The Searcher…

Finding Peace

Background Passages: Philippians 4:6-9; John 14:26-27

Sarah Winchester began the construction of her new home in San Jose in 1884, shortly after the death of her husband William, the firearms magnate. For 38 years until her death in 1922, the 22,000 square foot home was under constant construction or renovation.

There are more than 10,000 windows and 160 rooms in the Winchester Mansion. The result of this haphazard design is a maze-like structure with doorways and stairways that lead nowhere.

Teams of carpenters, masons and other trades were employed around the clock to address Sarah’s eccentric ideas. The design mattered less than the need to keep building. Sarah, it seems, struggled with her husband’s life work. She believed that she and her home would be haunted by the ghosts of those killed by her husband’s rifles unless he kept building her house.

It’s estimated that Sarah spent $70 million largely on pointless construction, all in a desperate search for peace that never came.

The world seeks peace today in pursuits just as fruitless as the one attempted by Sarah. Pursuing such paths will never bring peace.

We know there exists a difference in peace as viewed by the world and peace that comes from God. The world speaks of absence of conflict, calm, harmony, and happiness. Humanity’s quest for peace seems always just out of reach. Those who understand the term at a spiritual level acknowledge that God is the only true source of peace.

In the Old Testament, peace seems to be the greatest good that men could wish for each other. Ancient greetings reflect this. Even Judah’s enemy Nebuchadnezzar wrote, “Unto all people, nations and languages, that dwell in all the earth, peace be multiplied to you.” (Daniel 4:1)

Jewish greetings always wished peace. The Hebrew word translated as peace is a familiar term. It is shalom. It means completeness, soundness and welfare. Its root means to make whole or complete. Having shalom meant being in a state of wholeness or completeness, lacking nothing of importance.

The New Testament form of the word for peace is eirene (i-ray’-nay). It means unity, being one, quietness and rest. Its root means to tie together as a whole. It speaks to reconciliation, to come back together. To be complete.

So, God’s peace will always be different from peace sought by the world. Biblical peace speaks to a restored relationship with God through Christ Jesus. It is a state of wholeness and completeness experienced by those who are living in right relationship with God.

So, at the eternal level, peace with God requires a relationship with him. The path to peace begins with our declaration that Jesus is Lord of our lives…that we have put our faith and trust in him and him alone.

I don’t know about you, but it’s rarely that simple. I put my faith and trust in Christ as a nine-year-old boy who had not known the deepest struggles of life and faith that come from life experiences.

So, on a practical level, how do we find the peace of God amid the turmoil that comes as we live each day? I find some answers, I think, in Paul’s letter to the Philippian church.

“Don’t worry about anything; instead pray about everything. Tell God what you need and thank him for all he has done. Then, you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:6-7)

Don’t worry. Pray. Pray about everything. Now, I’ve never really subscribed to the idea that God cares which toothpaste I use. I supposed that there might be a specific point and time where my toothpaste choice might matter to the point where I make that a matter of prayer, but generally, I’m not sure God cares.

I think Paul says the path to peace begins in conversation with the father about the things we need…really need…in life. And, he adds, that a great starting point in that process begins by thanking him for all he has done for us in the past. The brightest light in the darkness of life is not the light at the end of the tunnel, but the light shining from behind us…where hindsight is 20/20…the light that shines on the path I’ve already traveled. The one that illuminates the footsteps of the Father walking beside us through those difficult times.

Paul chooses his words carefully, writing in ways that make connections with his first century readers. Philippi was situated near the coast of Greece. As such, it was a sentry city, of sorts, for the inland areas of the region. Since many of the residents of Philippi were retired Roman soldiers, they understood the danger of attack.

As a result, a sentry worked throughout the night in Philippi…24/7. While the people slept, the sentry, the phulasso, kept watch for enemy soldiers, thieves and wild animals. While the phulasso was on guard, the people could sleep in peaceful slumber.

Paul used this imagery to talk about a peace beyond our understanding. Paul says talking to God about what troubles us is a sure way of finding a peace we cannot easily comprehend. A peace that protects or guards (like a phulasso will guard) our hearts and minds from dredging up the past we cannot change and the worst future we can imagine. A peace that keeps us from believing that our mansion is haunted by our past and that we must keep building a stairway to nowhere. A peace that comes only as we live in Christ Jesus.

So, how do we live in Christ Jesus?

And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise. Keep putting into practice all you learned and received from me—everything you heard from me and saw me doing. Then, the God of peace will be with you.” (Philippians 4:8-9)

Martin Luther once said, “While you cannot prevent birds from flying over your head, you can prevent them from building nests in your hair.”

Our minds are constantly churning. Left to our own imaginations, it’s easy to get fixated on something that causes us anxiety and worry. It is easy to let our thoughts center on guilt, anger, pain, uncertainty, loss, worry, hurt, danger and a host of other negative things. Paul knew how easy it was to fall into this trap…how easy it is to let the birds build a nest in our hair.

Rather than allow the negativity to set in, Paul said to “fix your thoughts…” focus intently on…to meditate…to dwell…on the thoughts of Christ. He lists a collection of filters through which all our thoughts must run.

Dwell on what is true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, and admirable. Meditate on the excellent things of life and things that are worthy of praise. We must run our thoughts through these traits. If any thought that enters our mind does not pass the test, we should reject it. We are to make our thoughts obedient to Christ.

Paul lived his life in obedience to Christ. The things he said and did, the way he chose to live, the things he taught…all of these things were built upon the model of Christ, revealing what Christ taught him that he passed on to the Philippians. He encouraged them to focus on the things of Christ and put into practice his teachings…to live a Christlike life.

Here’s where I think the rubber meets the road.

Jesus’ death and resurrection reconciled those who trust in him to God. Being in right relationship with him puts us on the path to wholeness and completeness. The difficulties of life pull us every day in the opposite direction. The worry and anxiety that creeps in at these times can be set aside by talking with the one who loved us enough to die for our sins.

When we can talk to him and recall all that he has done to carry us through difficult times in our lives, we can experience his peace…that sense of connection and completeness that only comes when we are in close contact with our father. It is this peace that protect us from the onslaught of thoughts that spiral into the depths of despair and desperation. It is peace and wholeness that comes only through a life of focused discipleship.

I don’t know if Mark Twain was a Christian. Based on his writings, he was put off by the lack of practice in what was preached.

A wealthy businessman from Boston with a reputation for ruthlessness and unethical behavior once told Twain that his dream was to visit the Holy Land before he died. His desire was to climb Mount Sinai with his Bible and read the 10 Commandments.

“I have a better idea,” Twain responded with his typical wit. “Why don’t you stay in Boston and keep them.”

Twain has a point. We tend to think we’ll find peace in some great mountaintop experience rather than daily obedience.

So, we are to focus on what we have been taught in scripture about living as Christ lived. Following his example. Passing all our thoughts through the life of Christ. Discarding what is undesirable and obeying his teachings. It is in that obedience that we find wholeness. Completeness. Peace.

Such behavior and thinking comes with a promise not only of the peace that protects and guards our thoughts, but with the presence of the comforting Father.

Look at the past phrase of Paul’s message in verse 9.

“Then, the God of peace will be with you.”

I think I always read that as “God’s peace be with you,” but that’s not what he says here. Paul already told us that we can have the peace that protects and guards when we talk to God. Now, he’s telling us that the God who is peace, the author of peace and reconciliation, will be with you. His presence in our lives brings peace.

In their most troubled time in the upper room listening as Jesus explained his imminent death on the cross, the disciples heard Jesus make this promise.

“All I have spoken while still with you. But the Counselor, the Holy spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled; do not be afraid.” (John 14:26-27)

It is impossible for us to understand fully in this present world with all its struggles the complete peace that comes only from God. The comforting thing to me is that God sent the Holy Spirit to those who believe as a constant reminder of his teachings and the daily presence of the God of peace.

I built my fair share of stairways and doorways that lead nowhere as I struggled with the life experiences I faced. When I lay those struggles at the feet of Christ and talk to him about my needs, peace comes. That sense of connection and completeness follows. When I can turn aside those negative thoughts and focus instead on what it means to live a Christlike life, I can experience and feel the presence of the God of peace.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Do not be afraid.”

Shalom.

Fan or Follower?

Background Passages: Matthew 16:13-24; Luke 5:1-11; Matthew 4:18-22 and Luke 16:25-26

It’s baseball playoff season. I think I’m finally over the baseball strike of 1994-95 and find myself watching the games again with interest. I know. That’s a long time to hold a grudge.

It’s also the middle of the college football season and I love to watch college football.

I am a fan of the Houston Astros. I enjoy watching their games and I might even do a fist pump when they win. I rarely lose sleep if they blow the game in the ninth inning. I’m a fan of the Houston Astros.

I am a follower of the Texas Tech Red Raiders. I wear the shirt. I watch the games. I celebrate when they win. I will toss a pillow and lose hours of sleep with every defeat. During the week, I’ll check out a few Red Raider websites to get a perspective on last week’s game. I’ll read about the players and coaches. I’ll fret over next week’s game. Cut me and I’m pretty sure I bleed scarlet and black. I am a follower of Texas Tech.

Jesus talked a little about being a fan or being a follower.

Jesus and his disciples left the region of Caesarea Philippi after a brief retreat north of the Sea of Galilee. The deep discussion elicited a confession from Peter who declared the understanding of his heart.

While looking at the throng of people milling about that pagan city, Jesus asked those with him what the people were saying about him after almost three years of ministry.

The disciples shared a few names as if the rumors were laughable.

“Some say John the Baptist. Others say Elijah. Still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” (Matthew 16:13-14)

Then, Jesus asked the question he really wanted to ask.

“But what about you? Who do you say I am?”

While the others stared blankly at the ground, Peter declared with strength of conviction,

“You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” (Matthew 16:16)

With that confession, Jesus gathered his disciples and began the journey back to Galilee, but the dialogue didn’t get easier. The teaching grew more intense as Jesus began to talk more plainly about his death on the cross.

Peter didn’t like the way this conversation was going.

“Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. ‘Never, Lord! This shall never happen to you!’

“Jesus turned and said to Peter, ‘Get behind me Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men.’

“Then Jesus said to his disciples, ‘If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” (Matthew 16:22-24)

It was those last two words that caught my attention this week. “Follow me.”

My church has been in a six-week long Bible study about discipleship. While family matters have kept me from attending every session, I have kept up with the study.

I underlined these words in the study guide. “Following Jesus is a serious, weighty calling. Taking up our cross means putting to death our desires and goals and following Jesus wherever he leads. Christians are supposed to look increasingly like Jesus.”

When Jesus told his disciples to take up the cross and follow him, it wasn’t the first time they had heard the call to follow.

At the beginning of his ministry, Jesus spent the early morning talking with a crowd that followed him down the coast of the Sea of Galilee. He came across a group of fishermen cleaning their nets after an unsuccessful night on the water where the fish were nowhere to be found.

Jesus climbed into Peter and Andrew’s boat and asked them to push off a few feet from shore so the water would add its acoustic effect to his voice.

“When he finished speaking, Jesus said to Peter, ‘Put into deep water and let down your nets for a catch.’ Peter answered, ‘Master, we’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught anything. But, because you say so, I will let down the nets.

“When they had done so, they caught such a large number of fish that their nets began to break. …When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at Jesus’ knees and said, ‘Go away from me, Lord, I am a sinful man!’ For he and all his companions were astonished at the catch of fish they had taken, and so were James and John, the sons of Zebedee, Simon’s partners.”

Then, combining this passage with what we read in Matthew 5, Jesus said to Peter, Andrew, James and John, “Follow me and I will make you fishers of me.” (Luke 5:1-11 and Matthew 4:18-22)

There’s the phrase again, “Follow me.”

He said the same words to Matthew when he called him from the tax collector’s booth. To Phillip when he pulled him from a crowd. He said the same words to a rich, young ruler after he told him to rid himself of all the material things that stood between him and Jesus. “Follow me.”

I suspect they were words he extended in every conversation shared and every invitation given. “Follow me.”

What is behind this idea of following Jesus?

The Greek word akoloutheo gets translated in most versions of the Bible as follow, but it has a broader range of meanings. It can mean accompany, assist, pursue or attend. So, if the word can also mean assist or pursue, for instance, Jesus was not calling people to simply tag along. He called for personal engagement.

Akoloutheo is written in present tense meaning the action is in the here and now and its voice is active. So, when Jesus calls his people to follow, he means they are to do so in every moment of life. It is something they are to do. They can’t send someone to do it for them.

Jesus didn’t want his disciples to just listen and believe in him from a distance. He invited them to draw near, to join him, join and commit to the mission. Jesus wanted his disciples to be fully engaged with him in both learning and doing the work of God.

From the beginning of their call to the critical times near the end of Jesus’ earthly ministry, Jesus asked them to follow.

Think about what that meant for those first disciples. From the moment they began their journey with Jesus he taught and trained them. He sent them to preach as he preached. He asked them to serve those with great need. He prepared them to continue his work after his ministry was completed. He expected them to spread the gospel throughout the world.

Jesus is still inviting you and me to be his disciples. His followers. To personally join him, learn from him, and help him in gospel ministry. There is nothing passive about being a follower of Christ.

Timothy Keller founding pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City, put it this way, “Jesus says, ‘I want you to follow me so fully, intently, so enduringly that all other attachments in your life look weak by comparison.’”

We can’t be a disciple or difference maker until we are willing to deny ourselves…to set aside the life that matters to us and pick up the life that matters to God. To put God on the throne and make him Lord of our life. To make Christlike living our passion.

We can’t be a disciple or difference maker until we are willing to take up our cross. We tend to trivialize Jesus’ death on the cross if we think this term means simply facing stoically the difficulties of life that all experience, whether a follower of Christ or not.

It speaks to the complete obedience and devotion to the cause of Christ, no matter where it leads. To yield our hearts fully to his. After asking them to take up the cross and follow, Jesus spoke to the eternal value one gains by following him.

“For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it. What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?” (Luke 16:25-26)

Jesus tells them that nothing in this life is worth keeping if it means missing out on eternity. So, when we deny ourselves and take up our cross all that’s left is to invest our lives completely into the kingdom of God. To follow.

New Testament theologian Scot McKnight put it this. way, “Those who aren’t following Jesus aren’t his followers. It’s that simple. Followers follow, and those who don’t follow aren’t followers. To follow Jesus means to follow Jesus into a society where justice rules, where love shapes everything. To follow Jesus means to take up his dream and work for it.”

I’m a fan of the Houston Astros. I’m a follower of the Texas Tech Red Raiders. But, there is more at stake than my athletic affiliations.

If I’m a fan of Jesus Christ, I might profess my faith in comfortable settings. I might toss a few dollars into the offering plate when it’s passed. I might even listen to a sermon or two. If I’m a fan of Christ, however, I am rarely personally invested in the work, sacrificing little time and energy for the cause of Christ.

If I am a follower of Christ, I cannot just passively believe in him. Being a follower is all about digging deeply into his teachings. Understanding how Jesus reacted to different situations in life. It is all about imitating him, his example and his works. It is all about being Christlike. It’s all about being a difference maker.

When you get right down to it, the question Jesus asked his disciples in Caesarea Philippi may have been as basic as that.

Will you be a fan or a follower?

It’s a decent question for us to answer.

In Hot Pursuit

Background Passages: Psalm 23:6; Exodus 33:15:16, 34:5-7

The passage was a familiar one.

The pastor delivering the message at the sweet memorial service for my daughter-in-law’s grandmother this week drew his words from Psalm 23.

“The Lord is my shepherd…”

You can probably quote the rest. Yet, for hours after the service, one verse from that familiar Psalm kept repeating in my heart.

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.” Psalm 23:6

I don’t know about you, but I’ve learned over the years that when a Bible verse keeps coming to mind long after I first heard it, it’s time to stop and give it some thought. To let God teach me one of his life lessons.

So, I did what I usually do when I want to learn something more about anything. I googled it.

Looking first at Psalm 23:6 in other translations, I found the English Heritage Version of the Bible writing the verse in this way.

“Surely God’s goodness and his unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life.”

I like the clarity of this translation. It’s God’s goodness and unfailing love that follow me. I like it because not everything we experience in life is good. Life is not for the fainthearted. I’m reminded of the refrain sung by Grandpa Jones on the old variety show Hee Haw, right before he delivered his spit-filled raspberry in the face of the show’s guest.

Gloom, despair and agony on me.
Deep dark depression, excessive misery.
If it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.
Gloom, despair and agony on me.”

The verse though doesn’t speak about good things following me. It speaks to God’s goodness chasing after me every day of my life. Intriguing, isn’t it?

In Hebrew, the word translated goodness is radaf. It means to run after, to track down as a hunter might track its prey. To pursue and take captive. It conveys an idea of God, the Good Shepherd of the Psalm, being in relentless pursuit of his sheep with the truth of his goodness and unfailing love…his gift for every day of our existence.

So that led me down another Google trail. What is God’s goodness?

When Moses climbed off Mt. Sinai with those tablets of commands from God, he walked into the middle of a pagan celebration where God’s people were cavorting around a golden calf they had fashioned. An idol to worship. Neither Moses nor God were amused.

Hours later, Moses entered the Tent of Meetings and had a deep dialogue with God. God was ready to wash his hands of the unfaithful and ungrateful people of Israel. He told Moses, he would send them on to the land he promised, but he (God) would not be present with them. Moses understood this as the kiss of death for his people. He pleaded on behalf of the people for God to stay present among them, reminding God, as if he needed reminding, that they were his chosen people. Look at Exodus 33:15-16.

“If your presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here. How will anyone know that you are pleased with me and with your people unless you go with us? What else will distinguish me and your people from all the other people on the face of the earth?” (Exodus 33:15-16)

Being pleased with Moses, God promised to do what Moses asked. Moses asked a lot. He asked God to reveal to him the “glory of God” and God agreed to do so.

“And the Lord said, ‘I will cause all my goodness to pass in front of you, and I will proclaim my name, the Lord, in your presence. I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion.’” (Exodus 33:19)

Did you catch it. “I will cause my goodness to pass in front of you…” Moses would have the opportunity to see God’s goodness up close and personal. Jump to Exodus 34:5-7.

“Then the Lord came down in a cloud and stood there with him and proclaimed his name, the Lord. And he passed in front of Moses, proclaiming, ‘The Lord. The Lord. The compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin…”

And, in those words we see that God’s goodness is more than just an attitude or act. It is his very nature. His goodness stems from his core identity. His goodness is wrapped up in the fact that he is Lord. Compassionate and gracious (The same Hebrew root word that gives us “unfailing love.”). His goodness comes with the attribute of being patient and not easily angered, filled with love and faithfulness to his people. Steadfast in his care for his people. Constantly forgiving our shortcomings.

It is this character of God that Moses saw as it passed by from where it had been tracking him down throughout his life.

So, let that marinate for a moment. In a dark time in Moses’ life, God caught up with him. Let his goodness pass before him so Moses could see and feel God’s goodness around him. The Psalmist had experienced God’s goodness and unfailing love so much and so often that he was confident it would “surely” and relentlessly pursue him throughout his days.

There is something about that idea that brings a great deal of comfort to my life in this moment. His goodness is running after me. Chasing me down. Tracking me. Hunting me. In hot pursuit. Taking me captive so I cannot get far away from it. Passing in lock step before my eyes.

Man, did I need to be reminded of this.

I think back over the last year of my life. My son’s stroke. My sister-in-law’s harsh diagnosis of cancer. I must admit that I have been shaking my fist toward heaven and I’m only on the outside looking in at these life circumstances. Why them? Why now? Where were you? Where was your goodness in those moments?

I watch as my son deals with his circumstances with strength and faith, amazed at his dogged determination and grace under a difficult situation. It’s as if God is whispering to me, “See my goodness pass before you? See it in Adam’s response to life.”

I watch the strength of Micki’s faith in dealing with all that life has thrown at her, inspired by the rock-steady trust he places in God, so evident in this her darkest time, as it has been throughout the entirety of her life. I hear God whisper, “See my goodness as it passes before you? See it in Micki’s response to life.”

Through their character and faithful living in circumstances that might shake most of us to our knees, I see God’s goodness and unfailing love pass by. His goodness is never far away from them, from me or from you. It was and remains in dogged, relentless pursuit, always around us throughout our days, just as it has always been.

I remember seeing a post on Facebook this week of Cece Winan’s rendition of The Goodness of God. I didn’t open the post the first time I saw it, but it kept popping up. When I saw it again Friday, I clicked the link and listen to this talented artist celebrate the very thing I needed to hear.

“I love you, Lord.
Oh, your mercy never fails me.
All my days, I’ve been held in your hands.
From the moment that I wake up
Until I lay my head,
I will sing of the goodness of God.
Cause all my life you have been faithful.
All my life you have been so, so good.
With every breath that I am able,
I will sing of the goodness of God.”

The writer and composer of this beautiful song entered a bridge that speaks to God and his goodness in relentless pursuit of his children.

“Your goodness is running after, running after me.
With my life laid down, I surrender now
I give you everything.”

There’s the crux of it. Buried in the bridge. We see God’s goodness only when we lay down our lives in complete surrender to his will and give him everything…every part of our lives. Everything.

I stand only on the outside of the issues facing my son and my sister-in-law, watching them both respond in faith to all that life has dealt them. I am inspired by the strength of faith demonstrated by Adam and Jordan and Micki and Mark.

When I stop long enough to see how God continues to carry them through, I see God’s goodness pass by. It has not been absent. It has not abandoned them or me. I was simply looking in the wrong direction.

Surely God’s goodness has been running after me…all the days of my life.

 

Less of Me

Background Passages: John 15:1-3; Matthew 28:18-20; Galatians 5:22-23

Auxano.

Until the past month, this was not a familiar word to me. Greek in its etymology, Auxano means “to grow” or “to increase.” You’ll find the word scattered in verses throughout the New Testament.

When Paul used the word in Ephesians 4:15 or when Peter used “auxano” in I Peter 2:2 and 2 Peter 3:18, it speaks to how Christians are to grow or mature in the faith.

“Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ.” (Ephesians 4:15)

“Like newborn babies crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good.” (I Peter 2:2)

“But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.” (2 Peter 3:18)

Couple those concepts with how Luke used the word when he shared the results of the Holy Spirit’s work in the days after Pentecost in Acts 6:7.

“So the word of God spread. the number of disciples in Jerusalem increased rapidly, and a large number of priests became obedient to the faith.”

Auxano, then, speaks to our ability as God’s people to grow in our faith, to live as followers or disciples of Christ, so that we, in turn, can bring more people to Christ and help them grow as disciples.

I first heard the word used this month as our new pastor introduced a Wednesday night initiative we call “Auxano,” designed to build disciples of Christ…to grow deeper in our understanding of what it means to be his disciple and to equip us, then, to share our faith in a relational way with those who do not yet know God’s saving grace.

For me, it’s gut check time. What does being a disciple of Christ mean to me and how well am I fulfilling the promise I made to him when I made my profession of faith as a nine-year-old? I have to admit, my growth as a disciple has been punctuated by a few seasons of drought amid the life-giving rain.

Zach Williams wrote and sings a song on Christian radio these days called Less Like Me. The chorus, I think, points to the goal of discipleship. the lyrics read,

“A little more like mercy, a little more like grace.
A little more like kindness, goodness, love and faith.
A little more like patience, a little more like peace.
A little more like Jesus, a little less like me.”

Being a disciple of Christ does not forfeit the uniqueness of a God-created me. Being me, being you, is still important because he gifted each of us differently and wonderfully for the work he called us to do individually. It does demand, however, that I become a little less like me and a little more like Jesus by growing in his example…a life that exemplifies mercy, kindness, goodness, love, patience and peace. If those words sound familiar it’s because they echo Paul’s words in Galatians.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.” (Galatians 5:22-23)

As amazing as those God-given gifts may be, you’re only more like Jesus when you use his gifts to produce the spiritual fruit. These are the attitudes, behaviors and traits that someone who believes in Jesus and longs to be his disciple should demonstrate every day. Being a disciple of Christ means that we mature continually to be more like Christ.

Obedience to the teachings of Christ seems to be the key to discipleship. Everything he taught his disciples during his ministry on earth, he taught so they might be equipped to live as he lived. If you sit as a fly on the wall in the upper room, you’ll hear Jesus get serious with his closest followers.

As they finished eating together in the upper room on the night he was arrested, Jesus drew his disciples into a a deep conversation. He spoke of betrayal. He offered words of comfort when they seemed lost and confused. He promised the Holy Spirit as their constant companion in his absence. Then, he laid out the expectations he had for them to continue the work.

Drawing upon the familiar, he talked about the vine, its branches and the fruit it should bear.

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit, he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. You have already been prepared to bear fruit because of the teaching I have given to you. (John 15:1-3)

Within the imagery Jesus used, the vine is pruned to produce more fruit. A grower will prune extraneous branches that can siphon off the nutrients the plant needs. The main branches then grow stronger and produce more and better fruit. As we grow as Christians, we can let extraneous actions and attitudes sap the life out of our spiritual life. Jesus wants us to rid ourselves of those things that pull us away from living the life he has called us to live. To focus our lives on that which is important for us to do to further the kingdom of God. To be obedient to his teaching. To be his follower. His disciple.

We can’t begin to make that happen without spending time in his word. Paul reminded Timothy as he pastored the church in Ephesus that God’s word is the greatest teacher.

“All scripture is inspired by God and is useful to teach us what is true and to make us realize what is wrong in our lives. It corrects us when we are wrong and teaches us to do what is right. God uses it to prepare and equip his people to do every good work. (2 Timothy 3:16-17)

In her Christian blog, Butterflly Living, Mary Rooney Armand talked about eight elements of spiritual growth and discipleship. She said, “When we understand and practice elements of spiritual growth, it helps us move in the right direction.” The critical elements to discipleship, she says, are to:

Become more selfless.
Adjust how we spend our time.
Be more generous with our resources.
Pursue peace rather than chaos.
Choose to forgive.
Build deeper relationships.
Spend more time with God in prayer and worship.
Focus on the eternal rather than the temporal.

Armand’s list aligns closely to that which Jesus taught in the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-10) because it makes us more Christlike…more like a disciple of Christ.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German Lutheran pastor and theologian, wrote extensively about a Christian’s role in a secular world at a time when Hitler was on the rise in Nazi Germany. His resistance to Hitler’s rule cost him his life.

Bonhoeffer wrote Nachfolge in 1937. The book title’s literal English translation is “Following” or “The Act of Following.” English publishers gave it a more dramatic title, translating Nachfolge as The Cost of Discipleship. In this seminal work, Bonhoeffer uses Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount as a call to faithful discipleship in the face of the Nazi’s reign of terror. It’s teaching still resonates well in today’s world when the Christian faith needs to stand for something beyond politics.

Bonhoeffer wrote that “Cheap grace is the mortal enemy of the church. Our struggle today is for costly grace.” Bonhoeffer goes on to define cheap grace.

“Cheap grace is preaching forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, communion without confession…Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.”

Part of the struggle of being a disciple of Christ is recognizing that we are made for more than just salvation. That marvelous grace gift is of eternal significance, but it is not the end of God’s work in us. Our gratitude for what God did for us through Jesus Christ should compel us to walk as he walked. Talk as he talked. Grow in our role as disciple. Share the love, grace and purpose of Christ to a lost world.

It is making a conscious decision to auxano…to grow, in grace and knowledge of our Lord and auxano…to increase the number of those entering the kingdom of God.

Being a disciple of Christ should catapult us toward fulfilling every part of the Great Commission, making new disciples and teaching them all those things he is still teaching us.

Auxano.

Grow. Increase.

It seems like a good word to embrace.

Kintsugi and God’s Mercy

Background Passage: Jeremiah 18:2-5; Psalm32:1-2

Life intervened in the past couple of weeks. Finding time to sit down long enough to organize my thoughts into a cogent Bible study just didn’t happen. I did, however, stumble across a four-minute video while surfing the web this week that reminded me of the beauty of God’s forgiveness. So, while I will use fewer words in this week’s devotional thought, the truth is hopefully just as meaningful.

In the 1600s, Japanese shogun Ashikaga Yoshimasa broke a cherished Chinese tea bowl. Because he was able, Yoshimasa returned the shattered pieces to China for repairs. When it was returned with ugly metal staples, Yoshimasa commissioned a Japanese ceramic craftsman to do what he could to restore the bowl to its original beauty.

The craftsman took the pieces, glued them together with lacquer infused with powdered gold. The technique, known as kintsugi treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object…something to be embraced and celebrated rather than something to disguise.

Isn’t that the way God’s forgiveness works in our lives. Our sin is like the broken vessel. When we come to the Master Craftsman seeking his forgiveness with repentant hearts, God takes the pieces of our self-shattered lives and puts us back together.

Jeremiah understood this when he heard the word of the Lord tell him to go to the potter’s house.

“So I went down to the potter’s house and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as it seemed best to him.

Then, the word of the Lord of the Lord came to me: “Oh house of Israel, can I not do with you as the potter does? Like clay in the hand of the potter so are you in my hand.” (Jeremiah 18:2-5)

God made us to be in relationship with him, sculpted to do his work. In the hands of the Father, the kintsugi master, we are reshaped and glued together, made more beautiful by the infused grace of God…a grace more valuable than gold.

The Japanese say that the evidence of breakage and repair should be celebrated as a part of the story of the object. It is a part of my story that I am a recipient of God’s mercy. He has put my broken pieces back together time and time again…every time I ask for his forgiveness. That’s why I can celebrate with the Psalmist.

“Blessed is the one whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered. Blessed is the one whose sin the Lord does not count against them and in whose spirit is no deceit.” (Psalm 32:1-2)

I tell you the truth…I am blessed. And that, my friends, is worth celebrating.

How about you?

Finding Your Mephibosheth

Background Passages: 2 Samuel 9:1-7 and Galatians 5:22-23, 25

Small acts of kindness can make a huge impact. A smile, a thoughtful word, a warm muffin found on a desk, or a hug can make the sun shine brighter and the day seem better. That’s the premise behind the idea of Random Acts of Kindness.

Started in Denver, Colorado, in 1995, the idea behind Random Acts is to somehow make the world a better place by making kindness a part of our everyday lives. It’s a nice sentiment. The world needs to be a kinder, gentler place.

As one who has received these random gifts of kindness throughout my life, I understand the impact. To limit kindness to a blueberry muffin, however, diminishes its impact.

Those who study words tell us that “kindness” has its origin in the Middle Ages. In the language of that period “kind” and “kin” were the same. It seems to suggest that to demonstrate kindness was to treat someone like kin…like family. That presents the term in ways that can hardly be random.

As often happens, the idea of kindness has bounced around my brain for a couple of weeks. I was recently asked by my church to share a thought on the character of David at our Wednesday night Bible study. In the course of preparation, I rediscovered the story of David’s interaction with Jonathan’s disabled son, Mephibosheth. The story reveals much more about kindness than any random act.

For years the schizophrenic and paranoid King Saul chased after David to eliminate the one whom God had chosen to take his place. He saw David as a threat. Despite numerous opportunities to do so, David could not raise a hand against Saul or his family because of the deep bond of love and friendship David developed through the years with Saul’s son, Jonathan.

In a particularly difficult time in David’s life, Jonathan went behind his father’s back and told David of Saul’s plan to kill him. David pledged to always look after the family of Saul and Jonathan. Years later, Saul and Jonathan are killed in battle. It now appears that all of Saul’s male descendants have died.

Now king of Israel, David felt the emptiness in his life without Jonathan. Hear David’s heartfelt plea in 2 Samuel 9:1.

“David asked, ‘Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I may show the kindness of God?’”

“The kindness of God.”

The choice of those words struck me. Why not just, “Is there anyone left of the house of Saul to whom I may show kindness.” David’s kindness. A random act of kindness. Instead, the phrase reads, “kindness of God.”

Let’s go back to the definition. In her book The Kindness of God, Catholic theologian Janet Soskice made the link between “kind” and “kin.” She wrote, “To say that Christ is ’our kind Lord’ is not to say that Christ is tender or gentle, although that may be implied, but to say that he is kin…our kind.”

It’s an interesting twist if indeed to be kind meant to be kin. The kindness of God within this context means that God became my kin…my family…my father. Through Jesus’ sacrifice and my faith commitment, I become part of the family of God.

David’s desire to show the kindness of God indicates his wish to find someone whom he could love and treat as family. As the story unfolds in 2 Samuel 9, David finds a sole survivor…Mephibosheth, a young disabled boy, hiding in fright in a remote village on the other side of the Jordan River.

David had the authority, power and historical permission as the victorious king to put Mephibosheth to death. He didn’t do that. When he found Mephibosheth he called him to Jerusalem, not to enslave him or kill him, but to extend God’s kindness to him.

“Do not be afraid for I will surely show you kindness for the sake of your father Jonathan. I will restore to you all the land that belonged to your grandfather Saul, and you will always eat at my table.” (2 Samuel 9:7)

David did not extend a token gesture. His offer was extravagant. He gave Mephibosheth all that once belong to Saul and a place in his household. What an extreme act of kindness and grace!

What he did demonstrated love toward someone who did not deserve it, could never earn it and would never be able to repay it. His kindness or kin-ness made Mephibosheth a part of David’s family…someone invited to sit at the king’s table.

If this idea of kin-ness is at the heart of kindness, then it seems to require us to see others in the image of God, worthy of our honest connection, regardless of life’s circumstance. It seems the ultimate act of kindness and kin-ness is to invite people to be a part of God’s family…to welcome them to the table.

Kindness, then, is more than a random act. It is that thread of unfailing love that ought to be the lifestyle of any child of God seeking to live as the image of God in a cruel world.

The amazing thing is that God, through his indwelling Spirit, gives us the capacity for exactly that kind of godly kindness. Paul points out that the life of a Christian ought to reflect the character and nature of God as revealed by his Spirit.

“But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control…Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.” (Galatians 5:22-23, 25)

The thing about the fruit of the spirit is that, unlike the gifts of the spirit which are given to each of us uniquely and individually, God doesn’t give us different fruit based on our personalities. He does not allow us to pick and choose which fruit we get to live out. He expects us to live out each one…each day…in every circumstance of life…to live by the spirit and keep step with the spirit.

Sadly, we live within a cultural pandemic of condemnation and judgment, characterized by a lack of kindness. Those who live a life of kindness, of kinship, look every day for the next Mephibosheth. They look for someone to show “the kindness of God,” not just as some random act, but as an intentional choice to let someone sit at your table. To build relationships. Meaningful connections. To create opportunities to show the love of Christ in the things we think, say and do for them. To be kind, to be kin, is to love as Christ loved.

Don’t you see, God is kind because he cannot be otherwise. It is his nature. When we give our lives to Jesus and open our hearts to God’s spirit, kindness becomes a part of our new nature. It is the make-up of that “new creation” that Paul talks about in 2 Corinthians 5:17, a reflection of God in us.

The English poet Roberts Burns said, “It is the heart benevolent and kind that most resembles God.” David’s innate and God-inspired kindness was one of the reasons he was called a “man after God’s own heart,” God’s choice to be Israel’s king. His kindness made him a great ruler.

According to Mark Twain, “Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.” I suspect it is a language that will make even those who find it hard to walk in the presence of the King leap for joy.

What about you? Is there anyone out there to whom you can show the kindness of God? If you keep asking the question, God will bring you one Mephibosheth after another who needs your kindness…your kin-ness.

God simply asks that when we find our Mephibosheths, we invite them to eat at our table.

We’d Best Get On With It

Background Passages: Luke 9:28-36, 2 Peter I:16-19; Matthew 28:18-20

I am a J. R. R. Tolkien fan. Unabashed.

Since first introduced to The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings trilogy over 40 years ago, I’ve read and re-read those books several times. The movies, the first of which was released in 2001, remain among my favorite movies.

Tolkien, a Christian from England, embedded biblical imagery throughout his books. In the Lord of the Rings, a hobbit named Frodo is chosen to destroy a certain ring that gives evil its power by casting it into the fires of Mordor. At one point stop along the way, Frodo believes he delivered the ring into more capable hands and can now go back home to his quiet shire.

It was not to be. Gandalf tells Frodo, “We have reached Rivendell, but the ring is not yet at rest.” Despite his desire to return to home and safety, Frodo realizes it is his responsibility to finish what he started.

As he struggles with that decision, Frodo’s best friend and companion on the journey, sums up the situation. He says, “I’ve never heard of a better land than this. It’s like being at home and on holiday at the same time, if you understand me. I don’t want to leave. All the same, I’m beginning to feel if we’ve got to go on, then we’d best get on with it.”

Sam and Frodo both realized as comfortable and glorious as it was, Rivendell was not their final destination.

Jesus must have felt something akin to that as he stood on the mountaintop during his transfiguration. As comfortable and glorious as it must have been to talk with Moses and Elijah, Jesus knew the ring was not at rest. There was still so much more to do. The most difficult part lay ahead. This glimpse of heaven was not the final destination.

It was certainly a message Peter and James and John needed to see and hear.

Jesus and his disciples retreated to Caesarea Philippi where Jesus could escape the crowds and teach them about the critical nature of his mission without interruption. The conversation about Jesus’ identity culminated with Peter’s declaration that Jesus was the anointed Messiah, the Son of God. Jesus used that confession to begin teaching about the suffering and death that lay ahead of him.

Peter especially didn’t like the implications of that which Jesus shared. Mark’s gospel tells us he pulled Jesus aside and “rebuked” him. Peter had the temerity to tell Jesus to quit talking like that. Despite his confession and all that Jesus shared with them, Peter and the others still failed to grasp exactly who Jesus was.

I have to think that conversation weighed heavily on Jesus’ mind as they journeyed back into Galilee. When he reached a certain point, Jesus left most of his disciples at the foot of a mountain. The Bible tells us what happened next.

“…he took Peter, John and James with him and went up onto a mountain to pray. As he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning. Two men, Moses and Elijah, appeared in glorious splendor, talking with Jesus. They spoke about his departure, which he was about to bring to fulfillment at Jerusalem.

“Peter and his companions were very sleepy, but when they became fully awake, they saw his glory and two men standing with him. As the men were leaving Jesus, Peter said to him, ‘Master, it is good for us to be here. Let us put up three shelters, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.’ (He did not know what he was saying.)

“While he was speaking, a cloud appeared and enveloped them, and they were afraid as they entered the cloud. A voice came from the cloud, saying, ‘this is my son, whom I have chosen: listen to him. When the voice had spoken, they found that Jesus was alone. The disciples kept this to themselves and told no one at that time what they had seen.” (Luke 9:28-36)

I’m not sure any of us truly know exactly what happened to Jesus during the transfiguration. By definition, he was changed. It’s not that bright spotlight from heaven lit him up like a rock star on stage. Jesus’ transformation came from within. One commentary said Jesus’ divine nature “broke through the limits of his humanity.” The light of glory shone from within causing the radiance appearance of his clothes. Don’t you love that interpretation?

I don’t know that Jesus needed the transfiguration to finish his task. The conversation surely meant something to him, however. From his words in Gethsemane, we know the human side of Jesus dreaded the suffering to come. I’ve read this passage many times, but this is the only time I realized what Moses and Elijah came to say. Did you see the topic of their conversation?

“They spoke to Jesus about his departure, which he was about to bring to fulfillment in Jerusalem.” (Luke 9:31)

With his eyes fixed on the cross to come, Moses and Elijah came to encourage and urge Jesus to finish what he started. To keep moving forward to the purpose for which he was sent. To stay on the mountain as life passed by below would condemn the world to ruin. I suspect even Jesus needed to feel the encouragement of others.

It seems the real reason for the transfiguration had its roots in the conversation at Caesarea Philippi. It’s one thing to proclaim Jesus as Lord. It’s altogether a different thing to understand it…to have it transform your thinking and change your life.

When Jesus asked the disciples, “But you? Who do you say I am?” They recognized him for who he was, but still wanted to fit him into a familiar box…to have him behave as they needed him to behave within the social and political turmoil of the day.

“You are the Christ,” Peter declared while visions of victory parades danced in his head. “You are the Christ,” declared James and John while they held out hope for ruling seats of power within his kingdom.

So what did the transfiguration mean to these disciples?

Perhaps the things Jesus tried to explain to them since Caesarea Philippi took an emotional toll on the disciples. By the time they reached the top of the mountain, they grew weary. While Jesus went off to pray, his disciples took a nap.

When the transfiguration occurred, they were awakened by the sight of Jesus shining like a bolt of lightning, blinding in his radiance. I suspect I would have been a lot like Peter in that moment…a man not fully understanding what he had just seen and heard, but knowing it was significant.

Riveted in awe and wonder, he reacted with unbridled enthusiasm. Compared to the wonder of what they experienced the world below was just too harsh. The future Jesus shared…too unsettling.

Leave it to Peter to try to memorialize the moment. “Let’s set up a tabernacle for each of you. We don’t want to leave this place. Let’s stay right here.”

As those words escaped his mouth, a mist enveloped them. They trembled in fear. God’s voice cut through the cloud…a command that was also a plea.

“This is my son whom I have chosen. Listen to him.”

Hear God telling these critically important disciples, “You’ve seen who he is. You know it in your heart. You’ve said as much. Change your frame of reference about the Messiah. He is my Son. He’s telling you how it must be. For once in your life, listen to him…really listen.”

There on the mountaintop, God reminded those disciples, the ring is not at rest. The end game must play out before the world can be set right.

At the transfiguration, this inner circle of disciples who struggled to fully grasp who Jesus was, caught a glimpse of his heavenly glory. Jesus underwent a dramatic change in appearance so the disciples could see just a fraction of his heavenly glory.

Up to that point, the disciples knew him only by his human touch, the sound of his voice and the power of his miracles. Now, they came to a greater realization of the deity of Christ. God offered desperately needed reassurance in the form of a blinding light.

Even then, they didn’t always get it right. After the resurrection, however, that moment on the mountain made perfect sense. That’s why Peter could write with such certainty as one transformed by the transfiguration experience.

“We did not follow cleverly invented stories we told you about the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty… We ourselves heard this voice that came from heaven when we were with him on the sacred mountain. (2 Peter 1:16-18)

So, the transfiguration reinforced in Jesus the purpose for which he had been sent into the world. It gave his disciples a chance to see beyond the human Jesus to the divine. To start listening, to pay attention to what Jesus was telling them about who he was and what he had to do.

What does the transfiguration mean to you and me?

It’s just as easy today to build a box in which to keep Jesus. He’s the genie I call on when I want something. He’s my excuse for taking a certain political stand. He is the author of pithy sayings that I quote to express my piety. We still too often make the mistake of failing to understand what his death on the cross and resurrection from the tomb means in a 21st century world.

We describe those times we have grown closest to Christ as our “mountaintop experiences.” We bask in the warmth of that feeling. Take a few selfies. Build a few tents and say, “I just want to stay here where it’s amazing and safe.”

That’s not our role any more than it was the disciples’ role. We follow a Christ who puts us in unbelieving world to be its transfiguring light, blazing bright enough from within so the world can see him in us.

The Christian church as a whole has stayed too long on the mountaintop. Stayed within the fellowship of believers. Celebrating the majesty of God and building our share of tents…all with a slightly distorted view of who he is. With this world struggling as it is, now is not the time to marvel. Jesus’ work through us is not finished. Maybe it’s time we “Listen to him.”

At the end of his earthly presence, Jesus commissioned those of us who now clearly understood who he is and what he did.

“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore, go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely, I am with you, always, to the very end of the age.” (Matthew 28: 18-20)

I’m probably reading too much into Tolkien’s writings. I think he understood that God’s work in us is not yet finished. “The ring is not yet at rest.”

Read Tolkien’s words again. “I’ve never heard of a better land than this. It’s like being at home and on holiday at the same time, if you understand me. I don’t want to leave. All the same, I’m beginning to feel if we’ve got to go on, then we’d best get it on with it.”

Get on with it. Not with a sense of reluctance, but with the excitement born from a transfiguring and transforming experience with God’s son.

There is work to be done. We’d best get on with it.

Can These Dry Bones Live?

Background Passages: Ezekiel 37:1-10; John 4:13-14, Isaiah 42:5

When my sons were children, we enjoyed visiting my parents on the 1,000 acres Dad farmed for much of his life. My boys loved going to the farm to visit their grandparents and to go on their “explores.”

Once they were old enough to be on their own, we told them they could wander the farm wherever they wanted to go as long as they could still see the house. In the broad reaches of the Texas South Plains, that gives two boys a fair amount of freedom.

My Dad kept about 20 head of cattle on a 30-acre grassland pasture, sloping down a modest hill. At the far end of the pasture was a playa lake. For those not accustomed to West Texas, a playa lake is a low spot in the surrounding countryside, typically dry, that collects run-off from those occasional West Texas rains. Most of them were formed when vast herds of buffalo that once grazed the grassland would wallow in the mud to cool down from the oppressive heat.

My boys would walk the pasture in search of artifacts they could collect. Usually, they would come back to the house with an odd collection of bolts, tin cans and rocks.

It was an exciting day, indeed, when they uncovered the dried bones of some long-dead rabbit, skunk or snake. They were most proud the day they returned with a cow’s skull that probably belong to poor Bessie who died at some point during my childhood.

If you spent any time at all walking in that dry playa lake, you could spot the bleached-out cow bones strewn across the dried lakebed by rain or coyote. A graveyard of white, dry, dusty bones.

Think Ezekiel.

For over 100 years, the Jews, the chosen people of God, endured captivity in Egypt. Through a series of miraculous events, God brought them into the Promised Land and gave them a home and a king. He made them a nation again. As they always seemed to do, Israel rebelled, turning against their heavenly father.

As a result, God allowed them to be conquered again. Nebuchadnezzar and his Babylonian horde invaded Israel. They defeated its army, reduced Solomon’s Temple to ashes, and took many of the Jewish people back to Babylon as captives.

The nation of Israel was dead, a valley of dried bones. God did not want them to stay that way. When our spiritual marrow is dry, God doesn’t want us to stay that way either. There is a lesson to be learned from Ezekiel’s experience.

“The hand of the Lord was one me and he brought me out by the Spirit of the Lord and sat me in the middle of a valley. And it was full of bones. He led me back and forth among them, and I saw a great number of bones in the valley, bones that were very dry.

“He asked me, ‘Son of Man, can these bones live?’

“I said, “Sovereign Lord, you alone know.’

“Then he said to me, ‘Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord!’

“This is what the Sovereign Lord says to them, ‘I will make breath enter you and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin. I will put breath into you and you will come to life. Then you will know I am Lord.’

“So I prophesied as I was commanded. And as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. I looked and the tendons and flesh appeared upon them and skin covered them, but there was no breath among them.’

“Then, he said to me, ‘Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, Son of Man and say to it, ‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says, ‘Come breath, from the four winds, and breathe into these slain, that they may live. So I prophesied the way he told me, and breath entered them, and they came to life and stood up on their feet—a vast army.’” (Ezekiel 37:1-10)

The valley of dry bones in Ezekiel’s vision reflected the spiritual condition of God’s people. Their defeat at the hands of the Babylonians left them discouraged, down and defeated. In verse 11, they cried out to God saying,

“Our bones are dry. Our hope is lost and we ourselves are cut off!”

The hopelessness grew less from their current condition and more from the fact that they long ago lost their passion for the things of God. They were at the end of their rope, blind to the possibilities of what God could do for them. There was no future. Only a today, filled with misery and hopelessness.

Once so full of vitality and vigor, a picture of God’s presence and power, they took their focus off God. Did their own thing. Drifted away from the father. Their bones were dry.

It’s not unusual as God’s people to find ourselves in what feels like an endless spiritual desert…our faith feeling dry and lifeless. Most of the time, these dry spells don’t come out of nowhere. Circumstances beyond our control dry our bones, leave our faith parched. Choices we make that lead us into the desert, sap our souls of strength, making our trust in God waver and wither.

Sometimes, we get so busy doing things, even good things, that our worship becomes rote and routine, half-hearted and half-felt. Complacency overtakes us, leaving us thirsting for what we’ve lost. In times like these our prayers never seem to rise above the roof. We stare blankly at the pages of our Bible, if we open the pages at all. Our spiritual lives gather dust as the moisture is sucked from our marrow and our bones lay drying in the wilderness.

How closely does this match your life experiences? You look into your life and it’s messy. Every outcome you can see just adds to the confusion and hopelessness. Each wrong step leads to another. Whether caused by random chance or personal choice, it feels like everything has gone wrong. Now, you find yourself blind to the possibilities of what God can do. Your bones are dry.

When you look at your circumstance and all you see is an arid valley of dead, dry bones, it’s hard to imagine life beyond the desert. Hear God ask you the same question he asked Ezekiel. “Can these bones live again?”

What is your answer?

Ezekiel’s response was an honest one. “I don’t see how, but if there is any hope at all, it comes from you, God.” And, that’s as much as God needs to turn things around…just a glimmer of faith in his compassion and love. In the middle of the turmoil in our lives, can we say, “Lord, it’s up to you. I put my life in your hands.”

It is an act of surrender to the will of God. Easier said than done, I know.

God tells Ezekiel to preach a message to the dry bones…our dry bones. The first thing he asks the prophet to tell them…to tell us…is to “Hear the word of God.”

When we’re struggling, when our faith seems dry and stale, we need only to hear the word of God. I don’t mean just sit in the sanctuary while the preacher preaches. I mean really hearing what God is telling you. Listen and obey. When we’re spiritually thirsty, we need to swim in the water of God’s word.

“So then, faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.” (Romans 10:17)

Jesus sat by a well in the heart of Samaria in deep conversation with a woman in need of living water. He told her,

“Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” (John 4:13-14)

God’s word gives life. It gives clarity. It gives peace. All we must do is listen and obey the will of the one who loves us enough to die in our place. Drink it in. Refresh our bones.

Ezekiel gives us one more thought to consider. Beyond hearing the full word of God, he tells us to allow the Holy Spirit to work in our lives. It is the spirit of God who gives our dry bones breath. Listening to God’s word is a great start at bringing our bones together, but we need the spirit within us to bring us to life. It is the Holy Spirit who takes the word of God and gives it the power to give life to a broken heart and a struggling soul.

Allowing the spirit to live within us, lets God give us the chance to be a living instrument to share is grace and to be his hands at work in a hurting world. To be an oasis in a desert of dry bones.

“Thus says God, the Lord, ‘the creator of the heavens and stretched them out, who spreads out the earth and all that springs from it, who gives breath to its people and spirit to those who walk on it: I have called you to righteousness…” (Isaiah 42:5)

Breathe it in. Be right with God. Maybe it’s time to begin living again.

I believe that is a great word of encouragement for those who are struggling today to live out the life God has planned for them. Whether that person is you, me or someone you know. The answers lie in God’s word and in the presence of his spirit in the heart of those who believe and trust in Jesus.

Can these dry bones live?

I believe they can. I’m living proof.

Lukewarm Isn’t Good Enough

Background Passages: Revelation 3:14-22; Colossians 4:16-17

An old German joke tells of a young couple who adopted a baby. For the first five years of his life the little boy never said a word. Doctors told them there was no physical reason for his silence. Taking him to the psychotherapist also proved fruitless.

On his eighth birthday, the mother baked a lasagna, his favorite meal. After taking a bite, the boy said in perfect German, “Mother, this lasagna is a tad lukewarm.”

The parents were, of course, shocked that he suddenly spoke. “Why have you never said anything before?” they asked.

The boy replied, “Up to now, everything had been fine.”

I tend to agree with the boy. There is nothing fine about being lukewarm. Lukewarm food just isn’t as flavorful. Lukewarm water isn’t as refreshing. Even more seriously, being a lukewarm in our Christian walk is an affront to God.

This week’s Bible study is the last in my study of the seven churches in Revelation. The previous six of those seven churches did some things well. Each of the six fell short in one way or another. Jesus praised them for that which they did well and encouraged them to fix what was broken in their faith walk with God.

It seems clear that the Apostle Paul spent some time in ministry at Laodicea. Whether he founded it or not, a church grew in the thriving community. He wrote letters to the churches in Colossae and Laodicea asking them to exchange the communication they each received with one another. While we have the letter to the Colossians in our Bibles, the letter to the Laodiceans was lost to time.

Christian tradition says that the church in Laodicea flourished and grew initially, both in faith and numbers, drawing its members from the wealthy citizens of the city. However, the church that once prospered apparently lost its zeal.

Paul seemed to see the beginning of this downward slide when he asked the church in Colossae to remind Archippus, who some scholars say had pastoral ties to Laodicea, to “See to it that you complete the ministry you have received from the Lord.” (Colossians 4:16-17) Evidently, the minister and members had grown complacent amid their success.

Now, 30 years later in John’s writing of Revelation, Jesus offered a stern rebuke to the Laodicean church for failing to live up to the standard asked of them. They were lukewarm Christians in need of a wake up call.

“These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the ruler of God’s creation. I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth.

“You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see.

“Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest and repent. Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.” (Revelation 3:14-20)

By his words, Jesus quickly establishes himself as the one with the authority to judge their behavior. He calls himself “the Amen, the faithful and true witness.” When we used “amen” at the end of a prayer, we’re saying, “let it be so,” “let it be truth.” Jesus is telling the Laodiceans, the word I am about to share with you is truth. I am witness to your behavior. What I say is beyond dispute.

His word is a harsh indictment of the vitality of their faith and the sincerity of their work.

“I know your deeds.”

The “ruler of God’s creation” as he is described in verse 14, knows exactly where their hearts are. He sees the work they are doing and finds nothing refreshing in their relationships with others… nothing comforting in their deeds. He says, “…you are neither cold nor hot.”

It was a phrase the Laodiceans would have clearly understood. The city was built on a plateau. As such it had no natural water source. Because of the importance of the city along major trade routes, the Romans supplied the city with water via a series of aqueducts from hot springs of Hierapolis, just across the Lycea River, and the cold springs of Colossae about six miles away.

By the time the water arrived from these two cities, the hot water became tepid. The cold water grew lukewarm. The hot water was no longer physically soothing. The cold water no longer refreshing.

Such was the nature of the Laodicean church. Their service to their community brought no comfort to others. Their words lacked meaning and no longer refreshed the hearts of those who were hurting.

Though he wishes they were hot or cold, Jesus finds them a disgusting lukewarm at best. Tepid in their love for others and their service to those in need.

“Because you are lukewarm, I am about to spit you out of my mouth.”

The problem in the church might have been born from the independence of the city itself. Laodicea was among the wealthiest and most self-sufficient cities in the Roman world. In AD 60, an earthquake devastated Laodicea and the region surrounding it. When the Caesar’s government offered financial assistance to rebuild the city, Laodicea refused the help. Wealthy enough to rebuild on their own, they wanted no help from anyone else.

Jesus alluded to as much in his condemnation of the church when he quoted their own words. “You say ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’”

Perhaps the early success of the church, its growth in numbers and prosperity, cause it to trust its own ability rather than to depend upon God. As a result, they went through the motions of being God’s church, but they did not make God a part of their work. There was no passion for sharing the gospel. No desire to comfort the hurting. They grew comfortable in their own fellowship, content to stay behind their own walls rather than share the good news of Christ’s love.

Laodicea was noted for its financial institutions, its textile manufacturing and for its medicinal eye salve it produced. Jesus alludes to all three of these things in his words of advice.

“Buy from me gold refined in the fire so you will become rich. Buy white clothes to wear so you can cover your shameful nakedness. Buy salve to put on your eyes so you can see.”

The self-sufficient church in Laodicea lost its way. It lost its faith and needed it to be refined in purity again, placing their trust in God alone. The spiritually naked church needed to cloth itself in righteousness, taking on the character of Christ. The church in Laodicea grew blind to its own spiritual poverty and shame. They could not see their own sin nor did they wish to open their eyes to the possibility that they were not doing what God required of them. They needed to treat their eyes so they could see again the work God had for them.

As Shakespeare would say, “There’s the rub.” I look at the Laodicea church and see myself as a member. Proudly self-sufficient. Believing I can do all things on my own. Thinking that I’ll save God for the major things in life, times when I need him most. I can handle the rest without his help.

We are told throughout scripture that we are to become more like Christ every day. That God desires us to be in right relationship with him. Righteous in our character and our actions. It’s not something I do well every day.

Though there is always a part of me that knows I’m growing distant from God and not living the life he asks of me, I sometimes prefer being blind to that truth. When I refuse to see my own sin as that big a deal, it erodes the very foundation upon which my faith in Christ is built.

Like the folks in the church in Laodicea, I go through the motions of my faith without passion for Christ and without really touching anyone’s life for Christ.

Biblical scholar William Barclay wrote, “The one attitude the Risen Christ unsparingly condemns is indifference.” When Christ matters to us less than our pocketbooks, when the hurts of others matter less to us than our own needs, our faith becomes irrelevant…a lukewarm manifestation of God in us with little ability to restore or refresh.

The Old Testament prophet Hosea used several colorful comments to point out the unhealthy state of Israel’s relationship with God during the reign of Jeroboam II. In Hosea 7:8 he said, “Ephraim is a cake not turned.” In other words, Israel’s faith is half-baked. Lukewarm.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be seen by God or anyone else as a half-baked, lukewarm Christian. So, I look at the words Jesus shared with the church at Laodicea and take note. He told them, “Be earnest and repent.”

When I find myself lacking passion for my faith, when my life is anything but refreshing and restoring, I need to earnestly approach the throne of grace seeking forgiveness for relying on my own wisdom rather than the wisdom of “the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the rule of God’s creation.” I must turn from my own self-sufficiency and put my trust in his will and way. While that’s easier said than done, it is the only way to get back to living in right relationship with him and with others.

The really neat thing is that even if my indifference and apathy drives Jesus to the point of wanting to vomit me from his mouth, he will never give up on me. He will convict me of my sin because he loves me. He will allow me to suffer the consequences of my sin as his loving discipline…to teach me how he wants me to live. And when I am honest in my desire to turn back to him, he stands ready to forgive my failings and put me on the right path.

“Here I am!” Jesus told the Laodiceans as he tells me. “I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and he with me.”

Forgiveness. Grace. Relationship. That’s what he offers everyone. All I must do is open the door and yield my life complete to him.

Ezra Taft Benson, the secretary of the United States Department of Agriculture during the Eisenhower administration, once spoke about the Bible’s greatest commandment. He said, “To love God with all your heart, all your mind, all your soul and all your strength is all-consuming and all-encompassing. It is no lukewarm endeavor.”

I don’t know where you are in your walk with Christ. All I know is that sitting comfortably in the tepid waters of a lukewarm faith, does nothing for you and nothing for the kingdom of God. My desire for you is the same as what I desire for myself…That our faith be hot enough to heal those who are hurting spiritually and cold enough to refresh the thirstiest of those whom God loves so deeply.

He’ll Leave the Light On For You

Background Passages: Revelation 3:7-12, Isaiah 22:17, Matthew 23:13, John 10:7-10

Holiday Inn-Express is our hotel of choice when we’re traveling in the United States. We’ve stayed in that chain often enough that we generally know what we’re going to get when we arrive.

These smaller, convenience hotels began to spring up about 15 years ago. Now, if one opens in your area, you can almost be assured others will build within a three-block radius.

As one with a background in advertising, I know you measure the effectiveness of an ad campaign by sales and market position. While they didn’t sway me, I always enjoyed the Motel 6 ads.

Motel 6 is a motel franchise with over 1,000 locations that started in Santa Barbara, California, in 1962 as a lower cost alternative to Holiday Inn. Motel 6 may be best known for its series of commercials that aired beginning in the mid-1980s. I’m sure you remember them.

The motel chain hired National Public Radio personality Tom Bodet to read the commercial script because of his warm and friendly vocal style. When he made the first commercial, Bodet extolled the virtues of the motel’s hospitality and warmth. Then, he ad-libbed and unscripted line, “We’ll leave the light on for you.”

The slogan was an instant and lasting success, winning the grand prize at the Radio Mercury Awards. More importantly to the franchise owners, it boosted sales and market share.

There was something comforting in the slogan. “We’ll leave the light on for you” reassured travelers that they would be welcomed and accepted. That there would be a room for them.

That’s one of the joys about being a Christian. When you put your faith and trust in Christ, you know where you’re going and you know Jesus will be there to welcome you. Still, it’s nice to hear a word of reassurance from time to time.

I’m near the end of my study of the seven churches to whom Jesus spoke in the second and third chapters of Revelation. The brief letter to the church at Philadelphia is all about reassurance. It’s as if Jesus is telling us, “We’ll leave the light on for you.”

It’s a good word to hear. Let’s look at the passage.

“These are the words of him who is holy and true, who holds the key of David. What he opens no one can shut, and what he shuts no one can open. I know your deeds. See I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut. I know that you have but a little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name. I will make those who are of the synagogue of Satan, who claim to be Jews though they are not, but are liars—I will make them come and fall down at your feet and acknowledge that I have loved you. Since you have kept my command to endure patiently, I will also keep you from the hour of trial that is going to come on the whole world to test the inhabitants of earth. I am coming soon. Hold on to what you have, so that no one will take your crown. The one who is victorious will make a pillar in the temple of my God, the new Jerusalem, which is coming down out of heaven from my God, and I will also write on them my new name.” (Revelation 3:7-12)

Philadelphia, founded in 150 B.C. by King Attallus of Pergamum, whose nickname was Philadelpius, meaning “lover of a brother.” The king was noted for his deep affection for his brother Eumenes. Oddly enough, driven by a king’s ego, he named the city after himself to honor his love for his brother.

The church in Philadelphia is a little unique from the seven churches because it is the only one for which the Lord levels no complaint. Despite some serious attacks from the local synagogue, they remained faithful.

The Jews from the “synagogue of Satan” made life miserable for the Christians in Philadelphia. The Jews in the city had unwittingly aligned themselves with Satan and had little use for this offshoot religion of the one they felt was a false Messiah.

The Jews claimed to be spiritual descendants of Abraham, worthy of the blessings of God, when they were only ethnic descendants. Their attitude toward the truth of God and his new revelation in Christ was far removed from Abraham’s unwavering faith.

The Jews had Moses and the Law. The Jews had David. The Jews had God’s promises. To the Jews, these Christians were unclean Gentiles, pretenders and corrupters of truth.

Undoubtedly, these Philadelphia Christians experienced the same personal and economic hardships inflicted upon them by the Jews as did other early congregations. They were ostracized from the community, pressured and slandered, and labeled as political enemies of Rome because they would not worship Caesar.

Despite the opposition they faced, they endured. Jesus praised them for their perseverance while acknowledging their situation. Look at his words.

“I know your deeds…I know you have but a little strength.”

Jesus was not condemning them for being weak in faith. He was proud of them for remaining faithful when they were almost powerless to do anything about the opposition that confronted them. Small in numbers and influence, they had little ability to counter the hostility they faced. No political leverage. No social standing. Everything was stacked against them, yet they endured it all without sacrificing their faith.

These Christians from Philadelphia were hammered day in and day out by the Jews saying they were God’s chosen people…That God loves the Jews and them only…That God has no place for those who profess a faith in Jesus.

Though they never denied their faith in Christ, don’t you imagine these early Christians needed to hear a word of reassurance?

“You have kept my word and not denied my name.”

Don’t we all hope Jesus could write those words about us? The Philadelphian Christians heard that word. It’s as if Jesus was whispering in their ears, “I know you. You made your reservation when you believed in me. And, even if you’re not sure right now, I know where you’re going. I’ll leave the light on for you.”

That’s what all that verbiage about holding the key of David and the open and shut doors means. Jesus reminds them that he is the fulfillment of prophecy. Isaiah 22:17 says,

“I will place on his shoulder the key to the house of David. What he opens, no one can shut, and what he shuts, no one can open.”

During the first Jesus and his followers battled the Pharisees about the true faith. Jesus used a similar thought to condemn the Jewish religious leaders.

“But woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you shut the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces. For you neither enter yourselves nor allow those who would enter to go in.” (Matthew 23:13)

The Pharisees acted as gatekeepers to God’s kingdom. While they would not allow others to enter the kingdom, they never walked through the door either.

Jesus called himself the door in the third of his “I am” statements in John.

“I am the door (gate) for the sheep. All who have come before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep have not listened to them. I am the door (gate); whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life and have it to the full.” (John 10:7-10)

Jesus offers reassurance to the battered souls of Philadelphia. Jesus has the key to the house of David. He sits on the throne. When he opens a door neither the Jews nor Caesar can shut it. If Jesus shuts the door, neither the Jews nor Caesar can open it. Jesus tells them, “I know you don’t have the political clout to stop the harassment, but, in the end, I hold the key. I’m at the door.” They are powerless against him.

I’d like to say I’ve never needed to hear God’s calm reassurance in my own life. I’d like to say I’ve never had others throw up arguments against my faith that left me questioning my eternal destiny. I’d like to say that, but it would not be true. Those who argue against faith can be convincing at times.

When pressured by opposing forces to abandon our faith, when it feels we wield so little influence against those whose influence seems so powerful, our hope is that we would respond as the Christians in Philadelphia responded…by keeping his word with absolute obedience to the teachings of Christ and by never denying the name of Jesus.

Jesus holds the key and stands at the open door. Nothing man can do or say and no one with earthly power and influence can hinder those who believe from entering the kingdom of God. That’s a word of reassurance we all need to hear at times.

How do we feel that sense of reassurance when everyone else is telling us we’re wrong? Jesus told the Christians in Philadelphia and he tells us, I think, three things.

“Since you have patiently endured, I will keep you from the hour of trial…”

Trials will come. All of us get to experience them. When we keep his word and honor his name, when we persevere through tough times, God keeps those tough times from being worse than they could be. He walks beside us and with us. He protects us from some of the ugliness of life because our eyes are focused on him.

“I am coming soon. Hold fast to what you have so no one will take your crown…”

I’ve never worried too much about the second coming of Christ. He will come when he comes. In God’s eternal time frame “soon” is a relative term.

My task is to “hold fast.” To hang on to his teachings and live life accordingly. I am to be so grounded in his word that no one can persuade me to abandon my faith (take my crown).

“The one who is victorious will make a pillar in the temple of my God, the new Jerusalem, which is coming down out of heaven from my God, and I will also write on them my new name.” (Revelation 3:7-12)

None of that makes as much sense in this context without knowing the whole of Revelation. Near the end of the book, John is sharing more of his vision of God’s kingdom as his temple and the New Jerusalem. It is a vision about being sealed within his protective care for all eternity. Jesus promised the church in Philadelphia. He promised us. Every believer has a home waiting for them. We are citizens of this heavenly city.

So, we find comfort when we endure the trials with him beside us. We find encouragement when we hang tough in the face of spiritual opposition. We find hope and reassurance when we understand that he has promised us a place in his kingdom.

When I read this passage in Revelation, that’s the line that kept jumping into my head. Jesus, speaking in that warm and friendly vocal style, reminds us that he his holding the door open. He praises the faithful for being obedient and never denying his name. Then, he urges all of us to hold on until he comes again, whenever that may be, with a simple reminder, “I’ll leave the light on for you.”

It is the promise that I know where I’m going. I know I’ll have a warm room waiting for me. I thank God I can see the light.