Which Decisions are God's and Which are Mine?

As a matter of daily routine, I organize my day and most mundane decisions according to common sense.  Then, if my Master calls me to deviate, I obey and deviate in the way He asks.  At least that is how I intend for it to be.  I believe most believers use a similar method to organize their day.  The reason is that waiting for God to speak to every little decision would actually be chaotic.  I've tried.  He seems to speak to larger things.  The Scripture, on the other hand is a wonderful guide to the daily grind.  Since He inspired Scripture, it is His direction on the daily routine.  Waiting for more would ask Him to repeat Himself.

So much for the daily routine, but what about ministry decisions or big life decisions?  What about those things which, by their nature, are outside the daily routine?  In these circumstances I have several options to draw from for a decision.  I can look through Scripture for answers.  I can wait in meditative prayer for God to speak to the situation.  I can review the situation through my common sense.  I can listen to others and what they say about the situation.  I can look at the situation and pursue my duty or obligation (the option Chamber is speaking against).  There are more things I can do to arrive at a decision, but I will examine these five.

The first two are the "spiritual" things to do.  But I believe the next two are the most commonly used.  The obligation or duty option is actually a relief since it seems to relieve me of the need to make a decision; if I'm obligated or have a duty in regard to it, then that's what I should do.  But as I examine my patterns of decision-making, I see what I really didn't want to see.  For instance, as I understand Scripture, Jesus loves the down-trodden, poor, and the helpless.  This seems true in the Hebrew Scriptures, as well as the Christian Scriptures.  So you might expect a certain amount of obligation or duty to come into play with my decision making when I see the pan-handler on the freeway off ramp or intersection.  The guy on the street who asks for change should invoke a certain amount of duty/obligation in me.  As I have said, obligation and duty make the decision easier, right?  Well, I don't help them.  I try not to acknowledge them.  I avoid carrying change.  It's only after the situation I feel that pang of shame knowing that Jesus would have done that differently.  I have common sense explanation for why I react that way.  It amounts to the usual reasons to distrust people in that condition, and they do not arise from real knowledge, but rather the stories of others reported by still others farther removed.  In short, I fear, a theme that has cropped up a lot in these posts.  But fear is not the only motivator I found in my decision-making patterns. 

When I have to decide on larger choices in my life, for instance listing our house and all the other decisions which follow, I do not necessarily rely on those first two methods of decision making.  Now, to be fair, I do try and use them.  I spend a lot of time with them.  But, God does not always speak to me in that way.  I believe the reason is that those are more effective when God is already speaking, and they are times when I finally stop and listen.  If I simply expect Him to speak whenever I stop to listen, then I am the one to whom He responds; and that is not very sovereign of Him.  As it turns out, He IS sovereign, and feels no compulsion to answer me when I happen to stop and ask a question.  He prefers to speak in His own time, in His own ways, about whatever He wants to talk about.  Since He is the Master of the Universe, I indulge Him in this, but since others really want answers, I have to come up with something, so I "punt" so to speak, and fall back on options three and four.  Did you notice that I fall back on them out of obligation or duty?  That, of course, brings me right smack within Chambers arena of criticism.

I admit, there have been times when this method of falling back on common sense and the advice of others worked out well, or seemed to.  But there is this nagging underlying voice that accuses me of following the easy path.  I wonder, perhaps fear, that I have not been obedient to my Master.  I fear that, if I have not been obedient, that He will not bless or bring the plans to fruition.  This ensuing stress is no fun.  And I have good rational reasons for moving in the direction I am, so why the fear?

In John 16:30, Jesus' disciples tell Him that they finally "get it"; they finally know He knows everything (and doesn't need to be questioned - not sure I get that part), and that they finally believe He came from God.  He responds by asking if they really believe now, and then proceeds to tell them they will be scattered shortly.  Am I telling Jesus I "get it", only to have Him respond with "really?"  I am as certain as I can be without a lighted billboard or angelic visitation, that I am pursuing the right path.  But I confess that my route to that path may have been to take a shortcut through the brush instead of walking the bend in the road.  I admit that there may have been a detail I missed, and I could have found a different path and mistaken it for the one God had me on, but I don't think so.  I think this way because I believe that, at times, God does speak through common sense (which He gave me to use in this way) and the advice of other people.  I believe that I am in one of those times now.  And I also believe that, while duty and obligation may have caused me stress as I arrived at my decision, my fear and respect for my Master kept me listening for His voice in the advice of others and my own God-given common sense all along the way.  Today may be a good day to review my posts and see if they verify that claim.

Reservations About Resources?

The methods of my Master are indeed mysterious, but I would expect that from someone personally responsible for gravitational effects which exceed the discernible quantity of matter in the universe.  After all, if He can create massive bright stars from clouds of hydrogen, of course I would be unable to understand even the simplest of tasks He takes on.  Seriously, He baffles great scientific minds who have spent their entire lives looking at one small corner of His creation.  There can be no expectation that I could comprehend Him.  And truly, anyone looking for God should start somewhere about there anyway; looking for someone inexplicably powerful.

So, if I can leave aside His methods as beyond my understanding, should I then decide to inventory His resources?  Isn't that a bit like taking inventory at the Palo Verde Nuclear Power station looking for deficiencies?  How would I even know if it didn't have enough of something?  How about I just roll up my sleeves and use litmus paper to determine if the chemcial waste at Hanford has been all cleaned up?  I'll pass.  Yet in spite of being able to note and accept my inability to do these attainable tasks, I have no qualms about taking inventory of the resources of my Master.  As if I can survey the things He can use to help me, and spot those places where there is not enough for the task.  Sure, that makes perfect sense.  And yet I do it without even thinking.

I pray, "Master, if you can..." Really?!  How about, "Master, if you will..."?  That would make more sense.  While typing, I sometimes slip and captialize the "M" of "my" instead of "Master", and I imediately think, "was that really accidental?"  Perhaps my desire to be on the throne of my life leaks from the depths of my id through my ego and passed my super-ego and creates a puddle through which I pass and leave tracks all over my day.  When will I learn that only my Master can contain and transform my basest qualities into spiritual fruit?  When will I finally accept that self-control comes as a fruit of the Spirit of my Master, not of myself?

My resources are drawn from deep empty pits which may have been wells at one time, but were quickly exhausted.  The resources of my Master are from the limitless vastness of His glorious riches and power.  I can't reach it to see or touch it.  I can't indentify any of its various pieces to count it.  I can't pretend to understand even the barest minimum of the workings of any of it to assess its value or usefulness.  And yet I feel perfectly at home doubting that He has the resources to meet my needs.  I call it "wondering", but I and He knows better.  "I was just wondering, Master,..." is never a good way to begin speaking to the true Master of the Universe.  It flys in face of the very thing being done.  How can He be this Master of the Universe, and I truly believe that, if I am unsure of His resources to help me?  Which part of this doesn't belong in the picture? 

So, OK, He has the resources and I cannot qualify them or quantify them.  He has my interests at heart, and has condescended to be my Master rather than ignore me (which I probably would have done long ago).  He has called to me, commanding me to wait, worship Him, and walk before Him.  He has refused to meet my time schedule, my price point, and my preference of modes.  He continues to be quite content to baffle me and confound my attempts to "help" Him along.  As long as I do those things, hang onto those preferences, attempts to help, and grow weary of waiting I will have no peace.  The answer is to surrender my clipboard and pencil, shed the accountants tie, put away the financial ratio analysis tables, and enjoy the commands of my Master.  He didn't call me to audit Him, He called me to walk before Him.  I have no business in His warehouses (which I couldn't even reach anyway).  Pardon me while I go outside to play in the fields of my Lord.

Reserves of Reservations

I continue to wait on my Master.  There is rumor of an offer on our house, but we have yet to see it, it's all verbal at this point.  It is low, the market is a nutty buyers market, and I am not happy with the offer as it is.  But I have no reason not to take the offer.  It wounds my pride, but the market supports the value of the offer.  The situation is not what I want, but it is what it is.  If the offer comes through, the buyer wants to close as soon as possible, putting us in an apartment or something plus storage.  That will probably more than double our housing expense.  Once school is out we then have to determine whether we leave the area or stay. 

So, I wait, worship, and walk before my Master.  It is hard to walk about before Him and not also look around me, but what I see around me frightens me.  It is all beyond my abilities, insight, wisdom, knowledge, financial resources, experience, best guesses, and imaginings.  Actually my imaginings fill in the gaps of all the other stuff with the monsters adorning the edges of ancient maps, "Here there be monsters!"  I know about as much about it as the early cartographers did.  I look at Jesus with something of the same silly limits as the woman at the well in John 4.  I see no bucket, no pot to draw with.  How can He give me this living water He speaks of?

I'm drawing from my limited stores to piece together what Jesus has to work with in order to meet my need.  Of course my stores are limited.  Of course it's not in me to achieve or make this happen.  And yet, I inventory myself, seeking those things that He will use to meet my need.  Chambers says that we do this because it offends us somewhat that the abilities of Jesus are so far above our own.  I suppose that is one way to look at it.  Another way to look at it is through the lens of my fear of what I cannot see.  I make up stuff, imagine the worst, bargain away my peace for "preparedness".  Yet how can I be better prepared than to be reliant upon the Master of the entire Universe?

I can't make the offer for more money, draw it out longer, or improve the attitude of the other real estate agent.  I can't change the state of my circumstances.  I can change my approach to them, I can change the lens through which I view them.  I choose to relax in Jesus' lap instead of fret about the things I cannot change.  I can walk about before my Master as if He has it all taken care of.  I can walk through these circumstances with the excited anticipation of what is around the next corner.  Rather than review my paycheck and that of my wife, and complain that we can't afford storage and an apartment, I can relax in the knowledge that what I don't have enough of, my Master has in abundance.  Rather than wonder what the loss of equity will mean for what we can afford later, I can rest in the assurance that my Master has just the right place at just the right price already in His mind.  I can look forward to seeing His resources make our ends meet.  I can wait with anticipation to see the housing He has in mind for my family.

Wait, worship, and walk before Him.  A hard calling with no end in sight.  But it holds the promise of peace, of joy, learning patience, the freedom to walk in goodness, to be gentle, kind, fearlessly love those around me as Jesus does, and mastery over my emotions.  I consider that a fair trade (actually I'm getting a pretty great deal! - shh, don't tell Him).

Professional Distance Versus Foot-Washing Ministry

Therapists, doctors, lawyers, accountants, and CEO's are expected to maintain a certain amount of professional distance.  In fact, their respective codes of conduct require this in their dealings with their clients.  Yet, in each of these professions, the goal is to serve their clients or patients.  This attitude crept into my idea of ministry, and it did not belong there.  I realized this at various times in my time in professional service, and fought against it with varying degrees of success.  I see that it was still there, and I know why.

When I was in ministry I was also acutely aware of my moral failures.  I knew that I had habits that were not acceptable to my Master, nor would they be acceptable to the people I served had they known about them.  Instead of practicing the spiritual discipline of confession, I chose to hide the fact that I was not perfect.  I was confident that I would not be accepted nor understood because I was expected to have no defect of character as a minister.  In short, I was afraid.  I was Adam in the garden hiding from God, David covering his sin with Bathsheba with yet another sin (no, I didn't murder anyone), Elisha hiding in a cave on a mountain, some 100 miles from where he was supposed to be proclaiming the truths of God.  I was putting on a facade that covered the fact that there were rotten boards and timbers in my frame.

This fear kept me from reaching out to those central figures in the church and forcing my way into their lives.  What I didn't know then was that they wanted me there, but having me there was a scary thing for them.  They were afraid of the same thing I was, discovery of their frailties.  What a disaster it would have been to discover that both of us were frail human beings completely dependent on the grace of God through the suffering and resurrection of our Master, Jesus!  Can you imagine the scandal?  Oh wait...

Why was it so hard to live what I preached among the very people to whom I was preaching?  Again Paul shatters my thin weak ministry models with his over-the-top example of devotion to Jesus.  Again in 2 Corinthians 12:15 he points out that as he loves the people more, they seem to love him less.  And he's OK with that!  He's fearless.  He shows his weakness rather than the areas where he shines.  He works along side them to be dependent on wages and work just like they were.  He identified with their world, their struggles, their pain, their perspective, and used that identification to lead them into the presence of Jesus.  The life he led looked like theirs, but his life was lived in the presence of God, and he led them to do the same.  The life-style may have remained the same in the various details, but acknowledgement of God's presence transformed those details into constant worship.

I was somewhat successful in working that out with those who joined after I got to the ministry position, but not at all with those who were there and voted me into the position.  Ironically, the people who were already there were the ones who acknowledged that God had indeed called me there.  They should have been the ones I was least restrained with.  Yet my fears were higher with them than with others.  My professional distance was more prominent with them than with the others.  And their distance with me was more pronounced as well.  They didn't make it easy to get into their lives.  There seemed to be this judgemental distance where I was supposed to prove myself in some way before I was going to be allowed in.  I should have just jumped in.  Let them judge, I had a higher Judge who called me to wash their feet. 

So, yes, I suffered in ministry at the hands of those I was called to serve.  Yes, it caused me to walk away from professional ministry all together, and to forsake dependence upon such a squirrely composition of humanity as I constantly found in smaller churches.  I didn't trust them from that point on, but I have to admit that I contributed to the problem with my fear-driven "professional distance".  Sure, I didn't measure up to their judgemental measurements, but that should have been no barrier to my attempts to burrow into their lives.  I carried the grace with me that they needed to experience freedom in Christ Jesus.  The problem was that I wasn't availing myself of that grace either, and I needed it just as badly.  I judged myself as harshly as they would have, or more so.

So now I sell the opportunity for one segment of these professionals who maintain distance with their clients to gain the continuing education they must have to continue in the profession.  It is sort of like selling air in a vacuum.  I work among those who do not and some who do believe as I do.  I have left the house of God for the house of commerce.  I have entered into the world of those I once served, and rely, as they do, on the work of my hands.  As I look around me, and consider my situation, I am really a large part of the way toward that situation of ministry in which Paul constantly worked.  The part that is missing is a group of people around whom I can minister, a congregation, or group of called-out ones.  Interesting thoughts come to mind now.  Perhaps I am closer to a ministry than I thought.

Where Is the Evidence of My Devotion?

Once again Paul confounds the boundaries of my willingness to be abandoned to Jesus.  He holds nothing back; even for those who frustrate and hurt him.  In 2 Corinthians 12:15 he speaks as a parent regarding children and says that he is willing to be completely spent for them.  These children spoke poorly of him after he worked diligently for years in their midst.  They followed false leaders after he demonstrated godly leadership.  They listened to and upheld false teachers after he had taught the words and life of Jesus and the Scriptures.  They permitted sin in their midst after he had taught them to be transformed in their lifestyles.  They quarrelled among themselves over these differences and about the false leaders and sinful members, often both sides against Paul and for some poor example of Jesus.  These he loved more.

I spent several years working with two congregations.  I was held to task for my lack of energy in my preaching, lack of visiting the wayward church members, lack of ability to keep people from leaving the church, failure to use the King James Bible exclusively, and not preaching evangelistic sermons to people professing to be saved.  I was blamed for anything anyone was dissatisfied with about the church.  It was all my fault.  Rather than answer these accusations publically as I had already done privately, my response to these was to speak publicly to each one about what I saw in them that I really loved and why I appreciated them.  All I got in response was silence or repeated accusations.  So, I left.

Did I fail to love them and spend myself completely out for them?  Did I fail them and my Master because I did not remain and continue in the face of their ill treatment of me, failure to understand me, constant gossip, back-biting, and stirring up strife?  Was I failing them in my devotion to Jesus, even if not in the ways they were complaining about?  Would I, were I more completely sold out to Jesus, have had more to spend on their behalf?  Or perhaps, I was right in my assessment that they could no longer hear God with me as a distraction, and needed to leave.  But was I right to leave the ministry completely, never to return?  The blame for my decision I have always laid at their feet.  Was that right, or was it my lack of devotion to my Master that held me out of position of under-shepherd?  Was my fear for my own personal emotional safety and that of my family what drove me to stand apart from that calling? 

I must admit that I never have come close to making up in my body what was lacking in the suffering of Christ.  I have never approached being content in every circumstance, whether lack or plenty.  I have no beatings, jailings, or life-threatening events that I can boast about (at least not in response to anything other than my own stupidity).  I have been treated poorly, thought poorly of by my peers, and humiliated growing up as have a bunch of other kids.  But never for my faith.  Is this a mark of lack of devotion to my Master?

So, througout my childhood, whether in the classroom, playground, home, or neighborhood, there are no examples of suffering for my Master.  As I passed into adulthood, through military service, college, even in the changing from the major direction favored by family to one I was confident was favored by God, even in this I can find no real suffering.  That is not to say that some of these times in my life did not contain examples of the cost of my faith, but the cost was not to a level of sacrifice on my part.  More often whatever cost I paid for my faith was more a cost related to the normal cost of growing up among fallen people.  They were the costs paid by everyone whether they followed Jesus or not.

So what does this say about my devotion to Jesus?  Am I so reluctant to be spent on behalf of church-people that I demonstrate no devotion to my Master?  Am I so devoid of sacrifice that there is no evidence that Jesus is truly my Master?  What proof do I have in my life that there is really any substance to what I claim to believe?

Perhaps the only proof I have has nothing, or little to do with me at all.  After inventorying all the vacancies in my life, I still stand before Jesus and He still calls me to walk before Him.  This inventory of failure only points out that I live and breathe by grace and not by any achievement on my part.  The elements of my life show that I have not earned any standing before my Master, and that whatever standing I do have is entirely due to His sovereign design and decision.  For I can easily point to my failures and how, in every stage of my life, I have failed to sacrifice myself for my Master.  But I can also declare to all that, in spite of all that, I am still accepted before my Master and called to walk before Him.  In a sense, I am like one of those pictures drawn by a child with little resemblence to reality, drawn with a wide brush or gaudy crayon, which is proudly displayed by a pleased father for all to see.  I wonder if there are other goofy pictures like me stuck with magnets to His fridge.  Knowing what I do about God, we are probably like wallpaper all over every side of it.

Is Perspective Everything?

I have been a believer in Jesus and have trusted Him for my status before God since I was seven.  So, how can my devotion and dedication to my Master be driven by what He has saved me from?  What is there to be saved from as a seven-year-old?  At that point I really did not have any idea of what sort of thing I needed to be saved from.  If I am to use that sense of self before and after the event of salvation I'm in trouble.  This is a difficult perspective for me.  My memory of the event isn't even all that clear, so how can I hang my hat on that pivotal moment?  Or was it that pivotal?

My relationship with my Master, Jesus, has been a varied thing over my life.  Like the other relationships I have, both family and friends, I have often taken the lazy options in regard to them.  I have not been responsible to make an effort to remain in contact.  I have not made it easy to find me, or stay connected.  Even those close to me sometimes find me emotionally detached.  So, how can I fasten onto some sort of sense of self, and awareness of change in order to show gratitude in devotion?  I don't have that sense of self nor of change sufficient for the level of devotion I believe my Master wants of me.

So, for my devotion to my Master I have had to make some concessions and adaptations.  First off, most of my mistakes, major and minor, I made after I committed my life to my Master.  So my sense of being saved from something fits more in the category of what some believers call "sanctification".  Whatever I call it, I have to accept that I am accepted in spite of my preponderance of failure.  That is hard.  I want to judge, punish, and deprecate myself because of my failures.  I hide them and deny them.  I medicate my shame over them with destructive behavior.  I do not accept myself with them in tact.

My Master, on the other hand, takes me with my failures and cleans them off of me.  He cleans out my pools of shame I have tended as emotional reservoirs to fuel my compulsions.  He loves me and has my back.  He calls to me and asks me to walk about in His presence, living, acting, speaking, thinking, and relating to others with my fractured social skills.  How can He do that?  That is where my devotion is derived.  Gratitude from this sort of  radical acceptance I can use to devote my life to my Master daily.  The first hurdle is accept His view of me.

The second concession I make for my devotion to my Master is to obey a passive imperative to change.  He has commanded and the fulfillment of that command is impossible.  I am to transform, metamorphosis into something else is my call.  I can't do that.  So, the command is passive, "be transformed."  How can I be commanded to do that?  I can't control that (which scares me).  Again, I obey a passive command.  I obey by being compliant to the change.  My concession is let my Master change me into something else; something else not of my choosing.  I am the servant, the knight who obeys the commands to go, to stay, to serve.  My Master makes adjustments in His time, in His ways, using His methods, and His purpose.

With those two concessions, my devotion to my Master is based on tenuous ground at best.  Just because I know that I am accepted does not mean I accept that I am accepted.  Just because I know I am to let my Master do the changing, choose the timing, and methods does not mean I will let Him.  What I know and what I do will often not match.  And I do not have a history from which I can derive a sense of gratitude toward atonement.

So, yes, I am devoted, but my devotion will sometimes limp along rather than run.  Yes, I am being changed, but slower than I would like, and probably slower than my Master would like.  It would be faster if I were more compliant I am sure.  And, in spite of this, my Master accepts me, loves me, and seems to enjoy being a part of my daily, moment-by-moment, mistake-filled life.  I don't pretend to understand that, but it saves me from an empty, useless, perhaps dangerous, and toxic life.  For that, I am truly grateful.

Tenacity as a Spiritual Quality

My dad referred to me as persistent, sometimes.  I have been referred to as patient (less often).  But almost never has the adjective tenacious been used with me.  I'm not sure if that's good or bad in most cases, but I believe that having that quality in my faith in Jesus would be a good.  Tenacious really gets at the quality of adhesiveness, or the ability of one thing to stick to another.  So, depending on what those things are, we get various qualities or shades of meaning.

If the "things" are my faith and Jesus, then my faith is completely without reservation stuck in a complete and total manner, no gaps, no bubbles, no strings, but complete emeshment on some chemical or elemental bonding level (never was good at chemistry, so if I messed that description up...get over it and move on).  The idea would perhaps include the sense of baptism in that baptism means to immerse, except that baptism quality implies staying in that condition, and I would drown if left baptized in water.  If my faith becomes so adhered to the object of my faith, then the two can become indistinguishable.  Is this what is meant in Scripture that we become more like Jesus?

I have to admit that I am certainly not "tenacious" in my faith, as even a casual observer of my daily life would be able to point out.  On the other hand, there are roots and tendrils of this faith which are so pervasive in my life that no one misses them.  I would love to point to these as evidence of some level of tenacity on my part, but I suspect they are more evidence of the tanacity of my Master toward me.  For whatever reason, He will not let me loose.  Why He loves me so tenaciously I cannot fathom.  I have embarrassed Him more times than I can count, tarnished the title of "Christian", and even discredited His ability to change people.

But I believe that part of my general call as a believer is to be tenacious back to my Master.  Fear is not an option.  Total commitment is the only acceptable posture toward Him and His purpose.  There is no question, no doubt, no second guesses, no suspicion there may be a better or safer way.  Those thoughts are not qualities of tenacious faith.  I question when I doubt, I doubt when I fear, I fear when my belief in Who God is and what Jesus has done begins to waiver.  There is not doubt in faith.  I simply act as if what I cannot see, and what I hope to be true IS true.  Faith is activity in every day, every situation, every aspect of life, crisis and routine, home, work, transit, and entertainment. 

I infer a certain amount of "energy" in my understanding of tanacity.  But toward God and faith in Him, tanacity would bring a pervasive peace.  Like a child, I would simply assume it's all true and live that way.  I look at kids and what they believe and sometimes I fear for them; for that day when their hopes are dashed, their aspirations are crushed, and the weight of a sadder, drabber reality settles in on them.  But this naive assurrance is the mark of tenacious faith in Jesus, the peaceful assurrance children have about the world, their parents, and themselves.  That posture toward God would produce such a quality of peace, people would wonder and be confused by me.  That would work.  But how to get there.

Practice makes perfect?  I doubt it.  One man changed that cliche to say, perfect practice makes perfect.  No pressure there!  I can't be perfect, not anymore.  Whatever opportunity I had to be perfect went out the window the day I was born (you've seen what newborns look like, I mean really? Perfect?).  I believe my only chance for tenacious faith is to constantly practice little disciplines that give God opportunites to stretch it.  Like, right now I am waiting.  I know only to wait, worship, and walk before my Master.  I want to know whether to remain where I am, move locally, or move to another state.  The discipline I am learning right now is to give up my desires one way or the other, lead my family to do the same, and have peace about all of the options.  Fear is usually directed at the unknown for me.  So, the discipline is to have peace in the unknown.  I believe that this is supposed be because my peace from my faith will overwhelm my concern for the unknown.  I'll let you know how it goes.  So far, it's kind of up and down.

Strategic Faith?

Strategy is not my strong suit.  Sometimes, I can use tactics to my advantage, but strategy seems to elude me.  At least in online games.  In some ways it also seems true in life.  I don't really think strategically, whether in my job, or investing, or home life, and so on.  Tactically, I can address the crisis of the moment, and do so with a cool head and clear thinking.  Planning ahead, not so much.  There are a several reasons for this, for instance I seem to be constrained to an out-of-sight-out-of-mind thinking pattern.  As a coping mechanism, I try to create self-sustaining systems to address things strategically.

Things that are alive may be self-sustaining to a large degree, but daily life rarely is.  My strategy is silly.  I would say lazy except it can take a lot of work to make a seemingly self-sustaining system.  It may take more work to put such a busted system in place than it would take to simply address the problem in a personal manner.  I am still working on my grasp of and responses to reality.  Denial dies hard.

When it comes to my relationship with God, when I inventory my relationship to my Master, I often find this silly coping mechanism working in the background.  I have tried to create one of those systems I don't have to work on daily to take care of my relationship.  I have pushed the "autopilot" button in the plane rather than take the yoke myself or hand it to Jesus.  I go through my day at work, after a lovely meaningful quiet time, completely ignoring my Savior (unless a crisis arises and I switch to tactical mode).  I expect that the time in the morning simply carry me through the day without any further connection after.

One of the areas I have had to grow in my marriage is the importance of contact with my wife throughout the day.  I have had to accept that this is important to her, and reach out periodically, usually at lunch.  I discovered something.  Not only does it improve our relationship in several ways, but it affects me as well.  I am happier, I have a better sense of what I am doing at work and why (for my family not my boss), and I seem to be more apt to ensure I leave work right when my time is over rather than dawdle. 

What would happen in my day if I included a second helping of time with Jesus?  What if I placed that time strategically within my day to maximize its effects on the rest of the day?  If my contact with my wife has such an effect (not always, but more often than not), what would contact with God do to me and my day?  Again, it would not change the circumstances.  I still have co-workers, managers, and customers, all with their own set of challenges, and that would not change.  But my ability to wrap my mind around those circumstances and personal relationships would definitely be affected by such a planned contact with God.  I could pray more specifically for needs that come up in my life and theirs, I could gain revival to finish the day well.  I could get that additional push to mentally reframe my day, overcome the stress I may have gained from a crazy drive into work, and deal more effectively with silly customer issues.

There is really no end to the possible effects of such contact.  Such a change would be difficult to keep private, so others would most likely know something was up.  Such a change would eat up time I use for my break (and bathroom runs), so might cost me in tangible ways.  Such a change might have other effects I have yet to imagine, and many I couldn't imagine or even notice enough to make a connection. 

I will do it.  I will strategically place in my day another time of peace with God.  I'm not sure how or when, and since I am not necessarily good at strategy, I may need to adjust my initial choice.  I will need to make notes, enter it into my schedule and set an alarm, both to start and to quit (I have a limited time I can be away from my desk for this).  This tactical stuff I can handle.  It's the follow through and maintenance with which I will have difficulty.  I will have to reframe this activity as a way to make myself more available to God, rather than something in and of itself that would make me more holy.  That is the nature of spiritual disciplines, and that is what this must be.

Is There a Downside to Time to Think?

In John 14, one of the best collections of Jesus' commands, words of encouragement, and explanations culminates with, "Get up, let us go from here."  It seemed rather abrupt, and is not a very nice smooth literary transition to the scene at the Garden of Gethsemane.  Of course, on the way, we have the "Vine" discourse in John 15 and Chapter 16 which sort of continues the sense of 14.  But verse 31 of John 14 is peculiar.

The question I have is why be so abrupt to change venue at this point of the discourse?  What was it about the discourse to this point that made the change make sense?  And what lesson is in there for me about this?  According to Chambers, the point is that Jesus did not want to give His disciples time to think about what He said, He wanted them to act.  That, to me doesn't make sense either, at least not at the point of this verse.  I don't see how that conclusion fits the context.  Or does it, at least partially?

I suppose it's possible that if Jesus had not changed venues at that point, He may have lost the attention of His audience, sitting around on comfortable pillows, after a great meal, in semidarkness of the upper room.  It's easy to imagine some of them nodding off.  Sounds like a good time for a brisk walk in the cool night air to clear heads, and maintain attention. 

Perhaps the lesson I can learn from this is to not stop listening to God when I hear something "good" only to miss better understanding as He continues to speak.  I can see where this could be a problem for me.  As I pointed out earlier, context is important to understanding.  And as I worked through the context, I used both literary and historical context to find possible meaning.  That requires some additional reading.  So, why wouldn't understanding what God is saying also include "additional hearing?" 

As a matter of habit, I like to analyze what I hear.  I think about it, filter it, try and match it against other things I know, try to fit it into a pattern of other information to form a better picture of the topic.  I just do that naturally.  Lots of people do, and it's not just a "guy thing" either.  This works great, except when I have started the process without first ensuring I have all the information to analyze.  Once I start the process, my ability to listen goes way down.  I admit it, I'm not a great multitasker.  I can do it in a pinch, but it's not my strong suit. 

Once God begins to be clear with me, I get excited (I mean I'm talking with the Creator the Universe here, who wouldn't be excited?).  If my excitement cause me to stop listening but dwell on the feelings of the moment, I'm wasting that amazing opportunity.  So I need to listen.  Then, if in my continued excitement, I hear something that resonates with somethings else in my head, something in my brain clicks with something God has said, and I begin the analysis process, then I am, again, missing and wasting this opportunity.

When I stop listening before God has stopped talking, I am going to get it wrong.  Think, Abram and Hagar and Ishmael.  Think Abraham and Sarah with Pharaoh and Abimelech, kings in their countries.  There are examples of David, some of the Judges probably fit into this category, Joshua and the Gibeonite deception, and so on.  Examples where they thought they had a good handle on God's message, but didn't listen to the whole thing, or go and get clarification of a detail. 

For me, it comes down to my pesky self-reliance popping up and grabbing for the attention which rightly belongs to God.  I'm saying, "Thanks God, I got it from here" when I don't "got" the whole picture.  Call it vanity, call it pride, call it whatever, but when I let it loose, I lose.  I do this with God, my wife, my daughter, my boss, co-workers, friends, acquaintances, people I meet on the street, people I see on TV, movies, see in malls, ball games, church, large events... did I leave anyone out?  I do it a lot, and not just to God.  So, how do I stop it?

The personal discipline of listening is a skill which counselors and therapist develop intentionally.  It's their job.  The better they listen, the better at their job they can be.  I have taken a class on being a counselor/therapist; a class, once.  It would seem that I have not developed this skill as I should.  No, my job does not depend on it, but it would certainly help.  While my marriage will survive without me being an expert listener, it would sure help to improve this skill.  It would certainly help me be a better parent.  But the real payoff will come as I make this a spiritual discipline, one making me more available to God.  It would be a real tragedy, after seeking to hear God's voice, miss the whole message because I stopped listening and started analyzing before He finished speaking.

Responding to Spiritual Failure

The garden event of the Crucifixion of Jesus is a very interesting scene.  If Jesus leaves an example to follow, this is one of those areas that His example is excruciatingly difficult to follow.  For instance, when His betrayer shows up, He says in Matthew 26:46, "Rise up, let us go; the one handing me over has arrived."  He makes the absurdly funny line from Mystery Men ("We have a date with destiny, and it looks like she's ordered the lobster.") seem right on point rather than absurd.

I imagine the scene as very late at night.  The disciples have been through a confusing stress-filled week, and are understandably tired.  Jesus asks them to pray, but instead they fall asleep.  They will never again have the opportunity to pray with Jesus during His most difficult personal battle.  In fact, right on the cusp of their most confusing and difficult time, they fall asleep instead of praying.  In short, they have failed spiritually in an important clutch point in their relationship with Jesus.  He can lecture them, reject them, call them out, and dismiss them, and many other things which would heighten their sense of failure, but what He says is, "get up, we have an appointment with my betrayer."  He still includes them in the events of the garden, leading to the events of His death.

The fact that there is no sense of rejection of those failed followers, and that He continues to include them in His passionate cup of suffering, leads me to feel a sense of security and peace.  But it also inspires me to listen for that next command.  Will He tell me to get up?  Will He tell me to go with Him?  What I do know is that He will continue to include me, even if I fail spiritually.  My failures, of which I have a long list, do not disqualify me for service to my King.  They may restrict what opportunities I have to do various acts of service, but they do not disqualify me for service to my King.  I am not released from my duties, I am not relieved of responsibilities, and I do not have license to lapse into bouts of self-pity and pouting rather than acts of service.  I am not shelved, and I do not have that option among my choices.

So, I will rise up, I will go with Him, and I will move on with Him to the next task my Master has for me.  I never go alone, but I will never stop going either.  This may not illuminate the road ahead, but it does inspire me to fit my pack for carrying, and load it with adventurers gear, healing supplies, and my Master's armor with weapons.  I may not know exactly where I'm headed, but I will be ready to move, failure, success, or in between.

How Does God Treat My Depression?

Today, Chambers uses the example of the angel's treatment of Elijah in 1 Kings 19 as an example of how God treats the depression of His people.  I'm not sure this the best example since his curative is when the angel tells Elijah to arise and eat.  The rest of the story does not seem to indicate that this worked for Elijah.  When he arrived at the mountain of God, he still seemed depressed.  Perhaps he was cured when God corrected his assessment from him being the only believer left to there being over 5000 in Israel.  He at least got a job, or rather marching orders in his current job.

Chambers is careful to point out that it is not doing the ordinary things that cures depression, but rather doing them in response to the prompting of the Spirit of God.  So, if Elijah had just gotten up and had breakfast at the local diner, he wouldn't have experienced the same level of success in overcoming depression.  Again, I'm not sure I would connect the two.  Or, if I did, it would be because it is contact with God which has the real effect.

I have had to use an RO Inhibitor to fight depression.  As it turns out, I have a predisposition to depression (isn't that depressing?).  I have to be very aware of my emotions so I can take action before I spend too much time there.  Times of depression are natural, and God created people with that capacity, but remaining there for extended periods of time is harmful.  My issue is compounded by not believing I have a right to be depressed so I don't quickly admit it, and then I make excuses for my symptoms after normal circumstances have resolved themselves.  Denial is one of my really bad habits.

So, how do I climb out of the pits of depression naturally occurring in this messed up world?  While my Master created me with the capacity for being depressed, I do not believe He created me to spend a majority of my life there.  How do I respond appropriately to life circumstances, avoiding denial on the way in?  And once there, how do I avoid denial so I can hear my Master's voice leading me out?  Have you ever been asked how far you can travel into the woods?  Half way, after that you are on your way out.  But half-way is often my favorite campsite.  When I am particularly stuck, I may call that campsite home.  That's a whole host of problems, not the least of which is where to go to the bathroom.  The normal debris of life pile up and compound the problem.

It is at this point that I believe Chambers has a good point.  The Spirit of God does connect with me, leading me to do the normal thing.  My inner spirit may rail against that with a litany of excuses, and one of my favorite is, "I've already tried that."  But it is the practice of obedience that transforms my ordinary actions into spiritual disciplines.  With that new aspect, washing dishes becomes a point of reflection of Jesus' telling the Pharisees to wash the inside of the cup, not just the outside.  Driving becomes an example of being careful without an expectation that people be polite; accepting the world as it is, not as I would have it (as in the complete serenity prayer).

The point is not the activity, but rather my obedience.  That is what changes the focus from my emotional pit to my connection with my Master.  It's not that I am somehow magically lifted from the pit, it is more that the pit becomes a prayer closet, and eventually I am shown the door.  But in the mean time, I am communing with my Master in a dark and intimate place.  I meet Him and He meets me.  We share, and I come off much better (He is so much better company than me in my depressed state, trust me).  I am transformed in much the same way normal communing with God transforms, but there is something compressed and powerful about these times.  As an example, this blog is one of the things that has come out of my last "pit-y party".  So, thank you for being a part of my therapy.

Inspired to the Impossible?

Paul refers to some writing familiar to the believers in Ephesus when he quotes, "Awake sleeper, rise from the dead, and the Christ will shine on you."  We don't have that writing.  Chambers uses this passage to point to different types of initiative, the sort inspired by human effort, and the sort inspired by the Spirit of God.  I have to wonder, though, if there really is a part that is mine.

I have had to struggle with seeing myself as powerless over some of my behaviors.  But, at the same time, I have had to take responsibility for them, rather than blame some nameless cause, and simply surrender to these behaviors.  It is a tension with which I sometimes have difficulty.  How can I be both powerless and responsible?  Truly the only reason for the tension is my desire to pass off the blame.  The easy answer is that I, by my own choices and actions, have developed patterns of thinking and behaviors which now have taken over and I am powerless to control.  All that really means is that I must have help changing the behavior and thinking patterns.  I fear dependency, but it is the only way I can be free from these things to which I enslaved myself.

From this I already know my ability to inspire myself is doomed to failure.  So, when is initiative inspired by Jesus, not myself?  When He asks me to do the foolish thing.  The problem is that I have very little problem coming up with my own set of foolish actions, so I have to be careful not to choose something merely because it is foolish, ascribing those things only to Jesus.  Such as, He tells the man with the withered hand to stretch it forth.  The man does and is healed.  On the other hand, Jesus walks by the funeral bier and reaches in to raise the young man from the dead and return him to his mother.  Yet Jesus calls Lazarus forth from the tomb, orders the paralytic to pick up his mat and go on his way, and the blind man to wash in the Pool of Siloam.

The things He asked people to do, if I put myself in the setting, are foolish.  The ones we think of most readily are the ones where Jesus does something; puts mud on the blind man's eyes (twice), touches the dumb man's tongue and puts fingers in his ears, and touches the leper.  There is this mixture of Jesus acting, and Jesus commanding.  So when am I waiting for the command and when am I waiting for the touch?  He commanded lepers to show themselves to the priests and offer the sacrifice Moses commanded, they went and were healed.  Not all lepers were healed the same way.  Which one am I?

When lepers travel to priests they venture to that place where they will suffer the most.  When a blind man has to navigate the narrow and noisy streets of Jerusalem to find a pool, he endangers himself.  When a man has a shameful deformation indicating, as everyone tells him, that he has sinned before God, why would he want to stretch it forth?  Jesus asked them to do the foolish thing.  The rich he told to sell everything, give it to the poor, and follow Him.  Not everyone was willing to do the foolish thing.  How willing will I be?

If I am willing, I will see the impossible happen, and Jesus will get credit.  If I attempt the impossible at the command of my Master, it will be clear that it cannot be me accomplishing it (hence the impossible adjective).  If it can't possibly be me, then it must be Jesus.  But if I attempt the foolish thing without His prompting, then I get the credit, whether I achieve the foolishness or it turns out for my benefit.  So I must listen for the voice of God, again; or rather, still.

So, I have heard, "Wait, worship, and walk before Me."  This puts my family in a difficult situation.  We can't tell people what we plan, and we look foolish.  We can't really prepare or we prepare for things we do not know will happen.  Either way, we appear foolish.  Employers want notice, property managers want signed leases, and we want to have closure.  It seems that I will not get what I want from my Master when I want it, but rather what He decides I need when He decides I need it.  He seems to think I do not need to know right now.  It appears what I need right now is the lesson in waiting, worshipping, and walking; and I am powerless to make Him answer sooner.

As if I Had Too Little to Worry About

I used to have a youth minister who had a favorite saying, "You can choose to be a good witness or a bad witness, but everyone is a witness."  So, I work around several people who do not believe as I do.  Some are agnostic, some are practicing atheists, some are just avoiding the subject all together.  Then there are a lot of believers as well.  To these I am a witness to my beliefs, and therefore to the power, glory, majesty, and grace of my Master.  So when I am sarcastic, cynical, biting, overbearing, condescending, arrogant, and so many other things of which I am a rather skilled practitioner, I choose to be a bad witness.

It is at this point where my day, my attitudes, my emotions, and all those things which are personal to me, within my boundaries, spill over into the lives of others.  I was raised with the perspective that my relationship with my Master is my business.  The relationship of others to Him is their business.  This is a poor, unbiblical perspective to have.  Those who do not know or have a relationship to my Master may hold that position, and may be bothered by discussions about spiritual things, but that should not be my position.

In Paul's discussion of the relationship of believers to one another in Romans 14, differing views about food are used as an example of how to treat each other when religious opinions differ within a body of believers.  In the midst of that discussion, in verses 7 and 8, Paul says that none of us live or die to ourselves, but rather all of us live or die to the Lord.  What he is saying here is that my perspective needs to be off of the views of those around me, and on my Master.  When that is true, then I will naturally be the "good" witness I need to be.  He will have me in such a manner that His qualities become spiritual fruit in my life.  Others will witness His glory, power, majesty, and grace through me.  I just need to focus on Him, not on myself or how well I do compared to others around me.

So, pretend everything is OK, fake it until I make it, think and act until it's true, and above all do not let anyone know that I'm hurting, sad, angry, or sick.  Hmm, no, I don't think so.  It is an undeniable fact that my Master drags me kicking and screaming through rough times.  Yes, I sometimes whine and complain, I sometimes mope or pout.  But to go through these times and pretend I'm not is to hide the glory and grace of my Master, cover examples of His power, and instead take false credit for false circumstances.  It is the power of my Master that enables me to endure tough times.  It is His grace that redeems me from mistakes.  It is His glory and majesty that shine through me when I respond well to good or bad things.  So, if I hide those tough times, failures, and good or bad circumstances then I hide those opportunities for Him to shine.

So, I need to be open with my circumstances and my prayer life.  I should be clear about what's going on and what I am doing about it.  My uncertainty about my future should dovetail with my prayer life, both in my life and in my conversation.  So, the humiliation of waiting in the dark for God to speak may come from doing so publicly rather than privately.  I would decrease, and He would increase.  I would no longer live or die to myself, but rather to my Master.  Then God would have something in me to use in the lives of others.

A History of Listening to God?

I don't know how many times I have thought it, felt it, or worried about it, but I seemed to be better connected to God when I was much younger.  There was the time when I was in middle school, when I seemed in a world much larger than me, but God seemed even bigger than that.  Then I seemed to loose Him during high school.  Then came a time while in the Army when I again connected, and the connection seemed strong and to stay.  When I got out, my confidence was high, and I seemed able to hear and sense Him constantly.

Now, I sit at a table.  It's dark outside and I wonder if I will hear Him when He speaks.  To some degree, it is dark inside as well.  I want to hear Him, and in Matthew 10:27, Jesus says that what He says in the dark to say in the light.  That would mean, even in the dark, He speaks.  Actually it may be that He waits for the dark sometimes.  Chambers believed that God speaking in the dark was for our benefit.  He counseled being silent in the dark so that God's voice would not be missed, and then that one of the things that would be received would be humiliation. 

So, from that perspective, I wait quietly in the dark to hear God speak to me and be humiliated.  It sounds bad, but, really, what Chambers meant is that God uses dark times in our lives.  The humiliation is the gaining of the humility which clears us to hear God at other times, not just the dark.  I'm all for that, and I feel that the process of loosing all those things that distract me from hearing my Master's voice are being set aside as well.  I am better attuned to those things that have distracted me, and I see the path I took to acquire them.  But I also see that I have not really been humiliated; not yet. 

So, I sit in the dark, listening for the voice of my Master.  So far, I have heard the admonition to wait, worship, and walk before Him.  I sense that much of my life is in limbo, waiting for direction, but also recognize that I am powerless to modify that circumstance.  Now, I also see that the remaining items clouding my reception of my Master's voice still need to be cleared.  I see the need to prepare to both go and stay.  If I pray for rain, then I should probably plow and plant before God answers.  What a strange place to be.  Perhaps I will look back on this time and wonder why I was so obtuse and impatient.  Or I may look back and wish I was as close to God (hopefully not, or a minor momentary lapse of reason).  Or I may never think to look back, being so preoccupied with whatever my Master has me doing then.  I like that possibility best.

Elijah Ears, or Samuel Ears?

The thing causing me the most stress right now is waiting.  This is partly the result of my American cultural environment which pressures me to know, decide, and act now; partly my selfish, ego-centric expectation that the world work and provide my desires to coincide with my time schedule.  I am waiting for God to speak.  Well, not exactly.  Actually I am waiting for God to tell me what my family is supposed to do.  The options are move locally, move out of state, or not move at all.  Factors that are now in limbo are decisions about my job, my wife's job, and my daughter's school for next year.

My wife's job wants an answer by March, my daughter's school wants a decision by February (whoops, already here), and I have no idea what I'm going to do about my job.  The house is on the market, but no offers yet.  The only things I have sensed God saying to me is wait, worship, and walk before Him.  Those things do not provide me the answers I want to share with my wife's employer, my daughter's school, and tell me nothing about the house or my job.  I want to hear God telling me what I want to hear, and now would be good.

So, wait, worship, and walk before Him, are the things I hear.  These should be core elements of my relationship with my Master daily, anyway.  But I realize that rather then tell me what I want to hear, God has opted for what I need to hear.  The house is on the market at least until July.  My job options will not change markedly until the end of February.  So, there is real no way I can have those answers for those who pressure me right now.  So, wait, worship, and walk before Him; these three remain while all the things I want have not yet arrived.

If I have the ears of Elijah, I would hide in a cave waiting for my chance to complain.  Having left the answer in fire, I would wait until the wind, fire and earthquake pass before going outside to listen to the whisper.  This would mean that I am waiting for the way in which God wants to speak to me.  I wait in a cave, separated and depressed.  I wait to complain and wail about my predicament.  I wait to receive a pep talk and new marching orders.

Samuel just lived.  He wasn't "waiting" at all, because in his day, God really didn't speak to people (normally referred to as prophets).  So, when God speaks, he thinks the voice is Eli, a familiar fatherly voice.  Samuel was waiting by living out the last thing he was told, continuing on until a new thing was given.  When Samuel was told how to respond to the voice, he did so.  He listened even though he did not like the message, and he passed it on even when he didn't want to.  But he did not learn the lesson perfectly.  Later on, it applied to him in much the same way it applied to Eli.

I want to have the attitude of Samuel's ears, and the perception of Elijah's.  I want to be able to wait, worshipping and walking before my Master each day.  But I want to be able to pick out from all the fires, earthquakes, and wind the true voice of my Master, even if it is a whisper.

I don't want to wait to complain and whine.  I don't want to miss the voice, thinking it is something or someone else.  I want to hear my Master's voice when my Master speaks.  In the mean time, I will wait.  While waiting, I will worship and walk before Him.

Framing Mental Cement

Not long ago, the term "paradigm" became very popular in several pseudo-psychological circles, mostly leadership training or business.  The idea of a "paradigm shift" became the new need for modern business.  A paradigm is essentially a framework through which the sensations of the world around us are interpreted, or the set of things from which we choose how to interpret the events of our lives.  Everyone has one, and they are all different with huge cultural similarities. 

Ironically, this idea was neither new, nor properly applied.  In Isaiah 26:3, the prophet uses the very same idea, but then takes the application in a different direction.  For the prophet, peace (emphasized by doubling the word, "peace peace" usually translated "perfect peace") is experienced when the paradigm used to interpret the world is "being supported" by God.  Perhaps, to continue the use of construction analogy used by the prophet, the better term would be "founded upon" instead of "supported by".

Isaiah's point is that a framed (i.e. well ordered, arranged for a specific purpose, remaining within well-defined boundaries) mind which has God as its foundation is kept in the best example of peace by God.  The reason is given in the last part of the verse, "because he trusts in You."  Interestingly, the only verb in that phrase is a passive participle (in Hebrew that is not an easy piece of grammar to disentangle), but the basic idea of a passive participle is the action is ongoing and the person is being subjected to it, or experiencing it, rather than the one acting.  So God is the one providing the peace, and the trust.

So, first off, do I have this framework in my life?  No, I would not characterize my framework as one of intensified peace.  So, second, how do I "re-frame" my experiences so my interpretation of them has God as the foundation?  Well, I don't.  The foundation is, again, a passive participle in this verse (it reads really weird if translated directly into English, trust me).  So, it is God who leans my framework upon Himself.  So, what's the problem?  Why doesn't He get after it and fix my framework?  I clearly need that paradigm shift, and He's the one to shift it.

I visited the Reagan Library in California, and part of the tour is the enormous gallery which houses the Air Force One used by the late president.  It is ironic that the gallery not only provides an amazing view of an entire jumbo jet, but also of the countryside surrounding the library.  It's just that I had to look out the wall of windows to see the countryside.  I had to look passed the impressive items in the enormous room to see the enormous world of which they had been a part.  My missing framework works the same way.

The world is what it is.  I didn't make it, I don't sustain it, and I can't change much about it.  My framework for interpreting my experiences within it has changed over the years.  God has modified this framework so much it hardly resembles what I had in place as a young adult.  But it is an irony, not one favorable or funny to me particularly, that I still attempt to interpret my experiences in this world by looking within myself rather than out for God.  My attention has been captured by the items in a room I consider wide enough to function as my entire vista, when outside the impressive windows God has created is a bigger, wider, more impressive view I miss.

I will practice using the framework God has provided.  I find it, not within my own mind, but in the elements of God's mind preserved in Scripture.  But to use it, I must look through it out into the world around me.  Oh, I know the things I will see which I have been missing will astound me.  I figure I will feel a tinge of shame at not seeing them sooner.  But I will accept those feelings of wonder and shame as part of the mixture which make up the framework God has constructed for me.  Shalom!

Imagine That!

One of my favorite things is a good story.  I love to write or tell them, and I love to read or hear them.  I believe I get that from my dad.  I can tell a story at any time about nearly anything, especially if you are in the mood for fiction, true stories I have to work harder to get right or interesting.  So, I have an imagination that is very fertile and flexible.

I read an account of God's description in Hebrew poetry, and I sense that my ability to imagine may be woefully inadequate.  Poetry, but its nature, is very figurative.  The imagery and figures used require an immense amount of imagination to capture truths even approaching the magnitude of the Person responsible for this universe.  So when I read that God calls the stars by name, and makes sure none of them are missing by His great power, I have to pause and think about what that means. 

In Isaiah 40, the prophet calls on his people to look up for proof of God and His power.  He calls them to examine the night skies and consider their origin and consistency.  I examine these skies using a telescope that amplifies light by over 600 times.  It pulls the image of things hidden in the skies that those in the prophet's day were invisible, but still there.  One of my favorite is a seemingly perfectly round nebula in the Lyra constellation.  It is the image of the expanding outer shell of a shattered star.  It exploded and this is the outer surface moving away from the event in a perfect circle.  It is beautiful.  It is also frightening.

This star is known by God by name, and it is not "missing" in the sense that He does not know where it is.  He formed it, and He destroyed it, or rather reformed it into a small dwarf star of limited power and light.  Its luster and glory is now in the ring expanding away from it.  Why should I not be wary of such a God?  Why would I focus my attention on anything or anyone but such a God?  I see and know, and read and know, and yet act as if I don't.

By His numerous power, uncountable stars are accounted for.  How can I escape?  He knows the stars He formed by name.  Where can I hide?  Is my imagination so paltry, so thin and meager that I would not consider with vivid color and noise such a God?  Can I come up with any excuse why I do not tremble in every prayer as I consider to Whom I pray?  What possible explanation can I give to adequately support my lack of attention, adoration, and adulation toward this God?  How is it that my day and my actions in it can look so much like those of those who give no consideration to their Maker?

I will let my imagination loose into the cosmos to seek the majesty of One responsible for every detail of every atom of every galaxy within it.  And I will not let my imagination return to focus on lessor things.  OK, I will of necessity, unless I can multitask, keeping my imagination occupied out there while I respond to things here.  I'm not sure I am that mentally flexible.  That may be part of my problem, but only part, and not a very good excuse I think.  After all, what can be a better use of an imagination than to consider God?

Does Burn Out = Self Reliance?

Isaiah says of God in 40:28, that He does not weary or tire, and His understanding is impossible to search. So when I work at His work, does that mean that I am to have these qualities?  Am I supposed to not tire, grow weary, or be understood by those I serve?  Really?  Isn't that like trying to make stars, or form human beings from dust and so on?  Is that really a reasonable expectation?

So, if not, then while He is tireless and always fresh for work, I am not.  My understanding is easily searchable by the most rudimentary of search engines (children for example).  I am in constant need of refreshment, rejuvenation, and reanimation.  My imagination needs new material regularly.  I sound like a very needy minister, and I confess, I am a very needy minister.  And I'm OK with that.

After all, if I want to teach dependence, shouldn't I be dependent?  If I want to lead others to Jesus, shouldn't I be going to Him constantly?  If I want to share my experiences with my Master, shouldn't I have some experiences to share?  So, how would I be able to be a minister if I were not dependent upon my Master for my refreshment, rejuvenation, and reanimation?  If all I had to share were whatever I could produce or had stored up from my own abilities or power, I would have nothing that pointed to my Master.

So, the disciplines which put me in the path of God, which make me available to Him for His work, should include reliance upon Him for the refreshment from being weary, rejuvination from exhaustion, and reanimation from listlessness.  So, I pray, I worship, I meditate on Scripture, I write, I sit quietly and listen.  I watch those around me, I listen to my fellow believers, I give hugs, I sit quietly with those who mourn.  I soak up all that I can perceive of God in action around me, and I search out His ways without waiting for understanding.  I find His fingerprints, and seek to match His hand movements.  I work as an apprentice, an understudy, a child.  And I return constantly to the start; prayer, worship, meditation, watching, listening.  At least that is how I want it to be. 

Little Examples of Grace

Sometimes God's grace is experienced as that great parking space in a crowded garage that I pass up to find a better one that is still there after a winding tortuous search through a one-way maze back to the beginning. Confused? The preservation of missed opportunities is never earned, it is an unmerited gift. I credit my Master for the gift. Grace to you this day!

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Does This Holiness Make My Head Look Big?

I am amused every time I tell other believers that the word "holy" is a word borrowed from pagans.  They seem shocked to hear that.  But the Christian Scriptures were written in Greek, a language of pagans.  How could the word not be a borrowed pagan word.  Almost all of them were.  What it means though is that the meaning was also brought over.  There was a pagan understanding of holiness rarely considered.  I consider it only because most of the places I have to practice holiness are "pagan" rather than Christian.

Paul, in his closing of his first letter to the church in Thessalonica wished for them that the God of peace would sanctify them (the process making them holy) all through; spirit, soul, and body.  He used words that referred to both quality and quantity, leaving no space in the believers life for the common or profane.  So, these believers were to practice this holy dispostion in the world around them; a pagan, sometimes hostile, misunderstanding, self-focused, and sometimes indifferent society.  It sounds familiar.  They really cared about Jesus followers only when the peace or commerce were disrupted.

So what does holy mean?  http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/sanctification try this link.  It's informative.  The simplified definition includes purity from sin and the process of being set apart for God's use alone.  The second part is the normal use in pagan understanding, the process including a washing which where the first part is derived from.  In the Hebrew Scriptures, holiness was so important than an entire book was dedicated to both the Hebrew people and the priests who served God on their behalf.  God was very strict in how He wanted this holiness expressed by both priests and the rest of the people.  Unfortunately, the contents of the book of Leviticus have not made very interesting reading for most modern believers.

So how does this holiness play out in my life?  It must play out in some way which preserves the characteristic of being set apart, and also intersect with this unholy world.  That was forbidden in Leviticus.  Holiness was maintained by not mixing things, anything, even types of cloth (no wool blends!).  So how can I walk before this infinitely Holy God and be blameless as He calls me to be, when I have to interact daily with people who are anything but holy; they aren't even interested in being holy?

The short answer is, "I don't know."  The nice thing is that I don't have to know.  One less thing to worry about.  The verse after Paul expresses his wish for the believers sanctification (the process again), he praises the God calling them to be holy, and says, "He will do it."  He uses the future tense.  He uses the generic word for make or do.  He uses a short sentence, which for Paul should mark something as particularly special.  So what do I do?  I let Him.

Spiritual disciplines are activities I take which make me accessible to God and His work in transforming me.  They do not, in and of themselves, make me holy.  In fact sometimes they can become so distracting, they keep me from holiness.  I was never intended to be set aside to spiritual disciplines.  I was intended to be set aside for the work of God through His Spirit within my very soul, spirit, and body.  So, I live out my day, interacting with the pagan world, yet trying to set my mind on things above.  Somewhere in the midst of that struggle to remain between two worlds, God makes these adjustments and tweaks to the core of my being.  People around me notice before I do that there are qualities about me that are less about me, and more about God himself.  I become a tree bearing different fruit; fruit of the Spirit rather than my spirit.

It would be glaringly obvious to even the most casual observer that my cynacism, skepticism, sarcasm, and hautiness are probably not those "fruit".  So, the Gardener has a long way to go with this stubborn tree.  "More discipline, please," I murmur as I hold out my hands to my Master.  And with a sigh of resignation, but with a tinge of hope, I enter again into another day.  Perhaps today I will show progress and bear at least one example of good fruit.

Dejection, Depression, Disappointment, And Disillusionment; What's De or Dis About?

The two on the road to Emmaus were sad.  Luke tells us that they were talking over the weekend's events as they walked, and were clearly sad.  Jesus meets them and their eyes were kept from seeing Him.  Was it the sadness that kept their eyes from seeing or the Lord Himself?  He asks, they recount the events, and finish up with their hope that He would redeem Israel, and that three days have passed.

I typically zip right by the setting, and dive into the desire to hear how Jesus started with the Law and Prophets to recount how the Scriptures foretold these things.  I miss a point here by doing that.  What can I learn from their depression?  I have struggled with depression to the point of using anti-depressants to climb out of it.  This is a very personal lesson for me.

What I already know of depression is limited, but the basics are as follows:  1) People respond differently to depression, especially between genders.  B) Prolonged depression creates a chemical imbalance in the brain that forms a pattern which will cause the condition to continue beyond the initial cause.  III) Restoring the chemical balance is only a partial cure; freeing the person to deal with the initial cause(s).

I bottomed out depression-wise immediately after leaving the ministry.  I cratered, and spent three-years inside that crater.  It wasn't pretty for my family or myself.  On the way out, I learned that I am prone to depression, need to take special care to detect it early, and treat it immediately.  But does this pattern also show that I am not trusting God?  Does my response to these sad situations indicate that I had hoped in vain?  Can hope in God be in vain?  Or is it the timing which I impose on God that is the problem?

Hope in the Hebrew Scriptures is an interesting word.  There is one which implies expectation of fulfillment, and one that does not.  Typically, when referring to God, the implication is expectation of fulfillment.  Abram hoped, and waited 12 years between God's declaration of a promise, and the next revelation of the process.  He was already old, his wife barren, and no indication on the horizon that God was even listening to his prayers.  Or was there?  I am not certain I could hold out my expectant hope for 12 years.

If my disappointment and disillusionment are signs that I am not resting in God's provision AND timing, then when these markers show themselves I must respond.  I must take my feelings to God, and submit them to Him, allow Him to delve beneath to the underlying fears, excavate the self-centered and self-reliant pollutents, and allow Him to plant and cultivate new faith.  Ouch.  Just the thought of being "plowed ground" makes me cringe. 

The feelings are the signs, not the failure themselves.  They are not the problem, but the symptoms of problems beneath.  They follow thoughts, assumptions, and underlying belief.  And those can either be rooted in my own abilities and desires, or they can come from faith in the Great God, Creator and Sustainer of the limitless Universe.  My choice.  Why do I choose the lessor, base, fragile, and silly option so often? Especially knowing that I succumb to depression so easily, I would hope I would work harder to avoid it. 

So, my daily spiritual discipline must include some phrases.  In prayer, I begin with "You love me, and You have my back."  I then continue with "I will walk before You, please make me blameless." And then I let my mind wander over the vastness of His works, marvel in the power of His creations, and intricacies of His attention to the smallest details.  All this does is provide a setting for my day, a context for the trouble in it, and a sense of perspective as I evaluate the things I encounter during it.  It doesn't remove trouble, it removes fear.  It does not provide safety, but assurance that I am safe.  It doesn't make me happy, but grounds my joy in the freshly plowed ground of God's gift of faith.  And with that, I am more available to my Master, and less distracted by my fears, my selfishness, or myself.

Underlying Truth?

Last night we watched one of those films set in a fantasy world where spirits and magic are possible.  As the plot unfolded, I was struck with some of the points where the underlying reality of our world peeked through.  I believe that, regardless of the culture, there is an understood underlying reality to this world which is perceived, but expressed in a wide variety of ways.  Self-sacrifice for others, a sense of goodness when not popular, courage in positive expressions, defying powerful evil, and so on form windows where this underlying reality peeks through.

But the fundamentals of this reality rarely make it to the surface.  Focus on created things instead of the Creator, communing with spirits instead of the Master of spirits, using images of dragons rather than doves, and reliance on personal power all obscure the fundamentals of this reality.  What would it be like to have a story with a different sort of character and plot?

Imagine a story where the main character may be able, strong, courageous, and even considered powerful, but where this person communes with the Maker and Sustainer of the Universe, faces challenges in faith that whatever the outcome the Maker will be glorified, and, while able to fight, knows that the battle belongs to the God of All.  What would happen to our stories if God were a major Character, where His plans, activity, and power were the underlying truth, and the climax was where they came to the forefront and He received the glory of being the Main Character?  What if it were God who defeated the Terrible Evil, not one of us?

Stories can be found in abundance of people facing an impossibly powerful evil and triumphing over it.  But really?  How powerful are we really?  What if God only asked the character to stand against, not triumph over the evil?  What if in the courage and integrity of the character they seemed to loose, only for God to show up and save the day, demonstrating Real Power as He vanquishes the evil completely, no sequel?

Such a story formula could be in any setting, contemporary, science fiction, or fantasy.  Such a story could have normal heroes, powerful heroes, or even weak ones; young, old, male, or female.  Such a story could be told over and over, changing the "window dressing" but always prominently displaying the King of Kings at the end.

Hmm.  Another blog idea?

What Is My Sacrifice?

It is not hard to find modern stories of martyrs.  The abundance of persecuted believers is well documented.  So, when I read a challenge to be ready to give up everything, willing to endure anything, and to stand on nothing but Jesus, I always seem to evaluate that challenge from the comfort of an over-stuffed chair. 

In 2 Timothy, Paul ends his letter to his "son in the faith" by saying he is ready to die.  Oswald Chambers asks in response if I am ready (yeah, I take it personally. Am I not supposed to?) to be poured out as a drink offering.  He gave these speeches to missionary students in Egypt.  There the challenge made sense because they were on the verge of making good on that challenge.  Here, many years later, in my comfy chair, typing on a nice laptop, not so much.

The issue for me is this, "talk is cheap" as the cliche so aptly puts it.  I can say that I am ready, but the challenges are much less than my life.  I have already endured scandalously low wages, the condemnation of my fellow believers, futility in ministry, and the shame of failure.  Big deal.  To consider that as comparable to being poured out as a drink offering seems whiny.  Believers in the Sudan, Egypt, Iraq, Indonesia, India, and so many other nations would consider my level of sacrifice blessing; and probably confusing ("You got paid for that? Wow!")

So, I can safely say that, yes, I have surrendered my will to endure whatever God puts me through, including another paid ministry position.  I do so with the understanding that talk is indeed cheap, and the saying costs me little.  But I am ready to pay the consequences.  I am ready to go, and I am ready to stay if that is what God wants.  The house is on the market, no job changes are in sight, and little has happened to clarify what God wants of me beyond surrender.  So, I will take that step and surrender, and wait.  That is what I will do today.  Tomorrow...will take care of itself, each day has enough trouble of its own.

Where will I not go, what will I not do?

In the less familiar part of Philippians 2, Paul encourages the believers in Philippi to behave well among each other, so they will have nothing to be ashamed of before the seat of Jesus, nor will he.  And then he says that, even if he is being offered as a drink offering for their faith, he's OK with that.  I'm not so sure I would be OK with that.

Church people are the reason I never went back into ministry the first place. Being "poured out as an offering for their faith" implies that all the work I do for them and with them being of no effect on their lives. That's what happened to me the first time. 

In my first ministry experience after seminary, it got to the point that they focused so much on what they didn't like about me, they could no longer focus on God, hear His Spirit, or even understand the basics of the gospel.  One man even claimed that Jesus had told him to gossip and incite others against me.  If they could agree on what they didn't like, or were in agreement about details or particulars, that would indicate some area of ministry or my walk with God in which I had fallen down.

I realize that I contributed a lot to what happened there.  If Satan can so overcome a body of believers in Christ that they walk the line of the unpardonable sin in photo-negative, what the heck was the shepherd doing anyway?  Yes, I admit I was asleep at the wheel.  Had I been more open to immersing myself in the lives of the people for whom I was responsible, I would have seen Satan's fingerprints sooner, known to pray directly and specifically, and at least faced the spiritual warfare head-on.  I probably would have lost anyway, because the beachhead had already been firmly established before I got there.  But I would prefer a straight on fight to being steamrollered from behind.

So, am I willing to be offered up as a drink offering for the faith of others?  I am not the same person I was, God has done a lot of work in me these 11 years, and I believe that in some ways I am more spiritually mature than then.  But I am also more cynical, sarcastic, and skeptical.  I have fewer illusions of other believers because I simply jettisoned any expectations that they be like Christ.  How's that for a lovely pastoral attitude?

But one thing I have still is hope.  Hope is the ground that God plows to grow faith.  Faith is the raw material God uses to build love in the hearts of His people.  Having hope still is due to God's continued work in my life.  I know change is possible.  My faith in His work in the lives of others enables me to pass on that hope to others.  When someone can hope for change, believes that God can bring it about and wants to, and then commits the future to Him, change happens.  The change is the change God chooses, not the change we imagined, but change still.  That's what has and is happening to me.

Prayer

Prayer is that opportunity I neglect to bask in that glorious presence of my Master on which I am to focus, and to which I am to witness.

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Too "Good" for God?

I know I'm not unique in this, but every once in a while I wonder about it.  In 2 Corinthians 5:14, Paul says that he is constrained (hemmed in or fenced in) by the love of Christ.  In that frame of mind, nothing else but the love of Christ matters to him.  His entire life is focused on that love which, initially called him to itself, and then proceeded to send him out as a messenger and witness of it to the rest of the world.  The activity of Jesus on my behalf, the glorious appearing somewhere around the corner, the throne of God, the Lamb Slain from the Foundation of the World.  The visions of the glory of God are abundant, but are they my focus?

I have a problem.  I am fairly good at a wide variety of things, and have an aptitude for learning more.  It doesn't sound like a problem, but I believe that because my focus has not been on the glorious love of Christ, I have upstaged the Truth of which I am a custodian and servant.  I do not do so consciously, but I do not try not to consciously. If that does not make sense, let me put it this way. I really like the praise and attention of others. So when I do something right or well, I like the attention I get.

I am thinking now, and have before, that I am too slow to point to Jesus as the One deserving attention. I had someone tell me that I am too hard on myself, since lots of people do that or have the same issue. But does that make it acceptable for me? I doubt it makes it acceptable to Jesus. It's not that I should be pointing to Jesus as the One really responsible for whatever I do. I make way too many mistakes for that. I think I should be using any positive attention I get as an opportunity to advertise for my Lord and Master. It is the “Love of Christ” that I should be pointing to given any opportunity, because it is that very love that will enable others to experience the real core of my life, eternity.

I have a challenge now. If I am as “skilled” as I say I am, then I will see how far that skill really goes. I will attempt to word my advertisement for my Master in response to any praise I receive in such a way that it is both clear, and acceptable in a carnal corporate environment. I succeed when the subject of the response overshadows any attention on me, positive or negative. When I am upstaged by God, I will be truly successful, and finally live the call of Knight of the Realm, Servant to the King (KOTR SOTK).

What did I expect?

In 1 Corinthians 4, Paul briefly describes what he endured in ministry. sometimes from those he ministered to.  He poses this discussion in verses 9 through 13 in terms of how bad off he is compared to the church in Corinth.  He is really slamming them, but what he says is rather sobering to anyone considering ministry as a vocation.

I have endured in ministry.  I have suffered pain, relationally, emotionally, and spiritually.  But not to that degree.  I left ministry and never returned to that vocation, never wanting to put myself and my family in that dependent relationship again.  I shut myself off from that avenue of God's provision.  And why not?  My ministry model, Jeremiah, was considered the "Weeping Prophet", Paul here complains of being homeless, reviled, dispised, weak, all the time returning blessing to those who curse.

Yes, I caved.  I turned away from such a vocation.  I sought the independent manner of ministry, that did not require an investment in those ministered to.  I worked from a distance rather from close by.  I still worked, I still ministered, I still cared for people, listened, gave biblical insight, and spoke the word of God.  I still did the work of proclamation, I just did not submit to a paycheck.  I did not put myself at the mercy of those I ministered to.

I think God wants my complete submission to Him.  Which means that I need to accept the possibility that God may call me and my family again into that dependent position.  I am not comfortable with that, but I do not want anything to stand between myself and God.  I do not want to make my security and the security of my family my idol.  These are things I can't really control anyway.  Jobs are never sure, security is never sure, nothing that can be taken away by a random drunk driver should stand between myself and God.

For if I give those things to God, then they are more secure than I could ever make them.  The peace I lack would be found in giving those relationships, people, and things to the One who truly has power over them.  Wow, do I have some work ahead of me.

The Pain of Refusing My Call

In 1 Corinthians 9:16, Paul claims that proclaiming the gospel is nothing to boast about. He is compelled to proclaim and suffers if he doesn't. Jeremiah, my biblical ministry model, had a similar problem with a fire in his bones when he refused to prophesy. I have not felt that. Not a bone fire nor suffering has hit me for not proclaiming. At least, not for a long time. It's been nearly 11 years since I pastored, and half that since I last preached. I still respond initially to Scripture in 'sermon' terms, as if to preach it. But then pull myself down into it personally, and force the application on myself. There are other clues to me that I could still proclaim, given an opportunity, but any fire has been filtered through pain-induced fear. I don't want to be a sad example of a prophet who ends his life, a captive of his audience where I warned them not to go. I'm not sure I'm cut out for 'corporate life' either, so... I will listen to the voice of God, and not refuse Him, whatever He says; even if that means I end up in Egypt.