DEEPER CHANGE

NEW RELEASE - From the "Deeper" series: Discover the one to spiritual formation and lasting changhe

Paperback 

or Kindle

Say yes to Students of Jesus in your inbox:

 

SEARCH THIS SITE:

Archive
Navigation

Entries from October 1, 2010 - October 31, 2010

Everyone's Entitled to My Opinion: About the Wisdom of the Saints

Above all the grace and the gifts that Christ gives to his beloved is that of overcoming ourselves.” ~ St. Francis of Assisi, born 1182.
‎"Educated Christians like myself expect God's grace to prefer people of greater natural ability, higher standards of behaviour, and superior education in the liberal arts. In fact God mocks my expectations." ~ Augustine of Hippo, born 354
C.S. Lewis - A Dead Guy
When I became born again in 1970, at the age of 14, It never occurred to me I was born into a family nearly two thousand years old. I figured it started with me. I was soon introduced to the works of C.S. Lewis--a dead guy! Lewis died in 1963, so at least we were briefly alive at the same time. This made him acceptably “modern.” Years later I discovered Lewis took most of his ideas from St. Augustine--who was even more dead.
I suspect many followers of Jesus, if they read at all, limit their exposure to names like Max Lucado, Philip Yancey, or Beth Moore. Christian publishers understand that “new” sells, while “old” is simply, well, old.
Augustine: Even Deader
So today’s mini-rant is in praise of our grandfathers. They have left us a legacy that rests among the weeds, awaiting rediscovery. They are not worthy because they are old, they are worthy because their instruction and encouragement is timeless. Nor were they born as saints: Augustine was a young man consumed with pride and lust; Assisi was a hipster in his day, in danger of wasting his life on passing fancies. They, and a cloud of witnesses more, have so much to say to us.
In my opinion, we all should make room for the old guys.

Covering Sin

From a very early age I’ve shown an ability to confidently assert an idea without having a clue what I’m talking about. Even as a teenager I could look you in the eye, give you my opinion--plus seven reasons why I was correct, and all the while remain clueless in my heart of hearts.

A long time ago, perhaps during the Gerald Ford administration, one of my best friends was having a difficult time finding rest in the grace of God. He was plagued by the memory of sin and plagued by the guilt he carried. He was a Christian--a committed Christian by nearly any standard--yet his heart was not at rest. I had no patience for problems like this. My approach was to confidently quote a Bible verse and move on to the next problem.

“Seriously man, give it a rest,” I said. “The Bible says ‘Love covers a multitude of sins.’”
“Yes, but how?”
“Who cares how? I’m just glad it does.”

I was selfish: my version of "the truth" conveniently served me. There seemed only one possible interpretation of this verse--God loved me, and he covered my sin. Like so many things in my life, I was technically right, yet completely missed God's heart.

But this one exchange, uttered over three decades ago, recently found its way to the surface of my thoughts again. How does love cover sin? Whose love? And why? It turns out that while I was correct in asserting the love of Jesus as adequate for our guilt and shame, it turns out I quoted a verse that has very little to do with the the sacrifice of Jesus. Here’s the actual verse in a slightly fuller context:

The end of all things is near. Therefore be clear minded and self-controlled so that you can pray. Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling. Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God's grace in its various forms. (I Peter 4: 7-10)
Peter was talking not about the sacrificial love of Jesus but rather the love we are called to demonstrate toward others. Peter expected the imminent return of Jesus, so he instructed us to think clearly, act reasonably, and pray hard. The intended result leads us to love deeply; we can cover the sins of others. The Spirit of God, speaking through Peter, is calling us to do for others what Jesus has done for us.

I can still hear my friend’s voice, “Yes, but how?” While I no longer have the foolish confidence of youth, I've seen some serious demonstrations of love over the years, so perhaps it’s time to suggest three possibilities from Peter's words:

  • Love covers sin by filling the void: When we see the sins of others we have a choice; we can rush to expose the sinfulness we see, spreading guilt and condemnation, or we can rush to the aid of those who are the victims of that sin. The presence of sin means the corruption of God's best intentions. We can become God's police and blow the whistle on sinfulness, or we can become God's EMS and provide triage to the wounded. All sin comes with a price. Someone, somewhere is paying the price. I believe we are called to cover the losses left behind by sin: a husband leaves his wife and child--who will fill the void for a suddenly-single mother? A government exploits the people it should serve--who will serve the unmet needs of the people? We have a choice: crusade against injustice or love those in need.
  • Love covers sin by 'gifted service': In a practical expression of his grace, God himself lavishes gifts beyond reckoning, and directs us to employ his gifts in the service of others. Too many believers revel in the crazy generosity of God, assuming it's all about them: do we see God's saving action as a hand-out to us or an invitation to join him in his kingdom work? The way of the world is to receive a gift and enjoy it for our own pleasure. That's what consumers do. The way of the kingdom is ask the Giver, “what would you like me to do with this?” That's what disciples do.
  • Love covers sin by offering hospitality: God's love serves people, especially strangers. The New Testament word for “hospitality” suggests showing love toward the stranger, the foreigner, and the outcast. It suggests quite literally that we should make a place for others. It's not as if there are a limited number of seats at the Father's banquet table: by turning water into wine and multiplying food Jesus demonstrated that true hospitality will always be supported by divine provision. Our assignment is to joyfully welcome others. When we add another place at the table we are really looking forward to the day when the Father will say, “you really did it for me.”
It’s taken more than thirty years, but I’m beginning to figure out that whatever the Father has done for us, he encourages us to do for others. His gifts come with the empowerment for us to give them again and again. Jesus told Peter and the disciples, "freely you've received, therefore freely give"(Matthew 10:8) What if every benefit we have ever received from the Father is also an empowerment to give to others? It would probably cover a multitude of sin--but don't take my word for it, take Peter's.

Monday's Meditation: Learning Peace

Our age is characterized by activity, energy, and action. Peace, however, is not an attribute of our times. Jesus offered his disciples the yoke of discipleship, and under his instruction they would experience rest and peace. “Peace I leave with you,” he told his friends at the Last Supper. “My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” (John 14: 27)
He spoke about peace often: when he looked over Jerusalem he cried because the people of the city had never learned the things that would make for peace; when he commissioned his disciples to preach the Kingdom of God he told them to give their peace as a gift; when the resurrected Jesus appeared he greeted his friends with “Peace.” Peace is among the fruit of the Spirit. Peace is an attribute of believers even when they face persecution or violence. Peace is the fingerprint of Jesus upon the lives he has crafted.
Students of Jesus can learn rest and peace has they submit to his instruction in everyday life. There is a difference between finding peace and learning peace. He can teach us how to live a life of peace. The Apostle Paul, writing to a healthy group of believers in Philippi, gave these words as his final command:
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4: 6 – 7) These are famous verses. Perhaps you have heard of this incredible promise of “the peace which transcends understanding.” But has anyone taught us how to receive the gift of God, this perfect peace?
Monday’s Meditation is straightforward: how can I learn peace? We’ve all met people who have memorized massive chunks of the scripture, but still have no peace; people who pray constantly, but are still filled with anxiety; people who attend church regularly but live as if God is not involved in their everyday affairs. Where, then, can we learn peace? Let’s ask Jesus--I promise you he’ll answer, and it will come as no surprise that the answers can be found in surprising places.

Everyone's Entitled to My Opinion: About The InBreaking

Each fall my home church presents a worship and teaching conference designed to benefit everyone in the region: not just the folks in our church, but Methodists, Baptists, Catholics, believers, seekers, or unbelievers--anyone who is thirsty.

This weekend we're sponsoring four sessions with Jack Deere, an internationally known Bible teacher with an uncommon gift for plain speaking; The Embers, a worship band that refuses to settle for trite musical or lyrical expression of God's glory; and a gallery exposition featuring Eric Hurtgen, a graphic artist from Charlotte, NC. The local church saves it shekels and covers all the costs: the conference is free. The content finds it's way to our website and podcast.

This year's conference is called The InBreaking, which deals with the words of Jesus, "the Kingdom of God is breaking in." I love what we do, and this weekend everyone's entitled to my opinion: you should check out the good stuff from The InBreaking.

The Lessons of Elijah

“Elijah was a man just like us.” James 5:17
In my experience many Christians consider Christlikeness impossible in this life, yet expect an almost magical transformation of their character and faith immediately upon entry into the next life. I wonder: why would God, who shows the utmost respect for our freedom of choice and personality while we live on earth suddenly take control of our faith and choices in heaven? Does that sound like the Father’s way?
Monday’s Meditation challenged us to consider James’ suggestion that if becoming conformed to the image of Jesus is unimaginable, perhaps we could set our sights lower--on someone like Elijah. The same Elijah whose voice and piety intimidated kings and queens, whose trust in God manifested in his personal control of the weather for three years, and whose appetite for the power of God called down fire from heaven. That Elijah.
Why would the scripture include such incredible stories of people like Elijah? How can his narrative impact our lives? One of my younger friends replied that we should not expect the same miracles as the life of Elijah, but he is included in the Bible so we might imitate his faith. For me, the message of Elijah is precisely the opposite--faith for miracles may be easier than faith to believe that God cares for us, or faith to hear his voice. Here’s what I make of Elijah’s example:
“Seize the prophets of Baal! Don’t let anyone get away!” (1 Kings 18: 40) Elijah used the astonishing manifestation of fire from heaven as authority to order the execution of 400 men. Wouldn’t that have been the perfect moment to invite the pagan prophets to abandon their false gods in favor of the one True God? Yahweh was a demonstrably better choice. Instead, Elijah appealed to an impressionable crowd of people--themselves wavering in faith--to execute a humiliated foe. Could the tacit lesson be that miracle-working faith does not guarantee we have God’s heart? Jesus suggested that very thing in Matthew 7: 21-23.
“I am the only one left” (1 Kings 19: 10) Even after winning a spiritual showdown of Olympian proportions, Elijah felt isolated and alone. This rings true in our day: internationally-known preachers and musicians display a public image of confidence and power but are privately ravaged by their relational poverty. Having become rich in faith--the currency of the Kingdom--they discover their Kingdom riches do not guarantee intimacy with the Father. I have no idea why this is true, but I have seen it time and again.
“After the fire came a still, small voice.” (1 Kings 19: 12) The Father’s voice is not a matter of power, but of intimacy. Elijah, the prophet of the grand gesture, gravitated to the fire, the earthquake, and the windstorm. Yet the Lord was present in the stillness, not the tumult. E. Stanley Jones described the authority of God’s voice in this way: “the inner voice of God does not argue, does not try to convince you. It just speaks. It has the feel of the voice of God within it.” Another way of saying this is, “the entrance of your word brings light.” (Psalm 119:130)
I believe James when he says Elijah was a man just like us. I am capable of mistaking the grand gesture for his voice and missing the stillness of his presence. I am capable of misinterpreting God’s display of power as justification for violent actions. I am capable of making God’s work "all about me," foolishly thinking I’m the only one when in fact there are thousands close by.
Yet Elijah’s example needn’t be a cautionary tale: his life is also a picture of how God comes close to the depressed and broken, choosing them to represent him. His life is a picture of how God provides for us even when we run from our problems and simply would prefer to quit. His life is a picture of God’s desire to work through men to accomplish His ends, and in the process shape and transform those men in their weakest moments. His life is a picture of an older man who chooses and trains another to take his place--choosing to share freely what was purchased dearly.
Elijah’s life gives me hope not only for the miracles, but for the friendship of God. It assures me that I do not have to choose between the two.