Today has been an ungracious sort of day.
I was late for a volunteer recruitment meeting. I struggled, aggravated, through my Hebrew studies as a bewildered mama tried unsuccessfully to control her screaming toddler. I very aggressively slammed a shopping cart into the corral in frustration that the grocery store customer before me felt too hurried to put it back. I had a little temper tantrum in the car as my commute to a friend's house was doubled in the crazy holiday traffic. I ranted to my family on the phone about some unwelcome news I received this week. Despite a lovely brunch with friends this afternoon, I headed home annoyed that there was more work to be done for church tomorrow.
Chalk it up to the shortest day of the year and the winter blues, but I did not feel Christmasy. And I certainly didn't feel full of grace.
The past year has been like that. I have wanted to be brave and beautiful in the midst of little challenges and more looming adversity. But I haven't handled each trial with the sort of poise I would have hoped. Instead it has all felt pretty clumsy.
I hate these sorts of days because gracious is what I want most of all to be. That and gutsy. But the grace usually feels harder to come by than the guts.
I was feeling frustrated with myself when I read the loveliest words in the Gordon-Conwell Advent Devotional, day 20, written by early Christian history professor Dr. Donald Fairbairn:
When the angel Gabriel greets Mary, he uses an expression that has proven difficult to translate. The Latin Vulgate renders it with the equivalent of, "O one who is full of grace." The King James renders it, "Thou that art highly favored." And the ESV has, "O favored one." The Greek expression is a single word, a passive form of the verb for "to grace." Perhaps the most precise way to render it in English would be "O you who have received grace." Gabriel is not talking about Mary as a source of grace, but as a recipient of grace.
The Vulgate's translation feels darn near impossible to live up to, and I bet Mary would agree. Maybe her temperament was a bit less fiery than mine, but I'll bet she had some ungracious days, too. {{She was human, after all.}} But Mary had received grace--literally, had been graced--in the most precious, Incarnate way.
Dr. Fairbairn continues:
As for what this grace consists of, the next phrase holds the key: "the Lord is with you." At heart, grace is not God's giving us just any kind of favor; it is his giving us his very presence.
God with us--grace for my unloveliest, pitch-a-fit sort of days. Unmerited favor in the here-with-us presence of God. The Word become flesh for us, giving us access to the Father, making us sons and daughters.
I am not always {read: hardly ever} full of grace. But tonight I am most thankful for the grace received through the Incarnation, God's strength in my weakness.
Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Saturday, January 28, 2012
On swollen knees, community, and the God who heals
This week, I had a doctor's visit with a physiatrist from the Walnut Hill family. I've had chronic pain and swelling in my knees for ten years, and to be honest, I had pretty much ignored the obvious signs that something was wrong. In hindsight, I'm 26 and relatively healthy--so I should really be able to jump my horse, go for a run, or play some light tennis without my knees swelling up to the size of saucers. As I was telling my doctor about my symptoms, he cracked a joke about how people who let these things persist for say, ten years without seeing a doctor, are pretty delinquent. I then had to admit to him (rather sheepishly) that no, I hadn't been to see a doctor about my problem since it first showed up when I was 16. Oops.
The good news is that with physical therapy, nutritional supplements to boost my joints' ability to repair themselves, and maybe some ugly old lady shoes from the podiatrist, the problem (stemming in an alignment issue with my hips and my flat feet) should be corrected in time.
The whole thing got me thinking, though. I mean, I'm generally a lot more disciplined about my spiritual health than I am about my physical health. But in both arenas, there is sickness I ignore at times. I want to believe in my own self-sufficiency. I want to believe there's nothing wrong. I live on the surface of things instead of in reality sometimes.
At the heart of it--if I'm really honest with myself, and with you, dear reader--I don't believe the gospel. Ouch. That is tough to write. But here's how I know it: If I really believed that Jesus is after Restoration, if I really trusted that he came to redeem me, body and soul, then I would jump at the chance to be healed.
This idea that our bodies are of secondary importance to our souls smacks of the Gnosticism the Early Church battled. God has created us as people with bodies, after all. Christ came to us in a body. And therefore, God cares very much about our bodies and what we do with them.
I confess that it is difficult for me to believe that healing in my body is oh-so-connected to the gospel. That is why I've ignored my swollen knees for ten years.
Last night, I was at a worship gathering at my friends the Mancinis' house. As I tried to get settled on the floor of the living room, I was suddenly hyper-aware of the pain in my knees. It's nothing new for me to have to switch positions every two minutes because of the discomfort caused when I sit cross-legged--but for some reason, I was suddenly aware of how abnormal that is at my age. (There is something powerful about finally, finally voicing our need.)
After we sang six or eight songs and lots of people prayed about a variety of things, I confessed my brokenness before my community--the group of college students and 20-and-30-somethings present. After I shared my story and prayed thanking God for his grace to me even when I ignore my own need, my friends laid hands on my knees and began to pray. They prayed for God's Kingdom to break out in my body. For God to do a miraculous work. For faith that we would believe in Him as the Able Healer.
And an amazing thing happened: although my knees are still cracking and my hips are still misaligned, the pain is gone! I can kneel. I can sit cross-legged. I was even able to ride today, short stirrups and all, with no discomfort. He is able.
Someone prayed last night regarding Luke's account of the paralytic whose friends lowered him through the roof to get him in front of Jesus. I feel a lot like that man, who was healed through the faith of his friends. Community is a beautiful thing.
I gather that I will still need physical therapy, and the vitamins, and maybe even the ugly shoes to restore my body to its proper order. {{thank you, Father, for the way your healing can come in practical, everyday ways!}} But I'm praising God today for the reminder that when we call out to Him, He is faithful to answer us. The physical healing I received this weekend is a signpost to me of a spiritual reality. In the face of our delinquency, God is merciful. He meets our brokenness with boundless grace.
The good news is that with physical therapy, nutritional supplements to boost my joints' ability to repair themselves, and maybe some ugly old lady shoes from the podiatrist, the problem (stemming in an alignment issue with my hips and my flat feet) should be corrected in time.
The whole thing got me thinking, though. I mean, I'm generally a lot more disciplined about my spiritual health than I am about my physical health. But in both arenas, there is sickness I ignore at times. I want to believe in my own self-sufficiency. I want to believe there's nothing wrong. I live on the surface of things instead of in reality sometimes.
#prettydelinquent
At the heart of it--if I'm really honest with myself, and with you, dear reader--I don't believe the gospel. Ouch. That is tough to write. But here's how I know it: If I really believed that Jesus is after Restoration, if I really trusted that he came to redeem me, body and soul, then I would jump at the chance to be healed.
I confess that it is difficult for me to believe that healing in my body is oh-so-connected to the gospel. That is why I've ignored my swollen knees for ten years.
Last night, I was at a worship gathering at my friends the Mancinis' house. As I tried to get settled on the floor of the living room, I was suddenly hyper-aware of the pain in my knees. It's nothing new for me to have to switch positions every two minutes because of the discomfort caused when I sit cross-legged--but for some reason, I was suddenly aware of how abnormal that is at my age. (There is something powerful about finally, finally voicing our need.)
After we sang six or eight songs and lots of people prayed about a variety of things, I confessed my brokenness before my community--the group of college students and 20-and-30-somethings present. After I shared my story and prayed thanking God for his grace to me even when I ignore my own need, my friends laid hands on my knees and began to pray. They prayed for God's Kingdom to break out in my body. For God to do a miraculous work. For faith that we would believe in Him as the Able Healer.
And an amazing thing happened: although my knees are still cracking and my hips are still misaligned, the pain is gone! I can kneel. I can sit cross-legged. I was even able to ride today, short stirrups and all, with no discomfort. He is able.
Someone prayed last night regarding Luke's account of the paralytic whose friends lowered him through the roof to get him in front of Jesus. I feel a lot like that man, who was healed through the faith of his friends. Community is a beautiful thing.
I gather that I will still need physical therapy, and the vitamins, and maybe even the ugly shoes to restore my body to its proper order. {{thank you, Father, for the way your healing can come in practical, everyday ways!}} But I'm praising God today for the reminder that when we call out to Him, He is faithful to answer us. The physical healing I received this weekend is a signpost to me of a spiritual reality. In the face of our delinquency, God is merciful. He meets our brokenness with boundless grace.
Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.
Matthew 7:7
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Increase
It's been a particularly tough day, one when I've felt sort of forgotten.
Not that my tiny little troubles hold a candle to the disgrace he bore.
Still, it's beautiful in some small way to find that my story is his story, that on these days of feeling small, I can look to his example. That in Christmas, he provides a resource for me to lay aside entitlement and say with him "I don't matter."
May we become nothing this Christmas!
{Thank goodness for friends and wine and Christmas movies and cheer!}
After
all the jolliness of an impromptu Christmas celebration at my house, I
am sitting here with the Advent readings and a cup of tea. The Psalmist
is reminding me that "the LORD loves righteousness and justice," and that His plans "stand firm forever" (Psalm
33:5, 11). Such sweet truth as I sometimes question what, really, is going
on in the world, in my life.
Perhaps even more fitting after the day I've just had is Alistair Begg's sermon excerpt in Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus. I've
already read it once today, but it is hitting me in fuller measure
tonight. Reflecting on some of my favorite verses from Philippians
2--according to scholars and theologians the world over, some of the
richest theology ever written--he writes about the incarnation and what
it tells us about the nature of God the Giver:
In other words, instead of holding onto his own uninterrupted glory, he chose to set it aside...
Jesus did not approach the incarnation asking, "what's in it for me, what do I get out of it?"
In coming to earth, he said, "I don't matter."
Jesus, you're going to be laid in a manger.
"It doesn't matter."
Jesus, you will have nowhere to lay your head.
"It doesn't matter."
Jesus, you will be an outcast and a stranger.
"It doesn't matter."
Jesus, they will nail you to a cross, and your followers will all desert you.
And Jesus said, "That's okay."
This is what it means, he "made himself nothing, taking on the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men."
I'm
reminded for the hundredth time that those of us who want to be
identified with him will experience these same feelings of being
deserted, made an outcast, misunderstood.
Not that my tiny little troubles hold a candle to the disgrace he bore.
Still, it's beautiful in some small way to find that my story is his story, that on these days of feeling small, I can look to his example. That in Christmas, he provides a resource for me to lay aside entitlement and say with him "I don't matter."
May we become nothing this Christmas!
He must become greater, I must become less.
-John the Baptist (John 3:30)
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
we will cast our stones at him
The gospel Scripture for tonight's Advent reading is John 8:1-11, Church tradition disputes whether the story was part of the original manuscript, but it made its way into the Cannon--and it sure sounds like something my Jesus would do.
The people are gathered around Jesus as he is teaching in the temple courts, when in march the pious religious leaders with a woman caught in adultery. Looking for a way to accuse Jesus, they demand an answer: "Do we stone her as Moses said? Do we give this woman the justice she deserves?"
Quietly, Jesus begins to write in the sand. Scripture doesn't tell us what he is writing, but we can imagine what he is thinking: that he will be accused--for us. That his body will be broken instead of hers, instead of mine. That he will die even for the self-righteous ones, those religious folk who care more about looking good than loving God. We will cast our stones at him.
Jesus dares them to stone her--but only if they are without sin themselves. With this challenge, he shuts up the hypocrites.
He knows he is the only one worthy to cast a stone; he is the only one without sin. And he will not do it. He will not condemn her.
Tonight, at our area high school WHY Groups, students discussed the temptation of Jesus in Luke 4. For one student in particular, the discussion raised some heady questions about the nature of sin. "How much is too much to sin? And why does it matter anyway if they're just little sins? If Jesus was tempted too, does he really blame us for giving into temptation sometimes?" (Man, I just love the ones who ask questions!)
This passage from John can raise some similar concerns for us. "Why does Jesus let her off so easy? And how does he really know she will leave her life of sin as he directs her?" the legalist in each of us might venture to ask.
The point, my friends, is grace. Because of the Incarnation and the Cross, you and I have been "let off" too.
He has silenced our accusers.
He has taken the beating we deserved.
He has wiped the slate clean.
And grace never leaves us where we are, but calls us instead to leave our old lives behind.
The people are gathered around Jesus as he is teaching in the temple courts, when in march the pious religious leaders with a woman caught in adultery. Looking for a way to accuse Jesus, they demand an answer: "Do we stone her as Moses said? Do we give this woman the justice she deserves?"
Quietly, Jesus begins to write in the sand. Scripture doesn't tell us what he is writing, but we can imagine what he is thinking: that he will be accused--for us. That his body will be broken instead of hers, instead of mine. That he will die even for the self-righteous ones, those religious folk who care more about looking good than loving God. We will cast our stones at him.
Jesus dares them to stone her--but only if they are without sin themselves. With this challenge, he shuts up the hypocrites.
He knows he is the only one worthy to cast a stone; he is the only one without sin. And he will not do it. He will not condemn her.
Tonight, at our area high school WHY Groups, students discussed the temptation of Jesus in Luke 4. For one student in particular, the discussion raised some heady questions about the nature of sin. "How much is too much to sin? And why does it matter anyway if they're just little sins? If Jesus was tempted too, does he really blame us for giving into temptation sometimes?" (Man, I just love the ones who ask questions!)
This passage from John can raise some similar concerns for us. "Why does Jesus let her off so easy? And how does he really know she will leave her life of sin as he directs her?" the legalist in each of us might venture to ask.
The point, my friends, is grace. Because of the Incarnation and the Cross, you and I have been "let off" too.
He has silenced our accusers.
He has taken the beating we deserved.
He has wiped the slate clean.
And grace never leaves us where we are, but calls us instead to leave our old lives behind.
But he was wounded for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that brought us peace,
and with his stripes we are healed.
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that brought us peace,
and with his stripes we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray;
we have turned—every one—to his own way;
we have turned—every one—to his own way;
and the LORD has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.
the iniquity of us all.
He was oppressed, and he was afflicted,
yet he opened not his mouth;
yet he opened not his mouth;
like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,
and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent,
so he opened not his mouth.
and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent,
so he opened not his mouth.
Isaiah 53:4-7
Friday, April 1, 2011
Liturgy for Lent
I've been digging through liturgy for Lent and Easter, looking for things that resonate. I really miss the influence of corporate liturgy on my life (mostly in college at Third Pres and Tikvat Yisrael in Richmond), and Lent seems like a good time to read it aloud in my apartment. I came across this prayer and thought it was beautiful. Hope it encourages you today!
Love
Has its source in you
Creator God
Flows from you like an ocean
into a world as unyielding
as any shoreline cliff
And like the ocean
which batters
erodes
and wears away
even the hardest stone
your love persists
finds cracks and inlets
in hardened hearts
flows inside and works a miracle.
Who would think that water
was more powerful than granite
love mightier
than the hardest heart
Thank you, Creator God
for the power of your love
Has its source in you
Creator God
Flows from you like an ocean
into a world as unyielding
as any shoreline cliff
And like the ocean
which batters
erodes
and wears away
even the hardest stone
your love persists
finds cracks and inlets
in hardened hearts
flows inside and works a miracle.
Who would think that water
was more powerful than granite
love mightier
than the hardest heart
Thank you, Creator God
for the power of your love
Monday, March 28, 2011
On Lent and Healing
I've been feeling broken lately.
Let me explain: Several years ago, I had some traumatic horseback riding experiences that changed the sport for me. Six years out of the saddle have only aggravated the fear. So when I brought Aiden Magee here in September, I knew I had my work cut out for me. I believe that fear is decidedly NOT of God, so it seemed like a worthwhile spiritual pursuit as well as a practical one. Only, it's been much harder than I imagined.
Don't get me wrong--I looove Aiden and have so much fun with him. But there's this alarming degree of anxiety that rises up in me when things aren't going 100% perfectly with him...and especially when I even try to imagine riding him out on the trails. It's alarming because I'm not used to feeling this way--I'm mostly an I-can-tackle-anything kind of girl. I wouldn't generally consider myself an anxious person. So this fear, this lack of peace in my life, is pretty foreign. It has made me think of the Jewish idea of shalom. The Hebrew word we often translate "peace," also equates "wholeness" in Jewish culture. So a lack of peace signifies something that is broken.
My riding PTSD of sorts started with riding incidents during a season of spiritual darkness in my life, so no doubt there is a connection there. But more importantly, I think my inability to conquer this obstacle has challenged my idea of myself as someone who's competent. I want to feel confident, together, and in control--but riding taps into a place where I feel insecure.
In our can-do Western mindset, we try to devise a means to fix ourselves. We don't want to be vulnerable, needy, broken. This is the downfall of all religion--even our American brand of easy-believism Christianity.
But the reality of walking with Christ is that we must acknowledge our need. Like the Buddhists and the Muslims, we'd like to think that we can get to Him on our own. Really, His grace is the means for even our pursuit of Him. I am learning this afresh as I face my own brokenness. The nerdy head knowledge of my Reformed education is making its home more and more in my heart as I grasp my humanity.
Yesterday's One-Year Bible passage from the New Testament was Luke 7:36-50, where the "sinful" woman hears that Jesus is in town and rushes to the home where he is eating. Overcome by his presence, she begins to weep. Then kneeling before him, she washes his feet with her tears and lavishes them with perfume from an alabaster jar. I haven't been able to get her out of my head.
Jesus' response to her vulnerability is profound: "Your faith has saved you; go in peace" (Luke 8:50). "Go with my shalom, dear one. Your faith in me has made whole the broken things in you. No more fear."
What does all of this have to do with Lent, you ask? Well, a lot, I think. If it weren't for our broken humanity, what need would we have for a Sovereign who put on flesh to conquer the things that have bound ours? By his wounds, his brokenness, we are healed (Isaiah 53:5).
In this season of fasting and prayers, I'm increasingly thankful for the practical living that makes it all real in my heart.
Let me explain: Several years ago, I had some traumatic horseback riding experiences that changed the sport for me. Six years out of the saddle have only aggravated the fear. So when I brought Aiden Magee here in September, I knew I had my work cut out for me. I believe that fear is decidedly NOT of God, so it seemed like a worthwhile spiritual pursuit as well as a practical one. Only, it's been much harder than I imagined.
Don't get me wrong--I looove Aiden and have so much fun with him. But there's this alarming degree of anxiety that rises up in me when things aren't going 100% perfectly with him...and especially when I even try to imagine riding him out on the trails. It's alarming because I'm not used to feeling this way--I'm mostly an I-can-tackle-anything kind of girl. I wouldn't generally consider myself an anxious person. So this fear, this lack of peace in my life, is pretty foreign. It has made me think of the Jewish idea of shalom. The Hebrew word we often translate "peace," also equates "wholeness" in Jewish culture. So a lack of peace signifies something that is broken.
My riding PTSD of sorts started with riding incidents during a season of spiritual darkness in my life, so no doubt there is a connection there. But more importantly, I think my inability to conquer this obstacle has challenged my idea of myself as someone who's competent. I want to feel confident, together, and in control--but riding taps into a place where I feel insecure.
In our can-do Western mindset, we try to devise a means to fix ourselves. We don't want to be vulnerable, needy, broken. This is the downfall of all religion--even our American brand of easy-believism Christianity.
But the reality of walking with Christ is that we must acknowledge our need. Like the Buddhists and the Muslims, we'd like to think that we can get to Him on our own. Really, His grace is the means for even our pursuit of Him. I am learning this afresh as I face my own brokenness. The nerdy head knowledge of my Reformed education is making its home more and more in my heart as I grasp my humanity.
Yesterday's One-Year Bible passage from the New Testament was Luke 7:36-50, where the "sinful" woman hears that Jesus is in town and rushes to the home where he is eating. Overcome by his presence, she begins to weep. Then kneeling before him, she washes his feet with her tears and lavishes them with perfume from an alabaster jar. I haven't been able to get her out of my head.
Jesus' response to her vulnerability is profound: "Your faith has saved you; go in peace" (Luke 8:50). "Go with my shalom, dear one. Your faith in me has made whole the broken things in you. No more fear."
What does all of this have to do with Lent, you ask? Well, a lot, I think. If it weren't for our broken humanity, what need would we have for a Sovereign who put on flesh to conquer the things that have bound ours? By his wounds, his brokenness, we are healed (Isaiah 53:5).
In this season of fasting and prayers, I'm increasingly thankful for the practical living that makes it all real in my heart.
The Lord is near. Do not be anxious for anything, but in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known before God. And the peace (shalom!) of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:5-7
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Advent Confessions
Our 6 p.m. service tonight at Walnut Hill was beautiful. Not only did we sing Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus, but the sermon was about sin. Call me crazy, but I love a good sermon about sin.
Don't get me wrong--I'm not one of these legalists who loves to wallow in condemnation and guilt. It's just that sometimes I'm so painfully unaware of my need for a Savior. And if you ask me, that's the worst place to be at Christmastime. After all, how can you rejoice in being free if you don't recognize the depth of your sin to begin with?
I have a sweet little gaggle of high school girls who come to my house once a week to study the Bible. It's the most precious time. And yesterday, as we were munching on M&M cookies, talking about boys, and discussing Romans 5, one of them said something really insightful about sin and our need for God's grace. I shared Spurgeon's famous quote with them: "If your sin is small, your Savior will be small. But if your sin is great, then your Savior will be great also." We talked about how Spurgeon (and Paul, whom he was sort of paraphrasing) wasn't saying that we should sin more...he wasn't even necessarily claiming that some sins are greater than others. Rather, he was alluding to how we understand our sin.
Here's a confession: I sometimes pretend my sin isn't such a big deal, that I'm doing okay, really. And that's when my Jesus starts to seem awfully small, too.
So tonight, I relished the reminder of sin's potency in my life. There was a time of silent confession, reminiscent of Sundays at Third, that seemed oh-so-appropriate just days before this holiday where we celebrate the Incarnation. My sin is great. So great, in fact, that it demanded the death and resurrection of God's own Son to reconcile it. That God would pay that price for me, for the world, is the real miracle of Christmas.
Tonight's Advent Scriptures included John 3:16-21. I think I might have skipped over those familiar verses had it not been for the timing of this evening.
Don't get me wrong--I'm not one of these legalists who loves to wallow in condemnation and guilt. It's just that sometimes I'm so painfully unaware of my need for a Savior. And if you ask me, that's the worst place to be at Christmastime. After all, how can you rejoice in being free if you don't recognize the depth of your sin to begin with?
I have a sweet little gaggle of high school girls who come to my house once a week to study the Bible. It's the most precious time. And yesterday, as we were munching on M&M cookies, talking about boys, and discussing Romans 5, one of them said something really insightful about sin and our need for God's grace. I shared Spurgeon's famous quote with them: "If your sin is small, your Savior will be small. But if your sin is great, then your Savior will be great also." We talked about how Spurgeon (and Paul, whom he was sort of paraphrasing) wasn't saying that we should sin more...he wasn't even necessarily claiming that some sins are greater than others. Rather, he was alluding to how we understand our sin.
Here's a confession: I sometimes pretend my sin isn't such a big deal, that I'm doing okay, really. And that's when my Jesus starts to seem awfully small, too.
So tonight, I relished the reminder of sin's potency in my life. There was a time of silent confession, reminiscent of Sundays at Third, that seemed oh-so-appropriate just days before this holiday where we celebrate the Incarnation. My sin is great. So great, in fact, that it demanded the death and resurrection of God's own Son to reconcile it. That God would pay that price for me, for the world, is the real miracle of Christmas.
Tonight's Advent Scriptures included John 3:16-21. I think I might have skipped over those familiar verses had it not been for the timing of this evening.
This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God.
John 3:19-21
Oh that we might come into the light this Christmas and let our sin be exposed! Then, and only then, will we realize how great is our Savior King, Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
Come, Thou long-expected Jesus,
Born to set Thy people free.
From our fears and sins release us,
Let us find our rest in Thee!
Born to set Thy people free.
From our fears and sins release us,
Let us find our rest in Thee!
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Thanksgiving and Peace
Two verses--Philippians 4:5-7 and Colossians 3:15-17--have resonated this past month as I've grappled with my grandma's death and as I've continued to transition into a new job, home, and life in Connecticut. Interestingly, they share the themes of thanksgiving and peace. As I've meditated on these verses, I've realized how closely related those ideas really are. In fact, thanksgiving begets peace. And that's been a beautiful concept for me leading up to Thanksgiving--and especially during this season when I've so needed the peace of God to just pervade my life and my heart.
Philippians 4:5-7 says "The Lord is near! Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition, and with thanksgiving, make your requests know to God. And the peace of God will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Some translations say "Be careful for nothing." I love that! We can forge boldly ahead in our lives if we are taking our concerns to the Lord with thankful hearts.
I think of Corrie ten Boom, one of my early heroines. While I was growing up, my mom would always remind me that Corrie and her sister thanked God even for the lice while they were imprisoned in a concentration camp for hiding Jews in their home. (The lice kept the guards away so that Corrie and Betsie could host a Bible study in the barracks.) There is something about a heart of gratitude that allows us to live freely and joyfully!
I also love Colossians 3:15-17: "Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts...And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him."
I'm thankful for so many things this year--for family and friends, for the blessing of a job and a ministry that I love, and most of all, for His grace poured out through Christ, setting us free to experience true gratitude and tangible peace.
Love and thanksgiving!
chelsea
Philippians 4:5-7 says "The Lord is near! Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition, and with thanksgiving, make your requests know to God. And the peace of God will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Some translations say "Be careful for nothing." I love that! We can forge boldly ahead in our lives if we are taking our concerns to the Lord with thankful hearts.
I think of Corrie ten Boom, one of my early heroines. While I was growing up, my mom would always remind me that Corrie and her sister thanked God even for the lice while they were imprisoned in a concentration camp for hiding Jews in their home. (The lice kept the guards away so that Corrie and Betsie could host a Bible study in the barracks.) There is something about a heart of gratitude that allows us to live freely and joyfully!
I also love Colossians 3:15-17: "Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts...And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him."
I'm thankful for so many things this year--for family and friends, for the blessing of a job and a ministry that I love, and most of all, for His grace poured out through Christ, setting us free to experience true gratitude and tangible peace.
Love and thanksgiving!
chelsea
Saturday, April 11, 2009
The Beauty and Offense of Eastertide
I've been studying Christology in my systematic theology class these past few weeks--what sweet timing in light of Easter! And what a sweet study it has been, of both the beauty and the offense of the Cross.
As a teenager, I once heard a speaker insinuate that we make too much of the Cross and too little of the resurrection. It is true that the Gospel would not be complete without the resurrection--if Christ did not rise on the third day, then as Nitzche said, "God is dead." Resurrection Sunday is crucial. But there is nothing offensive about the resurrection. It is the Cross of Christ alone that provided the means for our final atonement, and it is the Cross that compels us, by its horrific offense, to lay down our sin and put on the new self. As singer/songwriter Derek Webb has said, "the Gospel is both beautiful and offensive. It must be both." Without the Cross, there is no offense, and therefore, a very limited beauty.
In The Cross of Christ, British thinker and evangelist John Stott explains the development of the cross as a Christian symbol. The Jews, of course, prohibited symbols because of the mandate from the Ten Words to refrain from making images of God (Exodus 20:4-5). As the Early Church developed its doctrines and creeds, the cross emerged as the defining symbol for followers of Christ. Stott writes that the cross was the most unlikely symbol for early Christians because the image was so very offensive to the Greco-Roman world. Crucifixion, a cruel punishment devised by Rome, is perhaps the most gruesome method of execution ever employed, as its victims suffered for hours before finally suffocating to death. And to a Jew, the cross was doubly offensive. The word "cross" in Hebrew is synonomus with the word for "tree," etz. Jews would have easily called to mind Deuteronomy 21:23 "anyone who is hung on a tree is under God's curse." To a Jewish mindset, it was blasphemous to claim that God would become man, and even more so to say that the Messiah could actually die under God's curse!
As if the gruesome cruelty of crucifixion and the Jewish confusion were not enough, we read Peter's words to the men of Israel: "you handed [Jesus] over to be killed...You disowned the Holy and Righteous One and asked that a murderer be released to you. You killed the author of life" (Acts 3:12-15), and we find that we are equally guilty of betraying Christ. Our dark, twisted, deceitful hearts have killed Him. And so, this post offends its author.
But as Webb and others have noted, therein lies the beauty!
It's precisely because we are offended so deeply that Christ's atoning sacrifice is so precious. The Messiah who wept over the city of Jerusalem at the wickedness of the people, the Christ who bled and died on the cross to satisfy the wrath of God, that very same Jesus is seated at the right hand of the Father today...and He waits for us to be made co-heirs with Him for all eternity. I love the refrain from the old 19th century hymn:
As a teenager, I once heard a speaker insinuate that we make too much of the Cross and too little of the resurrection. It is true that the Gospel would not be complete without the resurrection--if Christ did not rise on the third day, then as Nitzche said, "God is dead." Resurrection Sunday is crucial. But there is nothing offensive about the resurrection. It is the Cross of Christ alone that provided the means for our final atonement, and it is the Cross that compels us, by its horrific offense, to lay down our sin and put on the new self. As singer/songwriter Derek Webb has said, "the Gospel is both beautiful and offensive. It must be both." Without the Cross, there is no offense, and therefore, a very limited beauty.
In The Cross of Christ, British thinker and evangelist John Stott explains the development of the cross as a Christian symbol. The Jews, of course, prohibited symbols because of the mandate from the Ten Words to refrain from making images of God (Exodus 20:4-5). As the Early Church developed its doctrines and creeds, the cross emerged as the defining symbol for followers of Christ. Stott writes that the cross was the most unlikely symbol for early Christians because the image was so very offensive to the Greco-Roman world. Crucifixion, a cruel punishment devised by Rome, is perhaps the most gruesome method of execution ever employed, as its victims suffered for hours before finally suffocating to death. And to a Jew, the cross was doubly offensive. The word "cross" in Hebrew is synonomus with the word for "tree," etz. Jews would have easily called to mind Deuteronomy 21:23 "anyone who is hung on a tree is under God's curse." To a Jewish mindset, it was blasphemous to claim that God would become man, and even more so to say that the Messiah could actually die under God's curse!
As if the gruesome cruelty of crucifixion and the Jewish confusion were not enough, we read Peter's words to the men of Israel: "you handed [Jesus] over to be killed...You disowned the Holy and Righteous One and asked that a murderer be released to you. You killed the author of life" (Acts 3:12-15), and we find that we are equally guilty of betraying Christ. Our dark, twisted, deceitful hearts have killed Him. And so, this post offends its author.
But as Webb and others have noted, therein lies the beauty!
It's precisely because we are offended so deeply that Christ's atoning sacrifice is so precious. The Messiah who wept over the city of Jerusalem at the wickedness of the people, the Christ who bled and died on the cross to satisfy the wrath of God, that very same Jesus is seated at the right hand of the Father today...and He waits for us to be made co-heirs with Him for all eternity. I love the refrain from the old 19th century hymn:
Because the sinless Savior died
My sinful soul is counted free.
For God the Just was satisfied
To look on Him and Pardon me.
Behold him there, the risen Lamb
My perfect, spotless righteousness,
The great unchangeable I Am,
The King of Glory and of Grace!
As Stott writes, "As we face the cross, then, we can say to ourselves both 'I did it, my sins sent him there.'" (That's the offense.) Stott continues: "and 'he did it, his love took him there.'" (That's the beauty.) May we rejoice in the devastating offense and the sweet beauty of the Cross this Easter.My sinful soul is counted free.
For God the Just was satisfied
To look on Him and Pardon me.
Behold him there, the risen Lamb
My perfect, spotless righteousness,
The great unchangeable I Am,
The King of Glory and of Grace!
You are worthy to take the scroll and to open the seals because you were slain, and with your blood you purchased men for God from every tribe and language and people and nation...
Revelation 5:9
Revelation 5:9
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Grace to Give: Choosing Forgiveness When It Feels Like Personal Death
Is there anything so difficult as forgiveness?!
I can think of few things that pierce our hearts as painfully or wound our pride as deeply as the thought of forgiving a wrong. It can feel so very...unjust to let someone off the hook, especially when they haven't even acknowledged how much they've hurt us.
And yet...again and again the Scriptures command us to do it. Throughout the Tanak, God establishes Himself as the God of forgiveness (Leviticus 4, Psalm 103, Jeremiah 31:31-34,). And then, in the New Testament, Jesus revolutionizes the idea of forgiveness by telling His disciples that they too will have to forgive (Matthew 6:12). He adds insult to injury by telling us that if we refuse to forgive, the Father won't forgive our sins (Matthew 6:14-15 and 18:35). I don't think this is so much a cruel ultimatum as it is an indictment of the condition of our hearts. If our hearts are soft toward God and receptive of His grace, that grace will abound as we forgive others. As my pastor exclaimed in a bellowing voice in Sunday school a few weeks ago, "GRACE. ALWAYS. BEARS. FRUIT!"
And who is more justified in asking us to forgive than our Lord Jesus? As I've sought God this year in the process of forgiving a dear friend who has greatly wronged me, He's been faithful to bring to mind the picture of Jesus on the Cross. As I gaze on His suffering--the cancellation of my debts at His expense--the wrongs committed against me pale in comparison. How petty and foolish to cling to unforgiveness in light of the lavish grace that's been given to me! Surely I have grace to give. The bounty I've received provides an excess to spare (John 1:16, 1 Timothy 1:14).
Two things have become clear to me as I've lingered over this image of Jesus:
1.) Forgiveness always comes at significant personal cost. Perhaps the statement in Hebrews that "without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness" (v. 9:22) is not only literal, but figurative. Forgiveness will always be costly to us. Just as Christ died on the Cross to show us grace, we too, will have to die--to ourselves--in order to show grace to those around us. (See Romans 12:9-21.)
2.) Forgiveness identifies us with Christ. After Christ's death and resurrection, the early believers understood that they, too, would suffer to be made like Christ. (Acts 9:15-17, Romans 8:17, 2 Corinthians 1:5, Philippians 3:10-11, 2 Thessalonians 1:5). And what brought about the suffering of our Savior? His readiness to forgive our sin! So there is no better way for us to be identified with Him than when we forgive, and especially when we forgive those who do not know the depth of their wrongdoing against us. As we learn to cry out with Christ, "Father, forgive them; they know not what they do" (Luke 23:34), we are transformed into His image, a spectacle bearing witness to the gospel of grace.
In light of this, is there anything so lovely as forgiveness?!
My heart grows light every time I read Psalm 103:1-12:
1 Praise the LORD, O my soul;
all my inmost being, praise his holy name.
I can think of few things that pierce our hearts as painfully or wound our pride as deeply as the thought of forgiving a wrong. It can feel so very...unjust to let someone off the hook, especially when they haven't even acknowledged how much they've hurt us.
And yet...again and again the Scriptures command us to do it. Throughout the Tanak, God establishes Himself as the God of forgiveness (Leviticus 4, Psalm 103, Jeremiah 31:31-34,). And then, in the New Testament, Jesus revolutionizes the idea of forgiveness by telling His disciples that they too will have to forgive (Matthew 6:12). He adds insult to injury by telling us that if we refuse to forgive, the Father won't forgive our sins (Matthew 6:14-15 and 18:35). I don't think this is so much a cruel ultimatum as it is an indictment of the condition of our hearts. If our hearts are soft toward God and receptive of His grace, that grace will abound as we forgive others. As my pastor exclaimed in a bellowing voice in Sunday school a few weeks ago, "GRACE. ALWAYS. BEARS. FRUIT!"
And who is more justified in asking us to forgive than our Lord Jesus? As I've sought God this year in the process of forgiving a dear friend who has greatly wronged me, He's been faithful to bring to mind the picture of Jesus on the Cross. As I gaze on His suffering--the cancellation of my debts at His expense--the wrongs committed against me pale in comparison. How petty and foolish to cling to unforgiveness in light of the lavish grace that's been given to me! Surely I have grace to give. The bounty I've received provides an excess to spare (John 1:16, 1 Timothy 1:14).
Two things have become clear to me as I've lingered over this image of Jesus:
1.) Forgiveness always comes at significant personal cost. Perhaps the statement in Hebrews that "without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness" (v. 9:22) is not only literal, but figurative. Forgiveness will always be costly to us. Just as Christ died on the Cross to show us grace, we too, will have to die--to ourselves--in order to show grace to those around us. (See Romans 12:9-21.)
2.) Forgiveness identifies us with Christ. After Christ's death and resurrection, the early believers understood that they, too, would suffer to be made like Christ. (Acts 9:15-17, Romans 8:17, 2 Corinthians 1:5, Philippians 3:10-11, 2 Thessalonians 1:5). And what brought about the suffering of our Savior? His readiness to forgive our sin! So there is no better way for us to be identified with Him than when we forgive, and especially when we forgive those who do not know the depth of their wrongdoing against us. As we learn to cry out with Christ, "Father, forgive them; they know not what they do" (Luke 23:34), we are transformed into His image, a spectacle bearing witness to the gospel of grace.
In light of this, is there anything so lovely as forgiveness?!
My heart grows light every time I read Psalm 103:1-12:
1 Praise the LORD, O my soul;
all my inmost being, praise his holy name.
2 Praise the LORD, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits-
3 who forgives all your sins
and heals all your diseases,
4 who redeems your life from the pit
and crowns you with love and compassion,
5 who satisfies your desires with good things
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's.
6 The LORD works righteousness
and justice for all the oppressed.
7 He made known his ways to Moses,
his deeds to the people of Israel:
8 The LORD is compassionate and gracious,
slow to anger, abounding in love.
9 He will not always accuse,
nor will he harbor his anger forever;
10 he does not treat us as our sins deserve
or repay us according to our iniquities.
11 For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his love for those who fear him;
12 as far as the east is from the west,
so far has he removed our transgressions from us.
And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.
--2 Corinthians 9:8
--2 Corinthians 9:8
Thursday, January 29, 2009
A Prodigal Father and His Less-than-loving Sons
I just love it when I learn of a great author or teacher, and then start hearing about him or her everywhere I turn. Tim Keller has been like that for me recently.
Keller, the pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian in Manhattan, made an appearance at a local church last night to talk about his new book, The Prodigal God. Listening to him speak from an overflow room (the church was literally packed out), I was easily persuaded that far more than promoting book sales, this man's heart was to see Christians live in such a way that their faith would be attractive to the world. I'm not talking about seeker-sensitive services or programs, but about real heart-change that is contagious. I was convicted and encouraged beyond belief.
Keller's new book is called The Prodigal God. I had heard before (in a sermon at my church in Richmond) that prodigal means "recklessly or wastefully extravagant; lavish." Of course the adjective could very well refer to the story's younger son, who indeed spent his father's wealth wastefully. But a second glance reveals that it is the father who is most reckless with his wealth and his love. Therefore, the parable would be better titled "The Prodigal Father." (Keep in mind, of course, that the headings in our Bibles were not part of the Divinely inspired writings, but rather an addition of editors who compiled the Canon centuries later.)
Explaining the application of the parable, Keller said that the rebellious Christian (the younger brother, who skipped town with his inheritance) and the legalist (the older brother who stuck around and did the right thing) sit in the same pew at church on Sundays...and unfortunately "both sons want the Father's things and not the Father." As Keller put it, one brother tries to be good and one is rebellious, but both are "outside of the feast." And at the end of the story, it's the bad boy who is saved while the good boy is so proud of his good works that he refuses to come into the feast. Keller pleaded with the audience to learn from the illustration of the older brother, who is too proud and too bitter to have compassion over his lost brother. To be a true older brother, he said, "you've got to be humbled to the dust but know that you're loved to the sky!"
This parable, meant to indict the Pharisees (and now us!) as "older brother" types isn't the only place in the New Testament where where we see the distinction between the rebellious son and the legalist. We see the Pharisee contrasted with the tax collector and the harlot again and again throughout Jesus' ministry. It seems God loves to ransom the most hopeless cases! The way He does this, according to Keller, is by sending a true older brother, His Son Jesus, with whom we are co-heirs of the Kingdom (Romans 8:17).
Keller told the story of a man whose younger brother was lost in Vietnam during the war. The older brother flew to Vietnam and went out into the jungle in search of his lost brother, and both the U.S. and the Communist troops so respected his commitment to his family that they allowed him to search unharmed. He explained that the true older brother goes after his younger brother, and at his own expense! And surely we need an "older brother" who flies not just from the States to Vietnam, but from Heaven to earth. The only way we can be brought back into the family, to join the feast, is at His expense.
At the end of the story, when the younger brother returns, the father puts a robe and a ring on him. The ring, Keller said, can only be a signet ring, the marking of association with a certain family in ancient culture. So, the father is adopting this lost son back into his family. Obviously it's a perfect picture of God's extravagant, reckless love toward those of us to belong to him because He has adopted us as sons (Romans 8:23).
Oh that we might hear the Father say to us "My son (or daughter), you are always with me and everything I have is yours" (Luke 5:31) so that we may rejoice when a younger brother returns home!
*Keller's podcasts can be downloaded for free from the iTunes store, and you can listen to his defense of faith in God (an Authors@Google talk) on youtube.com. I haven't been able to locate a talk on the Prodigal God anywhere online, so let me know if you come across something!
Sunday, August 17, 2008
His Workmanship: Thoughts from Ephesians 2
Chapter 1 of Ephesians left us marveling at the grace of God, as seen through the sometimes difficult concepts of the Kingdom and the Trinity. As we move on into chapter 2, I'm impressed again by God's grace, as shown to us through the marked difference between life in the flesh and life in the Spirit. Verses 1 through 3 paint a bleak picture of what it looks like to be lost in sin: "following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience" (verse 2). Verse 1 talks about the death of this supposed "life" in the flesh, and verse 3 reminds us that we ALL came into the world this way because of the sin nature we inherited at the Fall. Note that this is not to say that our hearts are bad. They were merely infected by the choice of humanity to sin. Even so, as I read these first three verses, I find myself weighed down by all that needs to be overcome in my life.
But Paul doesn't leave us in this dark state for long. (And perhaps intentionally, the scribes who canonized the scriptures and marked verses don't even begin a new paragraph before letting Paul begin to speak about the wonders of God's grace!) He begins verse 4 with the two most powerful words in the whole passage: "BUT GOD" (emphasis mine, although I imagine that Paul might have written it in bold also). We were lost in sin, BUT GOD. We followed the prince of the spirit of the air (our Enemy, Satan), BUT GOD. We were dead in the trespasses and sins, BUT GOD..."made us alive together with Christ" (Ephesians 5). And more than offering us life, verse 6 says that by grace he "raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places!" No more darkness, no more triumph of the Enemy--Christ has made us His co-heirs that we may have victory in this life and even more in the next!
Just today my mom and I had a conversation about the gift of being able to clearly see our inadequacies. Ephesians 2:8-9 says, "for by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast." In light of those verses, how kind of God to remind us in our day-to-day living that we truly are incompetent (as I remarked in my last post) and incapable apart from His equipping us to live in the world. It seems that as I am made continually more aware of my inadequacy before the Father, I am more and more in awe of the "BUT GODs" that unfold in my life every day. And as we live in that continual revelation of His grace, verse 10 says that we begin to realize the good works He has prepared for us to do. We are His workmanship, and He equips us even in our inadequacy!
But Paul doesn't leave us in this dark state for long. (And perhaps intentionally, the scribes who canonized the scriptures and marked verses don't even begin a new paragraph before letting Paul begin to speak about the wonders of God's grace!) He begins verse 4 with the two most powerful words in the whole passage: "BUT GOD" (emphasis mine, although I imagine that Paul might have written it in bold also). We were lost in sin, BUT GOD. We followed the prince of the spirit of the air (our Enemy, Satan), BUT GOD. We were dead in the trespasses and sins, BUT GOD..."made us alive together with Christ" (Ephesians 5). And more than offering us life, verse 6 says that by grace he "raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places!" No more darkness, no more triumph of the Enemy--Christ has made us His co-heirs that we may have victory in this life and even more in the next!
Just today my mom and I had a conversation about the gift of being able to clearly see our inadequacies. Ephesians 2:8-9 says, "for by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast." In light of those verses, how kind of God to remind us in our day-to-day living that we truly are incompetent (as I remarked in my last post) and incapable apart from His equipping us to live in the world. It seems that as I am made continually more aware of my inadequacy before the Father, I am more and more in awe of the "BUT GODs" that unfold in my life every day. And as we live in that continual revelation of His grace, verse 10 says that we begin to realize the good works He has prepared for us to do. We are His workmanship, and He equips us even in our inadequacy!
In the shadows; My spirit weak
Love broke through the darkness and lifted me
And I know you'll never let me go
In the storm in the raging sea
Love conquered the fear and delivered me
And I know you'll never let me go
--Hillsong United
Love broke through the darkness and lifted me
And I know you'll never let me go
In the storm in the raging sea
Love conquered the fear and delivered me
And I know you'll never let me go
--Hillsong United
Friday, August 15, 2008
"I'm a Mess!!"
That is a mantra I often repeat (or sometimes exchange for, "I'm a disaster!"). My experiences in Christian counseling and reading John Eldredge's books revealed that my "false self" is that of competence. I love to pretend that I have it all together. But anyone who really knows me realizes this is not the case. All too often I lose my car in an airport parking garage, travel fifty miles in the wrong direction on the interstate, or use baking soda instead of baking powder, turning the cherry cobbler into cherry mush. While these experiences can sometimes be humiliating, I've been slowly learning to laugh at my messiness (which, as my roommates and my mother can attest to, is actually quite literal in the kitchen!) Perhaps this is why I've always been so drawn to I Love Lucy. Lucy is transparent about being a mess in a way that I longed to be in my younger years. Now that I have (mostly) given up trying to appear competent, she encourages me in my learning.
I truly am a mess. So when I read about a different kind of messiness in "The Shack," I was moved to tears. I won't give away the plot of this recent bestseller, which seems to be especially popular in Nashville. Some parts are a little cheesy, and I certainly don't agree with everything Young writes, but taken for what it's worth (one person's imperfect understanding of God), it's good literature.
My favorite part of the book is when Mack, the protagonist, is working in the garden with Sarayu, the embodiment of the Holy Spirit. Here is a snippet:
It was chaos in color. His eyes tried unsuccessfully to find some order in this blatant disregard for certainty. Dazzling sprays of flowers were blasted through patches of randomly planted vegetebals and herbs, vegetation the likes of which Mack had never seen. It was confusing, stunning, and incredibly beautiful.
"From above it's a fractal," Sarayu said over her shoulder with an air of pleasure.
"A what?" asked Mack absentmindedly...
"A fractal...something considered simple and orderly that is actually composed of repeated patterns no matter how magnified. A fractal is almost infintely complex. I love fractals, so I put them everywhere."
"Looks like a mess to me," muttered Mack under his breath.
Sarayu stopped and turned to Mack, her face glorious. "Mack! Thank you! What a wonderful compliment!" She looked around the garden. "That is exactly what this is--a mess. But," she looked back at Mack and beamed, "it's still a fractal, too."
..."But it really is beautiful, and full of you, Sarayu. Even though it seems like lots of work still needs to be done, I feel strangely at home and comfortable here."
Sarayu stepped toward him until she had invaded his personal space. "And well you should, Mackenzie, because this garden is your soul. This mess is you! Together, you and I, we have been working with a purpose in your heart. And it is wild and beautiful and perfectly in process. To you it seems like a mess, but to me [sic], I see a perfect pattern emerging and growing and alive--a living fractal."
Perhaps I need to spend even more time declaring what a mess I am--not my mind and its sometimes spastic functions, but my heart. I judge others and neglect to show grace and think of my own comfort and fail to forgive and overindulge and gossip and show contempt for my neighbor. I dwell on things that aren't lovely and refuse to be content and look to my own strength and put myself before the good of others. I am a mess!! But in all that mess, the Holy Spirit is at work because of Christ in me! God sees me, in the midst of my messy heart, as a lovely work in progress.
Let us live as beautiful messes before the Lord who sees, and chuckles, and gets out the hoe!
"...He who began a good work in you will be faithful to carry it to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." Philippians 1:6
I truly am a mess. So when I read about a different kind of messiness in "The Shack," I was moved to tears. I won't give away the plot of this recent bestseller, which seems to be especially popular in Nashville. Some parts are a little cheesy, and I certainly don't agree with everything Young writes, but taken for what it's worth (one person's imperfect understanding of God), it's good literature.
My favorite part of the book is when Mack, the protagonist, is working in the garden with Sarayu, the embodiment of the Holy Spirit. Here is a snippet:
It was chaos in color. His eyes tried unsuccessfully to find some order in this blatant disregard for certainty. Dazzling sprays of flowers were blasted through patches of randomly planted vegetebals and herbs, vegetation the likes of which Mack had never seen. It was confusing, stunning, and incredibly beautiful.
"From above it's a fractal," Sarayu said over her shoulder with an air of pleasure.
"A what?" asked Mack absentmindedly...
"A fractal...something considered simple and orderly that is actually composed of repeated patterns no matter how magnified. A fractal is almost infintely complex. I love fractals, so I put them everywhere."
"Looks like a mess to me," muttered Mack under his breath.
Sarayu stopped and turned to Mack, her face glorious. "Mack! Thank you! What a wonderful compliment!" She looked around the garden. "That is exactly what this is--a mess. But," she looked back at Mack and beamed, "it's still a fractal, too."
..."But it really is beautiful, and full of you, Sarayu. Even though it seems like lots of work still needs to be done, I feel strangely at home and comfortable here."
Sarayu stepped toward him until she had invaded his personal space. "And well you should, Mackenzie, because this garden is your soul. This mess is you! Together, you and I, we have been working with a purpose in your heart. And it is wild and beautiful and perfectly in process. To you it seems like a mess, but to me [sic], I see a perfect pattern emerging and growing and alive--a living fractal."
Perhaps I need to spend even more time declaring what a mess I am--not my mind and its sometimes spastic functions, but my heart. I judge others and neglect to show grace and think of my own comfort and fail to forgive and overindulge and gossip and show contempt for my neighbor. I dwell on things that aren't lovely and refuse to be content and look to my own strength and put myself before the good of others. I am a mess!! But in all that mess, the Holy Spirit is at work because of Christ in me! God sees me, in the midst of my messy heart, as a lovely work in progress.
Let us live as beautiful messes before the Lord who sees, and chuckles, and gets out the hoe!
"...He who began a good work in you will be faithful to carry it to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." Philippians 1:6
Monday, July 28, 2008
Glorious Grace: Thoughts from Ephesians 1
I've been making my way through the book of Ephesians this summer, and it is rich with truth about God's grace. In the first chapter of his letter to the dearly beloved church at Ephesus, Paul lays out some weighty spiritual principals, namely, the idea of predestination. The modern Church has struggled with the implications of the idea that God himself chose before time those to whom He would impart grace--this is one of those places the gospel is especially offensive--but it seems to me that there is no other plausible explanation for our faith. If we are not able in and of ourselves to come to God; if, as Christianity suggests, we have fallen from relationship with Him because of the nature of sin, then it seems only logical that nothing but His grace, His choosing, could save us. Since I don't have the time or space here to go into the Scriptural arguments for reformed theology, and since I'm certainly no expert on the matter, let's suffice to say that Ephesians points clearly to predestination, and Paul's claim to that end negates several expressed and unexpressed ideologies of the current age.
Paul writes, "for he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ in accordance with his pleasure and will--to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves" (Ephesians 1:4-6).
Of course this is one brief passage, but there are many others throughout scripture that support predestination. (For scripture specifically using the word "predestined," see Romans 8:29 and 8:30 and Ephesians 1:11; for scripture alluding to the concept, read almost any part of the Biblical text with critical eye.) Looking at this passage alone, I find it hard to understand how some can proclaim open theism, or, the belief that God is in some way limited in knowing the outcome of His creation. Verse eleven negates this idea, as well: "In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will." (I am reminded of a favorite Caedmon's Call song, in which the lyrics go, Cause You knew how you'd save me before I fell dead in the Garden, and You knew this day long before You made me out of dirt. And You know the plans You have for me. And You can't plan the ends and not plan the means.)
Equally difficult to fathom is the current vernacular regarding salvation in most mainline churches; the emphasis has become about us and our choice as opposed to God's choosing us in Christ. For more on this subject, listen to my friend Rob's sermon "To the Praise of His Glory!" which was perfectly timed with my own study of Ephesians. [Clicking here will redirect you to the church website, where you can download a podcast.] I love the phraseology Rob uses to explain predestination: "God's before-time decision versus our real-time decision." Another consequence of the dismissal of reformed theology is that many of us act as though the salvation of those around us were dependent on us and our competencies. We rely far too little on God to do the work and see ourselves not as vessels of God's grace, but as those burdened with the impossible task of convincing people of their need for God. In reality, we cannot convince them. We are utterly incapable of doing the work except that God works through us. It is His work.
Of course, the criticism of reformed theology is that it breeds lazy Christians who don't understand the value of working for the Harvest. But a correct understanding of predestination, I would argue, includes that we are indeed called to be diligent ambassadors of Christ's grace, doing so with humility and reliance on Him to soften the hearts of those whom He has called.
Moving on from that lengthy tangent, another thing that struck me in studying Ephesians 1 was the implications for the Kingdom, specifically what some theologians have referred to as the "already/not yet" nature of the Kingdom. Having studied the Sermon on the Mount with Greek InterVarsity at the University of Richmond this past semester, I'm kind of on a "Kingdom" kick. In verses 9 and 10, Paul writes, "And he made know to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ, to be put into effect when the times will have reached their fulfillment--to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, even Christ." In other words, because Christ came and brought a new vision of what holy living looked like (see Matthew 5-7 for a description), we are already enacting the Kingdom by following Christ, thereby allowing His lordship to reign on earth as He reigns in our lives. But at the same time, we are awaiting the glory of the Kingdom that has not yet reached its fulfillment.
Another theme that stands out to me from this first chapter is that of the Trinitarian essence of God. The other day, I was expressing to my friend Goodie my desire to write youth curriculum on the nature of God. She shared that in a seminary course she took recently, her professor emphasized the importance of dwelling on the Trinity as the primary aspect of God's nature and then seeking to discover His attributes (i.e. loving, faithful, etc.), which are secondary. (I believe the early Christians talked about this idea in terms of the essence of God, or His ineffable person, and the energies of God, those qualities we can define.) It was interesting to look back at my notes from Ephesians after our conversation and see that the Lord had revealed something similar to me through Paul's words. He mentions each Person of the Trinity, and then describes their functions in grace. Here is a brief laundry list: the Father blesses us, chose us in Christ, predestined us in love, lavished grace upon us, and made His will known. Christ is the One God loves, our redemption, our forgiveness, the riches of grace, the mystery of God's will, the one head who chose us with the Father. The Holy Spirit is a seal that marks us and a deposit guaranteeing our salvation. More on Ephesians later...
"I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation so that you may know Him better" (Ephesians 1:17).
Paul writes, "for he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ in accordance with his pleasure and will--to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves" (Ephesians 1:4-6).
Of course this is one brief passage, but there are many others throughout scripture that support predestination. (For scripture specifically using the word "predestined," see Romans 8:29 and 8:30 and Ephesians 1:11; for scripture alluding to the concept, read almost any part of the Biblical text with critical eye.) Looking at this passage alone, I find it hard to understand how some can proclaim open theism, or, the belief that God is in some way limited in knowing the outcome of His creation. Verse eleven negates this idea, as well: "In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will." (I am reminded of a favorite Caedmon's Call song, in which the lyrics go, Cause You knew how you'd save me before I fell dead in the Garden, and You knew this day long before You made me out of dirt. And You know the plans You have for me. And You can't plan the ends and not plan the means.)
Equally difficult to fathom is the current vernacular regarding salvation in most mainline churches; the emphasis has become about us and our choice as opposed to God's choosing us in Christ. For more on this subject, listen to my friend Rob's sermon "To the Praise of His Glory!" which was perfectly timed with my own study of Ephesians. [Clicking here will redirect you to the church website, where you can download a podcast.] I love the phraseology Rob uses to explain predestination: "God's before-time decision versus our real-time decision." Another consequence of the dismissal of reformed theology is that many of us act as though the salvation of those around us were dependent on us and our competencies. We rely far too little on God to do the work and see ourselves not as vessels of God's grace, but as those burdened with the impossible task of convincing people of their need for God. In reality, we cannot convince them. We are utterly incapable of doing the work except that God works through us. It is His work.
Of course, the criticism of reformed theology is that it breeds lazy Christians who don't understand the value of working for the Harvest. But a correct understanding of predestination, I would argue, includes that we are indeed called to be diligent ambassadors of Christ's grace, doing so with humility and reliance on Him to soften the hearts of those whom He has called.
Moving on from that lengthy tangent, another thing that struck me in studying Ephesians 1 was the implications for the Kingdom, specifically what some theologians have referred to as the "already/not yet" nature of the Kingdom. Having studied the Sermon on the Mount with Greek InterVarsity at the University of Richmond this past semester, I'm kind of on a "Kingdom" kick. In verses 9 and 10, Paul writes, "And he made know to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ, to be put into effect when the times will have reached their fulfillment--to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, even Christ." In other words, because Christ came and brought a new vision of what holy living looked like (see Matthew 5-7 for a description), we are already enacting the Kingdom by following Christ, thereby allowing His lordship to reign on earth as He reigns in our lives. But at the same time, we are awaiting the glory of the Kingdom that has not yet reached its fulfillment.
Another theme that stands out to me from this first chapter is that of the Trinitarian essence of God. The other day, I was expressing to my friend Goodie my desire to write youth curriculum on the nature of God. She shared that in a seminary course she took recently, her professor emphasized the importance of dwelling on the Trinity as the primary aspect of God's nature and then seeking to discover His attributes (i.e. loving, faithful, etc.), which are secondary. (I believe the early Christians talked about this idea in terms of the essence of God, or His ineffable person, and the energies of God, those qualities we can define.) It was interesting to look back at my notes from Ephesians after our conversation and see that the Lord had revealed something similar to me through Paul's words. He mentions each Person of the Trinity, and then describes their functions in grace. Here is a brief laundry list: the Father blesses us, chose us in Christ, predestined us in love, lavished grace upon us, and made His will known. Christ is the One God loves, our redemption, our forgiveness, the riches of grace, the mystery of God's will, the one head who chose us with the Father. The Holy Spirit is a seal that marks us and a deposit guaranteeing our salvation. More on Ephesians later...
"I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation so that you may know Him better" (Ephesians 1:17).
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