, there are other kinds of death occurring as well. In some cases, we feel that our life has been taken from us without our permission.
Another death is the kind that we do consent to. For Jesus, the death He consented to was a physical death. For us, it is often death of the will or the death of a dream. And yet, Christ's death began not at Calvary, but in Gethsemane, if not before. Beneath the olive trees, Jesus said, "Not my will, but thine be done".
For us, this may be the most difficult part of our death: The part where we still have a choice, and where we, in spite of the fact we have an idea of the consequences, choose to say, "Thy will be done." At this time, we are in a battle of the will, flesh against spirit. Echoing the words of Jesus in this case brings our flesh a step closer to death.
Once this choice has been made, if it has been made honestly, a Calvary-like experience becomes inevitable. This becomes a time when we struggle with the results of our decision: A time of pain, thirst, and loneliness. For Christ, His experience on Calvary ended with a sense of abandonment. In our fellowship with Jesus, it is not surprising that we, too, will feel this.
This article is about resurrection, so why am I talking about death and pain? It is because for Christ, our Example, the road to triumph led through places of pain, loss, hopelessness and death. It is only when human hope has failed that the true power of the resurrection can be clear.
Yes, I have experienced these things. The happy news is, though, that as I have "taken up my cross" to follow Him, I have also tasted of His triumph. Where hope and joy had died in my life, they have re-emerged. Not tentatively or shyly, but bursting forth from the tomb, filled with indestructible life, in the same way that Jesus did.
Why was death necessary? Why the pain? I believe it is because there are some things that are left behind in the tomb: things that could be separated from us only through the experience of death. Jesus bore our sins on the cross, but we can be sure He wasn't carrying them on Easter morning!
Our death is not for our atonement: that was already done for us. We have, however, been given the privilege and honor of sharing our Bridegroom's Gethsemane and Calvary in smaller ways in our own lives. Happily, it does not stop there, and we also share in his resurrection, triumphantly throwing off the chains, leaving death behind, and bursting forth to give testimony to the power of God. What a joy!
Arrows Pointing Upwards
During my life, I have seen many examples of things not happening the way they were planned. Plans have been delayed, jobs have been lost, relationships strained, dreams shattered, and loved ones have departed this earth when it seemed way too soon.
All of us have goals of one kind or other, and it isn't at all unusual to find that we run into obstacles. Running into things tends to slow us down, or change our direction, and the impact often causes pain.
Often in life we hear that the proper response to this kind of trial, is to take our troubles to God, and ask Him to solve them. Let's stop a moment, and look at the opening sentence of this article, which mentions the idea of things not happening as planned. To be totally honest, I should say that things often don't happen the way I planned them. In contrast, these things that appear as obstacles to me may be occurring exactly the way God has planned them.
Perhaps we can think of these obstacles as signposts. When we run into a signpost, rather than cursing the post, we should take a look at what the sign says. Up on top of the post, maybe we would see an arrow, indicating where our attention should be directed – an arrow pointing upwards.
My thoughts about this idea began as I was having a conversation with someone about the meaning of prayer: about the fact that it is very easy to have prayer become a response to things that are happening around us. When we have a problem, we take it to God, as we should, and when we are thankful, we acknowledge Him, as we should.
But what if these "problems" and blessings were actually designed by God as a way to get us to slow down and look at Him. I'm always grateful when God answers prayer, yes, but isn't the Giver worth so much more than the gift? Wouldn't it be a good thing to have our attention directed at God so constantly that He wouldn't find it necessary to remind us? Wouldn't it be good if our "conversations" with God didn't consist entirely of things that we have to say to Him, but also included times when we closed our mouths, quieted our hearts, and listened?
As I consider these things, I think of how I tend to respond to things that aren't going the way I wanted them to. Maybe I'm not happy about something someone else did that wounded my pride. Perhaps I'm tempted to fear when I can't see how God will provide my needs. I get wrapped up in myself, and end up running into one of those sign posts. Oh how much I want to complain about it! It makes me think of this sign:
Our arrows arrows pointing upwards aren't like this sign, but sometimes we tend to get so wrapped up in the pain of running into the signpost that we miss the message.
It is my prayer for myself, and for those who read this, that God will help us to stop what we are doing, and say, "Yes, Lord?" when things don't go the way that we planned them.
I'll close with an example from scripture, and consider how the conversation might have gone between God and Gideon, after Gideon's army had been reduced at God's direction (see Judges 7 for the whole story):
"Well, Gideon, your army is down to 300 men now!"
"Oh, dear Lord, that is the most awesome news I've heard all day!"
Something tells me that I wouldn't have responded that way. I'm guessing that Gideon might have been tempted to question God. The fact is, however, that the reduction in the size of Gideon's army really was good news. The victory was won that day, and God received the credit in a way that He would not have if twenty-some thousand men had fought.
Having the benefit of this story, and many others like it, shouldn't we respond as if we really felt it was good news when God takes the time to get our personal attention? Let's pay attention to those arrows pointing upwards!
Her Knight in Dented Armor
As often as I have heard the phrase, "A knight in shining armor", and as much as it paints a beautifully gallant picture, I fear that I have not been fully comfortable with it. Perhaps the idea of shining armor seems a little unrealistic to me. There is the sense that the armor that I am wearing has been to battle with me, and as a result, is no longer shiny. My armor has received scratches and dents, and I have received bruises, because while it has succeeded in protecting my life and my faith, it was never intended to be comfortable, or to prevent pain.
I think it is useful for me to become comfortable with this thought, because as a human, I can be tempted to fear an undertaking that appears to be unattainable. This pretty picture of me sitting tall, with my armor catching the rays of the sun, on a horse that is undoubtedly white, makes me feel that I would be presumptuous to see myself in that role.
The problem with giving in to this fear, or thinking it has to be that pretty picture or nothing, is that it provides an excuse to abdicate the role that God has ordained for me as a husband. What role is that? Ephesians 5:25-27 describes part of what it means:
25 Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself up for it; 26 that he might sanctify it, having cleansed it by the washing of water with the word 27 that he might present the church to himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish. (ASV)
The first few words begin to make an impact, but when verse 26 and 27 comes along, one begins to think of the way that Christ, by sacrificing Himself, made his bride spotless, holy, and without blame. It was loving of Him to do that, wasn't it? The problem is that this is the kind of love that husbands are commanded to give to their wives. I am commanded to lay down my desires, my will, and my pride, for the joy of seeing her as spotless, holy, and without blame. For over a decade, I have set this as a goal, with the sense that it has been my human limitation that kept me from loving as much as Christ loved. More recently, though, I have begun to accept the power of God in me through Christ, and have declared, that I can, in fact, do ALL things through Christ who strengthens me. Because of this, there is no longer any excuse to not love as Christ loved. The battle is no longer whether I can or not, but the uncomfortable fact that somewhere in my flesh, I am not consistent with WANTING to love someone that much. I would prefer to not put the flesh to death sometimes, I am afraid. There are times when I would like to justify myself rather than her.
Now, before anyone rises up in arms in defense of my wife in particular, let me say that my reluctance is not a reflection on my wife, but a reflection of the fact that the battle of flesh against spirit is still being fought within me. It is now no longer the difficulty of the task that makes me uncomfortable, because it is really Jesus loving through me, and not me loving. Instead, the thing that makes me uncomfortable is the fact that now I know I can do it, but still fail to obey.
Rather than punishing myself for this, however, I return to Christ, in whom is all grace, and ask for forgiveness, reaffirming my faith that He can fulfill the law in me, and reaffirming my desire to have Him do so.
So, what does this have to do with dented armor? To me, it means "no excuses". I may not look like my own picture of perfection, and probably not like someone else's picture of perfection, but Christ has chosen to call me blameless. Maybe my armor is shiny after all!