Where Does My Help Come From

Background Passage: Psalm 121:1-8

Our muscles ache a bit after hiking eight or so miles each day for the past four days through Big Bend National Park. It’s not that the hikes were particularly strenuous, it’s just that my wife and I did little to get ourselves in shape for four days of hiking in the mountains and canyons in Southwest Texas. 

One of the joys of being retired is the ability to travel in the off-season when everyone else is still at work or school. We found in our hiking that we were often the only people on the trail. Rarely did we encounter any other hikers during our excursions. As a result, every trail, every vista, every mountain, every canyon seemed shrouded in silence and majesty…a place God sculpted just for us to enjoy.

During our first day of hikes, I found myself repeating in my head a verse from Psalms 121.

I lift my eyes to the mountains, where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.”  

I looked the verse up when I returned from our hike that evening. Psalm 121 is a series of verses that the Israelites recited prior to any journey to the temple of Jerusalem. The psalm implies that the pilgrim is still a distance from the city and pondering the dangers of the journey ahead. He finds peace as he lifts his eyes toward Mount Zion where he believes his God dwells. 

For the pilgrim to Jerusalem the journey was danger-filled. Bandits. Wild animals. Heat. Thirst. It was not an easy trip. These things made him anxious. As he alertly scans the road ahead, he wonders who will help him if he falls into trouble. In his heart he asks, “Where does my help come from?” 

It is question asked and answered by a man of faith. “My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.” No equivocation. No faltering. He knows God is his source of help and protection.

But the psalmist goes on to remind all of Israel of the security they have in God. 

He will not let your foot slip…”

“The Lord is your shade…”

“The Lord will keep you…”

“The Lord will watch over your coming and going…”

The psalmist knows his all-powerful God, the creator of the universe, loves him and will be a constant presence in his life…keeping him on the right path, providing comfort in difficult times, watching his every step. The same holds true for every person of faith.

This psalm brought comfort to the pilgrims facing a long journey to Jerusalem.

I also mind a measure of peace in the psalmists words. The psalm teaches me that…

God is bigger than all my troubles. I see the majesty and beauty of God’s creation laid out along the trail I’m hiking. The creator of all this grandeur is a constant presence in my life. Nothing I encounter in life trumps that. The one who carved the canyon over eons, takes the time to carve out the path in front of me. All I have to do is follow the trail. “He will not let my foot slip.”

God stays close to me. To find relief from the heat of the sun, I must be protected from it by the shade of a rock or tree. That which provides shade must be nearby. It’s not just that God is never far away from me. It’s that he is always by my side. He always stays close…even in the heat of trouble or storm. He is my close protector. 

God watches over me. The creator of the universe loves me so much he that he watches over me. The word doesn’t suggest a casual glance my way from time to time. God doesn’t just check up on us from time to time. It speaks to the ever diligent parent whose eyes never stray from the child at play in the park, constantly scanning the area for signs of any threat. God watches over me. 

God’s concern is constant. Look at the imagery the psalmist uses. “He will not slumber nor sleep.” That’s amazing in itself. With all the evil in the world today, God never takes his eyes off me. He guards my coming and going “now and forevermore.”

Given the words of the psalmist and the truth he reveals, it’s amazing that I still anxious.  I don’t need to worry, but I do from time to time. While such worry may suggest I don’t think God is willing or able to help in my specific circumstance, it’s more often true that I’d just rather do it myself. That’s when I get myself into trouble. 

No the truth is clear. Where does my help come from? It comes from the Lord. 

It just took a few beautiful mountains to remind me.

Cast Your Troubles

Background Passages: Matthew 6:25-34, Luke 12:26-34; John 14:1, Philippians 4:7

The optimism that seems to accompany each new year fades quickly. Most resolutions we make to change the direction of our lives crumble in the reality of old habits and events beyond our control. Within days of our initial optimism we find ourselves mired again in the swamp of anxiety.

Certainly, in our lives and in our world today, we can find reasons to worry without looking very hard.

That could be why many psychologists call our time the “anxious generation.” In New York magazine recently, Jean Twenge, a social researcher from San Diego State University said that anxiety among young people is at an 80-year-high. As bad as it has been since the Great Depression.

Sadly, Christians are not immune to worry, but our faith should provide a buffer to dampen its effect. Jesus said as much during an anxious time for the disciples in the days leading up to his crucifixion.

“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me.” John 14:1

Jesus speaks to the deep trust we must hold in God as we deal with the most difficult times in our lives. But, worry isn’t limited to times of deep crisis, is it? Our tendency is to worry about the little things and the things we cannot control.

I don’t know why Jesus started the conversation we find recorded in Matthew 6 and Luke 12. Scripture doesn’t tell us. It’s not hard to imagine the scene based on the context provided by Luke and Jesus’ introduction to the passage.

Jesus and his disciples just encountered a man who came to Jesus to settle a financial dispute…asking for his inheritance that his brother controlled.  He was a man self-consumed, one who could not see beyond his own desires and the things of this world. He asked Jesus to convince his brother to give him his inheritance immediately. Jesus responded with a parable about those who pursue wealth at all costs, even to the detriment of their eternal condition.

The disciples must have wrestled with its meaning, perhaps even expressing their own fears and apprehensions about the struggles of life. Jesus took the time to explain.

“…I tell you, do not worry about life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. For life is more than food and the body more than clothes…Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?”

Worry changes nothing.

Jesus spoke to them of the ravens who neither planted nor harvested, yet God provided for them. He talked of the flowers that do not labor or spin yet are clothed more beautifully than the finest garments any king might possess. He talked of the grass in the field that is abundant one day and tossed into the fire the next.

At its heart lied an argument that ran counter to the ways of the world.

Anglican Bishop John Taylor Smith of England autographed his books on the inside of the front cover with the same message every time. The last stanza of his poem alludes to the point Jesus made to his disciples in Luke about living lives not consumed by worry. He wrote:

The worried cow would have lived till now
If she had saved her breath.
But she feared her hay wouldn’t last all day
And she mooed herself to death.

When you see the lilies spinning in distress,
Taking thought to manufacture loveliness;
When you see the little birds build barns for store,
That’s the time for you to worry, not before.

Jesus explained it with less whimsy.

“…you of little faith. Do not set your heart on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it. For the pagan world runs after such things and your Father knows you need them. But seek his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.”

The message: If God’s created order takes care of the smallest of his creatures, how much more will God take care of your needs.

Jesus challenged his disciples to trust in God’s provision and worry less about the things that ultimately do not matter. He encouraged them to focus instead on the kingdom of God and their work within it.

The lesson still rings true, even in our fearful and worrisome world.

In a dramatic statement of “do as I say, not as I do,” it seems to me that we worry when we focus on the wrong things. I’m guilty as charged. Matthew’s retelling of this story adds a word that Luke does not include. Jesus concluded his teaching by stating a sad truth about life.

“Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

No matter how rose-colored our glasses, each day poses its own unique set of problems we must face.

We worry when we quit living in the present…in the now. Worrying about what has already happened is useless. Worrying about tomorrow is fruitless. We stop worrying when we learn to live in God’s will one day at a time. It is this day and what we do with it that matters.

Theologian William Barclay writes that worry and anxiety are basically irreligious…worldly and not spiritual. He said, “Worry is not caused by external circumstances. In the same circumstance, one man may be absolutely serene and another man worried to death. Both worry and peace come, not from circumstances, but from the heart.”

Jesus said much the same thing in Luke as he ended his teaching. He said,

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

What my heart desires is my treasure. So what will I desire for today?

I wish I could say I never worry about things, but I do. Those moments slip up on me when I give no thought to faith. When my faith is lacking. When my heart focuses on worldly things. When I’ve treasured something other than my relationship with a loving Father in heaven who I know deep down will provide whatever is needed through every circumstance.

A new year begins. I’ll offer no petty resolutions I cannot keep. Instead, I’ll offer a renewed commitment to the kind of faith that allows me to walk through life circumstances unafraid of any outcome. I commit to putting my faith and trust in God at the center of my heart. With that comes the kind of peace that crucifies all worry and fear. With that comes peace.

“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 4:7)

That verses speaks to being content with living in the present when every temptation of the world tries to steal our joy. It offers praises to a loving God who will protect my heart and mind from the agony of anxiety. It is my trust in Christ that carries the day.

May this new year bring you peace through the unmeasured grace of God.

What’s Your Burning Bush

Background Passages: Exodus 3, Exodus 4, Mark 2:1-12; Mark 5:32-28

Not that it matters, but do you know the name of the instrument used by the ophthalmologist during an eye examination…the gizmo with the chin rest and all the dials and levers? I didn’t know its name either until my last visit with my eye doctor. I asked this time. Now I know. It’s a phoropter.

You’re welcome.

A phoropter is the instrument used to measure refractive error and determine your visual acuity. The patient sits behind the phoropter with chin in place and views an eye chart. The doctor changes lenses and other settings while asking a series of insightful questions.

“Is this better? (Click) Or this?”

As the doctor narrows in on the proper measurements, the distinction gets more difficult to determine. That’s usually when I start feeling like I failed the test. We went through the pattern again during my recent eye exam with the same questions, but this time, as we narrowed down the acuity, he simply asked,

“What can you see?”

It’s a fair question then. It’s an even better question when you look at its deeper, spiritual implications. I found at least one answer in the life of Moses.

This was not his first
brush fire.
A careless ember from a campfire.
A lightning strike.
All it took in the arid wilderness
to start a fire.
He had no idea how this one started.

After 40 years in Midian,
Moses had seen his share of wildfires.
At first glance,
this one looked no different.

Weary from an endless day.
Leading his sheep to
greener pastures
Moses saw the fire as he crested the hill.
A quick assessment deemed it a
minimal threat.
He thought,
“A little sand.
Smother the fire.
Problem solved.”

Moses took a few steps toward the flame.
He stopped abruptly in his tracks.
First,
Cautious.
Curious.
Then,
Confused.
Confounded.

For a long moment,
Moses stared intently into the
heart of the flame.

“Moses saw that,
though the bush was on fire,
it did not burn up.
So Moses thought,
‘I will go over and see this strange sight—
why the bush does not burn up.’

In that moment,
Once Moses saw something more
than a typical fire…
Only then,
did God call out,
“Moses!”

Apparently, Moses wasn’t the excitable type.

In one of the most understated sentences uttered by an Old Testament character, Moses, saw that the bush was not burning. He calmly said, “I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up.”

I’m pretty sure my response would have been a bit more dramatic…something like, “Holy Moses!…”

I’ve heard this story many times since I was a child. Saw it played out on flannel board and in children’s plays. I’ve heard multiple sermons about God calling Moses to lead his people out of Egypt.

What struck me this week about this story was not that God called Moses to do important work, but that God didn’t call Moses’ name until the shepherd noticed something never before seen. The sight itself was not unusual. At first glance, Moses saw a fire that he needed to put out. Nothing more. Then, he noticed something different.

“When Moses saw that, though the bush was on fire, it did not burn up…”

Then, and only then…only when Moses noticed that the bush was not being consumed by the fire did God call his name. God waited to call until Moses opened his eyes.

So I also wonder, after 40 years in the Midianite wilderness…how many signs from God did Moses miss before the burning bush captured his attention?

The question to me becomes personal. What signs from God have I missed? What is it I need to see before God can call me to do important work? What do I need to notice before he calls my name?

Really, what or where or who is my burning bush?

There is a difference between seeing and really seeing, isn’t there? I can see my wife’s shoes and not notice that that they are new. (A fact for which she says she is forever grateful.) I can see her dressed for a night out and not notice how pretty she is. (One of my less than redeeming qualities.)

When you really think about it. Jesus saw things that most people don’t see…ever.

Everywhere the disciples went with Jesus, they saw the crowds that followed. They saw the multitudes of people and the problems they caused. Mouths to feed against their meager resources. “We have no food to feed them. Send them away.”

Andrew, bless his heart, saw a child with five loaves and two fishes. Even in his seeing he didn’t really notice. “What difference will these make among so many?”

Jesus, scripture says, “saw the large crowd and had compassion on them.” He noticed their hurt. Their need. He looked past their empty stomachs and saw into their empty hearts. He glimpsed the same five loaves and fishes and saw an opportunity.

In Mark, Jesus saw the friends leaning over the hole in a roof of a packed house after lowering their paralyzed friend to the floor in front of him. Where I might focus on the man lying in front of me, scripture says Jesus “saw the faith” of his friends. Where I might have noticed a man in need of physical healing, Jesus noticed a man whose sins needed forgiveness. Where I might have been uncomfortable with the Pharisees and scribes mumbling in the background, Jesus saw their devious and wicked thoughts.

Jesus noticed things others couldn’t see.

Give Moses credit. Where I might see a fire, Moses saw a burning bush that was not being consumed. It wasn’t until he noticed the difference that God could speak to an open heart.

So, it begs a question…

What is my burning bush? What is your burning bush?

A neighbor we wave to, but never visit?
A homeless man we’ve passed every day on our way to work?
An estranged son or daughter whose phone call we don’t return?
An unfilled place of service within our church?
The person we know who keeps questioning our faith?
The scripture verse that keeps popping into our thoughts?
A need in our community that goes unmet year after year?

What is it you see every day, but never notice? Who is the person God is using to get your attention? Your burning bush and mine will most probably me different. That’s because he needs us to do different things. To touch different people. He has something special for you and me. The signs are everywhere…if we will just take the time to notice. He can’t call our names until we do because until we notice we won’t hear him call.

Here’s the rest of that story. From the burning bush God called Moses to do an extraordinary thing. A task so great Moses felt unworthy. Think about that. Staring at a bush that wouldn’t burn and hearing God’s voice from its flame, Moses thought of reason upon reason why he shouldn’t or couldn’t do this work.

His excuses are the very ones I use to give myself permission to ignore the call…

Who am I? They won’t listen to me. God says, “I will be with you.”
Who are you? God says, “Tell them, ‘I am who I am.’ Tell them who I am.”
They won’t believe me! God says, “I will give you what you need to show them.”
I don’t talk very well. What would I say? God says, “I’ll give you the words.”

You and I will offer up every excuse to keep from doing what we know God wants us to do. But, God will answer every excuse if we just make ourselves available. Here’s the absolute truth of the matter. God doesn’t show us a burning bush to capture our attention unless we are ready, with his help, to do his work.

William Hazlett, a 19th century English essayist, social commentator and philosopher noted that through mankind’s history “…millions saw an apple fall from a tree, but only Isaac Newton asked why?

Maybe it’s an apple falling from a tree or maybe it’s a burning bush. Whatever it is, take time to look at the world around you and really notice what you’re seeing. When you notice what you’re seeing, I believe you’ll hear God call your name.

No more excuses. No more justifications.

What is your burning bush?

It’s So Very Good

Background Passages: Genesis 1:1-2:3

Most of you know I grew up on a farm near Ropesville, Texas. Small town. Great people. The South Plains equivalent to Garrison Keillor’s Lake Wobegon “where all the women are strong, all the men good looking and all the children are above average.”

Growing up on that flat and treeless farmland on the South Plains of Texas provided endless vistas. The old joke says that in that part of the state you can watch your dog run away from home for three days. The horizon stretches forever in every direction.

That area of Texas has a desolate beauty all its own. You may have to live there for a bit to understand it, but it is a unique part of God’s creation.

That didn’t keep me from dreaming of far off places as I sat in Mr. Wallace’s sixth grade geography class. I saw pictures of places and things around the world I never thought I would see.

Decades have passed and I’ve been blessed to see many of those distant places in our travels. I am drawn to the wonder and beauty of God’s creation.

This week Robin and I are in the Canadian Rockies seeing yet another marvelous work of the Creator’s hand. While staring at the glow of a universe of galaxies and stars above Banff, it’s humbling to think these are the same stars and galaxies at which I stared as a child in the darkest nights out on our farm in West Texas.

Then, in the awestruck quietness of the evening, I recalled these words:

“In the beginning God created…”

Hear in those words the majesty and glory of a God so powerful he spoke the universe I see into being.

“In the beginning God created…” Please don’t make this a flashpoint for a bitter debate between a literal week in history or evolutionary process, spanning billions of years. Consider it simply man’s best effort to comprehend the incomprehensible. How he did it matters little. Why he did it pulses with eternal consequence.

In the beginning, God created a universe to open the possibility that you and I might freely decide to join him in relationship. Everything around us designed to focus our attention on him…to provide for our physical, emotional, social and spiritual well-being.

I’ve been reminded of the grandeur of God’s creation and my connection to him on a personal level. Felt him the mist of the waterfalls. Seen him in the deep forests and high meadows. Touched him as I dipped my hand in the pristine waters. Marveled at his majesty mirrored in his high mountains. An explosion of the senses.

Everything I’ve seen this week draws me to Genesis. Allows me to give thanks for God’s creation. To give thanks for giving me this life I’ve lived…and the one to come.

I am drawn to Genesis…to the beginning of his love for me.

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.

And God said, “Let there be a vault between the waters to separate water from water.” So God made the vault and separated the water under the vault from the water above it. And it was so. God called the vault “sky.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the second day.

And God said, “Let the water under the sky be gathered to one place, and let dry ground appear.” And it was so. God called the dry ground “land,” and the gathered waters he called “seas.” And God saw that it was good. Then God said, “Let the land produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to their various kinds.” And it was so. The land produced vegetation: plants bearing seed according to their kinds and trees bearing fruit with seed in it according to their kinds. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the third day.

And God said, “Let there be lights in the vault of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark sacred times, and days and years, and let them be lights in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth.” And it was so. God made two great lights—the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars. God set them in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth, to govern the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the fourth day.

And God said, “Let the water teem with living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the vault of the sky.” So, God created the great creatures of the sea and every living thing with which the water teems and that moves about in it, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. God blessed them and said, “Be fruitful and increase in number and fill the water in the seas, and let the birds increase on the earth.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the fifth day.

And God said, “Let the land produce living creatures according to their kinds: the livestock, the creatures that move along the ground, and the wild animals, each according to its kind.” And it was so. God made the wild animals according to their kinds, the livestock according to their kinds, and all the creatures that move along the ground according to their kinds. And God saw that it was good.

Then God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.” So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.

God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.”

Then God said, “I give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of the whole earth and every tree that has fruit with seed in it. They will be yours for food. And to all the beasts of the earth and all the birds in the sky and all the creatures that move along the ground—everything that has the breath of life in it—I give every green plant for food.” And it was so.

God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the sixth day.

Thus, the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array. By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so, on the seventh day he rested from all his work. Then God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.

What I see around me shouts to the existence of a Creator God who dragged his finger lightly across the landscape to carve the valleys and uplift the mountains I see around me.

I am eternally grateful for the beauty of the world around me. And, the amazing thing is, he did it all for me…and for you. I sit tonight staring at the stars reflecting on all I have seen today. I have to agree with his initial assessment.

It is good.

So very good.

Faith to Dig a Hole in the Roof

Background Passages: Mark 2:1-12 and Luke 5:17-26

In a world where so many people are hurting, it’s difficult to understand why there are so many empty pews in our churches. Many people blame organized religion for its lack of compassion and concern. Perhaps the fault lies not in the institution but in our individual response to God’s call for ministry and service.

The world seeks help for its problems, but no longer trusts the church to be its answer. When it tries, the world tends to ridicule our efforts, painting them with unintended ulterior motives. As a result, many well-intentioned Christians no longer make the time or effort to heal the brokenness they see in their families, friends and community.

We can learn a valuable lesson from a familiar story in Scripture about what it means to take the initiative in meeting the needs of others and persistently breaking through the barriers that prevent us from doing what we are called to do. Mark and Luke both share an early account of Jesus healing a paralyzed man in Capernaum.

*****

When Jesus taught, people noticed a difference between the words he shared and the hollow recitations cited by the religious leaders of the day. With Jesus, they sensed vitality and life…an authenticity and authority to his teaching that was lacking in the synagogues. Couple his unique teaching with the miracles he shared with the needy and the hurting and Jesus became a national celebrity.

Jesus’ reputation as a master teacher and miracle worker spread across Galilee and Judea like wildfire, prompting people to leave their homes to hear him teach and see him work. Drawn by his compelling words of truth and the hope of healing, crowds followed Jesus wherever he went.

On this particular day, Jesus was invited to teach in a home in Capernaum. It didn’t take long for word to spread. They came from Capernaum and throughout Galilee to hear him speak. Others who had journeyed from Judea, including a group of religious leaders from Jerusalem, caught up to him in this seaside village. As the day progressed, Jesus found himself teaching to a standing-room-only crowd.

The Pharisees took the choice seats in the house where Jesus taught. The rest of the people packed into every nook and cranny, blocking the doorway and leaning in windows trying to catch his words. The crowd eventually spilled out into the street outside, making it impossible for anyone else to get close enough to hear.

Four men traveled for days between villages, constantly following the rumors of Jesus’ location, only to find that he had moved on by the time they arrived. They carried a litter between them, bearing a friend whose body was broken and paralyzed, unable to lift even a finger.

Hearing so much about Jesus’ ability to do the miraculous, they had to get their friend before the great healer. They knew Jesus was their friend’s only hope. As they entered Capernaum, there was a buzz in the town. Jesus was here, teaching in a house near the sea.

Moving through the twisting streets, they followed the crowd to the place where Jesus was teaching. The press of the crowd so great and the people so inconsiderate the men could not get anywhere near the door. Each time they tried to get close they were pushed and shoved to the back of the crowd.

They laid their friend underneath a tree and sat beside him, full of disappointment and despair. One of them kept looking at the house, noticing that they could reach the stairs to the roof. Again picking up their friend, they climbed the steps to the roof of the house. With sticks and fingers, they began to chip away at the mud-covered branches. They work until their fingers began to bleed and they dug some more.

At last, one of them managed to get his hand through the roof. They increased their effort with renewed hope. If they could just get the hole big enough they could lower their friend into the room where Jesus sat.

Inside the room, an arrogant Pharisee looked puzzled and irritated as he brushed the dirt from his sleeve, looking angrily at the ceiling. Jesus, for his part, kept teaching with one eye on the ever-expanding hole above his head.

Finally, even Jesus had to stop what he was doing, the hole and the frenzied activity too great to ignore. With effort, the men began lowering their paralyzed friend by rope into the room until he was resting at the feet of the healer. Perspiring and covered in dirt, they peered into the hole they created and shared the man’s story with Jesus, begging him with such sincere words to heal their friend.

To the chagrin of the religious leaders whose brightly colored robes were flecked with dust and twigs, Jesus acknowledged the great love of these four men who sacrificed their time and energy for their helpless friend. Compassion poured from Jesus’ heart as he knelt beside the stricken man. Nodding in approval of the faith they demonstrated and addressing the man’s deepest need, Jesus held a quiet conversation with the paralyzed man before laying his hand upon his chest in prayer and telling him his sins were forgiven.

The Pharisees muttered to one another in their dusty robes, denouncing Jesus privately for his blasphemy.

“Why does this fellow talk like that? Who can forgive sins but God alone?”

Without hearing their words, Jesus knew their hearts. Never allowing his eyes to leave the man resting on the cot, Jesus responded to their thoughts.

“Which is easier? To say to this paralyzed man, ‘your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Get up, take your mat and walk?”

After a moment his eyes bore into the hearts and souls of the religious leaders until they cringed under the intensity of his gaze. “I want you to know the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.”

With a deep breath, he paused and prayed. Then, he smiled at the four men poking their heads through the hole in the roof and extended his hand to the paralyzed man. “Get up,” he said as he pulled him to his feet. “Take your mat and go home.”

Every miraculous healing pointed to the power of God demonstrated in Jesus. For anyone paying attention, each act of healing was proof conclusive of God’s power within him. The people left the home amazed at all they had heard and seen.

*****

The story reveals a lot about Jesus. Like the Pharisees we have much to learn about the power and authority we can find in him. But, I find a more personal message in this cherished story demonstrated by the faith of the four friends.

The accounts of this story we find in Mark and Luke are almost identical. Almost word for word. But Luke, the physician, uses a phrase that Mark does not include. Luke wrote this about Jesus,

“And the power was in him to heal the sick…”

On a day when the Holy Spirit was filling Jesus with great power, there was no one present who needed his help. Jesus’ audience that day consisted of people who loved to hear Jesus teach. There were present also a few religious leaders who felt a little threatened and challenged his every word. Yet, other than this one who was brought to Jesus by four wonderful friends, there is no mention of others who were present in need of healing.

On nearly every other occasion where Jesus taught the crowds, we read about the sick, blind, disabled and demon-possessed so desperately in need of Jesus’ touch. But not this day. Given what happened to these four men and their paralyzed friend, we can surmise that many of the sick and helpless were sent away, pushed to the periphery of the crowd. They were not invited inside.

So, despite having the power in him to heal the sick, there was no one present for him to heal…until four men traveled a great distance and refused to go away. I find that moment when they climbed on the roof instructive for my life as a Christian.

Could it be churches have empty pews because we don’t take the initiative to reach out to those in need and bring them to Jesus? Could it be that we find reasonable excuses to disregard the needs of others?

You see, faith demands that we take initiative to bring others to Christ. It wasn’t as if these four friends lived next door to the house where Jesus taught. The scripture implies that the paralyzed man and his friends journeyed over time and distance until they caught up with Jesus. It was an exhaustive effort to carry their friend across hill and valley to reach Jesus.

They didn’t wait for Jesus to come to their village. They didn’t send a messenger begging for Jesus to come for a visit. They didn’t wait for Jesus to just happen by. They didn’t simply tell their friend to find his own way to Jesus. They dropped what they were doing. They picked up the bed and they carried their friend to Capernaum and cared for his needs along the way.

What could happen in our churches if we took the initiative to bring others to Christ? To be enough of a friend to pick up the litter and carry it over time and distance until our hurting friend found the spiritual healing he or she needed and desired. Faith requires us to take the initiative to bring the lost and hurting to Jesus. Faith without service is no faith at all.

There is more to learn in the example of these four friends.

Could it be that churches have empty pews because Christians give up when challenged? Could it be that those who need our help get turned away at the door because we would rather just listen to God’s word than live it?

When these four friends arrived at the house they found every natural entrance blocked by the crowd. Carrying a paralytic and pushing through the unyielding wall of humanity proved impossible. It seemed they had come all that way for nothing.

They could have blamed the unsympathetic crowd. The poor choice of venue that didn’t allow enough people inside. They might have even blamed the paralyzed friend for hurting himself in the first place. When faced with the obstacles, they could have simply gone home. Their faith would not allow them to give up so easily.

Instead, they refused to let the obstacles stand in the way of the healing their friend needed. They found another way. They climbed to the roof and dug in.

You see, sometimes faith requires us to carry the litter to the roof and start chipping away at the dirt and branches until the hole is big enough to let us lower a hurting soul at the feet of our Lord. Faith demands persistence.

Persistent faith digs through a roof. Persistent faith wraps a rope around our hands to bear the weight of those in need.  Persistent faith often leaves us with dirt on our faces, cuts on fingers and rope-burned hands.

Yet, this much is true. When we take the initiative to bring others to Christ and when our faith is persistent in pushing through every obstacle that might prevent us from introducing others to our savior, good things will happen. We will find the power of Christ available to heal and help those in need.

What would happen to the empty pews in our churches if we took the initiative to introduce the world to Jesus? What would happen to the empty pews in our churches if we never gave up or gave in to the obstacles and distractions that stand in the way of ministry and service.

I suspect we might have a hard time finding a place to sit…and that would be just fine.

Your Servant is Listening

Background Passages: I Samuel 1:1-21

We live in a time when it seems people have a hard time hearing God speak. The noise of our technology, the rattle of the personal and global sabers and the drone of strident political debate drown out God’s voice.

Some might suggest that the low tide of our spiritual lives is a result of God backing away from us. That he has little to say because we have proven ourselves unworthy. Maybe. But, I don’t think that thought is consistent with the character and nature of God. More than likely, we are at fault. When we no longer hear God speaking it’s more likely because too few of us want to listen.

Life in America today reminds me of a distant time in Israel, when too few of God’s people listened for his call and direction.

“…In those days, the word of the Lord was rare; there were not too many visions.” (I Samuel 3:1)

I first heard the story as a child. The passage was sanitized somewhat to protect me from the more sordid details. It is the opening verse in the story of God’s call to Samuel to serve as his prophet in Israel.

You probably remember the story as I do. Samuel forever portrayed as a young child, sleeps in the temple after being dedicated to God’s service by his grateful mother, long unable to have children. As he serves in the tabernacle, he is one night awakened three times from his slumber. Samuel assumed the voice calling his name was his surrogate father and mentor, Eli, the priest. Two times Eli sent him back to bed telling him he was dreaming.

The third time, Eli realized that the boy was being called by God. He told him simply, “If you hear the voice again, answer, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” For the fourth time, the voice called to Samuel who responded as he had been instructed. “Your servant is listening.”

That childhood lesson ended there. The teaching clear. God calls. I must listen. This is a lesson I still need to hear, even as a senior adult. However, there is more to this story for those who want to take it to the next level.

First, God’s call is personal. When God speaks it is a personal message just for me. If his call were generic and meant for everyone, it would be far too easy to dismiss it. To lay at the feet of someone else. “That task is not for me. Let the church staff do it. That’s why we pay them.” When God calls, he is calling me. His call is applicable to my life. My call to service and ministry. It is personal.

Secondly, his call is penetrating. God does not need to speak in a voice of thunder that can cut through the noise, rattle and droning that dominate our lives. Don’t get me wrong. I’m living testimony that God will sometimes use a 2” x 4” across the nose to get our attention. His quiet call to salvation and service is capable of cutting through the most hardened heart and the most reluctant soul.

Thirdly, God’s voice is persistent. God’s will is not easily thwarted. He does not give up on us without a fight. So, when we don’t hear him the first time, he will call again…and again…and again. He will call out our name. He will tap us repeatedly on the shoulder. If we still do not respond, he will nudge another to remind us to listen, just as he nudged Eli. I’m grateful that he is persistent in drawing me to him.

While the story teaches much about the work of God in making the call, it also teaches us a lot about the response he desires from us.

First, I must make myself available to him. When Samuel heard the voice, he immediately got up from his slumber and responded to it. True, there first few times he didn’t know who was speaking, but he responded. He opened his heart to the possibilities. When God called Isaiah years later to carry a message of repentance to his people, the prophet responded in much the same way as young Samuel, “Here I am. Send me.” It has been the right response for ages. “Here I am.” I am available.

Secondly, Samuel eagerly responded. Each time his name was called, Samuel ran to Eli. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t walk. He didn’t wait until morning when it was more convenient. He got up and ran to the one he thought was calling with eagerness and anticipation. “Here I am,” he said. His actions said, “What can I do for you?” Samuel possessed a heart that was ready to be moved. A mind open to the possibilities. A spirit willing to act. It’s not enough to be available. We must be ready to respond immediately to God’s instruction.

Finally, Samuel served obediently. The children’s story ends with Samuel available and eager. The message for the rest of us takes it one step further. It calls for obedience.

If we remember the beginning of the chapter, Samuel lived during a time in which the people of God had a hard time hearing him speak.

“…In those days, the word of the Lord was rare; there were not too many visions.”

Israel’s spiritual leaders lost their focus. Eli, the priest, had grown old and complacent in his faith. His sons, also priests, used their positions of power to satisfy their own personal desires. They desecrated the sacrifices. They extorted payments from those who came to worship. To his credit, Eli confronted them about their sin, but they refused to listen. Eli, ultimately, failed to discipline them for their evil deeds, even after being warned of God’s displeasure.

The failure of the spiritual leaders led to the failure of the people to worship God fully. To allow him to lead and direct their lives.

God eventually told Samuel he was about to do a new thing in Israel that will make the “ears of everyone who hears of it tingle.” When God called Samuel, he placed upon him a heavy burden. Change was coming. God would assert his control over the lives of his people in an effort to draw them back to him, but it would come at a cost to Israel…to Eli and his family…and to Samuel. It would be Samuel’s responsibility to announce God’s judgment to Eli, man who served as father and teacher in his life. It would fall upon Samuel to chastise a king and a nation.

Despite the cost, Samuel did as God required. Because of his faithful obedience, scripture tells us,

“The Lord was with Samuel as he grew up and he let none of his words fall to the ground.” Samuel proved trustworthy in the word of God that he proclaimed. As a result, all of Israel knew him as God’s prophet.

Living as we do in a nation that prides itself as a “nation under God,” it’s sometimes hard to find the evidence of it. It feels as though we have drifted away from God and his purpose for our lives. I wonder what it will take for us to return to a place where our words and our actions reflect the will and purpose of God?

God’s message will always be personal, penetrating and persistent…calling us as individuals to respond to his voice. For when enough individuals respond with availability, eagerness and obedience, our words…which are God’s words… will not fall to the ground unheard and unnoticed.

Maybe all it takes are enough of God’s people saying, “Here I am, Lord. Speak, for your servant is listening.”

Return the Copper Nails

Background Passage: Psalm 51

A Christian man worked for a shipbuilder. The owner of the company considered himself an atheist. With disdain, he constantly mocking his employee for the futility of his faith, treating him with disrespect and contempt.

The Christian man was building a boat for his family in his backyard for his family. Because he could not afford them, he began stealing copper nails from the shipyard to use on his personal project. At first, just a handful. Then, he stole them whenever he needed more.

Perhaps it was the bosses attitude that convinced him that taking the copper nails was justified. Perhaps he felt he was owed more than he was paid. In every other way, the man’s life was exemplary. Yet, when it came to copper nails, he chose to ignore the voice of God within his heart.

*****

He was God’s chosen king. A faithful servant. Courageous warrior. Slayer of giants. Skilled musician. Leader of men.

David, a shepherd boy from Bethlehem, found himself called by God and anointed by Samuel as King of Israel. Such was the depth of his character that God called him, “A man after my own heart.” David earned that distinction. His reputation for humility, reverence, devotion and faithfulness created an aura about him, recognized by all he encountered.

Yet David, this man of God, experienced moment of abject failures. At times, human weakness consumed him. Consider his actions on a cool and sleepless night.

David walked onto the balcony of his palace overlooking the city below. In the moonlight, he watched as a beautiful woman bathed in the moonlight. Struck by her beauty and consumed with lust, he sent his servants to bring Bathsheba to him. What began as a night of illicit passion ended in pregnancy.

His folly did not end there. In a series of Machiavellian maneuvers, David compounded his sin. He was not swept away by circumstance …simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nor did he act on impulse. David’s sin was meticulously planned.

To protect his position, David devised a plan to bring Bathsheba’s husband, Uriah, home from battle to be with his wife. When Uriah refused to indulged in his own desire because his men were still at war, David schemed again. He sent the commander on a suicide mission. When Uriah was killed, David took Bathsheba as his wife, somehow rationalizing his actions as acceptable.

Like David, we face our own crisis of character. Sometimes we find the strength to walk through the danger to the other side. Sometimes we fail to be who we desire to be. Who God intends us to be. We engage in the sin that eats away our moral fiber. Rather than correct our path, we swallow our guilt. Push it deeper into the darkest recesses of our souls.

Such efforts seldom work. There comes a day when we must face the sin. Face the consequences of our choice. Do I keep living this way? Separate from the will of God? Do I repent and find a new way to live?

Sin we bury always rises to the surface when we least expect it. On a beautiful spring day when the prophet Nathan stood before the king, he brought words that would dredge up the long-buried sin David tried to hide from himself and from God.

Nathan spoke of a rich man who hosted an important visitor for an important dinner. As host, the rich man prepared a huge banquet in the honor of his guest. However, rather than slaying one of his own sheep for the table, he ordered his servants to take and butcher the prized lamb of the poor farmer next door. It was this lamb he served to his important guest.

David interrupted before Nathan could finish the story. Incensed. Furious.

“As surely as the Lord lives,
the man who did this deserves to die!
He should pay for the lamb four times over
because he did such a thing and
had no pity.”

The king’s anger echoed in the chamber, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Then, quietly and with no joy, Nathan said,

“You are the man.”

In that instant, the sin David buried in his soul, flashed before his eyes, a painful reminder of his spiritual failure. The burden of guilt welled in his eyes as he struggled with the weight of his mistakes. Hear the agony of his voice.

“Have mercy on me, O God,
According to your unfailing love;
According to your great compassion blot out my transgressions.
Wash away my iniquity and
Cleanse me from my sin.

“For I know my transgressions,
and my sin is always before me.
Against you have I sinned and done
what is evil in your sight.”

David’s story could parallel the hubris and folly in my life and yours a hundred times over. Time and time again we fail to live up to the standards of God. We fail to live up to the image of Christ. Then, in some way the Holy Spirit calls us to drop the pretense and take a good hard look at the face in the mirror.

When the eyes staring back at us break our hearts, maybe it’s time to throw ourselves at the mercy of a Father who loves us deeply. David came down from his throne and knelt before the throne of God with a changed heart, acknowledging his sin. Taking that first step toward reconciliation.

Once he confessed his failure, David knew that God only could take his sin away. Pleading for God to erase the sin from his heart. Seeking forgiveness and restoration.

“Cleanse me with hyssop and I will be clean;
Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.”

For all his failure, David knew what God required of him. He knew God wanted more from David than someone simply going through the motions. God desired a changed heart.

“You do not delight in sacrifice or
I would bring it.
You do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
A broken and contrite heart.”

It is one thing to acknowledge my sin. I can know that what I’m doing is against God’s will and still do it. Simply going through the motions will not suffice. My life will not change until my stubbornness is crushed. Until God pries opens my heart and breaks down my resistance. I change my life only when my spirit is broken and my heart sincerely open to God’s direction.

A contrite heart doesn’t make excuses or attempt to justify one’s sin. God is not interested in empty apologies or halfhearted resolutions. A contrite heart expresses with real and deep sorrow our personal rebellion against God. A contrite heart desires to live differently. A contrite heart also knows that change is not possible without God’s forgiveness.

David knew the power of forgiveness to renew his life. Consumed by guilt, he asked simply for God to allow him to hear again “joy and gladness;” to allow his “bones to rejoice.” Then in some of the most beautiful verses in all scripture, David expressed his desire to experience a new life in the presence of God.

“Create in me a pure heart, O God,
And renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Restore the joy of your salvation and
grant me a willing spirit to sustain me.”

A pure heart is intent upon living within God’s purpose and plan for its life. Focused on doing right. One where every thought and action reflects the teachings of Christ. It is only then that the joy we experienced when we first allowed Jesus into our lives is restored in perfect purity. It is only then that we find ourselves again content in our own skin. It is only then we can look into the reflection in the mirror and smile.

*****

For weeks the Christian man happily hammered the copper nails into his sailboat. Then, one Sunday, the pastor spoke about the two thieves surrounding Jesus on the cross. From that day forward, every stroke of the hammer pounded his sin more deeply into his heart.

After days of guilt, he laid his sin before God in repentance. He went to his pastor and confessed what he had done. He also knew he should also confess to his boss, but also knew it would give justification for the man’s arguments against his belief in God. He felt he could not confess his sin because it would reinforce the man’s disdain for God.

For weeks he struggled until he finally told his boss everything and paid him back for the copper nails he had taken. The man expected to lose his job. To his surprise his boss accepted his payment and said, “Any God that would cause a man to admit his failure might be a God worth knowing.”

All I know is that in my own life I’ve nailed a few stolen copper nails into my own boat. And, from time to time, I still do. Yet, it is not the way I want to live. When I am right with God and with those around me, I know true joy.

It is good to know that we serve a God who forgives a repentant heart. It’s good to know that our mistakes do not have to define us. God’s forgiveness frees us to serve again.

So God waits patiently for the contrite and broken heart to call out to him…

“Create in me a pure heart;
renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Restore the joy of my salvation.”

It’s time to return the copper nails so we may be useful again. That’s my prayer for all of us.

Strain the Camel

Background Passages: Matthew 23:23-24; 2 Timothy 1:7

I don’t much like weeding the garden. Well, that’s not exactly true. I hate weeding the garden.

Recognizing it needs to be done from time to time, I started in one small corner and began pulling up the blanket of milkweed that covered the topsoil. Painstaking and boring. I finished a 10-foot section of ground and looked back on what I had accomplished. All the milkweed was gone. Yet, there in the middle of the flowerbed I just cleared stood a very proud, 18-inch dandelion with a bright, yellow flower on top. So focused on the little weeds, I missed the big, ugly one right in front of me.

I wonder if that was what it was like for the Pharisees as they settled into their comfortable lives. So focused were they on complete obedience to the letter of law that they missed its intent. So comfortable in the routine of religion, they ignored the needs of a lost world, never practicing what they preached.

In other words, they laboriously pulled the milkweed, but ignored the dandelion. Jesus’ call to righteous living put a spotlight on the dandelion.

In the last days of Jesus’ ministry prior to his journey to the cross, we find him spending more and more time grounding his disciples in the deepest fundamentals of faith. The more he talked about the kingdom of God, the more his opponents protested, pressured and plotted to eliminate him.

Instead of a concentrated effort to discern the truth the Pharisees made a concerted effort to discredit every word he spoke. They picked at the minuscule and ignored the material. A master of hyperbole, Jesus challenged their hypocrisy. The religious leaders of the day took great care to cross every “t” and dot every “i” in their quest for religious piety. So focused were they on the legalities of religion, they missed the point of faith.

Jesus acknowledged that they regularly gave their tithes of mint, dill and cumin, but he chided them for failing to practice the important matters of the very law they claimed to obey. Where is justice? Mercy? Faithfulness? “You should have practiced the latter without neglecting the former.”

Jesus took them to task for their improper perspective. “You blind guides! You strain out a gnat, but swallow a camel.”

Had I been standing next to Peter and John that day, I’m pretty sure the snicker I failed to choke back would have drawn an ugly glare from the closest Pharisee and a pained glance from Jesus that said, “Really? That’s your contribution to this debate?”

What a powerful commentary Jesus made with a tongue-in-cheek comment. It is a brilliant analysis of the problems preventing the Pharisees from accepting the new truth Jesus brought to the world. They were so driven by the principle of not eating what they deemed unclean that they would use a cloth to strain their drink to make sure they would not accidentally consume the tiny, filthy insect. Yet, they never seemed to see the camel they swallowed whole.

Had I been walking next to Jesus later that afternoon, I suspect I might have apologized and rationalized my inappropriate behavior. “I’m sorry, Jesus, but that was a good line. Pretty funny. Did you see their faces?”

I think Jesus would have put his arm around me and said with a rueful smile, “It might have been funnier if it weren’t also true in your life, too, my friend.” As my mind reeled, I’d hear something about ignoring the 4” x 4” beam in my own eye.

I am, at times, guilty of the same Pharisaical behavior. The Pharisees practiced their faith. They made dedicated effort to comply with the ritual and rules, focusing in extreme measure on the “thou shalts” and the “thou shalt nots,” while spending precious little time on the “love thy neighbor.” Being right was a higher calling than doing right. I may not always be that different.

You and I live in a time when it’s fashionable to be hypercritical. To declare ourselves politically and socially holier than thou. You and I live in a time when pronouncing our truth rides roughshod over proclaiming his truth. When we love the sound of our own voice rather than seeking to sound the voice of love. Such arrogance drives people away from the very one to whom our deeds and our words should point and proclaim.

It’s easy to play the Christian card in a world struggling to do what’s right. Attend church every week. Sing a few songs. Sit through the sermon. Study his word in Sunday School. Gather up a few old clothes to give to the poor every now and again. Now, somehow, I’m better that that other poor soul. It’s not that these things are wrong. Like Jesus reminded the Pharisees, these are things that should not be neglected.

However, when we focus on the “things” of our religion to the exclusion of the crucial matters of our faith…justice, forgiveness, love, compassion, truth…

…we become critical rather than encouraging…

…we divide rather than bring together…

…we falsely elevate our standing in the eyes of God, and…

…we fail in the deeper call of Christ.

We wonder all the time how the Pharisees could be so obtuse, time and time again failing to recognize the truth of Jesus’s words because they threatened to push them out of their comfort zone. The truth is they lived in fear of the kingdom of God that Jesus personified. It upset their apple carts and threatened to pull down their carefully constructed walls that isolated them from a world in need.

Jesus tells them, “You put on a good front. Make a good show of things. But, your heart cannot see what I see. Until it does, you will continue to go through the motions, critical of those less “pious,” feeling safe and comfortable within the walls you built around you.

“Until you see the world through my eyes and move past the ritual and routine, you’ll keep straining that gnat and eating that camel.”

Jesus calls me to keep doing those things I ought to be doing, but to focus on what matters most. I must set aside the fear that keeps me from embracing in love a world that knows no better way. I need to step outside my comfort zone. To challenge what I believe and dig deeper until God teaches me the next thing I need to know to become more like him. Fear stared the Pharisees in the face and gripped their hearts. It does the same to me at times.

When he needed to encourage Timothy, the young pastor of Ephesus, Paul reminded him,

“God did not give us a spirit of timidity and fear, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.”

I also find that encouraging. My ability to move past the trappings of religion and into a full expression of faith rests not in my own ability, but in the power of God through his spirit within me. My desire to love others will not come from the goodness of my own heart but from a realization of sacrificial love and mercy God extends to me every day. My desire to see the needs of those around me and to, therefore, act, comes from the discipline to be more like Christ every day in every way.

I don’t know if you feel the same way at times, but, if we assume we’re doing pretty well at filtering out our gnats, maybe it’s time we both strain the camel.

A New Thing

Background Passage: Isaiah 43:18-21; Philippians 1:4-6

The passing of the annual torch from Father Time to Baby New Year has its roots in America in the fanciful illustrations of Joseph Christian Leyendecker, an early 20th century mentor of Norman Rockwell. Beginning with the December 29, 1906 edition of the Saturday Evening Post, Leyendecker started a 36-year publishing tradition by drawing an innocent, cherubic baby on the cover of the magazine’s last issue of each year in celebration of the arrival of the New Year. Each illustration suggested, “Out with the old. In with the new.”

Out with the old. In with the new. The New Year gives us the opportunity to forget the past and start with a new set of resolutions designed to make us better. I don’t suppose it’s ever a bad thing to reflect on the old year and then make the inevitable inner promises to reinvent ourselves. If you’re anything like me, however, a promise made in January’s daybreak rarely survives its sunset.

Coming so closing after the celebration of Christmas, I also find the New Year serves as a great reminder of the new work God has done in our lives through the birth of his son. A reminder to set aside the sins of the past and to recommit ourselves to the life God desires for us.

Isaiah, preaching to the people of Israel in exile, shared an encouraging word from God to his weary people. This is what he said,

“Forget the former things: do not dwell on the past. See! I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”

What is done is done. What is past is past. Despite a world of remorse or regret, we can do nothing to change a single moment of this past year. God reminds us through Isaiah, “Put your mistakes behind you. Don’t let them eat at your soul.” That’s always easier said than done. However, the continuous redemptive work of God tells a remorseful heart that the price of our sin has already been paid. Let it go. Look ahead.

When we finally turn our eyes from the failures of our past, when we finally let go of the baggage, we can look forward to the new work of God in our lives.

I love the words God shared with Isaiah. Hear the excitement in God’s voice as he tries to revive the broken hearts of his people. “See! I am doing a new thing!” It’s as if he is saying, “Look! Wake up! Don’t hang your heads! Look at the exciting things in store for you in the year ahead! I’m getting ready to rock your world! Can’t you see it?”

Was 2018 what you hoped it would be? I hope so, but maybe you found the past 12 months filled with pain, uncertainty, heartbreak and grief. Maybe you felt disconnected and alone. Maybe you realize you walked a path of your own choosing that took you too far from God. Maybe you just feel…off somehow. Just not quite right. Hear God’s word of encouragement. “See! I am doing a new thing!”

God’s word to the people of Israel promised restoration. He offers the same to us, especially when we are wandering in our personal wasteland and wilderness. He tells us with genuine excitement in his voice, “Have I got plans for you!”

Don’t make this New Year about resolutions. Make it about re-commitment. Focus on the new thing God is doing in your life. Open your heart to the possibility that this new thing he is doing will be the absolute best thing for your heart.

If you doubt this promise for a minute, consider Paul’s greeting to the Philippian church.

“In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident in this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”

The one who began this good work, this new thing, in your life will stay with you until it is finished. He will never stop working in our lives. Not in 2019. Not ever. So as we look to this New Year, it’s out with the old and in with this new thing God is doing.

I don’t know about you, but that makes me look forward to what this New Year will bring.

Chase the Lion

Background Passages: II Samuel 23:20; Jeremiah 29:11

The list of places to see and things to do on our imaginary bucket list grows shorter each year. One particular trip remains unchecked. We want to go on a photo safari to Africa. After far too many trips to the zoo, I’d really like to see these magnificent animals in the wild…the way God intended them to be.

Certain movies create that kind of visceral response. The Ghost and the Darkness, a 1996 movie starring Michael Douglas and Val Kilmer, is one of those movies that triggers primal fear within me. The Ghost and the Darkness is based on a true story about the Tsave Man-Eaters…two African lions that terrorized the workers on the Uganda-Mombasa Railroad in western Kenya in 1898. Atypical of most lion attacks, Ghost and Darkness would stalk the campsite and drag their victims from the tents into the tall grass.

Work on the project ceased when the workers refused to enter the area. The railroad company hired famed British hunter, John Henry Patterson to track and kill the lions. In the story of man versus beast, the hunter became the hunted as the animals began intentionally stalking Patterson. Every time I watch it I find it absolutely terrifying. That we have yet to go on our photo safari may best be explained by that movie and my irrational fear of being mauled by a lion.

Maybe that’s why an obscure verse in II Samuel caught my eye.

“Benaiah, son of Jehoiada, was a valiant fighter from Kabzeel who performed great exploits. He struck down two of Moab’s best men. He also went down into a pit on a snowy day and killed a lion.” (II Sam. 23:20)

I don’t know why Benaiah felt compelled to jump into the pit with a lion when most of us would run the other way. It was cold. Snowing. Perhaps the lion’s ordinary prey grew scarce in the frigid temperatures. Maybe the lion was terrorizing the village. Regardless, Benaiah took it upon himself to chase the animal down. When it fell into a pit or tried to hide in a cave (depending on your translation), Benaiah jumped in after him.

If you stayed outside the pit like I would, you would probably hear the frightening roar of the angry lion and the shouts of a determined man. The sounds of a life and death struggle would echo from the depths. Then, silence. You might hear the scratching of someone or something scrambling up the walls of the pit. As you start backing away, you see a hand grab the overhanging tree branch. Benaiah drags himself out of the pit. He lies in the grass catching his breath, scratched and bloodied, but victorious.

In his book, Chase the Lion, author Mark Batterson uses this little known scripture to challenge the reader to face fear and chase the will of God even when the path looks far too difficult. He writes, “In every dream journey there comes a moment when you have to quit living as if the purpose of life is to arrive safely at death. You have to go after the dream that is destined to fail without divine intervention.”

As Christians we are taught from the beginning that God has a plan and purpose for our lives. What most of us find is that the dream he gives us scares us. His will looks far too difficult. Our natural tendency is to reject what looks too hard. We look for an easier path. But, Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” (Luke 9:23) In other words, I should set aside my own will and desire to follow the more difficult path God has chosen for me…the one that requires me to take up his cross every day.

He doesn’t call us to play it safe. If that was his intention, we would have little need for him. No. The life he chose for us will not be easy, but the victory is already won. Later Jesus said, “I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

God’s plan for each of us requires us to chase the lion. That’s not always the most comfortable thing to do. We see the path God has laid out in front of us. Solitary lion tracks in the snow. A distant blood-curdling roar. Suddenly, we see clearly that God’s path takes us outside our comfort zone, especially when the path we want to take looks well-traveled. Smooth. Secure. Safe.

The Bible gives us examples beyond Benaiah of those who chose to chase…

Noah chased his lion onto the ark.
David chased his lion to Goliath.
Jesus chased his lion to the cross.
Peter chased his lion onto the water.
Paul chased his lion to Rome.

Lest we think such courage is best left to Bible characters…

Martin Luther tacked his lion’s carcass to the door of the cathedral.
The Pilgrims chased their lion to a new world.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer chased his lion to a Nazi concentration camp.
Martin Luther King chased his lion to Selma.
Billy Graham chased his lion across the earth.

Knowing the difficulty of the task to which God called them, each of these biblical and modern day heroes of faith probably wished to run the other way at some point. Instead, they chose to chase the lion. Maybe at some point, they heard the same voice Joshua heard when he fearfully scanned the Promised Land from the safety of his bank of the Jordan River. Maybe they, too, heard the voice of God saying,

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage. Don’t be afraid. Do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9)

I don’t know what lions you’re facing. I know they all look frightening. I have faced a few of my own. All I know is that God wants us to chase his will. To follow where he leads. When we turn and run the other way, we’re missing out on the best God has to offer simply because it is his plan and not one we dreamed up on our own.

“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)

So when you hear the lion roar, know that his blessing comes in the chase. Our victory comes in the pit. Gather your courage and jump on in.