Category: Discipleship

Do Not Harden Your Heart

Background Passages: Mark 6:30-52 and Ephesians 1:15-19a

You’ll remember the story.

The disciples just returned to Bethsaida on the shore of the Sea of Galilee after a quick mission trip of their own where they taught and preached the gospel. As they began sharing how God had been at work in their efforts, the bustle of the crowd grew distracting.

Jesus suggested a quick boat ride to the far shore where they could spend a quieter time in reflection, rest and praise.

Their leaving the town did not go unnoticed, however. As their boats rowed across the water, the crowd followed, walking along the shoreline trying to catch up to the teacher and healer. By the time Jesus and his disciples reached the beach, a large crowd had already gathered, hoping to hear the words of the master teacher.

Jesus felt compassion toward them, according to scripture, and began to teach them “many things” about God and what it means to live as his people. As the late afternoon came, one of the disciples interrupted Jesus and suggested he call it a day.

I’m paraphrasing, but they said, “We’re in a remote place and it’s late. These folks are going to be hungry. We need to send them on their way so they can find something to eat.”

Jesus suggested that rather than send them away, the disciples should feed them. The idea struck them as impossible. The crowd was too large and their funds too small. Jesus asked them what they had which they could share. Andrew, bless his heart, found a young boy with a pouch holding five small loaves of bread and two small fish that his mother had prepared for his lunch that morning. “That’s it, Jesus.” He probably said. “That’s all we could find.”

Sometime later, the disciples stared for a long moment at the 12 baskets of loaves and fishes gathered after Jesus took the boy’s meager meal, blessed it and began giving food to the disciples to distribute to the crowd of 5,000 men and their families.

Can you imagine how stunning it must have been to see the unfolding of this miracle?

After taking care of the hungry, Jesus insisted that the disciples get in the boat to return to Bethsaida. They pushed off from shore, yammering in excitement about what they had just witnessed. After dismissing the crowd, telling them to return home, Jesus found a quiet place on the mountainside to rest and pray, giving thanks to God for the blessings that unfolded that day.

The winds picked up during the early morning hours and the moon glistened off the water below. In the distance, Jesus could see the disciples struggling to make headway against the wind and waves. Scripture tells us they were “straining at the oars.”

Mark picks up the story from there.

Shortly before dawn he (Jesus) went out to them, walking on the lake. He was about to pass by them, but when they saw him walking on the lake, they thought he was a ghost. They cried out, because they all saw him and were terrified.

Immediately he spoke to them and said, “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.” Then, he climbed into the boat with them, and the wind died down. They were completely amazed, for they had not understood about the loaves; their hearts were hardened.

I went a long way through scripture to get to that last line that I’ve overlooked every time I’ve read this story. “Their hearts were hardened.”

That’s a phrase I most often associate with Pharoah. Moses, on God’s behalf, appealed to Pharoah time and time again to let the people of Israel return to their homeland. Each time the Egyptian king refused, God sent a plague of blood or frogs (that would have done it for me), or gnats, or flies to prove his power and persuade the reluctant ruler.

Each time, however, scripture in Exodus tells us that Pharoah “hardened his heart.” Then, when God had given him every chance in the world to respond positively to him, God took his choice away. God, then “hardened the heart of Pharoah,” sealing his fate.

When we see that term in scripture, it usually means a stubborn refusal to obey God’s teaching or to acknowledge him as Lord. In the Old Testament, it suggests such self-centeredness that one simply turns his back repeatedly on God. Refusing to listen. Refusing to obey.

In the New Testament and even today, to harden one’s heart is to stubbornly and consistently reject Jesus as Savior and Lord, despite every effort the Holy Spirit makes to open one’s heart to the possibility of salvation through Christ. That’s true, the story I just shared suggests there is more to it than that.

In our passage in Mark, we see the disciples sitting in a boat in the middle of the Sea of Galilee with hardened hearts after Jesus demonstrated his power and authority over all things, not once, but twice in the space of 12 hours. His disciples. His followers. People who believe in him.

Once Jesus climbed into the boat, Mark tells us the disciples were “completely amazed.” Whatever Greek word is used in this instance, is evidently not easily translated into English. Different versions of the Bible capture the phrase as “completely overwhelmed,” “completely astounded,” “so baffled they were beside themselves,’ “completely confused,” or “utterly astounded.”

The reason for their profound astonishment was not that Jesus walked on water and calmed the sea. Look what Mark said, “…they had not understood about the loaves.”

Talk about a left turn. I didn’t see that coming. What did they not understand about the loaves?

The disciples were believers. They trusted Jesus as Lord, but they still had much to learn about who he was and what it means to live for him. Such a description sounds eerily familiar to my life…and I suspect to yours.

Though they had come a long way in their understanding, they often missed the point of what Jesus did and why he did it. Jesus did an incredible miracle by creating food for as many as 15,000-20,000 men, women and children from a measly sack lunch. John tells us that Jesus even took the time shortly after this incident to explain that the feeding of the 5,000 was an object lesson, pointing to him as the “bread of life.”

The disciples, however, got in the boat that night, marveling at the miracle, but not truly seeing the one who worked the miracle for who he really is. They missed the revelation of his deity…as God in flesh. It could have been such a turning point in their lives, yet they missed it.

That’s why they were then amazed when he did other God-like things such as walking on the water or calming the sea. Their hearts stubbornly refused to see what was standing right before their eyes, as the water lapped at his ankles. God, through Jesus, is capable of doing anything regardless of the lack of resources or the difficulty of the circumstance.

Their hearts were hardened.

And, there lies the lesson I needed to hear. The language about hardened hearts is usually reserved for God’s enemies, people to whom God is a stranger. Sometimes, those of us who know and trust Jesus as Lord, still have a hard time believing that God is God and that God is still at work.

Stubbornly refusing to believe what we see that reveals his “Godness,” his goodness and his presence in our lives. Hardening our hearts even when we see him doing God things.

Here’s where the story gets so real to me. The disciples didn’t miss the miracle of the loaves. They were in the big middle of it.

They saw Jesus pray. They saw him take the food he had available and turn it into a feast. They handed out basket after basket and each time they returned to Jesus he handed them another basket until everyone was fed.

They saw the grateful faces of the hungry and heard their joy and laughter. They gathered up the leftovers, each loading a full meal to take with them on their journey.

I can be in the middle of God’s work and still miss seeing God in it simply because my heart is not paying attention. I marvel at the miracle and miss the miracle worker.

Paul wrote a letter to the Ephesian church that sounds like a perfect way to focus on keeping our hearts from being hardened to the exceptional grace and work of God in Christ.

“For this reason, ever since I heard about your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for all God’s people, I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers. I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened (in other words, not hardened) in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. (Ephesians 1:15-19a)

It was Paul’s prayer for his friends in Ephesus and 2,000 years later, I’m making it my prayer for my life and for yours.

You Are What You Think

Background Passages: Psalm 1:1-4, Jeremiah 17:7-8, Philippians 4:8, and 2 Corinthians 10:3-5

The route we typically took to my parents’ house from Pasadena to Ropesville was honestly not the most scenic drive. While there is something to be said for the stark beauty of the endless highway and cotton fields, the trip that we took countless times was little more than the occasional mesa, a random Dairy Queen and a lot of flat, empty space.

I recall making that drive early in our marriage before children as we sat in silence while the country droned by. I felt Robin’s eyes on me long before she asked the question every husband dreads.

“What are you thinking?”

Every husband knows my response. “Nothing.” Also, as every husband knows, that’s exactly what I was thinking in that exact moment and in most moments of solitude. Absolutely nothing.

Comedian Mark Gungor would say, “I was in my Nothing Box.” (If you’ve never seen that YouTube video about how the brains of men and women work, it’s worth the view.)

The Bible talks a lot about our thought life. Though it’s slightly out of context, Solomon lets us know in Proverbs 23:7 that “As a man thinks, so he is.”

In other words, you are what you think. Whatever we choose to concentrate on, spend our time thinking about, will impact the way we choose to live.

Hear the instructive word of the Psalmist.

Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way sinners take or sit in the company of mockers, but whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and who meditates on his law day and night. That person is like a tree planted by streams of water which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither—whatever they do prospers. Not so the wicked. They are like chaff that the wind blows away. (Psalm 1:1-4)

As the opening hymn of the Psalm, the passage answers some amazingly deep questions about life. Who am I going to be? Who is God? Where can I find true contentment and happiness? What road should I take in life? What is my purpose?

It is a call to be blessed. To find contentment and joy, regardless of life’s circumstances. The passage puts us squarely in the middle of the fork in the road. The first path is walked by the wicked, the sinners and the mockers of all that is holy.

Jesus might have called it Broadway. He said in Matthew 7:13, “…For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it.”

That first step down the path of the wicked and the way of the sinner always begin with a thought, an idea, a desire that pops in our head that entices and seduces us. We begin to think walking that path would be so much more fun, so much more profitable, so much more popular, that we can’t help but start the journey. As we think, so we are. It doesn’t take long for our thoughts to take hold in our hearts. Now, instead of just thinking about things we shouldn’t, we’re doing them.

Sadly, Paul and I have much in common on this point. I suspect most of us do.

I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do…For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do–this I keep doing. (Romans 7:15,18-19)

We won’t find contentment on the broad road described by Jesus or the way of the wicked described by the Psalmist. Rather, we’ll end up feeling more and more like Paul. We don’t intend to walk that path, but the world makes it look easy and appealing.

Blessedness (joy and contentment) comes, according to Psalm 1, when we don’t follow in the footsteps of those who do evil or take the path sinners take or travel among the scoffers who know nothing of God and his grace or goodness. It is the road to destruction…to chaff. An existence in which we are blown in whatever direction the wind blows. Never truly grounded. Always acting on a whim.

The Psalmist said the one who is blessed will find a different road to travel. In that same passage in Matthew, Jesus tells us to use the narrow gate and the “narrow road that leads to life and only a few find it.” As Robert Frost said, “…the road less traveled.”

Blessedness flows to the one whose “delight is in the law of the Lord, and who meditates on his law day and night.” Delight is a heart response to something or someone of beauty and value, in this case, God’s word and its truth. The word “delight” is used typically in scripture to describe the life in which God’s purpose and choice are in view.

It is joy, pleasure and satisfaction that comes when we abide in his word and will. Such delight comes only from delving deeply into scripture, finding its relevance for our lives and acting daily upon it.

The one who thinks only about the truths and promises of God found in his word is the one who walks in the path of the righteous and stands in the way of the faithful or sits in the company of those who trust in God’s word. You see, as a man thinks, so he is.

If we think of the things of God, those will be the attributes ingrained in us. It is an immutable truth repeated time and time again in scripture.

Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthy things. (Colossians 3:1-2)

Then, look at what Paul tells the Philippian church about the way we ought to think.

He begins the passage by exhorting his readers to “rejoice.” To find joy. To find contentment. To find a peace that “transcends all understanding…” Then, he tells them how.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you. (Philippians 4:4-8)

Paul expresses in such a beautiful and poetic way how our thoughts ought to be directed.

Jesus even alludes to it in his Beatitudes when he says, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.”

Given that the heart was viewed in the Jewish culture as the center of thought and will, Jesus says those whose thoughts are pure, whose motives for every decision are aligned with God’s word and will—these are the souls who will see God at work in their lives. These are the folks who find God in every circumstance of life—good or bad.

You are what you think.

Paul shared one more thought in his second letter to the Corinthian church which feels applicable here.

Though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ. (2 Corinthians 10:3-5)

Don’t you love that last phrase?

…take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ…

The Greek word used for “take captive” means “to control, to conquer, to bring into submission.” We bring into submission every thought so that it conforms to the teachings of Christ. We conquer our tendency to dwell on things we shouldn’t be thinking about. We control those wicked thoughts by not letting them take root in our heart and soul.

The good news is that the Psalmist tells us how to do this.

We take captive our thoughts ”by meditating on the law day and night.”

Our hearts desire must be to embed ourselves so deeply in God’s word and all that it teaches us that we have little time to think of anything else. To be so grounded in scripture, that every temptation is answered by the Spirit’s whispered reminder of what has been taught us through God’s word…just as Jesus refuted every temptation from Satan with a word from scripture.

It’s not enough to just hear scripture read to you in Sunday School or from the pulpit. We need to spend time during the week studying God’s word, especially when the pervasive garbage of the world tries so hard to infiltrate our every thought.

The Rev. Charles Spurgeon said, “A Bible that is falling apart usually belongs to someone who isn’t.”

I’ll revert to the Proverbs, an ancient equivalent to the modern day “garbage in, garbage out.” Proverbs 15:14 says that “A wise person is hungry for knowledge, while the fool feeds on trash.”

You are what you think.

I like the idea the Psalmist conveys when he says what it is like to be one who immerses himself in God’s word.

That person is like a tree planted by streams of water which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither—whatever they do prospers.

Jeremiah shares a similar thought.

Bless is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit. (Jeremiah 17:7-8)

You must love this tree metaphor as much as I do.

Notice that the tree is planted by the stream. It didn’t grow up there on its own accord. It was planted. Planted means to cause to take root. The Hebrew word used here more closely translates as “transplanted.” To cause to take root after moving from one environment to another more suited for growth.

I love that idea in the context of this Psalm that talks about the way of the wicked opposed to the way of the righteous seen in the one who dwells in God’s word. That person is transplanted from the path of wicked, the sinner and the scoffer to live and grow next to the living water found in God’s word through Christ Jesus.

A tree’s roots run deep, searching always for the moisture and nutrients that fuel its growth. The deeper its roots go, the more sturdy and stable it becomes , more capable of withstanding any wind that blows. (In contrast, it takes very little wind to blow away the chaff.)

That’s how it is with one grounded deeply in scripture. She finds the spiritual water and nutrients to grow and mature in Christ. And, like the tree, that kind of growth takes time. We live in a time of instant gratification, but the Christian life is a process of growing and learning. Each minute we stop looking to the Bible for our strength is a lost moment in our spiritual lives.

Notice also that the tree yields fruit. Our time spend in studying God’s word will always point us to ministry and service. It is the understanding of what God requires of us that propels us to care for and serve others.

The message of this Psalm hit me squarely between the eyes this week.

You are what you think.

As we walk through each day, let’s meditate on God’s word…day and night. Think about the things of God. When we do, it’s so much easier to…

Be the tree.

Take Up Your Cross

Background Passage: Mark 8:31-37

Passing a large church in the Philippines several years ago, a pastor from the United States spotted a number of vendors selling incense, candles, veils and rosaries. That’s not really what caught his attention.

His eyes were drawn to two young boys running through the crowd selling small wooden crosses. Hawking their goods with enthusiasm, he heard them calling, “Crosses!. Cheap crosses for sale! Buy a cheap cross!”

It’s a painful reality, isn’t it? That’s exactly what many of us do. We want a cheap cross, one that demands little of us. All celebration and no commitment.

The cross of Christ was no cheap cross. It came at an unbelievable cost as a ransom for my sin…and yours.

Jesus and his disciples just returned from a staff retreat in Caesarea Philippi where Jesus earnestly began teaching them about the role God sent him to play. When Peter, in a moment of clarity, declared that Jesus was the Messiah, the Christ, God’s Anointed One, he got the title right. Despite his confession, he and the others still failed to understand exactly what that meant.

From that moment on, Jesus spoke more plainly to them about the suffering that was to come. Mark records the moment.

He then began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priest and teachers of the law, and then he must be killed and after three days rise again. He spoke plainly about this, and Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. (Mark 8:31-32)

Peter missed the whole point of the lesson learned in Caesarea Philippi. Comfortable in his preconceived notions about what a Messiah should look like and how a Messiah should act, he pulled Jesus aside and fussed at him for saying anything contrary to his idea of a political deliverer. “This is not the way to win friends and influence people, Jesus.”

Peter’s response must have broken Jesus’ heart. Jesus glanced back at the disciples who still looked a little shellshocked at Jesus’ description of the work ahead and then at Peter’s “better listen to me” scowl. The whispered rebuke to his strongest disciple must have pierced Peter’s heart.

But when Jesus turned and looked at his disciples, he rebuked Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! he said. “You do not mind the things of God, but the things of men!” (Mark 8:33)

After a brief standoff, Jesus shook his head and sauntered back to the crowd that stood nearby. After a glance back at his disciples to make sure they were paying attention, Jesus laid his heart open for all to see.

If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whomever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it. What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul? (Mark 34-37)

Jesus seemed to tell them, “You call me Messiah, but have no clue what it means for me or for you…let me be clear.” Don’t you imagine the words he preached burned like hot coals into the core of Peter’s soul!

I can see Jesus looking straight into Peter’s eyes when he started his message. “If anyone would come after me…” These words speak to a decision point. More literally in the Greek, the phrase suggests, “to come to a point of being with…”

Jesus is telling them if you’re truly with me, if you’re going to walk with me, if that’s what you decide to do, then understand clearly the price you must pay.

When Jesus talks about denying oneself, he speaks of changing out one’s selfish heart with one that looks toward a greater good. Understanding what God needs you to do and not getting in his way. Moving away from being served toward serving.

You see, Peter’s picture of the Messiah was drastically different than the one Jesus was painting. The path he thought he was following far different from the one for which Jesus was preparing Peter and the rest of the disciples.

To deny oneself is to realize life is no longer all about me. No longer about my personal agenda. It is about the one to whom I belong. It’s about my service to others. It is about losing myself in Christ. It’s about allowing God to work in and through the gifts he gave me so Christ is revealed in me. Giving God custody and control of my life.

Paul hinted at this when he said, “…You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore, honor God with your body.” (I Corinthians 6:19-20)

To take up one’s cross conjured up a horrific image within the context of those first century, would-be disciples. The cross stood as Rome’s unique and cruel form of public punishment and humiliation designed to keep the population in check. Its brutality was on display for all to see.

Undoubtedly, almost all, if not all, of those present that day with Jesus had witnessed its barbarity on display. They clearly understood the implications of what Jesus demanded of them.

If you make the decision to be with me, you must be prepared to give your life for my sake. There is nothing cheap about this cross. It was a cost too many, even in Jesus’ day, were unprepared to pay.

I think of the rich, young ruler who chased Jesus down and honestly shared his faithfulness to the teachings of scripture and his devotion to prayer and the slew of good thing he did for others. Jesus looked in his heart and saw that his lifestyle consumed him. Jesus suggested that if this rich, young man wanted to come with Jesus, he had to give up the lifestyle he enjoyed. (Matthew 19:16-22)

I think of the three men who came to Jesus while he was traveling, pledging to follow him wherever he went. The first turned back when he discovered the Jesus life would be a bit uncomfortable. The second man wanted to wait until his father died. The third man just needed a bit more time with his family and friends. (Luke 9:57-62)

Each in their own way threw up obstacles that prevented them from committing their all to Jesus. The cost of discipleship was too steep. It wasn’t a cheap cross then and it isn’t any less expensive today.

I’ve heard some trivialize this passage by interpreting the cross as some burden they have to bear…a physical illness, a soured relationship, a thankless job. It becomes little more than some aspect of life that is little more than a symbolic annoyance.

To the first century follower of Christ to take up the cross expressed the willingness to make the ultimate sacrifice for the cause of Christ. It didn’t mean everyone who followed Christ would die on the cross, but it meant a full surrender to that possibility. To give your life completely to him.

Jesus certainly understood the cost as he agonized over it in the Garden of Gethsemane. As he endured its painful reality at Calvary. But, when Jesus spoke the words, asking us to take up our cross, I believe Jesus thought less about the dying and more about surrendering. Yielding to whatever God asked of him. Asking us to yield to whatever God asks of us.

You can’t do that with a divided heart, holding on to a distorted or watered down version of what following Christ means. We must submit our hearts absolutely and without reservation to the call of Christ. It is a call of self-sacrifice and surrender. Paul called it “dying to self.”

Look how Jesus described the cross-bearing life in Luke 8:35. He said we gain life in all its abundance and fullness when we lose or surrender our lives to “me and to the gospel.” Absolute devotion to Christ and to the sharing of the gospel, the good news, of the grace offered through Jesus.

The questions Jesus then posed to the crowd conveyed the seriousness of that decision.

What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul? Or, what can a man give in exchange for his soul?

The ancient Hebrew viewed the soul as the entire inner nature of man, the eternal and imperishable essence of every being. Based on our faith commitment to Christ it is that part of us that endures in the everlasting presence of God or separated from him for all eternity.

The passage ends with the consequence of the choice we make when we don’t take up the cross. We could gain all there is to gain in this world…all its wealth and power…all its beauty and bounty…yet when we die, we’ll find our souls outside the eternal presence of God, unable to share in his glory for all time.

Jesus said even if we gained the wealth of the whole world, it would not be enough to purchase what Jesus so freely gave.

Late in the nineteenth century, Justin Van DeVenter struggled with the decision to leave his teaching career and enter the ministry. He describes a pivotal turning point in his life when he gave in to God’s call.

“A new day was ushered into my life,” said Van DeVenter. “I discovered deep down in my soul a talent hitherto unknown to me. God had hidden a song in my heart and, touching a tender chord, caused me to sing.”

It was a song that would profoundly influence Billy Graham’s early ministry. I suspect his words touched many of us as well.

All to Jesus I surrender;
All to him I freely give.
I will ever love and trust him,
In his presence daily live.
I surrender all.
I surrender all.
All to thee my blessed Savior,
I surrender all.

Jesus calls us to take up our cross. To do so means surrendering all to him. I’d like to say I do that every day, but I don’t. It’s easier to hide behind an obstacle, make an excuse or convince myself that I know better. I’ll surrender some things but hold tightly to others.

Then, I hear those words again. “What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, but forfeit his soul?” The answer is clear. No good at all. The cross is not cheap.

Let’s allow that old hymn resonate knowing full well the cost.

All to Jesus I surrender.

I surrender all.

Don’t Look Back

Background Passages: Luke 9:57-62 and Philippians 3:12-14

The big day had finally come. To a young boy growing up in the 1960s on a cotton farm, each day brought a series of chores to be done. Most were routine and boring. Those I deemed “exciting,” like jumping on the tractor and plowing the field, were the privileges of age and responsibility.

When deemed old enough and responsible enough, my Dad entrusted me with an old, yellow Case 400 tractor and a plow called the “lister.” We used the lister to prepare the fields for planting. By tilling the soil in this way, we cleared the field of weeds and old stalks and built the furrows and ridges, or “beds,” necessary for planting.

Hoeing the field, slopping the hogs, moving the irrigation pipe were mind-numbing work. Driving the tractor stood as a rite of passage…at least it was to this 12-year-old boy. Listing was one of the first “real jobs” my Dad assigned me as I was growing up. “Real” being defined as anything involving a tractor and plow. I remember burying my excitement in a cover of feigned indifference, but inside, I was pumped.

As I drove the tractor to my assigned field, Dad followed in his dusty Dodge pick-up. When we arrived, he jumped from the truck and showed me where he wanted me to begin. He explained the hydraulics and showed me how to drop the disk to mark the next row. Dad set the disk and drove the first few rows, straight as an arrow, with me riding along watching…a “do as I do” moment.

Listing was one of the first steps in the annual farming process. The planter followed the rows created by the lister. The cultivator followed the planter as the cotton grew to remove weeds and mix and incorporate the soil to ensure the growing crop had enough water and nutrients to grow well. So, if the rows created by the lister were not straight, it made the field difficult to work.

I should note that the rows my Dad plowed as my template looked as if they were drawn by a ruler. Straight as an arrow stretching a quarter mile across our West Texas farm. He had a knack for it.

The task appeared simple to me. Align the front wheel of the tractor with the line drawn by the disk and my rows would be as straight as Dad’s. As he climbed off the tractor and bounded toward his truck before leaving me alone to my work, he told me to concentrate on the line ahead of me and “don’t look back.”

Looking behind you as you plowed was the surest way of getting off the desired line. I scoffed inwardly at Dad’s advice. How hard could it be to drive in a straight line?

It turns out that laying that perfect row requires concentration a 12-year-old boy finds difficult to maintain. I remember spending a great deal of time looking behind me, checking on my progress. Every wiggle I saw heightened my anxiety about the quality of work, compelling me to look time and time again where I had travelled.

The more I worried with it, the worse it looked. My quarter mile rows meandered through that red soil like a copperhead snake. Dad laughed when he saw it. I eventually learned the lesson he taught though I was never quite as good as he was.

 God reminded me of that moment in my childhood as I read a passage in the Gospel of Luke. It seems Dad’s lesson about farming was as old as the Bible and applies just as neatly to life.

The crowd that followed Jesus generally included his closest disciples and others whose hearts were captured by Jesus’ message and ministry. They professed a faith in him and a desire to follow wherever he led them. As the 12 disciples discovered, the requirements of discipleship must be wholeheartedly embraced if we are to live to the fullest the life he wills for us.

One day as Jesus journeyed down the road followed by an interested crowd. A man came to Jesus pledging to follow him. Jesus needed him to think seriously about the commitment he was making. Jesus had “no home, no place to lay his head.”

Following him meant a life of sacrifice and uncertainty. Jesus wanted more from the man than an ill-considered impulse decision that circumstance made hard to sustain. Count the cost, Jesus suggested, before you make a snap decision.

Jesus called out to a second man in whom he saw great promise. “Follow me.” Though willing, the man felt torn by the needs of his family and the responsibilities of discipleship. Jesus told him to get his priorities straight. God’s call required complete devotion to God.

The third man provoked a harsher response from Jesus. The man promised to follow Jesus but asked for time to say goodbye to those he loved, his heart divided between his desire to do as God asked and his love for his family and friends. He said, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.”

The Greek words translated for “looks back” paint a picture of one constantly and continuously looking back at what he left behind. A picture of someone reluctant to let go of the things of the world rather than to fully commit life to God. The more we look back, the more likely we are to walk a wavering line of faith life that constantly strays from the path God intends for us.

The lesson for those of us who follow Christ emerges clearly in the conversation Jesus had with the three would-be followers. We must give ourselves completely to the call of Christ by counting and embracing the cost of discipleship and making God’s work the most important thing in our life.

Following Christ has never been easy, but doing so in a fractured world that demeans and diminishes faith grows even more difficult. It is made harder when important things of life pull and tug at us from every direction. We must follow Christ despite the hardships, heavy hearts and home ties that block us from giving ourselves completely to him.

God calls us to put our hands on the plow and get on with the work of faith, creating a straight row that makes it easier for him to accomplish his future work. Human nature and the subtle work of a tempter compel us to look back upon the mistakes we’ve made, those sins in our lives that seek to convince us that God cannot possibly use such a flawed vessel.

Certainly, it may be good to glance behind us on occasion, to revisit our mistakes, as a reminder of how easy it is to fail God. Yet, to dwell in the misery of our past failures inhibits our ability to be useful in service and ministry, makes us feel unworthy of the purpose to which we have been called.

Just as troubling are those times when we think wistfully of the “good ol’ days” when life and faith were easier. Today is the time we have been given. Looking back and wishing the world were different prohibits us from seeing in front of us the God-directed opportunities that allow us to demonstrate his love for a world that can no longer plow a straight row.

Don’t look back, Christ says. Give yourself wholly to your call and count the cost. Christ cannot accept our conditional or half-hearted service. Nor can we spend more time looking back at our past, reveling in a simpler time or lamenting our failures. He asks us instead to look forward; to press on. To open ourselves to the possibilities of service and ministry.

Paul captured the same message in his letter to the Philippian church as he declared that he could not fully grasp all that God called him to be. “Brothers, I do not consider myself to have embraced it yet. But this one thing I do: Forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on…”

Experience is a great teacher. I eventually learned to rely upon that handy, pivoting disk on the plow that I raised and lowered as I traversed the field. If I kept my eyes fixed on the line as it ran into the distance, put my tractor wheel in its furrow and followed it to the end, my rows rarely wavered.

For those committed to Christ, Jesus drew the line in the sand with his life as the perfect example to follow. Most of us recognize that our line drifts away from the line Jesus walked. Our mistakes compound when we spend too much time looking behind us.

Let’s keep our eyes focused constantly on him and the path of righteousness he walked as an example to all of us.

I promise it will make life that much easier to plow.

Author’s note: This is a reprint of a study published January 28, 2017.

But God

Background Passages: Genesis 50:16-21; Romans 5:6,8; Ephesians 2:1-7

Every English teacher I ever had in school harped constantly on the use of strong, active verbs, almost to the point of sucking the joy out of writing.

I can still see that smattering of red ink circles drawn around certain verbs in my essays with a line to the margin indicating, in no uncertain terms, that my teacher was disappointed in my verb choice. I measured the quality of my paper less on the grade and more on the number of times I had to read Ms. Falks’ scribbled note in the margin that just said, “weak.”

I will come out of the closet today and admit that I have always enjoyed grammar. One of my favorite parts of speech is the lowly conjunction. In case you need a reminder, conjunctions are words that link other words, phrases or clauses together. Conjunctions allow a writer to form complex, elegant sentences by avoiding the choppiness of multiple short sentences.

My favorite conjunction is the word but. Its most common usage introduces a phrase or clause that contrasts with another phrase or clause which has already been stated. For instance, “He stumbled, but did not fall.”

But always makes a bolder and grander statement in a sentence than does and, if, or so. When it comes to these statements like these, the bigger, the better.

My thoughts this week germinated during last week’s Sunday School lesson about Joseph and his brothers. Near the end of that biblical narrative in Genesis 50, Joseph’s father Jacob had died. His brothers, who sold him into slavery when he was young, feared that Joseph would seek revenge on them now that Jacob was no longer in the picture.

They concocted a lie, putting words in Jacob’s mouth. Read what the Bible says about it. Look for that conjunctive phrase.

So they sent word to Joseph, saying, “Your father left these instructions before he died. This is what you are to say to Joseph: ‘I ask you to forgive your brothers the sins and the wrongs they have committed in treating you so badly. Now please forgive the sins of the servants of the God of your father.’” When the message came, Joseph wept.

His brothers then came and threw themselves down before him. “We are your slaves,” they said. (Genesis 50:16-18)

Joseph responded to their deceitful plea in an unexpected way.

Don’t be afraid. Am I in the place of God? You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. So then, don’t be afraid, I will provide for you and your children. And he reassured them and spoke kindly to them. (Genesis 50:19-21)

Did you see it? “You intended harm, BUT GOD…”

What a big but! The words written after but God suggests a biblical truth written in a slightly different manner in the New Testament.

For we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28)

It’s a great lesson, but not today’s lesson.

As I reflected on that lesson last Sunday, those two words kept resurfacing. But God. We see the use of but God or but the Lord at least 61 times in scripture. One thing unfolds, but God uses it to reveal his character, to teach us something we need to learn or accomplish, or to bring about his will or his purpose.

The waters flooded the earth for a hundred and fifty days, but God remembered Noah… (Genesis 7:24-8:1)

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. (Psalm 73:26)

The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart. (I Samuel 16:7)

Similar instances occur in the New Testament.

No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you can bear. (I Corinthians 10:13)

He said to them, “You are well aware that it is against our law for a Jew to associate with or visit a Gentile. But God has shown me that I should not call anyone impure or unclean.” (Acts 10:28)

Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, descended from David. This is my gospel, for which I am suffering even to the point of being chained like a criminal. But God’s word is not chained.”(2 Timothy 2:8-9)

Study those passages on your own if you choose but notice how the phrase that comes after but God reveals so much about who God is and what he desires for us. The more I find that phrase mentioned in the Bible, the keener I am to pay attention to the words that follow. In every instance, there is a truth I probably need to hear.

The phrase, time and time again, introduces the gracious and compassionate intervention of God. He redeems. He resurrects. He makes all things new. He instructs. He is strength. He provides. He is faithful. When we erect a façade as a barrier to keep the world away, he sees straight into our hearts.

I said all of that to say this. This weekend is Palm Sunday, leading up to our celebration on Easter. There may be no greater use of the phrase but God among Christians than what you find in the Easter narrative.

Here’s the message of Easter in one simple but God statement.

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:6, 8)

The message of Easter is one big but God. All hope seems gone. All seems lost. Then, we see this but God moment on the cross and in the empty tomb. Those words should have been the sign Pilate inscribed for his cross…not “He claimed to be King of the Jews,” but God.… It is the crux of his redemptive work and Paul knew it.

God waited until just the right moment when we could understand the depth of his sacrificial love. When the time was right, he sent his son, even though we were powerless to do anything about it on our own and ungodly in our actions.

This inconceivable act of love was in the mind and heart of our omnipotent creator from the beginning. Even before God brought those first molecules of creation together, he knew his most precious creation would rebel against him. He knew you and I would be steeped in sin and in need of a way back to him. And he provided the way.

Paul testified as much to the church in Ephesus when he wrote these words.

As for you, you were dead in in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of the world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our flesh and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature deserving of wrath. But God, being rich in mercy and because of his great love for us, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved.” (Ephesians 2:1-5)

Through an act of unmitigated love and mercy, through an act of grace, you and I, as believers in Christ, experienced our but God moment at some point in our past. We find that the celebration will continue forever, according to Paul’s next words.

But God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in the kindness in Christ Jesus. (Ephesians 2:6-7)

This is the ultimate reason for sacrificing his son on the cross. This is his reason for emptying the tomb. He wants us to one day experience his eternal grace…the joy of which is indescribable.

“No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him. These are thing revealed to us by his spirit.” (I Corinthians 2:9-10)

“…But God…”

Maybe that’s the message some need to hear today. A simple paraphrase of one of the Bible’s most cherished verses.

But God so loved the world that he gave his only son that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have eternal life.” (John 3:16)

Maybe today can be their “but God” moment, making this Easter even more special.

For those of us who have already claimed that eternal promise and experienced our personal but God moment, what about here? What about now?

Because they reveal to me the character of the God I serve and the life he demands I live, every but God statement in scripture calls me to live a Christ-like life…even when I’m overwhelmed by the circumstances in which I’m living.

Claiming the promises of God is never easy, especially when overwhelming circumstances put us at wits end. You and I will struggle as we try to live as a disciple of Christ. While I don’t always follow through, it has been my experience that we can trust in those but God lessons we find in scripture.

In a recent blog, Lisa Appelo wrote, “But God brings hope when we can’t see a way through. But God means ashes aren’t the end of our story. And but God, not our circumstances, always gets the last word.”

In other words, go back to Joseph’s story, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done…”

That’s the story of Easter. Every but God is his grace gift and promise of eternity in heaven, but it is so much more. It is life abundant. Here. Now. But God is the peace that surpasses our understanding. It is knowing that God walks with us through the good and bad times of life, actively working in all things for the good of those who love him. But God is knowing that he has a plan for us and will actively work in our lives to see it happen in our lives.

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11)

Wow! Just wow!

But God.

One More Question

Background Passages: John 1:35-39; John 1:1-14, John 15:4,9

Jesus asked a lot of questions during his time on earth. The Bible records over 300 questions that Jesus tossed out as he encountered people along the way. Those are just the questions we know he asked. I would imagine in the elapsed time between biblical stories, many other questions were asked. His questions were meant to probe deeply into the hearts and minds of those he met.

We live in a culture that demands answers. Truthfully, most of us would rather give an answer to demonstrate what we know than ask a question that demonstrates what we don’t know.

Jesus was a guy who had all the answers in the world. Yet, when most people asked him a question, he rarely answered directly. In fact, the scripture only records eight instances where Jesus specifically answered a question. Far more often, he answered a question with a question of his own. His questions caused those to whom they were directed to think, to dissect their lives, and to come to grips with that which was ultimately important.

Those questions recorded in scripture, if we pay attention to them, still cause us to think, dissect and decide upon that which is ultimately important in our lives today.

For the past several weeks, I’ve looked at some of the questions Jesus asked. “What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his soul?” “Why do you call me Lord, Lord and not do what I say to do?” The answers led me to explore my commitment to him and my need to be faithful and obedient to his teaching.

Today’s question is so profoundly simple.

“What do you want?”

Interestingly, these four words are the first words spoken by Jesus in the Gospel of John. It can’t be an accident that John included this question at the start of his narrative. The question, intended for those first century followers, is the same question John extends to every reader of his gospel throughout history.

When you think seriously about it, isn’t this the question? It stands at the heart of every religion and philosophy. It is the central question every person asks at some point in life. What do I want? What am I looking for? What is the point? What’s my purpose in life? If you’re anything like me, it is a question you’ve struggled with from time to time.

Jesus asked that question in the early days of his public ministry. Two days after Jesus walked into the waters of the Jordan to be baptized in the Jordan River by John the Baptist, Jesus passed by the place where John continued to preach and teach. Here’s how it’s recorded in scripture.

“The next day, John was there again with two of his disciples. When he saw Jesus passing by, he said, ‘Look, the Lamb of God.’ When the two disciples heard him say this, they followed Jesus.

“Turning around, Jesus saw them following and asked, ‘What do you want?’ They said, ‘Rabbi’ (which means Teacher), where are you staying?

“’Come,’ he replied, ‘and you will see.’

So, they went and saw where he was staying, and they spent that day with him. It was about four in the afternoon. (John 1:35-39)

It is not a stretch to believe that, as disciples of John the Baptist, the two men who followed Jesus were present when Jesus was baptized two days earlier. It’s also not a stretch to believe they sat at John’s feet the next day when he testified that God’s spirit revealed to him (John 1:29-34) that Jesus was God’s Chosen One, the Anointed of God, the long-awaited Messiah.

As a result of that testimony and with his implied permission, the two ardent followers of John the Baptist left to follow Jesus when he passed by the next day. There is no mention of anyone else following Jesus that morning. At some point along the way, Jesus noticed the men shuffling along behind him.

It’s an interesting scene in my mind. Jesus looked over his shoulder and saw them. They stopped in their tracks and looked down and around, trying to hide the fact that they were following. Jesus smiled to himself and continued on his way. A few minutes later, he glanced behind him again and saw that they were still on his tail. He turned. With a tilt of his head, he asked, “What do you want?”

Jesus didn’t wait for them to get brave enough to speak to him. He spoke first. He made it easier for them to engage with him by opening the door to the conversation with a very simple question.

Therein lies a truth we find again and again throughout scripture. God always takes the initiative by reaching out to us. Our desire to know him is a seed the spirit plants within us when we’re longing for that elusive “something” that we feel is missing in our lives.

Augustine, the early Christian pastor, said God takes the first step in connecting with us. He wrote, “We could not have even begun to seek for God unless God had already found us.” God does not distance himself from us, he stops along the road and waits. He even takes those first steps toward us as he asks with a tilt of his head,

“What do you want?”

I suppose you could try to read a measure of irritation in the question Jesus asked, if you’re prone toward confrontation. “What do you want!? Why are you following me? Less of a question and more of a statement to “back off.” That says more about me and nothing about Jesus, I suppose.

No, I believe interest and curiosity oozed through Jesus’ question. On the surface, it sounds like, “Is there something I can help you with?” Here’s the penetrating power in the question though, linked to the deepest of life’s philosophical questions. What do you really want out of life?” It’s as if Jesus is saying, “I see you following me. That’s a good first step, but what are you really looking for? Do you even know what you want and need out of this relationship?”

When you think about it, it’s not an easy question to answer, is it? Most of us rarely have a handle on what we want. Standing on the side of the road, face to face with Jesus, I doubt those two men were all that sure either. To their credit, rather than give the “church answer” that they thought this new rabbi wanted to hear, they responded with a shrug of their shoulders and a desire to continue.

“Where are you staying?”

The disciples could have been content with exchanging a few words at the side of the road. “Tell us a little about yourself, Jesus. Where did you go to school? Tells us about your family. Briefly summarize your plans for the next few days. Such conversation would have been little more than a casual “get-to-know-you” encounter.

Instead, they asked him a question that implied a desire to stay with him for a time. To linger with him a bit longer. To engage in deeper conversation. To share their heart as he shared his own. These disciples said, in essence, “Is what John told us true? Are you the promised Messiah? Are you the one we’ve been looking for all our adult lives? Help us understand more.”

We should never read or hear that question from Jesus without giving it its due consideration. What exactly do I want?” We learn a great lesson from those followers. Even though they were less than certain what they wanted, they knew they needed time with Jesus to figure it out.

How are we any different? You and I should never be satisfied with a passing encounter with Christ. It will never be enough to accept him as our Lord, thinking that’s all we need do. It’s never sufficient to follow along at a distance without understanding what a life of discipleship means.

“Where are you staying?” becomes “Can we talk?”

“Where are you staying?” says “Are you the answer to the longing of my soul?”

“Where are you staying?” implies, “Teach me more.”

“Where are you staying?” means, “Help me grow in my understanding of what God requires of me.”

Jesus’ response is classic. He doesn’t give his three-minute elevator sales pitch nor does he share a three-point sermon and all six stanzas of Just As I Am. I doubt that Jesus made any attempt to persuade them that he is exactly who John the Baptist said he was. They just talked.

“Come and see!” An invitation to evolve…to grow. An offer to discover…to explore. An encouragement to keep digging until you find treasure.

I don’t think it took long for Jesus to put these two disciples at ease. When Jesus speaks, he is an open book. There is no pretense. No guile. No barriers to keep people at a distance. The warmth of his words draw them in so easily they quickly begin sharing more than they ever intended to share.

When we spend time with Jesus, quit pretending we know all the answers, we find that the longings of our hearts isn’t a philosophy or a religion. It is a person…a connection to the divine…a relationship that develops through trust over time. It is finding, as John says in those brilliant opening lines…

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…In him is life, and that life is the light of all mankind…Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God…The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.” (John 1:1, 12,14)

Once they received that invitation to come and see, John tells us they went to where he was staying and remained with him the rest of the day. Don’t you wish you could have eavesdropped on that conversation? I don’t know what was said, but it was life changing.

One of those two men who followed Jesus that day was Andrew. In the very next passage of scripture John tells us that Andrew was so moved by that conversation with Jesus that the first thing he did was find his brother Simon (Peter). When he tracked him down, he grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from whatever he was doing. Brimming with excitement, Andrew told him, “We have found the Messiah” and he brought him to Jesus.”

I’m not sure the events of that day would have made a significant impact had those two disciples not stayed with Jesus for the rest of that day. It’s the staying with Jesus that gives us the time to truly discover what we’re looking for.

In his book, Being Disciples: Essentials of the Christian Life, author Rowan Williams wrote on this passage of John. He said, “The Gospel teaches us that the bottom line in thinking about discipleship has something to do with this staying. Later on in this same gospel, the same language of staying or abiding as it is often translated is used again to describe the ideal relation of the disciple to Jesus.

When Jesus talked about the vine and the branches in John 15, he said the optimal way to live life is to “abide” or “remain” in me. To stay.

“Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me… As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love.” (John 15:4,9)

To remain is to stay. In other words, what makes me a disciple is not showing up from time to time when it’s convenient or when I want to demand something from him. Staying is not an on again, off again relationship of convenience. It is a relationship that continues. It is a relationship that grows.

I’ll ask you the question, even though I’m busy trying to answer it for myself.

What are you looking for?

It’s the question Jesus asks all of us…all the time.

Maybe it’s time for us to come and see.

Maybe this time, we’ll stay.