Life Worth Living – Page 2

He Went About Doing Good

Background Passage: Acts 10:28; Galatians 6:9-10; Galatians 5:22-23, 25

I no longer watch much news. And in this era of rampant social media, I carefully pick and choose the type of post I read. I find myself listening less and blocking more and more posts, not because I disagree with them, but for their tone.

Both mainstream and social media fill the air and their column inches with bad news, hateful rhetoric and intolerance. Ending each newscast with a snippet of “good news,” does little to offset the divisiveness previously portrayed.

Don’t get me wrong. I truly believe there is far more good in this world than bad. Our urgency to celebrate the good and correct the bad needs to be foremost in our hearts and minds. Yet, when you listen to the voices of the world, it seems as though no one is trying to make a positive difference. No one is doing anything good.

The offhand comment spoken by Peter to Cornelius, an inquisitive, God-fearing Roman centurion, gets buried in a lengthy narrative about the work of God through Jesus Christ. I find it crucially important, especially in today’s world. Peter said of Jesus:

“…he went about doing good…” (Acts 10:28)

Peter encapsulated the entire ministry of Jesus in those five simple words. “He went about doing good.”

He healed. He fed. He comforted. He touched. He taught. He led. He encouraged. He restored. He challenged. Along his path and in his time, lives changed.

If we are to use Jesus as our role model, then we, too, must go about “doing good.”

In his letter to the churches in Galatia…modern day Turkey…, Paul spent time encouraging their behavior toward one another. Using tender words that speak of a doctor setting a broken bone so it would heal properly, Peter talked about restoring the sinner…healing the broken. He told these early Christians that a man will reap what he sows. That one who plants the seeds of sinfulness will reap the consequences of those actions and that one who lives by the spirit of God will find eternal life.

Then, his words encouraged the believers to “do good.”

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people…” (Galatians 6:9-10)

What is this “doing good” that Paul addresses?

For Paul, doing good had everything to do with living by the spirit of God. He addressed what it means to live by the spirit in the fifth chapter of his Galatian letter.

“So I say, live by the spirit and you will not gratify the desires of the sinful nature.” (Galatians 5:16)

For all practical purposes in our doctrine of the Trinity, there is no spiritual difference in God, the Father, Jesus, the Son, or the Holy Spirit. They are one and the same. Therefore, living by the spirit is to live as Jesus lived. To live as God desires us to live.

After running a long list describing our sinful natures, Paul added this:

“But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23)

In other words, “doing good.” These are the attitudes of the heart that prompt our doing good. The condition of our hearts compels us to heal, feed, comfort, touch, teach, lead, encourage, restore, challenge and change lives…just as Jesus did.

Paul told the believers that these acts were not one time deeds. You cannot spend just one day loving. We must love every day. We cannot do one kind thing. We must be kind continuously. If lives are to be changed, we must make the effort always. We must keep on doing good each day we live. Paul ended this part of the discussion by saying:

“Since we live by the spirit, let us keep in step with the spirit.” (Galatians 5:25)

Walking in relationship with the Father, through our trust in the Son and the influence of his Spirit. Every step of the way.

Paul said, “Do not grow weary of doing good.” If living in step with the spirit and doing good is such a high calling why would we ever grow weary of doing good?

We may find ourselves alone in the work. Criticized by those who do not understand. We may see our good deeds rebuffed, our efforts ignored. We may lose our own enthusiasm and start going through the motions. We may be doing the work in our own strength or for our own glory. We may lose faith that God is at work. We may grow discouraged because we cannot see the results of our labor.

What it boils down to is this. We grow weary of doing good because we lose sight of the ultimate goal of our work…to draw all to Christ. It is the reason for every act of goodness and its purpose is has eternal consequences for all we encounter.

Paul’s words pull us back to what matters most in our desire to do good.

When we explore the life of Jesus, we see it at every turn. Every action had a purpose. An intent. Everything Jesus did was meant to draw someone to accept the grace gift of salvation. He healed to remedy an affliction, but he did so hoping that the healed might believe.

He comforted to ease the suffering, but he did so hoping that the comforted might believe. He fed to erase the hunger pangs of the starving, but he did so hoping that the satisfied might believe. His deeds were an extension of who he was…an extension of his faith and trust in the Father.

Our doing good, modeled after Jesus, should have the same intent and purpose. Our actions ought to reflect our faith and trust in him. Every good we do ought to meet a need, hoping that those we helped will be drawn to God. That’s the aim of doing good. And it requires us to keep our eyes on that goal.

Florence Chaddick waded into the sea off Catalina Island 21 miles off the coast of California on July 4, 1951 with every intention of being the first woman to swim to the mainland. Swimming long distances was not new to her. She was the first woman to swim the English Channel in both directions just a few years earlier.

The challenge before her was less the distance than the chilly waters of the Pacific. On the morning of her swim, a dense, thick fog descended upon the ocean reducing visibility to a mere feet. Two boats accompanied her to keep her on track and to protect her from sharks. Her mother stood in the lead boat while her trainer followed behind.

She swam for hours never seeing beyond the lead boat. After a time, Florence began to complain about the water and the cold. She was ready to quit. Her mother provided encouragement and cheered her on. Florence continued to swim. When she would lag behind, her trainer in the back boat pushed her. Soon, she said she was done, unable to swim any longer. Her mother and trainer would not let her quit.

She struggled for a time more. After 15 bone chilling hours in the sea, Florence gave up. She climbed into the boat only to realize she had quit within a quarter of a mile of the coast. Later, she told a reporter, “If I could have seen land, I might have made it.”

Chadwick returned to Catalina Island the next year to try again. Though greeted by another foggy day, she dove in. She achieved her goal this time, remarkably besting the men’s record by more than two hours. On this occasion she made it by telling herself over and over again that the land was there. She just had to keep swimming.

Here’s my take away. Do not grow weary of doing good. Keep swimming. Trust that as you live by the spirit…on the course you’ve taken…that land is not that far away. In God’s appointed time, we will “reap a harvest if we do not give up.” Our work is not for naught. God is at work in our doing good.

I’ll simply end by echoing Paul’s final encouragement to look for every chance we have to do what is good and right.

“Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people.” (Galatians 6:10)

Somewhere in Your Silent Night

Background Passages: Psalm 69; Luke 15:1-6; Ephesians 3:14-19

On the one hand…

You can see the anxiety in the eyes behind the masks. You can sense the anguished emotions in social media posts announcing the hospitalization or death of a loved one or friend from the coronavirus.

You can feel the desperation as you drive past empty businesses, stores and restaurants representing the livelihood of people who own the establishment or work within the organization.

There is palpable unease among educators and parents at the prospects of in person school or another semester of online learning.

On the other hand…

A foreboding sense of frustration exists among those who struggle with the restrictions imposed during this time of pandemic. Their hearts, not personally touched by the tragedies caused by the virus, long for a return to normal. A cacophony of mixed messages create distrust of any word that runs counter to their hopes. They find it hard to believe in anything.

It doesn’t take a long look at social media to see that a great many people are at their breaking point. Two sides of the same coin. Both struggling for answers.

The Psalmist would understand these feelings of distress.

“Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in the miry depths where there is no foothold…I am worn out calling for help. My throat is parched. My eyes fail looking for my God…Answer me, Lord, out of the goodness of your love. In your mercy turn to me. Do not turn your face from your servant; answer me quickly, for I am in trouble. Come near and rescue me…I looked for sympathy but there was none, for comforters, but I found none.” (Psalm 69:1-3; 16-18, 30)

In a world experiencing such uncertainty, a roiling tension simmers just beneath the surface threatening to consume us. In such a place it is easy to feel out of sorts. Isolated. Lonely. Agitated. Anxious.

His undying hope in the Lord was his answer.

“I will praise God’s name in song and glorify him with thanksgiving…you who seek God, may your hearts live!” (Psalm 69:30,32)

Have you noticed that we tend to revive our hope during Christmas? Despite the issues we’ve faced during the year, the celebration of that day when hope came to live among us, changes our perspective. Sadly, for far too many, the feeling dissipates with the aging of the new year. It seems to be the case in 2020.

Maybe we need a little Christmas this July.

I’m trying to exercise more amid the weirdness going on around me. I listen to music as I walk or swim as a way of breaking up the repetitive nature of my workouts. I usually set my player on “shuffle” to get a variety of tunes. This week, for the first time, one of the songs that popped up was from a Christmas album by Casting Crowns.

When the music began playing during a recent walk, I started to click past it. It’s way too early for Christmas, I thought. For whatever reason, I let it play. I heard a song with a message too beautiful for one season.

Listen to Somewhere in Your Silent Night.

It is not hard to imagine a great many of us laboring with our thoughts as we lie in bed in the middle of the night. Minds racing. Unable to sleep. Amid the stillness and quiet, our hearts are troubled by the circumstances in which we find ourselves. A country that feels like it’s tearing itself apart. All authority questioned. People at odds with one another. A deadly and debilitating illness threatening every family. Our lives turned upside down.

In the escalating tension of our lives, it’s hard to find life’s joy and peace. As the song says, “you feel too far gone and too far out of reach.” Like the Psalmist, our broken hearts cry out for relief. We long for comfort.

The lyrics remind us that in the middle of the silence, heaven hears our broken hearts. Hope is here. Love comes to find us in the form of the baby in a manger who grew to be the man on the cross.

Here are the words that spoke so clearly during my walk.

“From heaven’s height to manger low,
There is no distance the Prince of Peace won’t go.
From manger low to Calvary’s hill
When your pain runs deep his love runs deeper still.

“Lift your head. Lift your heart.
Emmanuel will meet you where you are.
He knows your hurt.
He knows your name.
You’re the very reason that he came.”

The Bible tells it in a beautiful story in Luke of the shepherd tending his flock. As he frequently did, the shepherd counted them all to make sure none were lost. This time he found one sheep missing. Immediately, he scoured the hillside. Crawled through the gullies and crevices. Tore through the thicket of thorns. Braved the lion’s den.

He searched through the night until he found the one who was lost. Tending to its needs, he carried the animal in his arms, ensuring that no harm would come. When he placed the lamb back into the fold, he rejoiced.

God is there for his flock, but he will go to great lengths to find the lost and broken.

This is an unusual time, but none of this weirdness caught God by surprise. No matter how deep your hurt, God’s love is deeper still. No matter how lost you feel in the moment, he will never stop calling your name. In the middle of your anxiousness, his love will find you.

No. It’s not Christmas. If, however, Christmas is a time to remember our hope in the God who is ever-present in this hurting world, then now is as good a time as any to put out the Nativity and sing a few carols of joy and peace.

Now is as good a time as any to celebrate that he came and that he remains with us. Now is as good as time as any to allow God to find you where you are because you are the reason he came.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. Just call on his name and…

Love will find you.

Paul’s prayer for the church in Ephesus seems appropriate today. It is my closing prayer for you.

“For this reason I kneel before the Father…I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how long and wide and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” (Ephesians 3:14-19)

Amen and again, Amen.

Finding Hope Amid the Hopelessness

Background Passages: Psalm 31:24, Psalm 33:18, Romans 5:3, Isaiah 40:31, Romans 12:12, Jeremiah 29:11

If our coronavirus, racial-tense, economically stricken world has taught us anything, it’s that the things of this world will confound and confuse us, rust away and lose their luster, or fizzle out and fade away.

Maybe we can handled one or two of those things happening at the same time. When we are hit with a tsunami of negative news and issues seemingly without solution, the feeling of hopelessness can overwhelm us.

I’m a generally optimistic person and I admit I’ve felt it at times during the past five months. We wonder: “Will we survive this?” Or “When will this ever end?”

Two verses provide a message for our worrisome day.

“Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord.” (Psalm 31:24) “The eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him; on those who hope in his unfailing love.” (Psalm 33:18)

The verses beg the question. What is our source of hope?

Several years ago, psychologist Dr. Shane Lopez began to ask those he encountered what they meant when they talked about hope. To get the conversation started, he asked his friends and clients to take the Head-Heart-Holy test. It starts, he said, by asking the question, “Given your background and all life experiences, where does hope originate?”

The analysis determines whether one’s hope comes from one’s head (That which you believe and think you can control), heart (The emotions that respond to events and guide your actions) or whatever one finds sacred (the belief in God or some higher power at work). Lopez says that most people ascribe hope to the heart…a feeling that comes and goes depending on life events and circumstances.

It seems to me if you’re dependent upon life circumstances as a basis of hope, much of your life will be spent in a frenzied foxhole, hoping to avoid what feels inevitable. For those of us who put our faith and trust in Christ, the origin of hope is found in a leap of faith, especially in the darkest times.

Growing up on a farm 22 miles from the nearest decent sized city, I took for granted the stars in the night sky. I remember looking up late at night and seeing the clear band of the Milky Way spreading across the night sky amid a universe of galactic pinpoints of light. After living almost all my adult life in the suburbs of Houston, it’s a rare night outside when I can see more than a handful of the brightest planets or star clusters.

Stars are amazing and beautiful, but you can only see them at night. The deeper the darkness, the brighter, and more plentiful, the stars.

The stars prove to be an interesting metaphor for Christian hope. We rarely call upon it in the light of prosperity and peace. We hold onto it, but don’t draw upon it. No, we discover hope in the dark night of adversity. Famed pastor C. H. Spurgeon wrote, “Hope is like a star. Often, we only see it when we are facing suffering.”

The point he was trying to make, I think, is that difficult times cause us to call upon our hope in Christ. Paul told the Roman church that the persecution they faced would eventually lead to hope.

“…We know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” (Romans 5:3)

If we truly believe that God can find a way to bring about good even in the most difficult circumstance as he tells us in Romans 8:28, then the dark days of pandemic, turmoil and financial stress should elicit the hope within us. It is a trust that God is at work in our lives and in the world and that the final outcome, the final victory is his…and by extension…ours.

If suffering is a part of life, which our experience tells us it is, we get to choose whether or not it will overwhelm us. Our security comes from the one in whom we believe, not from our own feelings or emotions which tend to weaken our knees. The difference between the Christian’s response to trouble and that of one without Christ is hope.

This verse in Isaiah stands to me as one of the most uplifting and poetic passages in all scripture. It speaks to the natural outgrowth of Christian hope.

“…but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not be faint.” (Isaiah 40:31)

When fear and worry begin to gnaw at my soul, that verse echoes off the walls that seem to surround and trap me. I hear it and the difficult steps I have to take get easier, less heavy-footed. My whole demeanor and attitude change.

Troubled times have a season. They will come and go. Ebb and flow. My approach to the trauma of the day becomes one of joyous hope as I try to wait upon God to answer prayers. Yet, this is what is required of me.

“Be joyful in hope; patient in affliction and faithful in prayer.” (Romans 12:12)

For most of those Dr. Lopez surveyed, hope was conditional, framed by the circumstances in which they found themselves or the people with whom they were surrounded. Our hope as Christians is not grounded on circumstance, people or our own personal choices. Hope is found in Christ alone. It is a refrain pronounced by Edward Mote, a 19th century London cabinetmaker turned minister. In 1863, he penned the words of one of the great hymns of all time.

“My hope is built on nothing less
than Jesus blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame
but wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

“When darkness veils his lovely face,
I rest on his unchanging grace.
In every high and stormy gale,
my anchor holds within the veil.

“On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand.
All other ground is sinking sand.

Hope shines brightest in the darkest storms. If your experiences in this messed up world give you a sense of foreboding, helplessness and hopelessness, know that God’s hope shines brightest in the darkest storm. He is the only solid rock in a quicksand world.

The hope we have is not based on circumstances, people, or even our own choices – hope is found in Christ alone. What a comfort this is to our lonely and hurting hearts! God is faithful and will not disappoint.

Rest your heart upon this word.

“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)

Somehow, that makes me feel better. May we all test positive for hope this week.

A Cautionary Fish Tale

Background Passages: Matthew 17:24-27; I Cor. 9:19-22; and Hebrews 4:15

For two days
they fished the Sea of Galilee.
The catch?
A little light in the net.
Good.
Not great.

Josiah hauled the barrel of fish to market.
Eli stayed in the middle of the lake,
casting the nets.

Selling the tilapia and carp in Capernaum
earned the two partners
a four-drachma coin.
Two day’s wages split
two ways.

That afternoon,
Josiah rowed his boat
alongside his brother’s skiff.

“How much?”
asked Eli.

“Barely enough,”
was the disappointed answer.

Josiah pulled the coin from the small bag
hidden in the pocket of his robe.
Handed it to his brother.
They fumbled the exchange and the
coin slipped from their fingers
into the water.

They watched helplessly as the sun glinted off
the silver coin as it twirled and tumbled
deeper into the sea and
out of sight.

Two days’ earnings lost.

The flash of light on silver caught the eye of a
carp swimming beneath the boat.
On instinct the fish struck and swallowed the object,
Cold and hard.
Lodged in the gullet.

And, the fish swam away.

Except for the fishermen who spent the rest of the day kicking themselves for their carelessness, this imagined episode was an insignificant event of life on the Sea of Galilee. Yet, God used this story to explain a critical truth about his son.

Jesus and his disciples arrived in Capernaum at a time when the “temple tax” was due. Once a voluntary gift to support God’s work at the temple in Jerusalem, the Romans twisted it into a mandatory tax to build its own pagan temples. Once a year, collectors set up a table on the outskirts of every Jewish town requiring everyone to pay the equivalent of a day’s wage to the Roman government. An unpopular tax, as you can imagine.

Jesus and his disciples had gained some notoriety among the people of Capernaum. This seaside village was his Galilean base of operation. Peter lived there. It is not unreasonable to assume the tax collector knew Peter well. As the disciple passed that day, the man, perhaps a natural critic and skeptic of Jesus and his work, challenged Peter.

“Does your teacher pay the temple tax?”

Without a glance at the tax man, Peter’s answer was terse and to the point. “Yes.”

Peter walked the streets toward his mother-in-law’s home where Jesus was staying, stewing over Roman arrogance and the abuse of the temple tax. The idea of paying a tax to build a pagan temple offended him. A few minutes later, Peter angrily pushed open the door, banging it against the wall.

Startled, Jesus looked up from the table where he sat eating a fig. With the insight of God’s spirit, Jesus took one look at the disciple’s face and answered the question before it was asked.

“What do you think, Simon? From whom do the kings of the earth collect duty and taxes? From their own children or from others?

Understanding the privileges of power, Peter looked at his feet and mumbled, “from others.”

“Then the children are exempt. But, so that we may not cause offense, go to the lake, throw out your line. Take the fish you catch. Open its mouth, you will find a four-drachma coin. Take it and give it to them for my tax and yours.”

What an odd and obscure passage of scripture! It’s no surprise, I guess, that Matthew is the only gospel writer to tell this unusual story. As a former tax collector, it was, after all, in his wheelhouse.

Though I read the passage in the past, I never gave it much thought. When I skimmed it this week, I stopped. The words of the Bible were not written by chance. So, why put these three verses in scripture for us to read?

Barclay tells us in his commentary that the story is a mini-parable. A story. He says Jesus would never use his power for something so mundane as to pay his obligations. Remember the temptations of Christ in the wilderness? Barclay says its Jesus’ way of telling Peter that his followers must pay our lawful debts, even when they find them distasteful. Jesus used this dramatic story to tell Peter, go fish. Earn what we need to earn to pay this tax.

I can buy the idea of a parable, but I’m not sure this commentary’s hammer is hitting its nail squarely.

The parable teaches us about Jesus. Draws our attention to him. Matthew’s gospel addressed the Jewish people who longed for the promised Messiah. It also speaks to all of us in need of the redemption offered by God through Christ. The story is about Jesus. King of the Jews. The atonement for sin. The ransom for the soul to which all the Old Testament and Jewish law pointed. As such, it is an important word.

However, when put in its broader context, maybe there is more we can learn. According to Matthew just a few verses earlier, Peter was among a trio of disciples to recently witness the transfiguration of Jesus on the mountaintop. They heard the affirmation of God declaring his love for his son and his pleasure at his work. When the experience was over, the disciples didn’t want to leave the mountaintop. They wanted to remain in awe-inspired, blissful worship. Jesus and his disciples, though, had more work to do so down in the valley.

With that remarkable experience still fresh on Peter’s mind, the tax collector confronted him in Capernaum. At that moment, I can see Peter bristling at the idea of paying a Roman tax when his master had just been affirmed by God in the presence of Moses and Elijah. There’s a sort of “Don’t you know who he is? or “Don’t you know who I am?” kind of arrogant vibe to the encounter. “This is God’s son you’re hassling, buddy! And I’m his right hand man! Back off!”

Peter really wanted to tell Jesus about the irritating encounter. Before he could get a word out, Jesus,with his keen insight into human nature, opened the conversation. It’s interesting that Jesus used Peter’s old name in this passage. He called him “Simon.” Jesus reverted to Peter’s birth name on those occasions when Peter was not acting like “the rock” he needed him to be. I suspect when Jesus addressed the disciple as Simon it was the same as my Mom calling me, “Kirk Allan.” A “what have I done this time?” moment.

Peter probably answered Jesus’ question tentatively, with uncertainty in his voice, “the others…”, but he answered correctly. The implication from Jesus clear. “On one level, Peter, you’re not wrong. You and I both know I’m the son of God. You heard as much on the mountain. As the son of God I am under no obligation of any kind to man’s law and rule. But, that’s not the point, is it?”

Then, Jesus uttered a phrase that changes Peter’s perspective from a position of holy supremacy to a posture of humble service.

“So that we may not cause offense…”

Those who know tell me that the Greek word used for “offense” in this passage means “to cause someone to stumble.” It suggests that even though Jesus, by nature of who he is, had no obligation to pay this tax, he would pay it so his refusal would not be an obstacle placed before the Jewish people. He didn’t want to create an issue that would distract from the message he preached.

Paul reflected a similar attitude with the Corinthian church.

“For, though I am free from all men, I have made myself a servant to all, that I might win more…I have become all things to all men that I might by all means save some. (I Cor. 9:19-22)

Jesus didn’t come to make a political or cultural point. He came to redeem a world that had lost its way. Throwing up obstacles, creating distractions, would not get it done.

Jesus constantly made conscious decisions throughout his ministry to set aside his position as God’s son consistent with his pattern of grace and sensitivity to the struggles of others. The writer of Hebrews reminds us…

“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are…yet he did not sin.” (Hebrews 4:15)

As an act of love, Jesus…

set aside his place as the son of God…
never compromised his message or ministry…
complied with the mundane…
replaced condemnation with forgiveness…

all in an effort to avoid setting obstacles in front of those whom he wanted to place their faith in him.

I wonder if that’s not the best lesson found in this fish tale? As children of God, we see many things in this world that we know are not right. Actions counter to God’s law and his will. It has become so easy to condemn without grace. To set barriers between those who offend our political and cultural convictions and the salvation offered by Jesus’ death and resurrection.

The story causes me to think. What barriers have I erected? What have I said or done in my own arrogance that would stand in the way of my witness to others about Christ?

“So that we might not cause offense…”

It’s a fish tale worth considering.

God’s Perfect Roadmap

Author’s Note: This week finds me in Peru beginning a mission trip with my church in one of the most impoverished area near Lima. The following devotional thought is an excerpt from my third book, God’s Mirror Image: 15 Ways You Can Live A Christ-Like Life.”

Background Passages: Genesis 1:27; John 14:9; Matthew 5:1-12

I pored through a number of old 35mm slides, pictures taken by my parents when my siblings and I were small. I enjoyed sharing those captured memories with my children and grandchildren. Fascination grew as we recognized family resemblances across generations…the power of genetics, I suppose. If I heard it once, I heard it several times, “I see your Dad in his eyes.” “You look so much like your uncle at that age.” “She is the spitting image of your mother.”

There is some measure of joy in knowing that we physically resemble those most dear to us. Then, I wonder, when others look at us, do they see how closely we resemble Christ in spirit and deed? Can the world see Jesus…see God…in us?

“So God created man in his own image,
in the image of God he created him;
male and female he created them.”

On the surface, being created in the image of God seems such a complex theological concept requiring a deeper understanding of the nature and spirit of the Creator himself. But, it’s really not that hard. Jesus told his disciples, “If you have seen me, you have seen the Father.” In other words, we find in the character of Jesus Christ, the very nature and spirit of God. The image of God reflected in the life of Christ. To be the image of God in our world, as we were created to be, simply requires us to be like Jesus.

So, how are we to know what that looks like?

Every gospel story reveals the character of Christ. We can identify in Jesus God’s compassion, love, faith, humility and honesty. We find in his teachings keys to living as the image of God.

People flocked to Jesus early in his ministry in Galilee, drawn by the candor and consistency of his teaching and the power of his healing. As he left Capernaum one day, the crowd pressed around him to hear his words and feel his touch. Eventually, somewhere on the northeastern shore of the Sea of Galilee, he sat himself down on a rocky hillside and began to teach. Matthew records this event as the Sermon on the Mount.

Rather than being a single event, the Sermon on the Mount may be a collection of ideas that Jesus taught over and over again throughout his ministry captured by Matthew as a summary of his teaching themes. William Barclay, in his commentaries, suggests as much.

One of the most beloved segments of this passage is known as The Beatitudes, a passage that unveils the character demanded of those who desire to be a part of the kingdom of God. When you look at the passage and look at the life of Christ, you’ll find that Jesus modeled each characteristic in his daily walk.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of God.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness,
for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Jesus teaches about kingdom living. Think of them as proverbs or declarations. Assuring us that we will feel blessed as a result of our actions or attitudes that align with the expectations of the Father. That demonstrating these character traits leads to promised rewards.

Consider the word “blessed.” Some translations substitute the word “happy” rather than “blessed.” But, “happy” feels too frivolous. Too superficial. Think, rather, in terms of the contentment, joy and peace that comes from being in right relationship with God. It cannot be dampened by external circumstances.

Happiness may be a part of the equation, but take it deeper into the heart of our relationship with the Father. One commentary called being blessed “a pledge of divine reward for the inner spiritual character of the righteous.” I like that. Jesus promises that if we live in such a way as to reflect the character of Christ, we will be filled with inner peace and joy.

Focus on the specific character demanded of those who would be a part of the kingdom of God and the promise that follows. Blessed are…

…the poor in spirit.
To be poor in a financial sense is to be destitute. To be poor in a physical sense is to be oppressed. To be poor in the spirit is to be humbled, to live without arrogance or self-sufficiency. It speaks to the person who recognizes his or her sinful nature; who comes to God each day with a contrite heart; knowing that God’s grace is an unmerited gift that promises a life within the kingdom of God.

…those who mourn.
Everyone in this life will experience sadness and grief. Such mourning is a natural part of the ebb and flow of life. Here, Jesus speaks of those who mourn for a lost world; for the sinfulness that serves as a barrier separating us from God…from the relationship he desired with us when he created us. If we don’t grieve for the lost we will never feel compelled to share the love of Christ with a ruined world. God will provide comfort for those whose hearts break when confronted by sin and disbelief. Comfort which allows us to continue the hard work of reconciling a lost world to the one who loves them so much.

…the meek.
Think of meekness not as passivity or weakness. That is the world’s definition. Its first century meaning carries an idea of self-control…gentleness…kindness…all fruits of the spirit identified by Paul. The meek control their instincts and impulses, harnessing the passion and power within them to build and edify, to lift up rather than tear down. They see all things through the eyes of empathy, hearts free of evil intent and purpose. These are people who treat everyone with respect and dignity regardless of their station in life.

…those who hunger and thirst after righteousness.
Hunger and thirst represent our most primal needs. When truly hungry and thirsty, a body will do almost anything to secure food or drink. Little else seems to matter. To hunger and thirst for righteousness is to demonstrate that strongest spiritual desire to understand and act upon the will of God. Our passion to live for him takes precedence over anything else. Therein lies the promise. The one who seeks after God will have those needs satisfied. His or her life filled with the joy of knowing who walks beside you.

…the merciful.
Mercy is an act of grace. Despite our sinful ways, God offers his forgiveness, requiring only a contrite heart. It is pure, unmerited grace. Mercy is not a quality limited to God alone. As believers in Christ discover his forgiveness, mercy toward others ought to be a natural outgrowth of our hearts. People hurt us. Ignore us. Sin against us. Hate us. Persecute us. We face a choice: retaliate or redeem. Mercy finds expression in the kindness and compassion we extend even to those who hurt us. It is a quality borne out of the mercy God extended toward us even when we hurt him. As we forgive, so are we forgiven. That is the promise of God.

…the pure in heart.
When the Bible speaks of the heart, it speaks to the center of will, the choices we make. Pure in heart means the decisions we make, the desires we hold, the intent of our thoughts and deeds must be unblemished with sin, wholly pleasing to God. The purity of our hearts lies at the center of every characteristic proclaimed in the beatitudes…our mercy, our quest for righteousness, our meekness and humility. Jesus told Nicodemus, “You must be born again” to suggest a spiritual change in his heart. To take that which was unclean and purify it from all self-interests and desires.

Jesus promises those who would listen that the pure in heart would see God. There is certainly within this statement a promise of our life eternal in the presence of the father. It might also suggest that the pure in heart have within them the capacity to see God in every circumstance…seeing his presence in life’s heartbreaks and horrors as well as its blessings and bounty.

…the peacemakers.
The kingdom of God is a kingdom of peace and yet we are too often at war with one another. The broken relationships, the societal divisions, the political acrimony, the racial bigotry drive a wedge between God’s people. Joy comes to those who find ways of bringing people together in the love of Christ, reconciling others to God and to one another. This statement promises the peacemakers will be called “Sons of God.” The Old Testament called angels the Sons of God. Angel may be an apt description of those who act as God’s peacemakers.

…the persecuted.
Living a lifestyle exemplified by the characteristics listed in the beatitudes puts one in a precarious place. The life God demands of his children is a life the world opposes and rejects. All who identify with Christ face a hostile world that tolerates in the best of times and terrorizes in its worst. God offers a promise to those who face such opposition. Hold on. Run the race. Keep the faith. God’s kingdom is yours forever.

I go back to the beginning. We are to live as the image of God. That’s how he created us. We discover how to do that by looking at the life of Christ and paying attention to his teachings. Throughout his ministry Jesus taught us how to live and modeled those choices every day of his life. He lived and breathed every action and attitude he taught in the beatitudes. If we are to live like him, as the image of God, we ought to do the same.

The promise of the beatitudes is not a pie-in-the-sky, wait for it, kind of promise. Barclay writes, “…the beatitudes are not pious hopes of what shall be; they are not glowing but nebulous prophecies of some future bliss; they are congratulations on what is…It is a blessedness (a joy and peace) which exists here and now.”

Live it and claim the promise.

*****

Author’s Note: You can pick up a copy of God’s Mirror Image at the Barnes and Noble Bookstore in Pasadena, Texas, or you can order it online from Amazon.com or any online bookstore. My other books are Put Away Childish Things and The Chase. All are available from Amazon.com or any online bookstore. If none of those options work for you, contact me at kirkallanlewis@yahoo.com. Thanks to all who take the time to read my books and my blog. It’s my prayer that God speaks through each word to each of you.

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.

Discerning what is Good, Pleasing & Perfect

Background Passages: Romans 12:1-2; I Thessalonians 5:21-22; Romans 7:15-18: Philippians 1:9-10

While eating out after Sunday evening’s service, a friend of mine spilled a little salt on the table. He quickly took a pinch of it and threw it over his left shoulder, while mocking the age-old superstition. I gave that incident no thought until I saw another friend’s Facebook post this week that led with a picture of Di Vinci’s masterpiece The Last Supper.

Leonardo Di Vinci’s The Last Supper is among the most recognized paintings in history. I cannot imagine how many times I’ve viewed that image. Yet, the story posted on Facebook pointed out a small detail in the painting I never noticed. Near Judas’ right elbow on the table is a depiction of a spilled bottle of salt.

The Facebook story reported that spilling salt has been associated with bad luck for centuries, a sign that the person who spilled it was evil or intended evil upon another. Di Vinci took that small stroke of his brush to paint Judas with wicked intent. Now, I don’t know if that was the message Di Vinci intended or if he just wanted to add an element of realism to the scene. It does make an interesting story.

For my purposes, the salt is a sidebar. Here’s where I’m going with this. It amazes me how often we view something without really seeing it. I looked at The Last Supper hundreds of times and never noticed the salt shaker. Not once.

It happens all the time when studying scripture. I can read a passage over and over again and think I understand exactly what it means. I can read it one more time and find new meaning…a fresh gift of insight God prepared just for me. For this time in my life.

I found one of those special gifts this week. I supposed all of us have our “go to” verses. Scripture we return to time and time again to remind us of critical biblical truth we need to hear. I count among my favorite verses Romans 12:2.

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind…”

It reminds me that the world’s ways are not God’s ways. That I am supposed to allow God to transform the way I think and, by extension, the things I do, to separate my thoughts and deeds from those of the world. To live distinctively as a follower of Christ. I’m not always successful at that. I suppose that’s why I have to keep returning to that passage.

When I thumbed across it again this week, my eyes locked on the remainder of the verse that I tend to gloss over. I know I’ve read that part of this verse at points in my life, but it never grabbed me like it did this week.

“…Then you will be able to discern what God’s will is—what is good and pleasing and perfect.”

I get it. Be transformed. Be changed at the deepest level of heart and mind. Allow the spirit of God to help you think differently about the way you see the world and your place in it. It follows on the heels of Paul’s admonition to present ourselves to God as a “living sacrifice.” But, it’s also a verse about using the mind and heart that God has changed to discern what is right for my life…what I can and must do that is good and pleasing and perfect in the sight of God.

The first part is hard enough. Paul acknowledged as much. In explaining our sinful nature, he admitted to the Romans his personal struggle with his choices. “…for what I want to do, I do not do, but what I hate, I do…For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.”

We are bombarded with options and opinions, most of which do not reflect the nature of God. We live our lives pressured by peers to satisfy our own desires. We spend an inordinate amount of effort qualifying our actions as if the end somehow justifies the means. Who can blame us when national leaders declare to us that “truth isn’t truth?”

How do we discover what is good and pleasing and perfect among the flood of opinions and options inundating our lives? How do we keep from pulling scripture out of context and using it to justify our actions? How do we discern God’s truth?

Let’s start by defining spiritual discernment. Spiritual discernment is the ability to distinguish divine truth from error and half-truth. Right from wrong. Real from fake. Good from bad. Best from better. It is our ability to separate the enticing from the edifying.

Sounds simple so far. Famed pastor Charles Spurgeon believed if one examined everything carefully, the right choice would be obvious. “If one should set a joint of meat on his table and it smells rather high, I would cut a slice and if I put one bite into my mouth. If I found it far gone, I should not find it necessary to eat the whole round of beef to test its sweetness.” One bite should be enough.

That may be true with many things. “Thou shalt not kill.” “Thou shalt not steal.” With other things, it is less obvious. We are pretty good about welcoming the fog that obscures the truth behind its mist. And, sin is pretty good about putting a positive spin on its message.

When the choices grow more complicated, Paul offers a suggestion. He called upon the people in Thessalonica to “Test everything. Retain what is good. Refrain from every kind of evil.” He’s not saying we should dip a toe into sin to measure its temperature. To just give sin a try and then we’ll know for sure. He’s saying to carefully examine what is before you before you dive in.

The Greek word translated “test” in this passage is the same word he uses in Romans for “discern.” Let’s explore that for a minute.

It is a word that speaks to ore that is cleansed by fire. The impurities removed so all that remains is pure, refined metal. The grammatical use of the word also speaks to a continuous process, suggesting that we should constantly pass everything we hear and read, every action we think about doing, through the purifying fire of all scripture to determine if those thoughts and deeds are consistent with biblical teaching. We keep examining those things until that which is being tested is proven to be genuine and trustworthy.

Once we know that which is being tested aligns with God’s word, it ought to make that thing a part of the pattern for our lives, tucked away in our hearts and applied constantly in the things we say and do. If it failed to pass the examination, set it aside as unworthy of our energy and effort.

Paul tells us that determining God’s will in life requires us to pre-program our minds with Scripture, to live in step with God’s spirit, to control and guide our steps and our thinking so that every critical decision in the face of temptation or every critical choice between what is good, better or best, proves our commitment to living a Christ-like life.

The inner voice of God’s spirit within helps in discerning all matters that impact our spiritual lives…separating what is from God from that which is not. This puts every a of aspect of life under the scrutiny.

Our choices.

Our conversation.

Our standard of living.

Our business.

Our entertainment.

Our friendships.

That which we do openly and that which we do behind closed doors.

Maybe Paul’s prayer to the Philippian church should be our own petition for clarity of choice and the courage of our convictions.

“And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern (test/examine) what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ.”

We are surrounded by the things of this world. We cannot remove ourselves from it, especially if we are to be God’s light within it.

Let’s open our hearts to his word and make it our prayer that God will grant us the wisdom to discern and discover all that is good and pleasing and perfect in his eyes.

Amen?

Amen!

From Mourning to Ministry

Background Passage: Matthew 14:9-23

No physical pain eclipses the pain of losing a close friend or family member. The grief of personal loss hurts. Shatters our sense of normalcy. Threatens our emotional stability. Chokes the very breath from our souls.

Grief might be tempered by the circumstances of our loss. When a loved one has faced months of pain from an insidious disease, for instance, the believer feels a sense of comfort and release knowing that a mother, a sister or friend is no longer suffering. That realization may lessen the gravity weighing on a sad heart, but it does little to fill the emptiness one feels.

Grief is a process as anyone who has lived it knows. Our reactions to it as individual as our own unique personalities.

In their respected book, On Death and Dying, Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler plotted five stages of grief that all must travel. People express themselves in various ways, passing through the stages in different ways or times because our relationship to the one who died was unique to us. The authors suggest we must go through each stage if we are to recover from the sorrow that engulfs us with the loss of someone special.

Kubler-Ross and Kessler define the stages of grief: Denial…a time of shock and emotional paralysis where we tend to avoid our new reality; Anger…a time when all the emotions we bottled up for a time get released; Bargaining…when we look for alternatives to fill the void within us; Depression…when reality weighs us down; and acceptance…finding our way forward into a new normal.

I know two families this week going through the death of a family member. Having walked in their shoes in my own family, forever uncertain what to say, I found myself scanning the scripture for words that might grant all of us a foothold of understanding on the slippery slope of sorrow.

Well-meaning folks like me will offer these families platitudes in the coming days based on our personal experiences. The intent will be appreciated. The care and concern evident. But the words will most likely fall on a heart too troubled to hear.

Many passages of scripture tells us about God’s comfort during times of despair. There is beauty and value in those verses. As we seek to live in the image of God and if Jesus represents the image of God on earth, then what did Jesus know of our sorrow?

I suspect there were a thousand of unrecorded occasions when Jesus put his arm around a crying widow, offered a prayer for a brother in mourning, took a meal to a neighbor who lost a sister, prayed for a family whose mother died peacefully in her sleep, or stood quietly beside a parent whose child was ravaged by disease when no word would bring comfort. Scripture also tells us Jesus felt the grief resulting from the death of someone for whom he cared deeply.

His experiences with grief were personal, not second hand, full of the emotional trauma death brings. Late in his earthly ministry, his good friend Lazarus died. Though Jesus knew the outcome of this experience would be new life, scripture tells us he wept. His anguish over the loss of someone he loved so real and heart-wrenching.

Yet, another profound encounter with death touched Jesus at the beginning of his ministry. Not too long after Jesus gathered his disciples together and taught them things they needed to know about the kingdom of God, he sent them out, two-by-two, on a mission trip to preach the good news of God’s coming salvation.

At the same time, Herod, the Judean tetrarch, arrested John the Baptist, Jesus’ cousin and early partner in ministry. The Baptist ran afoul of the regional governor when he challenged Herod’s divorce and marriage to his sister-in-law. While John was in prison, Herod, intrigued by his step-daughter, promised her anything she wished. After talking to her conniving mother, the step-daughter asked for John the Baptist’s head on a platter. Herod did not disappoint and ordered John beheaded.

News of this horrific death reached Jesus just as the disciples were returning from their trip. The news was unsettling. Jesus and John, connected by circumstance of birth and passion of ministry, held deep respect for each other.

Jesus once told the crowds who followed him that “among those born of women there is none greater than John,” revealing his level of affection and respect for the tough-minded preacher. Jesus’ love was returned many times over. John stood waist deep in the Jordan when Jesus presented himself to be baptized at the starting point of his earthly ministry. Knowing who he was and the nature of his work, John hesitated. “I’m not worthy to tie your sandals,” he said.

When Jesus heard the news about his cousin, Matthew 14 tells us , “he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place.” Saddened. Distraught. Struggling with both the loss and the method of his death. Seeing in John’s death, perhaps, a reflection of his own future.

As he so often did when troubled with life, Jesus needed to feel the presence of his heavenly father. In the middle of the excitement of the missionary reports, he moved away from the crowd to find a quiet place to be alone in his thoughts, to deal with his emotions and his grief.

Yet, the crowd would not let him go. Maybe they were unaware of John’s death. Maybe they didn’t understand the connection between the men as cousins. Maybe they were so caught up in their own struggles they couldn’t see into the hurting heart of another person. Whatever possessed them to come, a large crowd circled around the Sea of Galilee to wait as Jesus’ boat came ashore.

Many of us can empathize with Jesus. He needs his time alone…his space to deal with his own breaking heart. Life will not allow it. Jesus had a choice, to look inward or outward. We face the same choice in times like this. We can turn inside ourselves, skirt the crowd and run into the desert alone. Or we can look outside ourselves to the people pressing around us and extend God’s mercy to them.

Matthew tells us Jesus saw the crowd and had “compassion on them.” What an amazing picture this presents! A grieving Christ sees the gathering crowd. When most of us would turned the boat around, Jesus dried his tear-stained cheeks with the sleeve of his cloak, said a new prayer for emotional strength, took in a deep breath and went about his work healing the sick, comforting the sorrowful and feeding the famished.

He spent the rest of the day with them, eventually feeding them with a little bread and fish before sending them on their way. A picture settles in my thoughts. The last family finally turned to leave. Jesus, who set aside his own sorrow for that time, waited until they were out of sight before sagging heavily on a boulder, allowing the emotion pent inside to flow freely.

Scripture says at some point he gathered himself, climbed the wilderness mountain as he had intended to do earlier that day and sought refuge in a father who understood clearly the heaviness of his heart.

So, what does this tell me about grief? My faith pales in comparison to the faith of Jesus. How hard it is to carry on when all we want to be is carried away. This biblical episode in the life of Jesus tells us life never stops for the grieving. Never slows down. Never considers our emotional state. Life goes on.

The daze of days surrounding the loss of a loved one blow by with little regard to what we want or need. In the days that follow death there will be bills to pay. Places to go where no one knows our anguish. Children tugging at our sleeve who need us to be in the moment with them. Co-workers expecting us to be on our game. Work still to be done. Our ability to find the peace we need, the solitude we crave, gets overshadowed by the press of the crowd around us.

We can push the crowd away or do as Jesus did when he pulled the boat to shore…embrace for a moment the opportunity God puts in front of us to serve him. To testify through our last reserve of faith and strength to the power of the father who gives us the ability to put one foot in front of the other and move when all we want to do is turn the boat around.

I don’t want to minimize the difficulty of walking our grief walk. It is healthy to grieve. Healthy to find time alone to consider the meaning of this personal loss. Healthy to weep.

As Jesus sailed the boat across the Sea of Galilee that day, I suspect the horizon lay unseen in the distance obscured by the tears in his eyes. His vision limited to the prow of the boat as he stared blankly into a tomorrow without his dear friend. That’s the way I feel on days like that.

However deeply Jesus mourned John’s death, he didn’t stay in the boat. He turned grief into the fuel that fired his own sense of mercy and ministry. You see, all the hurt and pain we experience at the death of one we love can empower us to love more deeply, embrace more often and to serve more willingly.

These two friends of mine who mourn this week the loss of a brother and sister, respectively, will be in Collique, Peru, next week on a mission trip. They join others in building small homes for families who possess next to nothing. Despite their personal sorrow, they will step out of their boats on the shore of a dusty hill in South America to share the compassion of Christ to strangers unaware of the grief they bear. What a testimony!

In our most desperate times, our dependence on Jesus Christ serves as dynamic evidence of the power of God’s sustaining love to a lost world with little on which to cling in life’s toughest times.

Grieve because you must. Mourn for lost love ones. Cherish the memories of love that runs deeply. But, along the way, may our emotions turn ever outward to spirit-inspired, Gospel-driven, compassion.

Always Love

Background Passages: Matthew 12:1-14; Mark 2:23-3:6; and Luke 6:1-12

I read another news account this week about the Baptist church in Kansas staging another protest to condemn with unholy words those they deem to be sinners responsible for the ruin of the world. Citing scripture. Calling names. Their views right. All others wrong. Compassion lost to the certainty of their conviction.

I don’t understand it. How can a people claiming to be of God miss so badly the spirit of God? How can they interpret scripture so strictly that they fail to see the hurt they inflict?

Their actions this week reminded me of a story from scripture. Journey with me to Capernaum.

*****

He watched from the shadow of the alley between two homes as Jesus wound his way through the streets of Capernaum, a gathering crowd surrounding the healer and his closest friends. He darted from house to house, staying just ahead of Jesus, always in shadows cast by the rising sun. Unnoticed. That’s the way he liked it. When people noticed, they stared. When people noticed, they judged.

Without warning, someone grabbed his left arm startling the man. Dark brown eyes under bushy eyebrows, stared into his own. The elegant robe told him all he needed to know. A Pharisee. He recognized him as one of the priests from Jerusalem following in the footsteps of the healer for the past three weeks.

“Come with me,” commanded the priest, pulling him down the alley into deeper darkness. When alone, the priest looked at his withered right hand, dangling uselessly at the end of an arm lacking any strength. Nodding at his infirmity, how did that happen?

“I was kicked by a donkey eight years ago. I can no longer use my hand.”

“I have a proposition for you…” started the Pharisee as he explained his plan. Then, with a furtive glance and a smile that lacked sincerity, he slinked away.

Instructed to go to the synagogue where the healer would teach that morning, the man with the shriveled hand stood by the entrance to the white-stoned building near the market, waiting for Jesus. As Jesus approached, the man stepped out to greet him. “Rabbi, I am in need of your healing.” Words the Pharisee told him to speak.

Jesus smiled. Saw his hand. The need obvious, but sensing more to the story. “Why come to me?”

“I’ve seen what you can do,” said the man. Then, with a nervous glance inside at the Pharisees finding a seat in the crowded synagogue, “They told me you could heal me today.”

Jesus looked at the men who questioned his every move for weeks. “Did they now?”

The man, oblivious to the obvious, continued, “I need to provide for my family. I need to work. I want to work. If there is a chance…” His voice trailed off in all too familiar whisper of hopelessness.

Jesus looked into his eyes. Heart full of compassion. He threw his arm around him, glancing once more at the Pharisees. “Come on in. Find a seat. Let’s see what God will do today.”

Jesus walked to the front of the room. Sat down on the stone bench. Surveyed the packed room filled with the contrite, the curious and the condemning. The stage set for another lesson about the priorities of God.

*****

Read the account of the man with the withered hand in three of the four gospels. The confrontation between the religious leaders and Jesus in the Capernaum synagogue started in the fields that morning on the way to worship. In the end, the Savior’s compassion was both rejected and received. It started as an ordinary Sabbath morning.

Jesus and his disciples rose that morning, intent upon going to the synagogue for the Sabbath time of teaching and worship. The local rabbi requested Jesus lead the discussion, a frequent occurrence early in his ministry.

For days, the Pharisees sent from Jerusalem tagged along everywhere Jesus went, hovering always on the edge of the crowd. Dipping in and out of the conversation when it suited them. Questioning his motives. Probing for answers. Checking Jesus’ words against their own rigid interpretation of scripture. Determined to find reasons to discredit his teaching. Hoping to turn the crowds against him.

As the disciples moved along the country path into the village, they walked along the edge of a wheat field. Through stalks of grain ripe for harvest. In the cool of the morning, they absentmindedly plucked heads of grain from the stalks. Rubbed their hands together to remove the husk from the kernels. Blew into their palms to separate the wheat from the chaff. Popped the morsels into their mouths. Hungry men on the way to church.

On any other day the action of the disciples would raise no eyebrow. Eating another man’s grain along the path was a standard of care for the hungry and weary traveler. But, today was the Sabbath. The Pharisees almost giggled in delight. They caught Jesus’ followers violating the strict rules of the Sabbath regarding work…harvesting, winnowing and preparing food.

They practically ran over the disciples in their haste to confront Jesus for this egregious violation. This blatant disregard for Sabbath law.

Jesus took the opportunity to teach, hoping his words would resonate. “Have you not read…” reminding them that David entered the Temple while under duress and took the consecrated bread in order to feed himself and his hungry men.

He quoted Hosea, “If you had known what these words mean, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned the innocent.”

As the debate ensued, Jesus silenced them. They stood with their mouths opening and closing like a fish out of water. No rebuttal. “The Sabbath is made for man, not man for the Sabbath. For the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath.”

The day cannot take precedent over human need. The law cannot substitute for mercy. This whole episode troubled Jesus. The conversation lingered in the Savior’s heart as he began to teach the lesson that day. A lesson about the priorities of God.

The same Pharisees who hassled Jesus during their walk into town laid their trap for him, taking advantage of a man’s disability for personal gain. Dangling him in front of Jesus. A worm on a hook. Begging Jesus to bite. To heal the man so they could challenge Jesus in a public setting about his contempt for the Sabbath.

Can’t you see the Pharisees fidgeting in their seats, waiting for Jesus to take their bait? When he didn’t immediately do so, one of them could no longer contain himself. Interrupting Jesus as he taught, he reminded Jesus of the episode in the grain field. He demanded to know. If, as you say, it’s permissible to harvest on the Sabbath… “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath?”

From the moment he met the man with the withered hand outside the synagogue and heard his story, Jesus expected the question. “If any of you has a sheep and it falls into a pit on the Sabbath, will you not take hold of it and lift it out? How much more valuable is a person than a sheep!” The implication clear. “It is lawful to do good on the Sabbath.”

Jesus waited for their response. Jesus expected the question. They didn’t expect that answer. So they sat, tight-lipped and tense.

It’s hard for 100 people to fall silent, but if a pin dropped in the sanctuary at that moment, everyone would hear it. All sat perfectly still. Only their eyes darted back and forth between Jesus and the Pharisees, waiting for the next sandal to fall.

Jesus rose to his feet. Walked to the middle of the room. He looked for the man he met earlier by the door. He found him, sitting in the corner. Hiding behind the town’s burly blacksmith. The savior caught his eye. Motioned for him to come forward. A smile, warm with compassion. An invitation. Jesus stood behind him. Rested his hands on the man’s shoulders. “Stand here with me in front of everyone.” In front of these self-righteous men.

With fire in his eyes stoked by their hard hearts, Jesus bore into the soul of the Pharisees. Hear a heavy sigh in Jesus’ voice as he posed one last question, hoping to elicit a glimmer of understanding from their closed and locked hearts.

“Let me ask you, which is lawful on the Sabbath: to do good or to do evil, to save a life or destroy it?” To do the good I intend to do or the evil you’re now doing?

Every eye in the room drawn to the obvious. The misshapen and shriveled hand, hung uselessly at the man’s side.

In the silence of the Pharisees, more contempt. More condemnation.

Jesus looked toward heaven. Eyes closed. Let out a slow breath to purge his gut of the bile of disgust rising in his throat. When he spoke softly to the man, little more than a whisper in his ear. “Stretch out your hand.”

In the instant the man followed Jesus’ command, the muscle and tendons regained their strength. The gnarled, misshapen fingers relaxed. As he raised his hand in front of his face, his hand was completely restored. Strong and sound like the other. Healthy again. Productive again. The synagogue erupted in shouts of joy from the people gathered to worship.

In a huff unable to celebrate for a life made whole, the Pharisees stormed out to conspire with bitter enemies to plot the death of Jesus.

*****

When you read these stories, we tend to look at them only as episodes chronicling the growing confrontation between Jesus and the religious leaders. If that were all it was, I’m not sure all three gospels would have carried an account of the story. There is a deeper, richer lesson waiting to be learned and it starts with the verse quoted by Jesus from Hosea, “I desire mercy not sacrifice.”

Jesus told the Pharisees, “If you understood what these words mean…” Well, what do they mean? Mercy trumps sacrifice. Compassion trumps dogma. The Pharisees clung so tightly to their “truth” they failed to recognize the need in front of them. Their strict adherence to law served as blinders to the suffering of those around them. We cannot and must not hold our “truth” so tightly that we dismiss how valuable another human being is to God.

Through these two vignettes Jesus suggests that we cannot place every jot and tittle of scripture over our call to serve, care for and forgive. Feed the hungry. Tend to the infirmed.

Think about it. Jesus didn’t dishonor the Sabbath. He was there every Sunday. (If you don’t see the irony of that statement, maybe that’s the problem.) Jesus sat aside the Sabbath as a day of worship to God the Father. As natural to him as breathing, but not if it meant ignoring a need.

We tend to cherry pick our Sabbaths. Taking things out of context without applying the whole of Jesus’ teachings. We cannot condone sin, but, by nature of our own sin, we are also disqualified to judge it in others.

Jesus met the woman caught in the act of adultery by another group of Pharisees. Jesus asked them to reflect upon their own sin. When her accusers faded away in the reality of Jesus’ question, he told her. “Neither do I condemn you…go and sin no more.” Rather than exclude, Jesus chose to love and teach.

Is it possible the social issues of our day have become our Sabbath law? The eating of the grain. The man with the shriveled hand. Depending on your personal beliefs, consider them the ancient equivalent of our attitudes toward whomever we deem undesirable. The Liberal. The Conservative. The Gay. The Transgender. The Straight. The Black. The White. The Brown. The Rich. The Poor. The Gun Owner. The Unarmed. Consider them anyone on whom we pass judgment. Anyone we point to in disdain while channeling our inner Pharisee.

Those in whom we easily see the sawdust in their eye while disregarding the 2 x 4 jutting from our own. Judgment is the easy way. Loving is the hard way. I’m too often guilty of taking the easy way.

If we are to live as the image of God, if we are to be like Christ, we cannot declare our “truth” or value “being right” more than we value lifting our hands to help the broken, the hurting or the drifting. As soon as we do so we lose the heart and spirit of Jesus. For him, it was always truth and right grounded in love. But always love.

In the story, the Pharisees never see themselves as a soiled robe in need of a good scrub. They see themselves as a garment already cleansed by their strict obedience to the law…in need of nothing else…now or ever.

Here’s the really sad thing about these stories. The Pharisees never doubted that Jesus could heal the man. They begged him to do it. Knew he would. They recognized in him God’s sufficient and amazing power and gift of healing. They never questioned his ability to heal, only his timing that broke a rule they created to set them apart from others. Staring them in the face was the chance to join with the Son of God and they could not comprehend it.

Never doubt for a moment that God loves the Liberal and Conservative. The Gay. The Transgender. The Straight. The Black. The White. The Brown. The Rich. The Poor. The Gun Owner. The Unarmed. Let us escape the confinement of our entrenched Pharisaical truths.

Jesus calls us to love. Jesus calls us to serve. This week let’s reach out to the hungry heart and the shriveled soul. It is always lawful to do good.