Sweet Comfort

A Broken Sacrifice

2011-10-17T14:11:00.000-07:00

I'm broken.

These words are hard to admit to in the privacy of my own mind, let alone write.

For decades I've mis-perceived God's perception of my brokenness, assuming that His only interest in my afflictions was to drive me to get my act together, to fix myself.

A fixer-upper is how I've thought of myself. I'm broken in spirit, my mind shattered from years of childhood abuse so horrendous that it became necessary to form an array of separate personalities (or "parts") in order to function. How on earth could God use someone like me, someone with so many mes that I don't even know who I'm referring to when I use that word?

Yes, I'm in dire need of fixing, or so I think in my darkest moments. Longings cut me to the quick as I lie in the dark, sleep eluding; longings to be whole, and mentally/emotionally healthy--longings to rightly represent the God I try to serve and worship in my bumbling fashion.

How do I rightly represent the Infinite? I've thought I could do so only by . . . well, by no longer making missteps, stumblings which are mostly the result of my Dissociative Identity Disorder. But how do I do that? I can't heal my mind. I've imagined that if I could get a strong handle on my image-management then God's character wouldn't be tarnished by my idiocy--by my sheer inability to blend in a world made up mostly of "singletons", those who are blessed to be mono-brained.

I wonder though. Does God really need my dishonest efforts to appear "normal" in order for His glory to be honored?

I want to impact my world for Christ, but too often I wander in the no man's land between the past and present. I make false starts, decide for instance to get back into the good habit of starting my days with prayer and Scripture, only to be rudely reminded by a strong inner resistance that many of my parts are not Christian, thank you very much.

Not today, then. I may seem to be running this ship, seeing as how this is my body, my hands and feet to do with as I will, but the reality is not that cut and dried. I zig when I mean to zag, being pulled in many directions at once. I laugh (or someone laughs) when tears would be more appropriate and, in fact, a pure relief.

I'm a fixer-upper is how I see it, but my many parts avidly disagree. I suspect they fear that "fixing" me would mean disposing of them by killing them off one by one.

I'm broken, I have nothing to offer, for my way involves backtracking (to what purpose?), dead-ends and constant do-overs.

Finally I manage to spend 15 minutes with the Lord, my eyes falling on these words in my open Bible:

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit. (Ps. 34:18)

The Lord is near to me; He is saving me, and there is not a hint of anything necessary on my part to help Him accomplish His good will in me.

Can He use my brokenness, then, as a sort of cracked offering, much like a jagged piece of mosaic? Perhaps He can fit me in somewhere in some life, the seemingly insignificant bit of mosaic that is me helping complete the design of another life.

Today, right now at least, I think wistfully of these things and assure myself there is purpose in every life, even mine; fractured, yes, but no less valuable to the One who is near to such as I.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and God of all comfort; who comforts us in all our affliction so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. (I Cor. 1:3)

Sorrow and Joy

2011-07-05T22:52:00.000-07:00

The following is an excerpt from the devotional, Streams In the Desert:

As sorrowful, yet always rejoicing (2 Cor. 6:10)

Sorrow was beautiful, but her beauty was the beauty of the moonlight shining through the leafy branches of the trees in the wood, and making little pools of silver here and there on the soft green moss below.

When Sorrow sang, her notes were like the low sweet call of the nightingale, and in her eyes was the unexpectant gaze of one who has ceased to look for coming gladness. She could weep in tender sympathy with those who weep, but to rejoice with those who rejoice was unknown to her.

Joy was beautiful, too, but his was the radiant beauty of the summer morning. His eyes still held the glad laughter of childhood, and his hair had the glint of the sunshine's kiss. When Joy sang his voice soared upward as the lark's, and his step was the step of a conqueror who has never known defeat. He could rejoice with all who rejoice, but to weep with those who weep was unknown to him.

"But we can never be united," said Sorrow wistfully.

"No, never." And Joy's eyes shadowed as he spoke. "My path lies through the sunlit meadows, the sweetest roses bloom for my gathering, and the blackbirds and thrushes await my coming to pour forth their most joyous songs."

"My path," said Sorrow, turning slowly away, "leads through the darkening woods, with moon-flowers only shall my hands be filled. Yet the sweetest of all earth-songs--the love song of the night--shall be mine; farewell, Joy, farewell."

Even as she spoke they became conscious of a form standing beside them; dimly seen, but of a Kingly Presence, and a great and holy awe stole over them as they sank on their knees before Him.

"I see Him as the King of Joy," whispered Sorrow, "for on His head are many crowns, and the nail prints in His hands and feet are the scars of a great victory. Before Him all my sorrow is melting away into deathless love and gladness, and I give myself to Him forever."

"Nay, Sorrow," said Joy softly, "but I see Him as the King of Sorrow, and the crown on His head is a crown of thorns, and the nail prints in His hands and feet are the scars of a great agony. I, too, give myself to Him forever, for sorrow with Him must be sweeter than any joy that I have known."

"Then we are one in Him, they cried in gladness, "for none but He could unite Joy and Sorrow."

Hand in hand they passed out into the world to follow Him through storm and sunshine, in the bleakness of winter cold and the warmth of summer gladness, "as sorrowful yet always rejoicing."

The Providence of God

2011-06-08T10:44:00.000-07:00

Here is another entry in Devotions and Prayers, by Charles Spurgeon:

"Be strong and of good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them; for the Lord thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee nor forsake thee." (Deut: 31:6)

We believe in the providence of God, but we do not believe half enough in it. Remember that Omnipotence has servants everywhere, set in their places at every point of the road. In the old days of the post horses there were always swift horses ready to carry onward the king's mail.

It is wonderful how God has His relays of providential agents; how when He has done with one there is always another ready to take his place. Sometimes you have found one friend fail you---he is just dead and buried. "Ah!" you say, "what shall I do?" Well, well, God knows how to carry on the purposes of His providence; He will raise up another. How strikingly punctual providence is! You and I make appointments and miss them by half an hour; God never is before His time though we often wish He were; but He is never behind---no, not by one tick of the clock.

And now, trembler, wherefore are you afraid? "Fear thou not; for I am with thee." All the mysterious arrangements of providence work for our good.

Your Great God Cares for You

2011-05-20T09:03:00.000-07:00

I've always had a hard time bringing my little cares and fears to God. A sudden crisis is one thing: I can see that it is too much for me, and I turn to Him automatically when disaster strikes. But the little things that make up so much of life, oh these I keep to myself not wanting to bother my Heavenly Father with such trivialities.

Yesterday I came across the following writing by Charles H. Spurgeon; after reading it I had to laugh at myself for being so silly as to think that the God who numbers the hairs on my head would not concern himself with the daily disappointments and trials which make up so much of our life in this world:

I believe that we fail to bring little troubles to God, and perhaps on account of their being so little, we fancy that we must not mention them to the Most High. This is but the fruit of our pride, for how do we know that our great things are so great as we think them to be? and are not our little things, after all, but the fractions of a considerable sum to such little creatures as ourselves?

These little, little things are of momentous concern to such little ones as we are; and the God that stoops to us at all has already brought himself down to condescension so low that we need not fear that we shall bring him lower. No, you may go to him if you like about that lost key, or about that child's swelling finger, or about that word that irritated you just now. There is nothing little to a father in the thing that troubles his little child; and your great God, having once condescended to observe and care for you, numbering the very hairs of your head, and not suffering a sparrow to fall to the ground without his purpose and decree will not think that you intrude upon him if you bring your daily troubles to him.

Our Father, Thy children who know Thee delight themselves in Thy presence. We are never happier than when we are near Thee. We have found a little heaven in prayer. It has eased our load to tell Thee of its weight; it has relieved our wound to tell Thee of its smart; it has restored our spirit to confess to Thee its wanderings. For Thy great and loving care, we thank Thee. Amen.

Ten Resolutions for Mental Health

2011-05-09T14:19:00.000-07:00

The following article was written by John Piper. I share it with my readers (with permission) in the hopes that it will help them (as it has me) find better clarity in living their lives with deliberate consciousness:

On October 22, 1976, Clyde Kilby, who is now with Christ in Heaven, gave an unforgettable lecture. I went to hear him that night because I loved him. He had been one of my professors in English Literature at Wheaton College. He opened my eyes to more of life than I knew could be seen. O, what eyes he had! He was like his hero, C. S. Lewis, in this regard. When he spoke of the tree he saw on the way to class this morning, you wondered why you had been so blind all your life. Since those days in classes with Clyde Kilby, Psalm 19:1 has been central to my life: “The sky is telling the glory of God.”

That night Dr. Kilby had a pastoral heart and a poet’s eye. He pled with us to stop seeking mental health in the mirror of self-analysis, but instead to drink in the remedies of God in nature. He was not naïve. He knew of sin. He knew of the necessity of redemption in Christ. But he would have said that Christ purchased new eyes for us as well as new hearts. His plea was that we stop being unamazed by the strange glory of ordinary things. He ended that lecture in 1976 with a list of resolutions. As a tribute to my teacher and a blessing to your soul, I offer them for your joy.

1. At least once every day I shall look steadily up at the sky and remember that I, a consciousness with a conscience, am on a planet traveling in space with wonderfully mysterious things above and about me.
2. Instead of the accustomed idea of a mindless and endless evolutionary change to which we can neither add nor subtract, I shall suppose the universe guided by an Intelligence which, as Aristotle said of Greek drama, requires a beginning, a middle, and an end. I think this will save me from the cynicism expressed by Bertrand Russell before his death when he said: "There is darkness without, and when I die there will be darkness within. There is no splendor, no vastness anywhere, only triviality for a moment, and then nothing."
3. I shall not fall into the falsehood that this day, or any day, is merely another ambiguous and plodding twenty-four hours, but rather a unique event, filled, if I so wish, with worthy potentialities. I shall not be fool enough to suppose that trouble and pain are wholly evil parentheses in my existence, but just as likely ladders to be climbed toward moral and spiritual manhood.
4. I shall not turn my life into a thin, straight line which prefers abstractions to reality. I shall know what I am doing when I abstract, which of course I shall often have to do.
5. I shall not demean my own uniqueness by envy of others. I shall stop boring into myself to discover what psychological or social categories I might belong to. Mostly I shall simply forget about myself and do my work.
6. I shall open my eyes and ears. Once every day I shall simply stare at a tree, a flower, a cloud, or a person. I shall not then be concerned at all to ask what they are but simply be glad that they are. I shall joyfully allow them the mystery of what Lewis calls their "divine, magical, terrifying and ecstatic" existence.
7. I shall sometimes look back at the freshness of vision I had in childhood and try, at least for a little while, to be, in the words of Lewis Carroll, the "child of the pure unclouded brow, and dreaming eyes of wonder."
8. I shall follow Darwin's advice and turn frequently to imaginative things such as good literature and good music, preferably, as Lewis suggests, an old book and timeless music.
9. I shall not allow the devilish onrush of this century to usurp all my energies but will instead, as Charles Williams suggested, "fulfill the moment as the moment." I shall try to live well just now because the only time that exists is now.
10. Even if I turn out to be wrong, I shall bet my life on the assumption that this world is not idiotic, neither run by an absentee landlord, but that today, this very day, some stroke is being added to the cosmic canvas that in due course I shall understand with joy as a stroke made by the architect who calls himself Alpha and Omega.

On the Death of Bin Laden

2011-05-04T19:13:00.000-07:00

The pastor of the church we attended in NY, Steve Froehlich, wrote this letter to the church family:

A California elementary school teacher posted on Facebook yesterday how she was greeted that morning by one of her 6-year old students : “Osama Bin Laden is dead … is that a good thing?”

Out of the mouth of babes, eh? What an excellent question to ask, one worthy of a careful answer.

10 years ago the world changed, or at least the world that sees America at the center of global influence. The US was brutally attacked, a shrewd but cowardly action that struck at symbols of American power and claimed thousands of civilian lives. The world watched as the aura of American invincibility crumbled. The decade-long aftermath has been a costly and controversial war against a real yet shadowy enemy identified as “terrorism.” Yesterday, that war celebrated a victory with the elimination of Osama Bin Ladan, the mastermind of the 911 attacks.
“Osama Bin Laden is dead … is that a good thing?”

Bin Laden is the Hitler of our generation. So it may seem like an obviously good thing to rid the world of such a monster. Even most people who are reluctant to affirm a belief in Hell are willing to make exceptions for the Hitlers, Stalins, Pol Pots, Edi Amins, and Mao Zedongs of history. Bin Laden is a small-time player compared to that list, but he qualifies.

Is it a good thing that justice is served? Yes, I believe it is. Justice is served on the Cross, although upon the one true Innocent, and we are charged to enact justice (personally and collectively) as men and women made in the image of the One who is perfectly Just. However, we would be wise to recognize how often we imperfectly carry out justice, an awareness that should temper any hubris in its execution. We are starting to lose count of the number of people confidently sent to death row by a jury of their peers who have now been pardoned and released after a more comprehensive review of the evidence has exonerated them. For as many times as we do well in exercising justice, we seem to practice a justice that is polluted by arrogance and ignorance.

There seems to be little doubt that Bin Laden is guilty of launching the murderous assault upon American civilians in 2001 — he has celebrated his actions openly and repeatedly. Therefore, it is just for the American government to punish him for his crimes — it is a God-ordained responsibility for those entrusted and empowered to govern to use “the sword” for protection and punishment (Romans 13:3-4). Within the biblical framework of justice and punishment, requiring the life of the murderer for the life he has taken is a just measure of punishment. But it is an option, but not a requirement. In fact, I am personally quite persuaded that in common civil law, it is usually unnecessary and unwise to take the life of criminals even though they may be indisputably guilty of heinous crimes. The famous Levitical legal principle of lex talionus, “an eye for an eye” (Leviticus 24:17-22) is not a prescription for punishment, but a restraint on excessive punishment, a restraint upon our sinful impulses in meting out punishment. If we have been robbed, it is just to ask that what was taken be restored, that we be made whole. While it is just to exact the full measure of punishment that is appropriate, as was done on the Cross, we are always free to temper justice with mercy. Why? Often the punishment, in the end (if we are honest), is more about our own visceral satisfaction than the just measure of the law. Often, sadly and ironically, the pursuit of justice exacts a costly toll upon our souls — too often, in seeking justice, we become poisoned by hatred, bitterness, pride, revenge, and arrogance (Consider Javert, the policeman in Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables, who will not rest until the full weight of the law falls upon Jean Valjean, a pursuit that in the end drags him to a lonely and bitter death). It is no surprise then that the Lord our God calls us not only “to do justice” but also “to love kindness and to walk humbly” with our God (Micah 6:8).

We may agree that it is just that Bin Laden be punished for his crimes. But more importantly, I think, we need to examine how we respond even to the death of the wicked.

Should we be relieved that Bin Laden is dead? Should we put our heads on our pillows with the blissful belief that all is well, the dragon has been slain, and we may live happily… and safely ever after? Certainly we enjoy a measure of relief knowing that this particular dragon is no longer a threat. While we hope that the loss of a leader is a major setback for a movement committed to violence and evil, there are hundreds of dragons-in-training who are eager to take his place. The epic Lord of the Rings is the about the war against the diabolical Sauron. But in the wake of Sauron’s defeat, Gandalf warns that “other evils will come.” Our government must remain vigilant against all sorts of evils that threaten us. But so must we be vigilant in our every day lives. We are to live well-armored lives because we must not be naive about the nature of evil — it is relentless, cunning, and powerful, and we must not live our lives thinking otherwise. We may give thanks for victories, but we must fight on keeping in mind 2 realities: 1) the inescapable persistence of evil, and 2) the invincible presence of Christ. We stand firm and stand ready (Ephesians 6) knowing that “we are more than conquerors through him that loved us” (Romans 8:37) — “he who is in you is greater than he who is in the world” (1 John 4:4).

Should we be glad that Bin Laden is dead? Certainly any measure of freedom and safety resulting from his death is appropriate reason to rejoice — in that sense we may say we are glad he is dead. We are happy that the threat and evil he embodies have been removed. Also, justice is a gift to those who have been wronged by the evil-doer — when the system “works” those who have been wronged may “let go” and find a happiness in healing that is free of the corrupting impulse to seek revenge.

Yet at the same time, our hearts must be ruled by the fact that even a wicked man like Bin Laden bears the image of God. We argue that the unborn must be protected because they bear God’s image, and we must hold onto that belief when we are confronted with the most unlovable and despicable of our kind. We may be called upon to carry out just punishment of a fellow human being (parents, this includes you and your children), but we must never allow ourselves to do so glibly or gleefully. All too often we think that because we believe people deserve to be punished that we can dance on their graves — but, this is to our shame that we do so, and we add sin upon sin. Furthermore, such an attitude disgraces the image of God we bear. God is not shy about punishing the wicked — he executes judgment boldly and at times ferociously making some episodes in the Old Testament painfully difficult to read. But even God who does so with perfect justice, who is ultimately the one violated by our evil and sin and has the true right unleash the fury of his justice, does not take joy in punishing anyone. “I have no pleasure in the death of anyone, declares the Lord God so turn, and live” (Ezekiel 18:32). “As I live, declares the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live; so turn back, turn back from your evil ways, for why will you die, O house of Israel?” (Ezekiel 33:11). God will punish the unrepentant in Hell — he will do so justly (as he did on the Cross) — and this certainty must kindle deep compassion in our hearts for all who reject Christ as Saviour.

Also, our taking joy in the punishment of the wicked cannot help but be an evidence of our pride. We rejoice because we have declared ourselves not-evil, not worthy of punishment. Or, in other words, we think of ourselves as righteous and deserving of the benefits of justice. But this pride is rank with self-deception. We may say, “I thank God I am not a Hitler… a Bin Laden… a Republican/Democrat…” (Luke 18:11ff). The Gospel frees us to stand fully exposed in the light of God’s grace to admit what we really are apart from him. The truth is the just estimation of our lives as expressed by the Psalmist: “If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand?” The answer is: no one. We each have enough sin to merit the judgment of God that fell upon Christ. We are no less sinful than Bin Laden, and it is possible we could be guilty of the very sins he has committed were our lives not constrained by God’s grace. The Gospel demands that we make this honest assessment of ourselves. But the Psalmist does not stop with the bad news. His very next statement is this 2nd completing affirmation of the Gospel: “But with you there is forgiveness, that you may be feared [worshiped]” (Psalm 130:3-4).
How are we to respond to the death of Bin Laden?

* We give thanks for the benefits of justice — freedom, security.
* We sorrow over the effects of sin and the need for justice.
* We repent of our own sin mirrored in the sin of others.
* We pray for peace — God’s shalom that comes from hearts made new and lives reconciled to him.
* We renew our commitment to live righteously, humbly, mercifully, justly.
* We worship — we bow our hearts and lives before the true King, give him our allegiance again, and trust him to govern the world in such a way that his eternal purposes are brought to their undiminished fulfillment when Christ returns to make all things new.

Christian Celebrities

2011-04-13T09:35:00.000-07:00

What form of madness has overtaken our country that we have become a nation of idol-worshipers? Many bow down at the Fountain of Youth, hoping to stave off the telltale signs of aging through cosmetic surgery. The sad (and expensive) attempt to look like a 20 or 30 year old well into one's 50's and 60's becomes the focal point for many. Others worship celebrity. Whoever is currently in the national spotlight for whatever reason is their current obsession. (How fitting that one of the most popular TV shows to which many are addicted is named American Idol!) These days one doesn't need to contribute something worthwhile to society in order to become famous: the more outrageous one's behavior the more quickly they become front page news. We've seen this countless times, and lately most notably with Charlie Sheen.

I've nothing against Charlie, having never met the guy. And maybe this is my point: why should I be the least bit interested in his public antics simply because his face is plastered all over TV? The public apparently can't get enough of his outrageous comments, or gaze long enough upon the wild look in his eye.

Criminals enjoy a breadth of notoriety that would shock us if it wasn't so commonplace. The more heinous the crime, the more the public is entertained with the details through movies, books and documentaries.

The type of idol worship I find the most disturbing though is that surrounding Christian Celebrities. Isn't this phrase an oxymoron? Does a Christian have any business being a celebrity? Is it something that a follower of the humble Christ should strive for or accept?

I've watched with shocked wonder as celebrity after celebrity is interviewed on Christian TV, my heart sinking as I see the fawning manner of the interviewer. Why should we be impressed by a profession of faith when it comes from a well-known actor or other public figure? Is their walk with God somehow of more value than that of the vast majority of Christians who live out their entire lives unknown and out of the spotlight? There is something slick and contrived about Christianity which is put on display like this, something deeply disturbing, for it goes against the grain of true discipleship.

We worship all the wrong things in society, and are too easily awed by that which is flashy. But Jesus said, "Woe to you when all men speak well of you, for their fathers used to treat the false prophets in the same way."

This is not meant as an indictment against famous individuals who become Christians. When one has lived an entire lifetime in the public eye it would be natural to continue doing so after one's conversion. I think my controversy is more with those who bring such celebrities into the spotlight, flattering them in ways which are sure to be a detriment to the growth of their newborn Christian selves. ( I can't help wondering how much program ratings have to do with these famous new Christians being sought out for interviews.) The life of Christ within us is in many respects a hidden life, growing best unseen and away from human attention. Many times a famous person has barely accepted Christ and they are whisked off for interviews, feted by what I consider to be the jet-set of modern-day Christianity.

Such abnormal attention is detrimental to the babe in Christ, and is surely placing a snare before their steps. Those who have an obsessive interest in celebrity will also fall into a snare, for they have taken their eyes off of Christ and focused their gaze on mere humans who, like themselves, are fallible and weak.

Jesus told his disciples, "If the world hates you, you know that it has hated Me before it hated you. If you were of the world , the world would love its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, because of this the world hates you".

There is much interest in famous celebrities who name the name of Christ; they are adored and quoted and treated like royalty. It is not the John the Baptists of our time who are stepping into the spotlight and doted upon! You won't find such rugged followers of Christ wasting their time making TV appearances for the purpose of promoting self. What was that Jesus said? "Woe to you when all men speak well of you . . ."

We as a nation need to repent of our obsession with celebrities. We need to humble ourselves before our holy God and put all this nonsense behind us. There is nothing glamorous about following Christ. The lust for glamor and living vicariously through the lives of public figures needs to be repented of by all who walk the narrow road that leads to eternal life.

The Craving of Our Hearts, Part 2

2011-04-06T15:32:00.000-07:00

After reading the comment left by Clay on my last post, I mulled over what he said about obedience being optional in the Christian life. I've long been intrigued by the concept of just what is meant by being a believer, a follower and/or a disciple of Christ.

Back when I gave the Pharisees of old a run for their shekels, I would have been hard put to come up with a definition of any of the above. During my twenties a couple of teens knocked on my door and asked if they could come in and talk to me about God. A bit reluctantly I said yes, and one of them lost no time in asking, "What qualifies you for Heaven?" I don't recall my fumbled reply but I do know it had something to do with rule keeping. When she responded with, "The only thing which qualifies anyone for Heaven is a relationship with Christ," I felt my face flush from the shame of not having known that.

Anyway, after reading Clay's comment I thought about my little granddaughter, Maddy, who is 4. Maddy absolutely adores her 8 year old cousin, Izzy. When Izzy walks into a room and sits down, arranging her legs just so, Maddy quickly adjusts herself so that she strikes the same pose. If Izzy practices dance steps Maddy jumps up to imitate every move (and how endearing it is, seeing how clunky she is next to the lithe and agile Izzy!) When the time comes to leave, Maddy has a meltdown sobbing, "But I don't want to leave! I want Izzy!" Such total adoration speaks volumes of where her heart is. I believe Izzy could ask for anything and Maddy would turn herself inside out to bring it about.

This focused love, resulting in clumsy attempts at imitation, the heartbreak that results in every leave taking reminds me of how I first fell in love with Jesus at the tender age of 5. It's what I long to have rekindled in my heart for, oh, would there need be any talk of obedience if He were my everything? Need lovers even speak of such horrors as infidelity when their hearts belong to one another, and every thought is of how to contribute to the other's well being?

I realized something during all this pondering: I want to please God because in doing so I'm becoming more and more like His Son. And I want to be like my Beloved! I want my heart to expand as easily as it did as a child to embrace all of His loveliness; I want to shine with a light that is not of my own making. How superior is this attitude to the narrow-mindedness and yes, the high-handedness of keeping score of one's own righteousness! How tiresome it is working up one's own goodness and how everlastingly long every day seems when it is spent in such (futile) attempts.

I want to be like Jesus. Not because I have to or because my eternal destiny depends on it: I want to because He is my Beloved, and like Maddy with Izzy it's enough just to be near Him. To think I may, little by little, become more and more fashioned into His likeness: what bliss, what an honor, what Heaven!

The Craving of Our Hearts

2011-04-05T10:01:00.000-07:00

What did Jesus mean when he said, "If you love me you will keep my commandments." ?(John 14:15). Having grown up under the harsh regime of legalism, for decades I've assumed these words were given in the form of a directive, as when a parent tells a young child, "You will do as you're told." We all know the likely outcome of that one: any kid worth their salt will rebel simply because they're being told they can't do something. I've witnessed some parents (and perhaps when my sons were little I was guilty of this myself at times) baiting their children, tempting them to do the very thing they've been prohibited from doing. We've all either experienced this ourselves (during childhood, or when we became parents) or we've watched it being played out in tiresome fashion. The parent forbids a certain activity in no uncertain terms, for instance, and immediately the child tests and pushes the boundary lines.

"If you touch that you'll go straight to bed," the parent proclaims, and adds, "I mean it! Don't you dare. Don't you dare touch that when I just told you not to!"

Perhaps the child wasn't all that interested in the forbidden item or act until such proclamations were made. Now, because they have been pushed and pushed they feel a compulsion to do the very thing forbidden of them.

Does this rebellious spirit ever completely die out? Who of us, even as adults, are completely dead to the temptation to do what we're told not to do, or conversely, to not do what we're told we must do? Was Jesus simply stating a fact when He said we'd keep His commandments if we love Him (cause and effect), or was He sternly demanding that we do so?

As I ponder His words I realize I don't want to obey Him because it is a requirement with dire consequences should I decide not to comply. There is something cold about obedience for obedience's sake, something left out of the equation: the person of Christ, and what He means to us. Is it possible He was stating a fact and not giving a directive? Of course obedience in the Christian life is not an option, but I'd like to think of it as the natural outgrowth of knowing and loving Christ rather than a settling in to cold duty. If a tree is good (or evil) we shall know it by the fruit it produces. It's safe to say that if we consistently produce rotten fruit, we're not connected to the Vine. In the past, as I stumbled along stridently trying to do the right thing, I was trying to produce good fruit in my life by self-will. I didn't understand the concept of being connected to the Vine, for I'd had years and years of Thou-Shalt-Nots being emphasized much more than a relationship with the One calling me into intimacy.

I believe that we truly will keep His commandments if we love Christ, but love is what compels us to obey willingly, from the heart, as opposed to surface compliance which at its very core may consist of a spirit of rebelliousness which we dare not admit to ourselves, let alone reveal to others.

Today and every day may we all focus on a deeper intimacy with Christ (which will ultimately result in consistent obedience), because this is the craving of our hearts.

Christian Conversation

2011-03-28T13:02:00.000-07:00

Unwholesome Talk

(edited from Thomas Reade’s “On Christian Conversation”)

“Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.” (Ephesians 4:29)

We ought never to speak unfavorably, not even by insinuation, of absent people, except when duty positively requires it; and even then, there should be a marked and sincere regret that the occasion calls for such an exposure of character.

We must guard against attributing wrong motives to the actions of others, even when appearances might favor such a conclusion; remembering that God alone knows the heart. Who are we, that we should judge our brother?

We should avoid every thing that borders upon flattering adulation, especially towards those who are present; knowing how pernicious praise is to a fallen creature, and how few are able to withstand its influence. This does not exclude a proper commendation, or a suitable encouragement, when dictated by Christian simplicity and prudence.

We must not indulge in those exaggerations, those strong hyperboles, those embellished representations, which seem to give force to conversation, but which actually destroy its delicacy and beauty. This mode of speaking, by stretching out too far, touches upon the confines of falsehood. Truth appears most beautiful in its own native simplicity.

Christian conversation is marked by love, humility, and purity.

Love leads us to converse with delight on all subjects connected with the glory of God and the good of man.

Humility draws a veil over her own graces, and delicately discovers the excellencies of others. It frankly confesses her own faults, and carefully conceals the failings of others.

Purity, like the refreshing rose, sheds a fragrance peculiarly its own over our whole conversation; and, like that lovely flower, leaves its reviving scent when we are gone.

How different from the conversation of the wicked, whose throat is compared in Scripture to an open sepulcher; loathsome and offensive, disgusting and pestilential.

But I tell you that men will have to give account on the day of judgment for every careless word they have spoken. For by your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned.

(Matt.12:36, 37)

One Thing

2011-03-23T18:41:00.000-07:00

For quite some time now I've felt the conviction that I need to spend more time on my writing. For one thing I've had so many positive responses to my poetry and various bloggings about my childhood, and how its abuses affected my walk with God. This is greatly encouraging, but can also lead to apprehension. I think I'll always have the propensity for assuming that whatever I write is of no interest to anyone but myself. And yet I don't want to be influenced by false modesty.

Before I was hardly out of bed this morning my mind with churning with writing ideas. I made the decision to devote the day to writing; the housework could wait. Who would care if the floors don't get swept? Well apparently I do! What a distraction to attempt focusing on writing when I was aware of dishes piled in the sink, and the bathroom which needs a good scrubbing. I deliberately turned my thoughts away from these domestic concerns. This is a "Mary" day, I told myself, reminding myself that Jesus commended her for having chosen the good part----sitting at his feet and learning from Him---in contrast to her sister Martha who was careful about too many things, mainly housework.

How easy it is when one is prone to OCD to fuss about things which have no eternal value. As important as it is to live in a clean environment, some things can wait. Others, such as sharing truths and stories which may impact other lives for good, cannot. It's a testament to my typical fussy anxiety that my thoughts kept straying to my unmade bed, undusted rooms. Would I care though about such things on my death bed? Wouldn't I rather be concerned with how many lives I've touched by telling them the story of how God led me out of gross darkness into His marvelous light?

I didn't exactly begin my day with writing. First I spent time in the Word, feasting on the wonder of Isaiah 45:3:

"And I will give you the treasures of darkness, and hidden wealth of secret places."

What can that mean? I once pondered aloud on the possible spiritual aftermath of having endured such an abusive childhood, to which my friend replied, "It probably means you'll enjoy a deeper intimacy with God than most people do."

Is this one of the treasures of darkness, a deeper friendship with my Creator? Do we experience intimacy with Him in direct proportion to our sufferings? I suppose that's a possibility though it would seem to me that what we do with those sufferings must determine whether or not they draw us closer to our Saviour. If we allow ourselves to become filled with bitterness, then of course that would make true intimacy with God (or anyone) impossible.

I like learning new truths as I putter about my days not expecting anything new or out of the ordinary. I like how God reveals new things to us in the least likely of places, or at the most unexpected times. He at any rate has chosen the good part for it would almost seem, sometimes at least, that He is lackadaisical about unveiling truth. As if He had all the time in the universe in which to do so! The fact that God doesn't force us to open or broaden our minds is for me a source of great mental and emotional security. Nothing is going to be forced on me and when the time is perfect for some new epiphany, God reveals it as only He can: gently, enticingly, so that I am attracted to its beauty with no sense of being coerced into anything. "Look at this," I can nearly hear Him say. "You might be interested in this, I thought it was something that would especially appeal to you."

"But only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."

May every day bring me closer to Mary like devotion, drawing close to admire and learn from the One who first drew me to Him in the first place.

95 Theses to the Modern Evangelical Church (by Greg Gordon)

2011-02-22T10:17:00.000-08:00

The following theses needs to be proclaimed far and wide. Everything listed here is exactly what I've been thinking for several years. We need a return to the true gospel of Christ, as set forth in the following list:

95 THESES TO THE MODERN EVANGELICAL CHURCH by Greg Gordon

Greg Gordon

I believe many need to hear these truths and they are shared in the humility of my weakness and lack in my own Christian Life. May all of these lead people to experience the person and work of the Lord Jesus Christ and His indwelling Power to live the Christian life. Anything else will produce self-effort, striving and fleshly obedience to God’s commands and Scripture. I recommend all who read these Theses to also read these books also for “balance” for their Christian walk: “Classic Christianity by Bob George, “The Calvary Road by Roy Hession” and “The Spiritual Secret by Hudson Taylor“. May God in His mercy come and revive, reform and renew North American Christianity for His glory alone. “May the Lamb of God receive the reward of His sufferings in our lives today!” - Greg Gordon (founder of SermonIndex.net)

1. The “church” at large has forgotten that the chief end of man is to glorify God. (Rom 16:27; 1Cor 6:20; Mt 6:9; 1Cor 10:31)
2. Christians ignore most of the methods, practices and principles found in the book of Acts. (Acts 2:42,44; Acts 2:46; Acts 2:38)
3. Many treat “church” like any other social club or sports event that they might attend. (Acts 2:46; Heb 10:25; Acts 1:14)
4. We’ve made Christianity about the individual rather than the community of believers. (Rom 12:5; 1Cor 12:12; 2Tim 4:16)
5. In most “churches” the priesthood of all believers isn’t acknowledged and the role of pastor is abused. (1Pt 2:9; 1Cor 12:12; Eph 4:11-13)
6. The “church” as a whole has lost the concept of their being grafted into the promises given to Israel. (Rom 11:15, 17-18, 20, 25)
7. There needs to be a recovery of teaching the whole counsel of God, especially in expository form. (Acts 20:27; 1Tim 4:6, 2Tim 2:15)
8. We take it too lightly that we have the blessing and honor of having God’s Scriptures in our possession. (Ps 119:16; Acts 13:44; Neh 8:9)
9. There has never been more access to the Word of God, yet so little reading of it. (1Tim 4:13; Neh 8:1-3; Ps 119:59)
10. Some read the Scriptures to attain knowledge, but do not practice what they read. (Jam 1:22; Mt 7:21; 3Jn 4)
11. Worship has become an idol in many “churches.” The music often resembles that of the world. (Amos 5:23; Phil 4:8; 1Jn 5:21)
12. The world is shaping the views of the “church” more than the “church” shaping the world. (Rom 12:2; Mt 5:13; 1Cor 1:22-23)
13. The “church” spends more money on dog food than on missions. (2Cor 9:6; Lk 21:2; Acts 4:34-35)
14. We take lightly the cost of discipleship laid out by Jesus Christ and do not deny our lives. (Lk 14:33; Lk 14:26-27; Mt 8:19-20)
15. There is a lack of true discipleship and making others to be obedient disciples. (Mt 28:20; 2Tim 2:2; 2Tim 2:14)
16. Many subscribe to the error that parts of life are to be spiritual while others are to be secular. (1Pt 4:2; Col 3:3; 1Jn 2:6)
17. Modern Christians often find Jesus’ command to sacrifice and serve abhorrent. (Phil 2:21; Jam 3:16; Rom 12:1-2)
18. Self disciplines in the Christian life such as fasting and praying are considered legalistic. (2Tim 2:21; 2Tim 1:8; Mt 6:17)
19. Little thought and contemplation is put towards the lostness of men, the seriousness of the Gospel. (Phil 3:8; Gal 2:20; Heb 10:34)
20. We are living with an epidemic of cheap grace with flippant confession and shallow consecration. (Lk 14:28-30; Lk 14:26; Jam 4:8)
21. Since the inception of the Church, the Gospel had the requirements of repentance and discipleship. (Acts 2:38; Lk 14:26; Jn 8:31)
22. Now forgiveness is offered without repentance, discipleship without obedience, salvation without sanctity. (Heb 10:29; 4:11; Lk 13:24)
23. Introspection, counting the cost, godly sorrow over sin, are all foreign to many in the “church.”(Acts 2:37; Ps 119:9; Heb 6:1-2)
24. The modern church loves itself more than its neighbor. (1Cor 3:3; Gal 5:13; Phil 2:3)
25. The church must repent of its idolization of personality, and of business principles. (2Cor 2:17; 1Cor 3:5; 1Cor 12:23)
26. Many elders and pastors of the “church” sadly are fleecing the flock to supply their own wants. (Jn 10:12-13; 1Pt 5:2-3; Rev 2:15)
27. The qualities most in demand in today’s pastorate are frequently foreign to the Scriptures. (1Tim 3:2-3; 1Tim 3:5; 1Tim 1:5-7)
28. The professionalization of the pastorate is a sin and needs to be repented of. (2Cor 11:13; Gal 3:1; Gal 2:6)
29. There must be repentance for the ambitious desire and idolization of the celebrity pastorate. (3Jn 9; Jer 17:5; 1Cor 12:22)
30. Pastors must trust the Spirit, not statistics. (2Sam 24:1; 1Cor 1:25; Rom 8:14)
31. Modern day prophets are being stoned by criticism and neglect. (2Tim 4:3-4; Gal 1:10; Jer 1:7-8)
32. God’s prophets are ill-treated and shunned by most “christians” who consider them too extreme. (Jer 6:10; Isa 6:9-10; Gal 4:16)
33. The prophets prophesy falsely, priests rule by their own power; and my people love to have it so. (Mt 24:4, 11-12; 1Cor 1:19, Jude 8 )
34. There are many false gospels being preached from pulpits in our day. (2Cor 11:4; Gal 1:8-9; Jude 16)
35. There is an epidemic of a “mock” salvation message. It is correct in doctrine, but false in reality. (2Cor 3:6; 1Jn 5:11-12; Rom 8:9)
36. A salvation that does not make men holy is trusted in by a deceived multitude. (Jude 4; Rom 8:1; Rom 6:17-18)
37. There is a needed perseverance in the truths of the Gospel without unbelief. (Eph 1:1; Heb 6:11-12; Heb 10:26-27)
38. A great need is to see “christians” become saints in actual experience. (1Jn 2:29; Col 3:5-8; Tit 3:8)
39. Many professors of religion are forbidding people to be a part of the holy body of Christ. (Mt 23:13; Ps 119:1-2; 2Pt 1:3-4)
40. Preaching has become all about the happiness of man and not the glory of God. (Jn 6:26; Rom 4:20; 1Pt 4:11)
41. Preachers give smooth words to entice men, yet very few give any words of correction or rebuke. (Jer 6:14; Pro 1:23; 1Tim 5:20)
42. Run from gospels that focus on our success and prosperity in the name of Jesus Christ. (Jn 2:16; Acts 20:33; Jer 6:13)
43. Run from gospels that focus on self-improvement. (1Tim 6:5; Heb 12:14; Jam 4:14)
44. Run from churches where men, and not Christ, are glorified. (Col 1:18; Jude 25; Jn 16:14)
45. Run from churches where there is no Bible, no cross, no mention of the blood of Christ. (1Pt 1:18-19; Eph 3:13; Rev 1:5)
46. Run from churches where the worship leaves you cold, where there’s no sense of God’s presence. (1Cor 5:4; Ps 80:14-15; Jer 12:11)
47. Run from churches where you’re comfortable in your sin. (1Cor 14:25; Heb 10:30-31; Heb 4:13)
48. Run from churches that use the pulpit of God for a personal agenda. (Jude 10-11,19; 3Jn 9)
49. Run from those who preach division between races and cultures. (Jam 2:4, Gal 3:28, Rev 5:9)
50. Run from ungodly, spasmodic movements and endless empty prophesying. (Jer 5:13; 1Cor 14:33, 1Jn 2:16)
51. Run from preachers who tell mostly stories and jokes. (Eph 5:4; Tit 1:8; 2:12)
52. Run from those that are only after money, who use one gimmick after another to get your money. (2Pt 2:3; 2Cor 12:14; 1Cor 9:18)
53. The phrase “accept Jesus as your personal Saviour” is not found in the Scriptures. (Rom 10:9-10; Col 1:13; Acts 26:20)
54. Evidence of true conversion does not seem important to modern day Christians. (1Jn 2:6; 1Jn 4:17; Mt 7:20)
55. Thousands of sinners think of God as having only one attribute: Love! But they continue in sin. (Rom 1:18; Acts 5:11; Ps 2:12)
56. “God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life!” has hindered true evangelism. (Rom 3:19; Acts 26:18; Phil 3:18-21)
57. A Gospel of love and grace only, without the law of God being preached. This is a doctrine of Satan. (2Tim 4:3-4; Rom 2:4-5; 3:19)
58. There has clearly arisen a careless mixture of 20th century reasoning with God’s revelation. (Col 2:8; Rom 1:25; Gal 1:6)
59. Decisionism and the “sinner’s prayer” has been a major cause of false conversions in the “church.” (2Pt 2:1-2; Eph 2:4-5; 2Cor 5:17-18)
60. Many will be surprised to hear Jesus say, “I never knew you, depart from me.” (Mt 7:22-23; 1Cor 6:9-10; Gal 5:19-21)
61. Men have taken the place of the Holy Spirit in confirming men in their supposed salvation. (1Jn 2:3-5; 2Ths 1:8; Gal 6:12-15)
62. The doctrine of hell and eternal suffering is something little grasped by most professing “christians.” (Mt 13:42; Jam 5:1; Ps 9:17)
63. The judgment seat of Christ is perhaps one of the most neglected topics in the modern pulpit. (2Cor 5:10; Rom 14:10; 1Cor 3:13)
64. The second coming of Christ needs to be re-instated as the church’s general thrust and burden. (1Jn 3:2-3; Col 3:4-6; 1Ths 4:14-17)
65. The church has lost the fear of God and has over emphasized the love of God. (Heb 12:28-29; Lk 12:5; Heb 10:31)
66. The church has left evangelism to a few trained professionals. (Acts 8:1,4; Acts 4:29; Rom 10:14)
67. Repentance is considered a one-time act in modern evangelism rather than a way of life. (Rev 3:19; Heb 12:17; 2Pt 3:9)
68. The Lordship of Jesus Christ is something that is not taught in many pulpits. (Acts 2:36; 1Cor 12:3; Rom 6:18)
69. Many in “churches” are not open to correction, church discipline or rebuke. (1Cor 5:5; 1Cor 11:31-32; Heb 12:7-9)
70. Some preach salvation as a theory instead of persuading men to come to Christ. (Jn 5:40; Col 1:28; 2Cor 4:5)
71. There has been a loss of the fullness and majesty of the gospel. (1Tim 1:11; Jude 25; Rom 15:29)
72. There is little mention of sin or the depravity of man from “church” pulpits. (Jn 3:20; Gal 5:19-21; Eph 5:5)
73. Covetousness, consumerism, and coddling of the world’s goods does not appear wrong. (Jer 22:17; 1Jn 2:15-16; 1Tim 3:3)
74. Little is made of the resurrection of Jesus Christ in churches or in evangelism. (1Cor 15:14-15; Acts 4:10, 33)
75. The “church” has relied more on technology than God. (Zech 4:6; 1Cor 1:21; 2:4)
76. The prayer meeting is considered one of the least important meetings in the “church.” (1Tim 2:1; Acts 4:31; Phil 4:6)
77. Pastors have never prayed less than they do in the “church” today. (Jer 10:21; Phil 2:21; Eph 6:18-19)
78. Very few are waiting on God for His direction and purpose for His Church. (Eph 1:11; Ps 37:7; Isa 40:31)
79. The “church” has many organizers, but few agonizers. (Phil 3:18-19; Rom 9:1-3; Jer 9:1)
80. We need to have the gifts of the Spirit restored again to the “church.” (2Tim 4:2; 1Cor 14:39; 1Cor 12:31)
81. A serious, sober, self-controlled Christianity is very seldom found or preached. (2Pt 3:11; 1Pt 4:7; Jude 3)
82. The “church” at large has forgotten how to pray. (1Jn 3:22; Acts 6:4; 1Ths 5:17)
83. Many “churches” are more dependent on tradition than the leading of the Holy Spirit. (Mk 7:13; Acts 16:6; Acts 13:2)
84. Multitudes of professors preach and teach: that you cannot be freed from sin. (Rom 16:18; Rom 6:1-2; 2Pt 2:1)
85. The Apostles and Christ always preached the possibility to walk free from the bondage of sin. (Tit 2:11-12; 1Pt 1:14-16; Rom 6:19)
86. Sinners are not saved to sin, but rather, saved to holiness and good works. (Rom 6:13; Eph 2:10; 2Pt 3:14)
87. Cheap grace means the justification of sin without the justification of the sinner. (2Tim 2:19; 1Pt 4:17-18; 2Tim 3:12)
88. A baptism of holiness, a demonstration of godly living, is the crying need of our day. (1Tim 6:3; 2Ths 3:6; 2Ths 2:13)
89. Many are confused about obedience and the good works that are readily mentioned in the Scriptures. (Tit 3:8; Jn 10:32; Rev 3:15)
90. Little emphasis is put on the plan of God to make us like Jesus Christ in “churches.” (1Pt 1:14-16; 1Jn 2:6; 1Pt 4:1)
91. Christ did not die on the cross to obtain a worldly “church” but for a “glorious Church.” (Eph 5:27; Tit 2:14; Col 4:12)
92. Christ does not come into an unregenerate and impure heart as many contemporary theologians say. (2Cor 5:17; Mt 5:8; Eze 18:31)
93. A holy Church is God’s blessing to the world; an unholy “church” is God’s judgment upon the world. (Mt 5:14,16; Eph 4:1; 1Ths 2:12)
94. If Christianity is to make any headway in the present time, it must be proved to be more than a theory. (2Ths 3:6-7; 1Ths 4:1,11-12)
95. Unbelief has gagged and bound us as risen Lazarus! We need release in this final hour! (Heb 3:12-14; 1Cor 3:21-23; Heb 11:6)

Back to My Roots

2010-12-01T10:52:00.000-08:00

Lately I've been thinking with longing of the hard copy Sweet Comfort I used to put together once a month. There was something satisfying in setting up and printing the pages, folding them together, then sticking each copy in a stamped envelope and sending it out into the world. I don't get near the same amount of satisfaction from the writing of this blog.

While I acknowledge that this isn't all about me, at the same time I can't help wondering if there are folks out there like myself who prefer the old fashioned manner of reading which involved holding a book or magazine in your hands, turning the pages, perhaps even making notes in the margins for later rumination. And aside from this consideration are those I know must exist without depending on computers, whether from choice or financial circumstances. I would like to reach those who in this age of modern technology aren't hooked up to the Internet. Quite simply, I want to return to my old method of doing Sweet Comfort. That doesn't necessarily mean I'll discontinue this blog. What it means is that I'd like to publish it in paper form as well for those who can't be reached any other way.

The question comes down to whether or not I can put together a mailing list large enough to make this venture worth my while. I would greatly appreciate it if anyone reading this who is interested in receiving a paper copy of Sweet Comfort in the mail each month (for a nominal fee) leave a comment here, or send me an email---or if you happen to know of anyone--shut-ins, or otherwise--who may appreciate a copy.

My fingers are already itching in anticipation!

Publishing the Truth

2010-10-15T13:18:00.000-07:00

I've given lots of thought to my reasons for wanting to publish a book of my poetry--especially poetry which expresses the pain and shame of childhood abuse experiences. Shouldn't I be writing flowing verses in praise of God's lovingkindness? Well, in a sense these poems are a type of psalms, some of which are a sort of praise-- though at first glance that may not seem to be the case.

One recurring conviction is that truth needs to be spoken. Injustices, most especially towards the helpless, need to be publicly decried. Society can only benefit from such shared truth; conversely, when individuals and families keep secrets society becomes more and more sick, and incapable of addressing the outrageous actions towards the helpless which any society needs to address.

So then, my little book. I didn't write my poems with any thought of publication; I wrote them when the passionate need to express my own personal truth began to outweigh any reticence on my part (which was due to the haunting guilt that told me in no uncertain terms that it's not right to speak of such things.)

I wrote these poems, then, for myself. Most specifically I believe I wrote them for the little girl I used to be, who had no voice. I wrote them on behalf of my stepsister, Doreen, who was certainly mistreated beyond anything I endured. The fact that these abuses took place within the four walls of a supposedly Christian home angers me to this day. Such outrageous hypocrisy! But for the grace of God I would have no desire for Him.

These writings are not meant to be just another lamentation or sob-story to evoke sympathy. They are meant to bring a light, even if it's nothing more than one small candle's worth, into the darkness of the particular hell known as sexual abuse. While I know without doubt, now, that God never abandoned me during the years of my ordeal, I didn't know it then. I wanted Him, I desired Him, I fervently hoped He wasn't angry with me. Of these things I had no assurances. I wrote these poems decades after I fled the House of Incest, recording what I remembered vividly of my wilderness wanderings in that hellish suburban home. I wrote them not from an Ichabod perspective (the glory of God has departed), but rather from the Valley of Achor (Hosea 2:15), the door of hope.

For anyone interested, the link to my book is in the post below.

My poetry book

2010-10-15T12:58:00.001-07:00

Brightwood Street Chronicles by Deb Rhodes | Make Your Own Book

A Very Faithful Woman

2010-10-14T10:08:00.000-07:00

An elderly woman was well known for her faith and for her boldness in talking about it. She would stand on her front porch and shout, "Praise the Lord!"

Next door to her lived an atheist who would get so angry at her proclamations he would shout, "There ain't no Lord!"

Hard times set in on the lady, and she prayed for God to send her some assistance. She stood on her porch and shouted, "Praise the Lord, God I need food. I am having a hard time. Please Lord, send me some groceries!"

The next morning she went out on her porch and noted a large bag of groceries, and shouted, "Praise the Lord!"

The neighbor jumped from behind a bush and said, "Aha! I told you there was no Lord; I bought those groceries--God didn't."

The lady started jumping up and down and clapping her hands, and said, "Praise the Lord. He not only sent me groceries, but He made the devil pay for them!"

Crab Apples

2010-08-13T19:22:00.000-07:00

During my growing up years my mother would infrequently say, "Don't be such a crab-apple," or "wipe that sour look off your face." These scolding always astounded me, for I hadn't been aware that I was being a crab-apple. Probably because the honest expression of emotion was all but forbidden in our home, my anger and resentments at being denied certain privileges--or, more likely, at being held hostage to an abusive father figure--festered deep within, but showed plainly on my face. So much about my little world was unjust; I must have carried around with me a deep well of unspoken, raw emotions.

Today I was thinking of how easy it is for us humans to love God fervently when He grants our prayers, and how it is just as easy to turn away in a snit and pout because of some little thing He withholds. And this reminded me of my mother's words. I can't help but wonder if I do the same thing with God, if I sit and glower with a crab-apple face, forgetting that He is worthy to be praised regardless of the dips and turns of the pathway in which He is leading me. Do I sit and brood, nurturing feelings of self-pity, forgetting too that in all His wisdom (not to mention His lovingkindness towards me) He can't give everything for which I ask?

Why is it so easy to slip into black thoughts when our wills are crossed? Our sinful natures are at the core of such behaviors, of course. But I am reminded of something I read not too long ago, which said that one's will must be involved for an action (or thought) to be sinful. And so there is something I bring to this equation aside from my inherited sinful nature. What I bring to it is the deliberate choice to turn my back on all that God offers me, insisting that if I can't have the one thing I ask for, I want nothing from Him. Such childish thinking! I may not be able to help the fact of being born with a sinful nature, but I can very much help giving in to it and not only doing so but enjoying wallowing in my evil nature and self-pity. And the children of Israel murmured. I need to remind myself how much God hates murmuring!

If the fruit my life is producing is no better than crab apples, I need to do a spiritual inventory to see if I'm even abiding in the vine. Jesus said that as we abide in Him we'll bear much fruit, but without Him we can do nothing.

A pretty humbling thought, but one which we would all do well to remind ourselves of as we attempt to walk in this world "even as He walked."

Every Time I Hold My Face Wrong

2010-07-26T10:03:00.000-07:00

Even after walking with the Lord for decades I catch myself at times falling into a pattern of thinking in which I assume that my reasoning is exactly like His. For instance, I may pray for a loved one's needs and then immediately worry that God won't grant my petition if that person fails somehow to measure up--and probably what I mean by "measure up" is to fall short of perfection.

Just yesterday I caught myself in the act of such reasoning, and decided to ponder the thinking process which led me to that conclusion. I quickly realized what I've been hearing most of my life, but often forget, that none of us are perfect. On the heels of this thought came a reminder that we are saved by grace. Nothing we do, think or say earns us favor with God, for all our righteousness is as filthy rags. Sometimes I have trouble believing this, though there it is written down in my Bible in black and white. No matter how holy I feel, no matter what degree of self-control I manage to exercise over some besetting sin, it's all just stinky rags smelling to high Heaven.

What then of those I pray for? On what basis does God answer prayer on their behalf or, for that matter, on what basis does He answer prayer for myself? As I thought of the person for whom I'd been praying a little renegade thought troubled me: what if I'm praying for him but he doesn't do everything just so? Will my prayer request be denied, thrown out, on the basis of this individual's unworthiness?

I know that my muddled thinking in this area spans back into my childhood years of growing up not only with an abusive dictator, but within the strict walls of a legalistic denomination. On the one hand there was my stepfather banishing me to my room on many occasions, simply for asking for permission to walk to the store to spend my allowance, or to go play with my across the street best friend. There was no rhyme or reason to his punishments; what would gain me censure one day may very well be allowed two days later.Earlier in life when I lived with my real father I witnessed his half-joking insecurities about holding his face wrong. He was certain that this, that or the other would not work out for him if he held his face wrong, or left the house not looking his best. Throughout my childhood I lived in a sort of spiritual/mental and emotional wilderness stuck between my dad's superstitions and my step dad's arbitrary mandates and cruelties. It's no wonder my concept of God is warped!

As I struggled to sort out my thoughts regarding prayer, I was struck by an unexpected truth: I think that God's a legalist. Not in the sense of trying to earn salvation, obviously. Maybe it would be more to the point to say that I see Him as a nitpicker, always finding fault. But somehow the legalist label holds for me many more connotations.

How often have I struggled with my own superstitious fears (in my ignorance referring to them as "faith"), thinking that God is some petty, arrogant god who must be appeased by adhering to a myriad of ridiculous rules, worrying that if I so much as have the wrong expression on my face he'll turn away in disgust? How many times, I can't help but wonder, do Christians become addicted to their superstitions, imagining that these are evidences of a strong faith when, in reality, Scriptures make it clear that if we are trying to add anything to Christ we become accursed?

Immediately I recall the scripture:

American King James Version
For the Father himself loves you, because you have loved me, and have believed that I came out from God.

The Father himself loves me-- not because I hold my face just right or mumble the correct words, or sweat out my prayers. He loves me because I believe in His son. A simple little truth which banishes my misconceptions regarding His legalistic attitude towards me. As His daughter, bought with the blood of the Lamb, I have the privilege of entering with holy boldness His throne room of mercy and making my petitions known. This is all of grace, for it is not based on the filthy rags of my own righteousness but on the righteousness of my Saviour. I can have confidence when praying for myself, or others, that the Father delights in hearing me. A loving Father will always be available to listen to the heart expressions of His child, whether His answer is yes or no. And when the answer is no, this means simply that I am asking for something not in my (or someone else's) best interests. I am not sent to my room for having the audacity to ask; I am not treated with contempt for daring to enter His presence.

These are truths I must internalize and ruminate on as I go through my days, deliberately rejecting the lies about my Heavenly Father's character even as I reject my earthly father's silly superstitions, and my step dad's arrogant need to wield power and punish for imagined offenses.

Words of Wisdom, Sweet to the Soul

2010-07-20T11:42:00.000-07:00

A world of nice people, content in their own niceness, looking no further, turned away from God, would be just as desperately in need of salvation as a miserable world--and might even be more difficult to save. (CS Lewis)
This world never did seem my home; I have never felt quite comfortable in it. I have yet to find the perfect home. And does not the Bible itself tell us that we are pilgrims and strangers in the world? This is but a place we come to be made ready for another. Yet it seems that those who do regard it as their home are not half so well pleased with it as I. They are always grumbling at it. They complain that their plans are thwarted and where they succeed, that they do not give them the satisfaction they expected. Yet they mock him who says he seeks a better country! (George MacDonald)
I serve the face God places in front of me each day. (Mother Teresa)
How little people know who think that holiness is dull. When one meets the real thing . . . it is irresistible. (CS Lewis)
It is God to whom and with whom we travel, and while He is the End of our journey, He is also at every stopping place. (Elizabeth Elliot)

Think About This

2010-07-16T12:31:00.000-07:00

Most of you think it's very important that people think you're mature, pure and spiritual. I would suggest it's far more important that they know you're not. We're so worried that our Christian witness will be hurt by our lack of obedience. That's not true. Our witness will be hurt by a pretense of obedience. I don't think I ever met a person who found Christ because a Christian was pure and righteous. More often it makes them think that this thing is only for good people. As I understand it, we are only beggars who have found bread, pointing other beggars to the place where we found it. Disobedience hardly ever turns people from Christ. Dishonesty always does.
(Author unknown)

Answered Prayer

2010-07-14T12:24:00.000-07:00

I asked for strength that I might achieve;

I was made weak that I might obey.

I asked for health that I might do greater things;

I was given infirmity that I might do better things.

I asked for riches that I might be happy;

I was given poverty that I might be wise.

I asked for power that I might have the praise of men;

I was given weakness that I might feel the need of God.

I asked for all things that I might enjoy life;

I was given life that I might enjoy all things.

I have received nothing I asked for, all that I hoped for.

(Author unknown)

Words of Wisdom

2010-06-30T11:56:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning for some time to share with my readers some of the best links I've come across which encourage me in my Christian walk. Here they are, hand-picked for their spiritual impact on my life in Christ:

What is the best course to take when you find yourself unhappy with your church? Dr. Ray Pritchard addresses this issue in his article I'm Unhappy With My New Church. What Should I Do? His timely advice begins with one word: pray.

Have you ever felt completely unqualified to be used by the hand of God? From the website She Seeks comes this inspiring little devotional for those of who feel we don't quite fit in anywhere. Can God still use us in all our obscurity?

What is one of the signs of true intimacy with God? While we might tend to think in terms of signs and wonders, or profound dreams. Oswald Chambers would answer differently: silence. In these days of modern communication when it seems one is forever twittering, texting or facebooking, and it seems as those we've lost the ability to be alone with our thoughts,God speaks most loudly through His silences.

Can't get enough of CS Lewis? Click here for some of his best quotations.

George Macdonald, the Scottish preacher who has long been one of my favorite writers, wrote these wise words:

It matters little where a man may be at this moment; the point is whether he is growing.

A prolific writer whose works included poetry and novels, his intriguing biography, along with more of his great quotations, can be found here.

Amy Carmichael, missionary to India, wrote the following:

"We profess to be strangers and pilgrims, seeking after a country of our own, yet we settle down in the most un-stranger-like fashion, exactly as if we were quite at home and meant to stay as long as we could. I don't wonder apostolic miracles have died. Apostolic living certainly has."

Ouch! I find her writings to be so spiritually profound that I must be in the right frame of mind to read them. She gets to the heart of a matter--and a good thing she does, for we all need to be reminded what our lives are meant to be all about.

Have you any links to add to this list? Any authors or preachers whose words always evoke in you a deeper thirst for God?

The Oil of Kindness

2010-06-23T09:19:00.000-07:00

Courtesy. Kindness. How often these characteristics are lacking in today's society! Often I've deplored this state of things, remembering with a stab of nostalgia when the customer was always right, and when strangers exchanged a smile or greeting when their paths crossed. Too often these days a smile is regarded with suspicion; we think twice before striking up a conversation with a stranger, for iniquity abounds and who knows where such things will lead?

This morning I came across a passage in the devotional Streams In the Desert, which speaks of the kindness we, as God's children, should exemplify towards all:

Put on as the elect of God, kindness (Col. 3:12).

There is a story of an old man who carried a little can of oil with him everywhere he went, and if he passed through a door that squeaked, he poured a little oil on the hinges. If a gate was hard to open, he oiled the latch. And thus he passed through life lubricating all hard places and making it easier for those who came after him.

People called him eccentric and cranky; but the old man went steadily on refilling his can of oil when it became empty, and oiled the hard places he found.

There are many lives that creak and grate harshly as they live day by day. Nothing goes right with them. They need lubricating with the oil of gladness, gentleness, or thoughtfulness. Have you your own can of oil with you? Be ready with your oil of helpfulness in the early morning to the one nearest you. It may lubricate the whole day for him. The oil of good cheer to the downhearted one--Oh, how much it may mean! The word of courage to the despairing. Speak it.

Our lives touch others but once, perhaps, on the road of life; and then, mayhap, our ways diverge, never to meet again. The oil of kindness has worn the sharp, hard edges off of many a sin-hardened life and left it soft and pliable and ready for the redeeming grace of our Saviour.

A word spoken pleasantly is a large spot of sunshine on a sad heart. Therefore, "Give others the sunshine, tell Jesus the rest."

"Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love" (Rom. 12:10).

My Two Dads

2010-06-21T09:44:00.000-07:00

With another Father's Day behind us (this was meant to be posted yesterday, but my computer froze), I find it impossible to limit my thoughts of fatherhood to the earthly father who so filled my early years with color, humor and joy. To reflect on his influence during my most formative years leads, inevitably, to thoughts of my Heavenly Father.

Psalm 103 tells us that "Just as a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him." This is an easy concept for me to grasp, for wasn't I once the apple of my father's eye? I doted on him, taking in his every animated expression, drinking in his every word (goofy and silly or otherwise), longing to be just like him. His talent for creating an accessible warmth in whatever environment he inhabited filled me with a sense of deep love and security.

Here was someone approachable, someone whose easy laughter wooed me into a romance of first love. Over the years as Dad introduced me to the reality of a Heavenly Father, my heart readily expanded to include this new addition into my innermost being and affections. I read or heard in a sermon that Jesus said, "If you've seen me you've seen the father," and my heart leapt for joy. What good fortune to discover the existence of a Father who was just like Jesus!

I reveled in the unveiling of this truth, for something deep within rose to meet my Father as one kindred spirit to another. I was young enough yet, and still untainted by the evil and sorrows of the abuses which loomed up ahead in my future, to respond unstintingly to the magnificence of God's benevolent love.

In writing this I find myself overwhelmed with gratitude all over again, for though I've trod many a weary mile since first I became aware of a Heavenly Father, the thrill of making His acquaintance has never been extinguished.

And what to make of those future years when my life was no longer simple, and my earthly father banished to a sort of Siberia? I understand now, though I couldn't at the time, that my Heavenly Father was no farther from me during the years of my wilderness wanderings than when I once basked in the glow of my earthly father's approbation. Something wonderful has even come of all my secret sorrows borne in that long ago house of incest, for the following verses assure me that God doesn't waste anything, not even our deepest, inarticulated pain:

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort; who comforts us in all our afflictions so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God." (2 Cor. 1:3,4)

This is my Father's world goes the old hymn, and oh it is so! Though bedraggled by sin and riddled with human selfishness, this world and all it contains belongs to the One who numbers the hairs on our heads. "See how great a love the Father has bestowed upon us, that we should be called the children of God," wrote the apostle John. I imagine that none of us have but the dimmest sense of all that our status as God's children encompasses. Wouldn't our hearts faint with joy if we could fully comprehend how dear we are to the Father? Wouldn't such knowledge warm us as surely as I was warmed through and through just being in my father's presence?

The collage of my early years wouldn't be complete, or an honest representation of all that my little universe contained, without adding the component of the love of a Father whose tender mercies are new every morning. I'm thankful the Scriptures uses the word 'tender' in this verse. One would expect mercy to include tenderness but even so--as if to ensure that the point isn't missed--we have this word as assurance of how completely we are loved of God. This verse reminds me of my days of single-mothering: each morning a new day to be somehow gotten through with five hungry mouths and souls to feed. How often my steps dragged, how my spirits flagged at the daunting task before me. And yes, sometimes I had to deliberately summon up a merciful spirit towards my sons, especially on the most trying of days when nothing went right and it was a long time until bedtime!

What a relief to know that God's tender mercies are new every morning. He doesn't fob off on us the stale, discarded dregs of compassion from the day or week before. Each and every morning He comes to us with a fresh, never before used supply of the loving ministrations and watch care which so emphasize His loving character.

For all that I adored my earthly father he was not without his faults and sins. My Heavenly Father, the one who gave me such a father, is perfect in His love towards all of His children. His desire for our good is higher than the highest reach of Heaven.

This Father's Day I pay tribute to the two fathers whose presences grace(d) my life with their unconditional wild love.

Hands

2010-06-19T08:40:00.000-07:00

Oh the unfathomable power of hands: hands gentle to the touch, or brisk hands, capable, but lacking in human warmth. Sadistic hands quickened to impart evil.

In my stepdad’s hands with the words Hold Tight tattooed above the knuckles, the avocado, much coveted by my 5 siblings and I, becomes an obscenity, the obscenity of things proffered but always held laughingly out of reach, like the proverbial carrot dangled in front of the donkey’s nose. How apt a comparison, for we are asses if we think that this time will be any different, that this time some appeal to his better nature will inspire in him a sense of fair play.

My eyes are riveted to the fruit, amazed at the delicacy with which he performs its denuding. Already my mouth salivates in anticipation, though I should know by now the outcome of his sadistic little ritual. At 15 I know better (surely I do!) than to hope for any sign of generosity on his part. Still, I can’t stop my taste buds from yearning for the velvety texture of the avocado whose taste is so subtle as to be nearly non-existent.

The room is hushed as the last of the bark like skin lies on his plate. He holds his treasure in his big paws, winking at us with his small-set eyes. There is pleasure in that look, a pleasure riddled with sadistic triumph. Something in the way his thumbs caress the avocado turns my wanting into shame. I swallow hard, steeling myself from all desire. He wants me to ache with hunger, and so I won’t. Wants to see the naked desire in my eyes so that he can experience the power of withholding.

I turn my head away from his smirk and stare out the sliding glass door at my backyard fort, longing to climb into its loving embrace and curl up into myself.

Though the stepdad’s strip-teasing of the avocado is meant for my younger siblings as well as myself, I know instinctively that its symbolism is directed toward me, the red-headed stepchild. A deep shame wrenches my heart as something about the motion of his hand as he places the naked fruit on a saucer stirs up an unwanted realization: I have been that avocado, peeled, exposed, gaped at—lusted after.

Next to my step dad in his Fruit-of-the-Looms, my mother sits tense, her hair in pink plastic rollers. Her eyeglasses are pointy at the corners in the popular butterfly fashion, giving her a perpetually startled look. She wears a homemade muu-muu and flip flops, her stolid legs bare. A frown creases her forehead as she leans slightly forward, her eyes avoiding mine.

I am kneeling across from them on the other side of our marble coffee table, my youngest sister in my lap. My other 4 younger siblings are hunched around the cool marble table in varying degrees of tension; I can almost hear them drool.

My eyes stare trance like at the stepdad’s hands. How precisely his hands performed their task, how deliberate their torture, a crucial aspect of this inane ritual we’ve come to know and dread. My little brother releases a wistful sigh and, from the corner of my eye, I catch the pointed look Mom directs his way.

I lift my gaze to the sardonic smile twisting the corners of my step dad’s mouth. How he relishes dragging out the suspense! My armpits feel sticky. A surge of anger rises in my chest, and I hug my sister fiercely in a surge of protectiveness. I can bear disappointment better than these little ones who forget, from one miserable episode to the next, how it will most likely turn out. Why can’t he just–for once–be human and divvy it up between them?

My youngest brother smiles dazedly at the avocado, and I wince, seeing the step dad take note of the degree of his desire. Our eyes meet and in his I read the mocking turn of his thoughts. What he sees in mine I have no idea, and it doesn’t bear contemplating. I give him (what I hope to be) a cool look before averting my gaze. I’ve steeled myself against all desire, I want to say, and if you offered me the avocado now I wouldn’t take it even if it meant being banished to my room for 3 weeks.

“For crying out loud, honey,” Mom says at last, exasperated. “Let’s get this over with.”

The step dad smirks, and smiles broadly at my youngest brother. “Want half?” he asks. My brother nods, his entire face lit up with expectation before it crumples with disappointment as the King of the Mountain gloats, “Too bad! It’s Doreen's turn!” He hands her half, and the rest of us avoid eye contact in the manner of strangers who have witnessed brutality and are uncomfortable with the weight of collective memory.

My sister gulps down her half of the avocado before it can be snatched away from her. Suddenly my step dad is all irritation and snaps at my mother, “Get these damn kids to bed! What are they doing still up?”

As Mom rises to do as she’s told, our eyes meet for a split second. I can read her warning look plain as day: “Don’t rock the boat, just get out of his hair and let him be.”

And I do. I get out of his bristly hair and carry my youngest sister to her room, gently tucking her into bed with tears stinging my eyes. In the privacy of my own room, snuggled under the covers, my emotions are a tangled mess of shot down desire and frayed nerves. If I have learned nothing else in the past 8 years under this tyrannical regime, I’ve learned the folly of desire and the uselessness of emotions.

And I am poised on the brink of escape, I just don’t know it yet.

My abuser's hands are not the end of the story. Not by a long shot! I know of other, compassionate hands, pierced for my sins, and by whose piercings my wounds are healed. To those who imagine they've been forgotten by the Lord comes the timeless assurance, "Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands." No man made tattoo here of needle and ink, which may fade with time.

The Lord's hands: scarred with love, more powerful than any feeble attempts to snatch us out of the grasp of the Almighty. Though I struggle in the aftermath of my step dad's despicable deeds and influence, His word assures me that no power on earth is capable of snatching me out of the safety of my Saviour's hands.

"My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me . . . and no one is able to snatch them out of my hands."

This Thing Is From Me

2010-06-16T07:52:00.000-07:00

his thing is from me (1 Kings 12:24)

My child, I have a message for you today; let me whisper it in your ear, that it may gild with glory any storm clouds which may arise, and smooth the rough places upon which you may have to tread. It is short, only five words, but let them sink into your inmost soul; use them as a pillow upon which to rest your weary head. This thing is from ME.

Have you ever thought of it, that all that concerns you concerns Me too? For "he that touches you, touches the apple of mine eye." (Zech. 2:8) You are very precious in My sight (Isa. 43:4). Therefore, it is My special delight to educate you.

I would have you learn when temptations assail you, and the "enemy comes in like a flood," that this thing is from Me, that your weakness needs My might, and your safety lies in letting Me fight for you.

Are you in difficult circumstances, surrounded by people who do not understand you, who never consult your taste, who put you in the background? This thing is from Me. I am the God of circumstances. Thou came not to this place by accident, it is the very place God meant for thee.

Have you not asked to be made humble? See then, I have placed you in the very school where this lesson is taught; your surroundings and companions are only working out My will.

Are you in money difficulties? Is it hard to make both ends meet? This thing is from Me, for I am your purse-bearer and would have you draw from and depend upon Me. My supplies are limitless. I would have you prove my promises. Let it not be said of you, "In this thing ye did not believe the Lord your God." (Duet. 1:32).

Are you passing through a night of sorrow? This thing is from Me. I am the Man of Sorrows and acquainted with grief. I have let earthly comforters fail you, that by turning to Me you may obtain everlasting consolation (2 Thess. 2:16, 17). Have you longed to do some great work for Me and instead have been laid aside on a bed of pain and weakness? This thing is from Me. I could not get your attention in your busy days and I want to teach you some of my deepest lessons. "They also serve who only stand and wait." Some of My greatest workers are those shut out from active service, that they may learn to wield the weapon of all-prayer.

This day I place in your hand this pot of holy oil. Make use of it free, my child. Let every circumstance that arises, every word that pains you, every interruption that would make you impatient, every revelation of your weakness be anointed with it. The sting will go as you learn to see Me in all things.

--Laura A. Barter Snow--

Ruminations Of a Spiritual Stumble-bum

2010-06-09T10:54:00.000-07:00

I am a recovering Pharisee.
Is it just me, or do Christian bumper stickers sound incredibly smug?
My first response to suffering is hardly ever (okay, never) to high five everyone around me, much less to fall on my knees and thank God for my tribulations.
I love it when I fall asleep with headphones on and, in the middle of the night, I'm awakened by a song which causes my heart to yearn for God. It's as if He's nudging me and saying, "Listen . . . they're playing our song!"
I'm suspicious of people who use the phrase, Praise the Lord, more often than "I'm sorry," or "Please forgive me."
I know less than I did as a child.
I'm humbled when I run across a verse of Scripture which is perfect for someone I've been meaning to rebuke, and the Holy Spirit says, "Nope: take a good look in the mirror." Oops!
We're all stumble-bums in need of grace.

The Lord's Army

2010-06-01T08:51:00.000-07:00

Memorial Day once more, and my thoughts naturally turn to my father who fought on Normandy Beach in WWII. What it cost him to brave the insanity of that war, to witness friends blown sky high from the precarious haven of his foxhole, I'll never really know. Dad wasn't one to share many war memories; the ones he did talk about usually had a humorous spin on them. When I was a teen and heard these stories I didn't think to ask serious questions. The time for questions came and went, and before I knew it Dad was gone, and his painful memories with him.

But in a sense Dad was engaged in another kind of warfare throughout his lifetime, for he'd enlisted in the Lord's army in his early twenties. Just now that old song we kids used to sing in Vacation Bible School echoed through my head:

"I may never march in the infantry

Ride in the cavalry

Shoot the artillery.

I may never fly o'er the enemy

But I'm in the Lord's army, yes sir!"

What kind of soldier was he in the Lord's army? At times, like many of us, he fumbled. At other times he was a spiritual force to be reckoned with as he shared the joy of his spiritual renewal, and instituted family worship time. There were two conflicting facets to his character I had trouble reconciling, for they seemed at such odds with each other. On the one hand he loved God deeply, loved discussing spiritual truths, reading Scripture and listening to his favorite preacher, Billy Graham. And then on the other hand Dad really struggled with his human weaknesses. At times he drank too much. He had a volatile temper, he didn't do well with authority figures. I never doubted his devotion to God, it was real enough and, in fact, it was this devotion which first sparked my own desires to know my Creator.

What did it mean that he loved God so openly, without apology, but stumbled so frequently? I think it means he was human. The old man of his flesh warred daily with the new spiritual man who so admired the God he'd chosen to serve.

All my life, it seems, I've chastised myself for my weaknesses and failings, expecting nothing short of perfection of myself. I've never found that ease with which Dad accepted his imperfections, trusting that God would change him over time. Once, during my 30's---an especially confusing and difficult time for me spiritually---I murmured my disapproval about something Dad had done or said. With a tender smile he responded with, "It's okay honey, God knows my heart."

My very human father understood, as I am slow to do, the concept of God's grace. He understood, I realize, that the spiritual battle we must fight every day is truly the fight of faith: nurturing our relationship with Christ rather than raging war against our sins.

My father was a soldier in two very real wars, and I am honored today to think that I may in any way be able to emulate the bravery required of him to face what must be faced with humor and devotion.

Tender Mercies

2010-05-24T08:48:00.000-07:00

I've wandered away from it all, from the fresh simplicity of childlike faith. I want to be open to faith's many nuances, to the soft murmurs of the Holy Spirit beckoning me to come closer, to relax, to see with eyes wide open the miracles which abound in my oh so ordinary life.

The weekend once more and my son, living in the aftermath of his motorcycle accident (and the resulting brain injuries), is here, spending time with his family. We step out front to smoke; we have this in common, this bad habit which shames me and from which I can't seem to wrench myself . I perch on a tiny little porcelain table left by previous owners, using it for a stool where often I meditate,thinking of my convoluted life and how it got to be that way, and what it can possibly mean. My son stands next to the blossoming rose bush I forgot to prune; I see something endearing in his bow-legged stance next to my favorite flowers and am touched deeply, though I can't think why. This son, who often makes me laugh, is evidence or proof of something, but when I try to nail down my thoughts on this they take off for flight, perhaps joining the blackbirds cawing from distant telephone lines. I think there must be a lesson in all that he has suffered, something for me (a few crumbs at least) but mostly for him. What could he learn from such sufferings, especially when his brain is no longer functioning at full capacity? For me, then, and those who love him: are we who the lesson is for, those of us who in many ways have suffered more from his accident than he, not having the luxury of the distance which surely comes from a scrambled brain?

I listen to my son telling me a funny story. This he has not lost, his amazing sense of humor. His outlook on life is mostly positive considering that nothing in his life will ever again be the same. His wants are few, but when he wants something he wants it now. I watch and listen, head tilted slightly, marveling that for all the changes I love him just the same. In some ways he's a whole new person, but there is enough of the old mixed in with the new that to spend time with him is like visiting an old, dear friend rather than meeting a stranger for the first time.

My son is more affectionate than ever. He often hugs me spontaneously, telling me what a sweet little mama I am, murmuring words of love and affection with tears in his eyes. His accident has brought us closer together. My heart aches for him, aches in the manner of a never-ending bad tooth. I want for the past couple of years to go away, for the accident to have never happened--but do I want this for him or for me? Both, I decide. And what difference does it make who I wish it for seeing as how this is who my son is now, the sum total of his life experiences, including that horrible moment in time when his motorcycle made impact with a car and sent him flying head first into its back window.

But back to simple faith which, I begin to suspect, is much simpler in the abstract than in the actual doing. To simply rest in the Lord's wise and loving providence is what I've gotten away from. Tears sting my eyes, watching my son smoke, remembering all those nights he lay in a coma and I sat outside in the midnight dark attempting to form some sense of it all, my breath coming in little rasps as I realized that it had finally happened, I'd finally been faced with something so extraordinarily heart-wrenching as to be my eternal undoing. But then . . . but then little by little God murmured to me and my heart listened and I asked the only question I could of myself in that situation: how did my son's accident (for I didn't know at this point whether he would live or die) change things with my God?

Scriptures floated, fragmented, through my mind, but it wasn't Scriptures I wanted just then. I knew so many of them by heart, I drew no consolation from any of them. What did I now think of God, now that He'd done the unthinkable and asked of me this hard thing at which I was certain to fail? To think and sing of God's mysterious ways and the implication that though we may not always understand those ways, we can trust God's character--oh, how mindlessly in the past I'd sung those words, had those thoughts, convinced I would be true to my Lord come what may. And here I was, perched on a wooden porch in the dead of night, smoking my brains out, knowing the futility of bargaining with God. How tempted I was to try, to say (with every ounce of human charm I possessed), "If only you'll spare my son's life I'll ______." I'm not sure how I filled in the blank; quite possibly with a different word each time. But no matter, for I couldn't do it, couldn't try to coax God into making His will my own.

Whether days or weeks went by before I reached a resolution of sorts, I couldn't say. It's all a blur now. I remember asking myself, late one night, what my son's accident meant to my relationship with the God I'd been following for over 50 years. Did it change anything? Had He suddenly become a cold hearted stranger to me?

I had no one to send on my behalf, for it had come down to this: my God and myself. Could I still trust Him? Would I choose to do so? At some point in this little drama I asked myself if my son's accident changed anything between me and God, and with great relief I could honestly say that no, it hadn't. I remember telling God, "I don't know why You allowed this to happen, I don't know what the outcome will be, but it doesn't change anything between us. It just doesn't."

Faith as a little child? I felt more like a withered crone come to the last end of her days. But the entire weight of my history--of all those dreary years of reaching out for God and failing again and again to walk in holiness--oh, the weight of all that history came to my rescue, reminding me that as unfaithful as I'd been (and it seems my only consistency had been my inconsistency), God had never been unfaithful to me.

Tender mercies, new every morning.

For He is near to the broken-hearted, and what a wonderful thing that this is so!

Is God in Everything?

2010-05-04T08:42:00.000-07:00

(The following is an excerpt from Hannah Whitall Smith's The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life.)

One of the greatest obstacles to an unwavering experience in the interior life is the difficulty of seeing God in everything. People say, "I can easily submit to things that come from God; but I cannot submit to man, and most of my trials and crosses come through human instrumentality. Or they say, "It is all well enough to talk of trusting; but when I commit a matter to God, man is sure to come in and disarrange it all; and while I have no difficulty in trusting God, I do see serious difficulties in the way of trusting men."

This is no imaginary trouble, but is of vital importance; and if it cannot be met, it does really make the life of faith an impossible and visionary theory. For nearly everything in life comes to us through human instrumentalities, and most of our trials are the result of somebody's failure, or ignorance, or carelessness, or sin. We know God cannot be the author of these things; and yet, unless He is the agent in the matter, how can we say to Him about it, "Thy will be done"?

Besides, what good is there in trusting our affairs to God, if, after all, man is to be allowed to come in and disarrange them; and how is it possible to live by faith, if human agencies, in which it would be wrong and foolish to trust, are to have a prevailing influence in molding our lives?

Moreover, things in which we can see God's hand always have a sweetness in them that consoles while it wounds; but the trials inflicted by man are full of nothing but bitterness.

What is needed, then, is to see God in everything, and to receive everything directly from His hands, with no intervention of second causes; and it is to just this that we must be brought before we can know an abiding experience of entire abandonment and perfect trust. Our abandonment must be to God, not to man; and our trust must be in Him, not in any arm of flesh, or we shall fail at the first trial.

The question here confronts us at once, "But is God in everything, and have we any warrant from the Scripture for receiving everything from His hands without regarding the second causes that may have been instrumental in bringing them about?" I answer to this, unhesitatingly, Yes. To the children of God, everything comes directly from their Father's hand, no matter who or what may have been the apparent agents. There are no "second causes" for them.

The whole teaching of Scripture asserts and implies this. Not a sparrow falls to the ground without our Father. The very hairs of our head are all numbered. We are not to be careful about anything, because our Father cares for us. We are not to avenge ourselves, because our Father has charged Himself with our defense. We are not to fear, for the Lord is on our side. No one can be against us, because He is for us. We shall not want, for He is our Shepherd. When we pass through the rivers they shall not overflow us, and when we walk through the fire we shall not be burned, because He will be with us. He rules over all the kingdoms of the heathen; and in His hand there is power and might, "so that none is able to withstand" Him. "He rules the raging of the sea; when the waves thereof arise, he stills them." He brings the counsel of the heathen to naught; he makes the devices of the people of none effect." "Has thou not known? has thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, faints not, neither is weary? There is no searching of his understanding."

And it is this very God who is declared to be "our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof." "I will say of the Lord, he is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust. Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler . . . Because thou has made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the most High, they habitation; there shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh they dwelling. For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways." "Be content, therefore, with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee nor forsake thee. So that we may boldly say, the Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me."

To my own mind, these scriptures, and many others like them, settle forever the question as to the power of "second causes" in the life of the children of God. Second causes must all be under the control of our Father, and not one of them can touch us except with His knowledge and by His permission. It may be the sin of man that originates the action, and therefore the thing itself cannot be said to be the will of God; but by the time it reaches us it has become God's will for us, and must be accepted as directly from His hands.

I learned this lesson practically and experimentally, long years before I knew the scriptural truth concerning it. I was attending a prayer-meeting held in the interests of the life of faith, when a strange lady rose to speak, and I looked at her, wondering who she could be, little thinking she was to bring a message to my soul which would teach me a grand practical lesson. She said she had great difficulty in living the life of faith, on account of the second causes that seemed to her to control nearly everything that concerned her. Her perplexity became so great that at last she began to ask God to teach her the truth about it, whether He really was in everything or not. After praying this for a few days, she had what she described as a vision. She thought she was in a perfectly dark place, and that there advanced toward her, from a distance, a body of light which gradually surrounded and enveloped her and everything around her. As it approached, a voiced seemed to say, "This is the presence of God! This is the presence of God!" While surrounded with this presence, all the great and awful things in life seemed to pass before her,---fighting armies, wicked men, raging beasts, storms and pestilences, sin and suffering of every kind. She shrank back at first in terror; but she soon saw that the presence of God so surrounded and enveloped herself and each one of these things that not a lion could reach out its paw, nor a bullet fly through the air, except as the presence of God moved out of the way to permit it. And she saw that if there were ever so thin a film, as it were, of this glorious Presence between herself and the most terrible violence, not a hair of her head could be ruffled, nor anything touch her, except as the Presence divided to let the evil through. Then all the small and annoying things of life passed before her; and equally she saw that there also she was so enveloped in this presence of God that not a cross look, nor a harsh word, nor petty trial of any kind could affect her, unless God's encircling presence moved out of the way to let it.

Her difficulty vanished. Her question was answered forever. God was in everything: and to her henceforth there were no second causes. She saw that her life came to her, day by day and hour by hour, directly from the hand of God, let the agencies which should seem to control it be what they might. And never again had she found any difficulty in an abiding consent to His will and an unwavering trust in His care.

Would that it were only possible to make every Christian see this truth as plainly as I see it! For I am convinced it is the only clue to a completely restful life. Nothing else will enable a soul to live only in the present moment, as we are commanded to do, and to take no thought for the morrow. Nothing else will take all the risks and "supposes" out of a Christian's life, and enable him to say, "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life." Under God's care we run no risks.

Nothing else will completely put an end to all murmuring or rebelling thoughts. Christians often feel at liberty to murmur against man, when they would not dare to murmur against God. Therefore this way of receiving things would make it impossible ever to murmur. If our Father permits a trial to come, it must be because the trial is the sweetest and best thing that could happen to us, and we must accept it with thanks from His dear hand. This does not mean, however, that we must like or enjoy the trial itself, but that we must like God's will in the trial; and it is not hard to do this when we have learned to know that His will is the will of love, and is therefore always lovely.

A very good illustration of this may be found in the familiar fact of a mother giving medicine to her dearly loved child. The bottle holds the medicine, but the mother gives it; and the bottle is not responsible, but the mother. No matter how full her closet may be of bottles of medicine, the mother will not allow one drop to be given to the child unless she believes it will be good for it; but when she does believe it will be good for her darling, the very depth of her love compels her to force it on the child, no matter how bitter may be its taste.

The human beings around us are often the bottles that hold our medicine, and compels us to drink it. The human bottle is the "second cause" of our trial; but it has no real agency in it, for the medicine that these human "bottles" hold is prescribed for us and given to us by the Great Physician of our souls, who is seeking thereby to heal all our spiritual diseases.

For instance, I know no better medicine to cure the disease of irritability than to be compelled to live with a human "bottle" of sensitiveness whom we are bound to consider and yield to.

Shall we rebel against the human bottles then? Shall we not rather take thankfully from our Father's hand the medicine they contain, and losing sight of the second cause, say joyfully, "They will be done," in everything that comes to us, no matter what its source may be?

2010-04-26T09:22:00.001-07:00

The Fence

2010-04-12T09:26:00.000-07:00

There was a little boy with a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, to hammer a nail in the back fence. The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence.

Then it gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence. Finally the day came when the boy didn't lose his temper at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper. The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone.

The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said, "You have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. It won't matter how many times you say I'm sorry, the wound is still there. A verbal wound is as bad as a physical one...and can never be taken back."

Ten Fantastic and Funny Church Signs

2010-04-12T09:16:00.001-07:00

Click here for 10 fantastic and funny church signs.

What a Friend We Have in Jesus

2010-04-10T09:27:00.000-07:00

Ten years later, in 1855, he received word that his mother was facing a crisis. Joseph wrote this poem and sent it to her. Mrs. Scriven evidently gave a copy to a friend who had it published anonymously, and it quickly became a popular hymn, though no one knew who had written it.

Meanwhile, Joseph fell in love again. But tragedy struck a second time when his bride, Eliza Catherine Roche, contracted tuberculosis and died in 1860 before their wedding could take place.

To escape his sorrow, Joseph poured himself into ministry, doing charity work for the Plymouth Brethren and preaching among the Baptists. He lived a simple, obscure life in Port Hope, Canada, cutting firewood for widows, giving away his clothes and money to those in need. He was described as “a man of short stature, with iron-gray hair, close-cropped beard, and light blue eyes that sparkled when he talked.” Ira Sankey later wrote:

Until a short time before his death it was not known that he had a poetic gift. A neighbor, sitting up with him in his illness, happened upon a manuscript copy of “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” Reading it with great delight and questioning Mr. Scriven about it, he said that he had composed it for his mother, to comfort her in a time of special sorrow, not intending that anyone else should see it. Some time later, when another Port Hope neighbor asked him if it was true he composed the hymn, his reply was, “The Lord and I did it between us.”

On October 10, 1896, Joseph became critically ill. In his delirium, he rose from his bed and staggered outdoors where he fell into a small creek and drowned at age 66. His grave was arranged so that his feet were opposite those of his lost love, Eliza Catherine Roche, that at the resurrection they might arise facing one another.

(From “Then Sings My Soul”, 250 of the world’s greatest hymn stories.)

“...the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”

Philippians 4:6-7

The Chariots of God

2010-03-01T13:30:00.000-08:00

The following is a chapter from one of my favorite all time spiritual classics, The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life, by Hannah Whitall Smith. This volume, originally published in 1870, has seen me through many a dark trial, a companion of sorts as I made my solitary pilgrim's way through this world.

The Chariots of God

It has been well said that "earthly cares are a heavenly discipline." But they are even something better than discipline,---they are God's chariots, sent to take the soul to its high places of triumph.

They do not look like chariots. They look instead like enemies, sufferings, trials, defeats, misunderstandings, disappointments, unkindnesses. They look like Juggernaut cars of misery and wretchedness, which are only waiting to roll over us and crush us into the earth. But could we see them as they really are, we should recognize them as chariots of triumph in which we may ride to those very heights of victory for which our souls have been longing and praying. The Juggernaut car is the visible thing; the chariot of God is the invisible. The King of Syria came up against the man of God with horses and chariots that could be seen by every eye, but God had chariots that could be seen by none save the eye of faith. The servant of the Prophet could only see the outward and visible; and he cried, as so many have done since, "Alas, my master! how shall we do?" But the Prophet himself sat calmly within his house without fear, because his eyes were opened to see the invisible; and all he asked for his servant was, "Lord, I pray thee open his eyes that he may see."

This is the prayer we need to pray for ourselves and for one another, "Lord, open our eyes that we may see"; for the world all around us, as well as around the Prophet, is full of God's horses and chariots, waiting to carry us to places of glorious victory. And when our eyes are thus opened, we shall see in all the events of life, whether great or small, whether joyful or sad, a "chariot" for our souls.

Everything that comes to us becomes a chariot the moment we treat it as such; and on the other hand, even the smallest trials may be a Juggernaut car to crush us into misery or despair if we so consider them. It lies with each of us to choose which they shall be. It all depends, not upon what these events are, but upon how we take them. If we lie down under them and let them roll over us and crush us, they become Juggernaut cars, but if we climb up into them, as into a car of victory, and make them carry us triumphantly onward and upward, they become the chariots of God.

Whenever we mount into God's chariots the same thing happens to us spiritually that happened to Elijah. We shall have a translation. Not into the heavens above us, as Elijah did, but into the heaven within us; and this, after all, is almost a grander translation that his. We shall be carried away from the low, earthly, groveling plane of life, where everything hurts and everything is unhappy, up into the "heavenly places in Christ Jesus," where we can ride in triumph over all below.

These "heavenly places" are interior, not exterior; and the road that leads to them is interior also. But the chariot that carries the soul over this road is generally some outward loss or trial or disappointment, some chastening that does not indeed seem for the present to be joyous, but grievous, but that nevertheless afterward "yields the peaceable fruits of righteousness to them that are exercised thereby."

In the Canticles we are told of "chariots paved with love." We cannot always see the love-lining to our own particular chariot. It often looks very unlovely. It may be a cross-grained relative or friend; it may be the result of human malice or cruelty or neglect; but every chariot sent by God must necessarily be paved with love, since God is love; and God's love is the sweetest, softest, tenderest thing to rest one's self upon that was ever found by any soul anywhere. It is His love, indeed, that sends the chariot.

Look upon your chastenings then, no matter how grievous they may be for the present, as God's chariots sent to carry your souls into the "high places" of spiritual achievement and uplifting, and you will find that they are, after all, "paved with love."

The Bible tells us that when God went forth for the salvation of His people, then He "did ride upon His horses and chariots of salvation." And it is the same now. Everything becomes a "chariot of salvation" when God rides upon it. He makes even the "clouds his chariot," we are told, and "rides on the wings of the wind." Therefore the clouds and storms that darken our skies and seem to shut out the shining of the sun of righteousness are really only God's chariots, into which we may mount with Him, and "ride prosperously" over all the darkness. Dear reader, have you made the clouds in your life your chariots? Are you "riding prosperously" with God on top of them all?

I knew a lady who had a very slow servant. She was an excellent girl in every other respect, and very valuable in the household; but her slowness was a constant source of irritation to her mistress, who was naturally quick, and who always chafed at slowness. This lady would consequently get out of temper with the girl twenty times a day, and twenty times a day would repent of her anger and resolve to conquer it, but in vain. Her life was made miserable by the conflict. One day it occurred to her that she had for a long while been praying for patience, and that perhaps this slow servant was the very chariot the Lord had sent to carry her soul over into patience. She immediately accepted it as such, and from that time used the slowness of her servant as a chariot for her soul; and the result was a victory of patience that no slowness of anybody was ever after able to disturb.

I knew another lady, at a crowded convention, who was put to sleep in a room with two others on account of the crowd. She wanted to sleep, but they wanted to talk; and the first night she was greatly disturbed, and lay there fretting and fuming long after the others had hushed and she might have slept. But the next day she heard something about God's chariots, and at night she accepted these talking friends as her chariots to carry her over into sweetness and patience, and was kept in undisturbed calm. When, however, it grew very late, and she knew they all ought to be sleeping, she ventured to say quietly, "Friends, I am lying here riding in a chariot!" The effect was instantaneous, and perfect quiet reigned! Her chariot had carried her over to victory, not only inwardly, but at last outwardly as well.

If we would ride in God's chariots instead of our own we should find this to be the case continually.

Our constant temptation is to trust in the "chariots of Egypt," or, in other words, in earthly resources. We can see them; they are tangible, and real, and look substantial, while God's chariots are invisible and intangible, and it is hard to believe they are there.

We try to reach high spiritual places with the "multitude of our chariots." We depend first on one thing and then on another to advance our spiritual condition, and to gain our spiritual victories. We "go down to Egypt for help." And God is obliged often to destroy all our own earthly chariots before He can bring us to the point of mounting into His.

We lean too much upon a dear friend to help us onward in the spiritual life, and the Lord is obliged to separate us from that friend. We feel that all our spiritual prosperity depends on our continuance under the ministry of a favorite preacher, and he is mysteriously removed. We look upon our prayer-meeting or our Bible-class as the chief source of our spiritual strength, and we are shut up from attending them. And the "chariots of God" which alone can carry us to the places where we hoped to be taken by the instrumentalities upon which we have been depending is to be found in the very deprivations we have so mourned over. God must burn up with the fire of His love every chariot of our own that stands in the way of our mounting into His.

We have to be brought to the place where all other refuges fail us before we can say, "He only." We say, "He and---something else," "He and my experiences," or "He and my church relationships," or "He and my Christian work"; and all that comes after the "and" must be taken away from us, or must be proved useless, before we can come to the "He only." As long as visible chariots are at hand the soul will not mount into the invisible ones.

Let us be thankful, then, for every trial that will help to destroy our earthly chariots, and that will compel us to take refuge in the chariot of God which stands ready and waiting beside us in every event and circumstance of life. We are told that "God rides upon the heavens," and if we would ride with Him there we need to be brought to the end of all riding upon the earth.

When we mount into God's chariot our goings are "established," for no obstacles can hinder His triumphal course. All losses, therefore, are gains that bring us to this. Paul understood this, and he gloried in the losses which brought him such unspeakable rewards. "But what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ. Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ, and be found in Him."

Even the "thorn in the flesh," the messenger of Satan sent to buffet him, became a "chariot of God" to his willing soul, and carried him to the heights of triumph which he could have reached in no other way. To "take pleasure" in one's trials, what is this but to turn them into the grandest of chariots?

Joseph had a revelation of his future triumphs and reigning, but the chariots that carried him there looked to the eye of sense like dreadful Juggernaut cars of failure and defeat. Slavery and imprisonment are strange chariots to take one to a kingdom, and yet by no other way could Joesph have reached his exaltation. And our exaltation to the spiritual throne that awaits us is often reached by similar chariots.

The great point, then, is to have our eyes opened to see in everything that comes to us a "chariot of God," and to learn how to mount into these chariots. We must recognize each thing that comes to us as being really God's chariot for us, and must accept it as from Him. He does not command or originate the thing, perhaps; but the moment we put it into His hands it becomes His, and He at once turns it into a chariot for us. He makes all things, even bad things, work together for good to all those who trust Him.

When your trial comes, then, put it right into the will of God, and climb into that will as a little child climbs into its mother's arms. The baby carried in the chariot of its mother's arms rides triumphantly through the hardest places, and does not even know they are hard. And how much more we who are carried in the chariot of the "arms of God!"

Get into your chariot, then. Take each thing that is wrong in your lives as God's chariot for you. No matter who the builder of the wrong may be, whether men or devils, by the time it reaches your side it is God's chariot for you, and is meant to carry you to a heavenly place of triumph.

No doubt the enemy will try to turn your chariot into a Juggernaut car by taunting you with the suggestion that God is not in your trouble, and that there is no help for you in Him. But you must utterly disregard all such suggestions, and must overcome them with the assertion of a confident faith. "God is my refuge and strength, a very present help in time of trouble," must be your continual declaration, no matter what the seemings may be.

Moreover, you must not be half-hearted about it. You must climb wholly into your chariot, not with one foot dragging on the ground. There must be no "ifs," or "buts," or "supposings," or "questionings." You must accept God's will fully, and must hide yourself in the arms of His love, that are always underneath to receive you, in every circumstance and at every moment.

Do any of you ask where your chariots are to be found? The psalmist says, "The chariots of God are twenty thousand, even thousands of angels." There is never in any life a lack of chariots. One dear Christian said to me at the close of a meeting where I had been speaking about these chariots: "I am a poor woman, and have all my life long grieved that I could not drive in a carriage like some of my rich neighbors. But I have been looking over my life while you have been talking, and I find that it is so full of chariots on every side that I am sure I shall never need to walk again."

I have no shadow of doubt, dear readers, that if all our eyes could be opened today we should see our homes, and our places of business, and the streets we traverse, filled with the "chariots of God." There is no need for anyone of us to walk for lack of chariots. That cross inmate of your household, who has made life a burden to you, and who has been the Juggernaut car to crush your soul into the dust, may henceforth be a glorious chariot to carry you to the heights of heavenly patience and longsuffering. That misunderstanding, that mortification, that unkindness, that disappointment, that loss, that defeat,---all these are chariots waiting to carry you to the very heights of victory you have so longed to reach.

Marriage Supper of the Lamb: I Want to Be There

2010-02-07T09:19:00.000-08:00

Since childhood I've been longing to be present at the Marriage Supper of the Lamb, that joyous occasion when (at last!) God's children are gathered together to celebrate their eternal redemption from sin and death.

I've pictured myself there; perhaps my imagination is too vivid, but I can see myself there seated amongst prophets and kings, and "the least of these," those the world deemed unworthy of notice, let alone salvation. My bare feet sink into the luxurious grass beneath them (I always imagine that the table at which we are seated is situated in nature's most stunning setting), softer than clouds or an infant's skin. All about me are faces radiant, and not a little baffled by their inclusion in such a celebratory feast. I'm as baffled as they are and yet, isn't it true that every last one of us is also keenly aware of why we are seated at this banqueting table? While we may wonder with awe that we're among the remnant, none of us is ignorant of what it cost our loving Father to extend to us this invitation. Oh, we are not here on our own merits!

To the left of me and to the right is the clink of heavy tableware and the rising murmur of happy voices, surely music to the ears of our Saviour! I glance (a bit shyly) at Mary Magdalene, longing to hear from her lips the story of her personal redemption. And those who were burned at the stake, or beheaded for their faith: how God must love them! To be in their presence would be shamefully humbling if I had brought with me into eternity any of that old self with all her flaws and sinful self-focusing. I close my eyes, right there at the table, as the murmuring all around me swells into something like an anthem of praise. I have never, in my entire existence, felt such a sense of rightness as I am experiencing just now seated at the Marriage Supper of the Lamb with those who love Him above all else. My entire life has been a journey in this direction, this destination. I was not created for petty, worldly concerns or the spurious pleasure of trinkets and distractions. This here--all this, as far as my eyes can see, stretched out for miles in either direction--is both the purpose and the journey's end of my existence. But not an end, exactly, except that, Behold, all things are made new!

Off in the distance I spy a slightly familiar face and, suddenly, my heart nearly pounds right out of my chest for joy. Here is the individual who spoke kind words to me when I wanted to end my life. Our time together was short-lived, in fact I can't say we were friends exactly. She was a fellow wayfarer, a pilgrim passing through this world who stopped to administer lovingly to a sister in distress. How often I've thought of her over the years, wishing I could thank her for helping me bear my burdens and stand on my feet again. Our eyes meet as I remember that special something in her expression (a trait which all of God's children seem to have in common), and the smile we share goes deeper than the ugly stain of sin and light years beyond that old worn out planet once known as earth.

Suddenly a song bursts forth somewhere down the table, and we are all caught up in this melodic thanksgiving of praise and worship. All eyes rest on the Saviour's beautiful features as He raises His hands as if to cup in them our treasured praise. Just as suddenly as the song bursts forth, it abruptly ends, for we've one and all seen the nail-scars which are the price of our admittance here today, at this table, surrounded by nothing but Love. Instantly discerning our discomfiture, the Saviour assures us that He's seen of the travail of his soul, and is satisfied.

I want this. I want every last bit of this, and of course the little scenario I've touched on so briefly here is nothing compared to what God has in store for those who love Him! What I can't comprehend are the many pilgrims out there who have no particular longing for the Marriage Supper of the Lamb. I can't think they're horrible individuals, or more sinful than I. Perhaps the cares of this world have so weighed them down that they have lost the ability to contemplate a higher world. Perhaps they've forgotten they're only pilgrims passing through, and have attempted to settled into this world as if it were the only one they'll ever know.

Oh, let's not lose sight of the joys to come. Though it is good and right to learn the art of contentment with whatever circumstances we find ourselves in, may we never become complacent and cease desiring that which is to come: world without end.

There's a land that is fairer than day
and by faith we can see it afar.
For the Father waits over the way
to prepare us a dwelling place there!

Book Review: What To Do When You Don't Know What to Do

2010-01-23T13:09:00.001-08:00

In "What to Do When You Don't Know What to Do," authors Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend offer practical steps for working through the confusing fog which often besets us in the face of unexpected trouble, or lingering battles with addictions.

Though there is nothing new in the "8 Principles for Finding God's Way," as outlined here, this is a good refresher course for anyone who is floundering in indecision. For instance, in a section titled "Tips for Finishing the Past" we find these suggestions:

Agree that you have a painful past

Include others in your healing and grieving

Receive forgiveness

Forgive others

Examine your ways

See yourself through new eyes

Leave the past in the past

Those who are in the early stages of realizing their need of God's wisdom to assist in their healing and maturing process, as outlined in biblical principles, will find this little book to be a friendly guide. For those who have long established the habit of casting their cares upon God, this is a good reminder that we are wired to need Him, and others, as we bear the burdens of living in a sinful world.

(This is a review for Thomas Nelson.)

It Is Never Right to Be Angry With God

2010-01-22T08:46:00.000-08:00

I found this article, by John Piper, to be very thought provoking. I've wrestled long with the issue of being angry towards God. Please read the following article thoughtfully, and tell me what you think.

Recently I said those words to a group of several hundred people: "It is never, ever, ever, right to be angry with God." As I looked out on the people there was an incredulous look on many faces. This was not landing well. Clearly many did not agree. This was confirmed in a question-and-answer time, when one person asked from a microphone, "Would you say something more about not being angry with God? Did you mean to say that it is never right to be angry with God?"

My answer was, "Yes, that is what I said. But perhaps you are stumbling over something you think I said which I didn't say. So let me add this: If you are angry with God, it is never right not to tell him so." This made some people scratch their heads again and look more puzzled. It puzzled me that they were puzzled. So I said it again another way: "If you are sinning by being angry with God, don't compound the sin by hypocrisy." The perplexity stayed on many faces. So I said it again: "If you sin by being angry with God, don't add to it the sin of trying to conceal it from him. That would double the offense."

Some were obviously tracking with me, but others looked baffled. At that point, I left it and went on to another question. But I have been thinking about those baffled looks ever since. Why was this so difficult to grasp? What assumptions were out there that made two simple statements so baffling. "It's never right to be angry with God." And: "It's never right to hide your anger from him, if you feel it." To me nothing could be more obvious. Why is this so non-controversial to me and so baffling to some others?

Here are two possible assumptions that may be common in many heads today, which would make them balk at what I said.

First, many assume that feelings are not right or wrong, they are neutral. So to say that anger (whether at God or anybody else) is "not right" is like saying sneezing is not right. You just don't apply the labels right and wrong to sneezing. It just happens to you. That is the way many people think about feelings: they just happen to you. Therefore, they are not moral or immoral; they are neutral. So for me to say that it is never right to be angry with God is to put the feeling of anger in a category where it doesn't belong, the category of morality.

This kind of thinking about feelings is one of the reasons there is so much shallow Christianity. We think the only things that have moral significance in the world are acts of volition. And we think feelings like desire and delight and frustration and anger are not acts of volition, but waves that break on the shore of our souls with no moral significance. Small wonder that many people do not earnestly seek to be transformed at the level of feelings, but only of "choices." That makes for a very superficial saint (at best).

This assumption is contrary to what the Bible teaches. In the Bible, many feelings are treated as morally good and many as morally bad. What makes them good or bad is how they relate to God. If they show that God is true and valuable, they are good, and if they suggest that God is false or foolish or evil, they are bad. For example, delight in the Lord is not neutral, it is commanded (Psalm 37.4) Therefore it is good. But to "take pleasure in wickedness" is wrong (Thessalonians 2:12), because it signifies that sin is more desirable than God, which is not true.

It's the same with anger. Anger at sin is good (Mark 3.5), but anger at goodness is sin. That is why it is never right to be angry with God. He is always and only good, no matter how strange and painful his ways with us. Anger toward God signifies that he is bad or weak or cruel or foolish. None of those is true, and all of them dishonor him. Therefore it is never right to be angry at God. When Jonah and Job were angry with God, Jonah was rebuked by God. Jonah and Job repented (Job 42.6)

The second assumption that may cause people to stumble over the statement that it is never right to be angry with God is the assumption that God really does things that ought to make us angry. But, as painful as his providence can be, we should trust that he is good, not get angry with him. That would be like getting angry at the surgeon who cuts us. It might be right if the surgeon slips and makes a mistake. But God never slips.

So I say it again: It is never right to be angry with God. But if you sin in this way, don't compound it by hypocrisy. Tell him the truth and repent.
Pastor John

© Desiring God 2000. Used with permission.

Where Is God?

2010-01-08T08:56:00.000-08:00

In his new book, Where Is God?, Dr. John Townsend explores the landscape of human sufferings and what they mean in the lives of believers. Three principles set forth in this book are:

God is for you
Your experience matters: "It is easy to think that we should put up a brave front and stay positive about all our struggles. But that is not the biblical model. David, the man after God's own heart, got right to it and spilled out his guts about his own experience--How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?"
The Bible is our source for understanding God's ways in hard times: "We are designed for more than simply receiving power from God, a relationship in which He does superhero feats to help us. Ultimately, we long for His presence, a connection of closeness with God . . . He seeks us out. In fact, before we ever asked, "Where is God?" He first asked the same question of us. 'The Lord God called to Adam and said to him, Where are you?' (Gen. 3:9, NKJV) He is the real seeker, not us."

I found Dr. Townsend's writings insightful and full of grace, as if a good friend sat down beside me in the midst of my troubles and listened with her heart to my litany of pain and loss. This book avoids trite answers and meaningless platitudes, leaning instead toward the hard but necessary facts that 1) sometimes God chooses to be with us in our sorrows, rather than deliver us out of them and 2) we won't always know this side of Heaven the reasons for our particular trials.

Just as it is refreshing in our time of need to have a loving someone to offer compassion, while allowing us to express our very human pain, so this book is a welcome relief from the tired theories circulating in the Christian community today, offering false promises of unremitting prosperity which are neither helpful nor biblical.

This book is sure to be a source of wisdom and encouragement for anyone desiring to know the true God of whom Jesus said, "If you've seen me you've seen the Father."

What a Friend We Have in Jesus

2010-01-04T14:40:00.001-08:00

Joseph Scriven watched in shock as the body of his fiancée was pulled from the lake. Their wedding had been planned for the next day. Reeling from the tragedy, he made up his mind to immigrate to America. Packing up his belongings in Dublin, Ireland, he sailed for Canada, leaving his mother behind. He was about 25 years old.

Ten years later, in 1855, he received word that his mother was facing a crisis. Joseph wrote this poem and sent it to her. Mrs. Scriven evidently gave a copy to a friend who had it published anonymously, and it quickly became a popular hymn, though no one knew who had written it.

Meanwhile, Joseph fell in love again. But tragedy struck a second time when his bride, Eliza Catherine Roche, contracted tuberculosis and died in 1860 before their wedding could take place.

To escape his sorrow, Joseph poured himself into ministry, doing charity work for the Plymouth Brethren and preaching among the Baptists. He lived a simple, obscure life in Port Hope, Canada, cutting firewood for widows, giving away his clothes and money to those in need. He was described as “a man of short stature, with iron-gray hair, close-cropped beard, and light blue eyes that sparkled when he talked.” Ira Sankey later wrote:

Until a short time before his death it was not known that he had a poetic gift. A neighbor, sitting up with him in his illness, happened upon a manuscript copy of “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” Reading it with great delight and questioning Mr. Scriven about it, he said that he had composed it for his mother, to comfort her in a time of special sorrow, not intending that anyone else should see it. Some time later, when another Port Hope neighbor asked him if it was true he composed the hymn, his reply was, “The Lord and I did it between us.”

On October 10, 1896, Joseph became critically ill. In his delirium, he rose from his bed and staggered outdoors where he fell into a small creek and drowned at age 66. His grave was arranged so that his feet were opposite those of his lost love, Eliza Catherine Roche, that at the resurrection they might arise facing one another.

(From “Then Sings My Soul”, 250 of the world’s greatest hymn stories.)

“...the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”

Philippians 4:6-7

Down-to-Earth Jesus

2010-01-04T14:32:00.000-08:00

Jesus, if You lived on earth today

You’d peddle Your love in scuffed Nikes

and T shirts tear-stained,

sweat-stained, ragged, maybe, from too many sleepless nights,

too many desperate hands tugging the hem of Your garments.

Down to earth Jesus, You’d haunt mean city streets,

welfare offices, prisons, skid rows, and smoke filled taverns, in search of Your lost sheep.

You can live on earth today in the lives of Your followers.

Teach us not to judge by outward appearance...

help us hear the silent screaming beneath the obsessive talking

and sophisticated exteriors: teach us, Lord Jesus, to love.

(by Deb Rhodes, 1981)

Confessions of a Spiritual Stumble-bum

2010-01-02T08:47:00.000-08:00

Dear Reader,

Do you ever feel as if spiritually you’re looking into a fun house mirror where everything is grossly distorted, and nothing looks right no matter which way you turn? This can happen for many reasons. For me it's usually due to forgetting. Forgetting what Jesus said about Himself and focusing instead on the negative/legalistic messages which often abound in the lives of those who are not abiding in Him, but are convinced they hold the sum of all truth.

When I listen to others rather than to the Word, everything becomes distorted and I soon find myself spiritually and mentally disoriented. Not unlike an incident which happened years ago when I was living in Chicago.

Son #5 and I had parked in front of a Subway store to pick up a couple of sandwiches. Two young men seated at a table in front of the plate glass window were the only other customers.

As we left the store, stepping carefully along the snow encrusted walk, I felt a twinge of annoyance when we reached the car and my son outdistanced me, stopping in front of a line of parked cars a few parking slots over. Sending him a pointed look of irritation, I opened the driver side door of the car, vaguely noticing as I slid behind the wheel that the front seats were covered in lamb's skin. Before that had time to sink in, I sent Son #5 another look of annoyance (ok, a glare, really.) Much to my surprise (and anger) he stood pointing and laughing at me!

Plotting his upcoming punishment upon his arrival home (which I pictured as an event separate from my homecoming, seeing as how he’d be walking home if he didn’t cut out the nonsense and get in the car), I glanced over my shoulder and took note of the college stickers peppering the rear window. Strange, I thought idly, I don’t remember seeing them before. Well, one can’t remember everything.

As I fumbled under the dashboard for the jury rigged switch to start the car, two things happened: the plush-ness of the seat covers finally registered in my brain. At the same moment I discovered that there was no switch, jury rigged or otherwise.

My head snapped up to take in the fact that my son was still out in the cold, laughing like a hyena... and that (uh-oh), this college-stickered car must belong to the customers inside, wolfing down their food with the greedy abandon of college students who never get enough to eat. Need I spell out the rest? I’m sure I hold the world’s record for the fastest evacuation of a car, ever.

God, long used to my shenanigans (He really can’t take me anywhere!), must have given the two young men a dose of temporary blindness—it’s the only way I can explain the fact that they were oblivious to the whole I-Love-Lucy enactment right under their noses.

The point of all my ramblings? That just as by getting into the wrong car I experienced the strange feeling of everything being off kilter, so I am bound at times to get off on the wrong track spiritually: to open the wrong door, or to miss the obvious signs along the way that point out I am not where I should be (as I did by ignoring my son’s laughter, so sure that I knew what I was doing.) When it comes to spiritual confusion—especially regarding my concept of God’s character—I have only to recall that Jesus said, “If you’ve seen Me you’ve seen the Father.”

Why is that so hard to remember? Especially since oftentimes, everything else is just the equivalent of looking into a fun house mirror...

Blessings!

The Dance

2009-12-31T20:49:00.000-08:00

I danced in the morning when the world was begun,
And I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun,
And I came down from heaven and I danced on the earth,
At Bethlehem I had my birth.

Dance, then, wherever you may be;
I am the Lord of the Dance, said he.
And I’ll lead you all wherever you may be,
And I’ll lead you all in the dance, said he.

I danced for the scribe and the Pharisee,
But they would not dance and they would not follow me;
I danced for the fishermen, for James and John;
They came to me and the dance went on.

Refrain
I danced on the Sabbath when I cured the lame,
The holy people said it was a shame;
They whipped and they stripped and they hung me high;
And they left me there on a cross to die.

Refrain
I danced on a Friday and the sky turned black;
It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back;
They buried my body and they thought I’d gone,
But I am the dance and I still go on.

Refrain
They cut me down and I leapt up high,
I am the life that’ll never, never die;
I’ll live in you if you’ll live in me;
I am the Lord of the Dance, said he.
Refrain
Lord of the Dance © 1963 Stainer & Bell Ltd.

Hungering

2009-12-30T13:12:00.001-08:00

You, God, who live next door---
If at times, through the long night, I trouble you
with my urgent knocking---
this is why; I hear you breathe so seldom..

..As it happens, the wall between us
is very thin. Why couldn’t a cry
from one of us
break it down? It would crumble
easily. (Rilke)

Jesus Lives by Sarah Young

2009-12-26T19:04:00.000-08:00

I eagerly anticipated reading this book, for I've had a lifetime fondness for devotionals.

Though I wanted to like it, I found myself disturbed right off the bat by the fact that it was written as if by the Lord Himself, which proved a constant distraction. The thing is, I just couldn't imagine Jesus actually speaking words such as in this passage taken from page 44:

You are feeling brokenhearted and bound: entangled in webs of discouragement. Pick up the pieces of your broken heart---scattered all around you---and bring them to Me. Place them on the white linen cloth I provide, and wait in My healing Presence. Sit still in My holy Light while I cleanse you from binding webs of discouragement . . .

I don't know what is meant by the "white linen cloth." Though it has a lovely sound to it there is nothing Scriptural to warrant its inclusion in this paragraph. (Also, I couldn't help thinking that this paragraph sounds a bit New Age-y.) While it is true that the Lord is near to the brokenhearted, He does not coddle us. To those with whom He interacted during His earth life, His words had about them a holy directive bordering on sternness. He assured the woman taken in adultery that He didn't condemn her, and then went on to caution her to "Go and sin no more." To Peter, who had miserably denied Him three times, His words were, "Feed my sheep." There was no commiserating with his human weakness or sympathizing with his cowardice but rather, the command to move forward by engaging in what was to be his life's work.

God is not so much concerned with our comfort or happiness as He is with the molding of our characters into the likeness of His Son. Jesus walked amongst the common people of His day, healing the sick and imparting words of truth. What He didn't do was to encourage self-focus by lingering to give attention to the minute details of an individual's life. This is not to say that He had no care for one's burdens and the reasons behind them, but simply that life lay not in the scrutinizing of one's failures or wounds but in following Him.

Here is a passage from page 142:

The best strategy for accepting yourself, even when you make mistakes, is living close to Me . . .

There is a new movement today in Christianity, and it is that of substituting the word mistake for sin. While the Bible abounds with verses regarding sin, it is never called by any other name. A mistake is mispronouncing a word, or perhaps forgetting someone's name. A sin goes much deeper for it is a deliberate act of the will. Jesus did not suffer and die for our mistakes, but for our sins.

I find myself uncomfortable with the presumption required in putting words in the mouth of our Lord. Rather than imagining what He might say to those in need of encouragement, surely such individuals would be better served by reading for themselves the words of Christ found in Scripture. Anything less than this is second-hand at best, and bordering on sacrilige. (Fortunately, the author (or publisher) of this devotional did provide Scripture with each day's reading.)

This book lacks the substance of spiritual food, except for the Scriptures included with each passage, and which I found to be its only saving grace.

Spiritual Keys

2009-12-21T13:08:00.000-08:00

Beauty Is More Than Skin Deep

2009-12-16T19:39:00.000-08:00

"[Our] beauty comes from the radiance of Christ that is best revealed through our scars. It's a compelling strength that becomes realized only in our weakness. It's a beauty forged in the refining fire of trials, and a loveliness fashioned on the anvil of faithfulness."
(Fresh Grounded Faith, Day 1, Page 15, by Jennifer Rothschild)

Four Circles Of Intimacy With God (You're As Close To God As YOU Want To Be)

2009-12-06T15:26:00.000-08:00

By J.Oswald Sanders

It is a well known fact that some Christians seem to experience a much closer intimacy with God than others. They appear to enjoy a reverent familiarity with Him that is foreign to many of us. Is it a matter of favoritism on the part of God? Or do such people qualify in some way for that desirable intimacy?

Frances Havergal envisioned such a life of deepening intimacy:

And closer yet, and closer the golden bonds shall be
Enlinking all who love our Lord in pure serenity;
And wider yet, and wider shall the circling glory glow
As more and more are taught of God,
that mighty love to know.

Are there secrets we may discover that would admit us to a similar intimacy? Both Scripture and experience teach that it is we, not God, who determine the degree of intimacy with Him that we enjoy. We are at this moment as close to God as we really choose to be. True, there are times when we would like to know a deeper intimacy, but when it comes to the point, we are not prepared to pay the price involved. The qualifying conditions are more stringent and exacting than we are prepared to meet; so we settle for a less demanding level of Christian living.

Everything in our Christian life and service flows from our relationship with God. If we are not in vital fellow ship with Him, everything else will be out of focus. But when our communion with Him is close and real, it is gloriously possible to experience a growing intimacy.

In both Old and New Testaments, there are examples of four degrees of intimacy experienced by God's people In the Old Testament, it is Moses' and the nation of Israel's experience with their God. In the New Testament, it is that of the disciples and their Lord. In each case, the growing intimacy arose out of a deepening revelation of the divine character.

Dr. J. Elder Cumming contended that "in almost every case the beginning of new blessing is a new revelation of the character of God - more beautiful, more wonderful, more precious." This was certainly true in the case of Moses.

Moses On the Mountain
On several occasions God summoned Moses to ascend Mount Sinai to have fellowship with Him. Twice, the conference lasted for forty days. On one of those occasions, the people of the nation were associated with him. A study of the circumstances reveals that four circles of intimacy developed:
The Outer Circle
(Ex. 19:11-12)
As the Law was about to be given, God told Moses to prepare the nation for His manifestation on Mount Sinai. They would see His visible presence, but there were limits beyond which they must not pass.

"Let them be ready for the third day, for on the third day the Lord will come down on Mount Sinai in the sight of all the people. And you shall set bounds for the people all around, saying, 'Beware that you do not go up on the mountain...'" (Ex. 19:11-12)

The people could approach the mountain, but they could not ascend it, on pain of death. Barriers were erected to keep them at a distance from God. "Moses alone, however, shall come near to the Lord, but they shall not come near, nor shall the people come up with him" was the divine command. (Ex. 24:2)

Why the exclusiveness? The subsequent reactions of the people clearly demonstrated that they were neither qualified for nor desirous of coming too close to God. There were obviously conditions for a fresh revelation of God. They did have a vision of God, but to them "the glory of the Lord was like a consuming fire on the mountain top." (Ex. 24:17)
The Second Circle
(Ex. 24:9-11)
"Then Moses went up with Aaron, Nadab and Abihu, and seventy of the elders of Israel, and they saw the God of Israel.... They beheld God, and they ate and drank."

That group pressed past the barriers that excluded the rest of the nation and had a much more intimate vision of God than the people: "Under His feet there appeared to be a pavement of sapphire, as clear as the sky itself." They had a limited vision of God in His transcendence, a glimpse of the Eternal. It was probably a theophany (an actual appearance of God to man). "They beheld God, and they ate and drank."

They must have felt a very real and conscious sense of the divine presence. Their experience was far in advance of that of the people, but it effected no permanent transformation. Only a short time later, they were found worshipping the golden calf. They had a vision of God but showed that they were not qualified to ascend to the top of the mountain into deeper fellowship with God.
The Third Circle
(Ex. 24:13-14)
How quickly the numbers dwindled as the mountain path grew steeper! Of all Israel, only two qualified for inclusion in the third circle of intimacy. What was Joshua's special qualification for that privilege? A clue is given in Exodus 33:10-11: "When all the people saw the pillar of cloud standing at the entrance of the tent, all the people would arise and worship.... Thus the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, just as a man speaks to his friend. When Moses returned to the camp, his servant Joshua. the son of Nun, a young man, would not depart from the tent."

The tent was the place where the Shekinah glory rested, and where God manifested Himself to His people. "Joshua... would not deport from the tent." As Moses' servant he would have many errands to go on and services to perform, but whenver he was free from those duties, he made his way to the tent. He wanted to be where God manifested Himself. He would have been present on many occasions when the Lord spoke to Moses face to face; thus he enjoyed an intimacy with God excelled only by that of his leader, Moses. Although he fell short of the vision granted to Moses, he ascended higher on the glory-covered mountain than any of his contemporaries. The lesson for us does not need to he spelled out.
The Inner Cirlce
(Ex. 24:15-17)
"Then Moses went up to the mountain, and the cloud covered the mountain. And the glory of the Lord rested on Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it for six days: and on the seventh day He called to Moses from the midst of the cloud."

The divine summons must have filled Moses with awe as he climbed alone, for "the glory of the Lord was like a consuming fire on the mountain top." (Ex. 24:17) The people in the outer circle saw only the consuming fire and feared. But Moses saw in it the glory of God... and worshipped.

Moses Experienced A Deepening Intimacy Of Communion With God
"Thus the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face just as a man speaks to his friend." (Ex. 33:11) "With him will I speak mouth to mouth." (Num. 12:8) What could be more intimate - friend to friend, face to face, mouth to mouth! Is there any parallel to that in our experience?

He Shared The Divine Perspective
Moses was daring enough to make the request, "Let me know Thy ways." (Ex. 33:13) He desired to know his Friend's principles of action, to share His purposes, and God opened His heart to Moses arid revealed something of His own inner nature.

He Experience A Test In The Area Of Ambition
When the nation turned to worship the golden calf in Moses' absence, God's anger was kindled. and He said to Moses, "Now let Me alone, that My anger may burn against them and that I may destroy them; and I will make of you a great nation." (Ex. 32: It) Moses' integrity and disinterested (unselfish) love for his people found expression in his audacious response to the divine proposition: "But now, if Thou wilt, forgive their sin - and if not, please blot me out from Thy book which Thou hast written!" (Ex. 32:32) The intensity and selflessness of his intercession grew out of his growing intimacy with God. Not only did he refuse to profit at their expense, but he was willing to sacrifice his privileged position in their favor.

He Had A Surpassing Revelation Of God's Glory
Communion with God kindled in Moses an intense desire to know Him better. "I pray Thee, show me Thy glory!" was his request. (Ex. 33:18) God's answer gave him, and us, an insight into the nature of His glory: "I Myself will make all My goodness pass before you, and will proclaim the name of the Lord before you... The Lord, the Lord God, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in lovingkindness and truth; who keeps lovingkindness for thousands, who forgives iniquity, transgression and sin; yet He will by no means leave the guilty unpunished." (Ex. 33:19; 34:6-7)

God's goodness and glory are enshrined in His name, in His moral character. Moses did not see the full glory of God in its unveiled effulgence (splendor) - only the afterglow that He left behind as He passed by. (Ex. 33:20-23)

Some Of God 's Glory Rubbed Off On Moses
"When Moses was coming down from Mount Sinai... Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because of his speaking with Him." (Ex. 34:29) That is still the divine prescription for radiance.

Had we lived in those Old Testament times, in which group would we be found? With the crowd? The seventy-four? The two? The one?

Jesus And His Disciples
From among those early followers who had evidenced their faith in Him, Jesus chose seventy and sent them out two by two to preach for Him. Later, after a night of prayer, He chose twelve to be with Him for training - to learn His ways and imbibe His Spirit. Within the twelve, there emerged a circle of three with whom Jesus became especially intimate. They were closer to Him than any of the others. Within the circle of three, there was one who appropriated the special place on Jesus' breast, and through whom the disciples channeled questions to the Master. "He, leaning back thus on Jesus' breast" (John /3:25) is the way John described his privileged position. Seventy, twelve, three, one! In which group would we be found?? Each of the disciples was as close to Jesus as he chose to be, for the Son of God had no favorites. We are similarly self-classifying.

G. Campbell Morgan wrote concerning the special three:
There can be no doubt that these men, Peter, James, and John, were the most remarkable in the apostolate. Peter loved Him; John He loved; James was the first to seal his testimony with his blood. Even their blunders proved their strength. They were the men of enterprise; men who wanted thrones and places of power.... Mistaken ideas, all of them, and yet proving capacity for holding the keys and occupying the throne. What men from among that first group reign today as these men?

On four special occasions, Jesus admitted them to experiences from which they learned precious lessons. On the occasion of the raising of Jairus' daughter (Luke 8:51), they were granted a preview of their Lord's mastery over death and saw His gentleness with the little girl.

On the mount of transfiguration (Matt. 17:1), they gained clearer insight into the importance of His impending death, although they grasped its significance very inadequately (Luke 18:34). There, too, they had a preview of His glory and majesty. "We beheld His glory," recalled John. (John 1:14) " We... were eyewitnesses of His majesty," said Peter. (2 Pet. 1:16)

On the Mount of Olives (Mark 13:3), they marveled at His prophetic discernment, as He shared with them the sweep of the divine purposes and the inner secrets of God.

In the Garden of Gethsemane (Matt. 26:37), they glimpsed in the sufferings of the Savior something of the cost of their salvation, although they were at a loss to interpret His agony.

Those were some of the privileges of the inner circle. Could any of the twelve have been among that favored group? Were the three specially selected by the Lord? With Him there is no favoritism. Their relationship with Him was the result of their own choice, conscious or unconscious. It is a sobering thought that we too are as close to Christ as we really choose to be. The deepening intimacy of the three with Jesus was the result of the depth of their response to His love and training.

They recognized that intimacy with Him involved responsibility as well as conferred privilege. The Master had told them that "whoever does the will of God, he is My brother and sister and mother", (Mark 3:35) There are some ties that are closer even than those of kinship.

What excluded some disciples from the inner circle? If perfection were the criterion, then Peter the denier and James and John the place-seekers would have been excluded. But they were included, If it were temperament, then surely the volatile Peter and James and John the fire-eaters would not have found entrance.

Why then did John have the primacy in the group? Because he alone appropriated the place of privilege that was available to all; It was love that drew John into a deeper intimacy with Jesus than the other apostles. Jesus loved them all, but John alone appropriated the title "the disciple whom Jesus loved." If Jesus loved John more, it was because John loved Him more! Mutual love and confidence are the keys to intimacy.

It would seem that admission to the inner circle of deepening intimacy with God is the outcome of deep desire. Only those who count such intimacy a prize worth sacrificing anything else for are likely to attain it. If other intimacies are more desirable to us, we will not gain entry to that circle.

The place on Jesus' breast is still vacant, and open to any who are willing to pay the price of deepening intimacy. We are now, and we will be in the future, only as intimate with God as we really choose to be.

J.Oswald Sanders, 2/21/2007

We Are Not in Heaven Yet

2009-12-04T14:33:00.000-08:00

I love this quotation by Calvin:

The believer must not expect Heaven on earth or hope to reap the fruit of victory or to live in rest. Here he lives in need, imperfection and trouble, and there is externally no difference between believers and heathen. Yet the life which is promised is real and no shadow. It is in the Christian like the life of trees in winter, hidden, but waiting to show itself in the fulfillment of time. Our life is elsewhere; it is now hidden, but it will be revealed to us at the coming of the Redeemer.

This is so much more refreshing than the tripe often taught in today's popular Prosperity Message. We were never told to expect to live problem free in this lifetime, nor promised the blessings of Heaven in the here and now. For me this is exactly why I find this quote refreshing: it contains solid truth on which can can feed our hungry souls.

Amazing Love

2009-10-28T14:51:00.000-07:00

You ask me how I know it, and I take you, not to the infinite spaces where stars march in rhythmic order, nor to the hedgerow where God smiles in flowers; but to the rough brutal cross of Calvary, to the hour of the dying of the Christ.

"God commendeth His own love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners Christ died for us." My brethren, such love is royal, and royal love makes claims upon loyalty. What shall I do in answer to that love? We have often sung together: "Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a present far too small; Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all!" Have we not sung that wrong in two ways? Have we not sung it first as though we would say, I cannot give Him so great a thing as the realm of nature, I can give only myself to Him? That is wrong. It is wrong in His thinking if it is not in yours. He counts you, bruised and broken, sinful, dying man, He counts you more than the whole realm of nature. When one day He held the infinite balances in His hand, He said,"What doth it profit a man, to gain the whole world, and forfeit his life?" That is His estimate. God so love you that He would not feel Himself enriched if He could save the whole realm of nature and lose you. How do I know that? Because He gave something infinitely more than the whole realm of nature, He gave Himself in His Son for you.

If you want to know your value by the measurements of love, God measure you by Himself. When you next sing that verse, do not sing it as though you had nothing to give--if you have yourself to give. If you have yourself to give, give yourself. That is all He wants. Have we not sung that verse wrongly in the next place by singing, "Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all," without the answering abandonment? My brother, my sister, answer that love tonight, not by singing of its demands, but by giving all you are to it. Give yourself, with all your wounds and bruises,with all your weakness and frailty. Answer that love, and that love will remake you until at last you shall be meet for the dwelling of the saints in light. May God in His infinite grace speak this word to us as no human voice can speak it.

G. Campbell Morgan Westminster Pulpit Volumes 1&2 pg. 137-138

Calm After Storm

2009-10-19T13:00:00.000-07:00

Isaiah has long been my favorite Old Testament book, though certain portions of it have confused me regarding the character of a loving God. And then I read the following excerpt from The People's Bible where the author is speaking of the 25th chapter. Here we find Isaiah, after delineating the judgments of God, now speaking of the calm after the storm:

"We can only understand the highest, sweetest meaning of this chapter in proportion as we enter into the spirit of the one which precedes it . . . it is full of clouds, and darkness, and judgment. The Lord himself seems to have yielded to the spirit of contempt, and to have held in scorn even the work of his own fingers. The sarcasm of the Lord is intolerable. His laugh, who can stand? It is a laugh of judgment; it comes after certain moral experiments, and endeavours, and issues; it is not frivolity, it is a singular aspect of judgment, the only aspect which certain men in certain moods can understand; for they have withstood mercy, and compassion, and tears, and they have seen God himself in an attitude of supplication, in the posture of a supplicant and a beggar, and they have turned him from their heart-door.The only thing which he can now do is to laugh at their calamity, and mock when their fear comes. We have walked through the dark valley of the preceding chapter, and now we come to a calm after a storm, to a sweet and beauteous song, to an eventide that carries the burden of its waning light easily, and that shines upon us with mellowest, most comforting sympathy. Who could claim such a God as a refuge? An hour or two ago he thundered in the heavens as Almightiness alone can thunder; nothing was sacred to him that defied him by its bulk and power and pride; he turned the earth upside down and laughed at its impotent endeavours at rectification. Who can flee to him, and call him by all these tender names----a strength, a refuge, a shadow, a sanctuary?

"The very terribleness of God is a reason for putting our trust in him. Probably this view of the divine attributes has not always been sufficiently vivid to our spiritual consciousness. We have thought of God, and have become afraid; whereas when we hear him thundering, and see him scattering his arrows of lightning round about him, and behold him pouring contempt upon the mighty who have defied him, we should say, See! God is love. What does he strike? No little child, no patient woman, no broken heart, no face that is steeped in tears of contrition.On what does his fist fall? On arrogance, on haughtiness, on self-conceit, on self-completeness. He turns the proud away with an answer of scorn to their prayer of patronage. God is only terrible to evil. That is the reason why his terribleness should be an encouragement and an allurement to souls that know their sin and plead for pardon at the Cross.

"In the 4th verse we find what we may term a completing view of the divine personality and government. Say whether there is aught in poetry that streams from a fountain with this fluency:

Thou has been a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm, a shadow from the heat, when the blast of the terrible ones is as a storm against the wall. (verse 4)

"Here we come upon language which the heart can understand, and which the heart responds to with personal gratitude. Sometimes the Scriptures leave us. They are like a great bird with infinite wings, flying away to the centers of light and the origin of glory, and we cannot follow them in their imperial infinite sweep; then they come down to us and flutter near our hearts, and speak or sing to us in words and tones we can comprehend. This verse is an instance in point. Every man who has had large experience of life can annotate this verse for himself; he needs no critic, no preacher, no orator, to help him into the innermost shrine and heart of this holy place. Each of us can repeat this verse as a part of his own biography: each can say, Thou has been a strength to me when I was poor; I never knew my poverty when thou did break the bread; we always thought it more than enough because the blessing so enlarged the morsel: thou has been a strength to me in my need and in my distress; when my father and my mother forsook me thou did take me up; thou did turn my tears into jewelry, thou did make my sorrows the beginnings of paeans and hymns of loud and perfect triumph: thou has been a refuge from the storm; when men could not bear me, tolerate me, see anything in me to touch their complacency; when the roof was broken through by the weighty rain, and when the flood put out the last spark of fire, I never felt the cold because thou was near me, and in the multitude of my thoughts within me thy comforts delighted my soul. Thou has been a shadow from the heat; I could always fly to thee at noontide, and rest in thine almightiness as a flock gathers itself around the great tree, and tarries for a while during the sultry noontide. So long as men can say this, with all the passion of earnestness, with all the vividness of personal consciousness, the Bible smiles at every attempt to overthrow its supremacy, and waits to take in the last wanderer from its hospitable shelter.

"Remember, therefore, when reading passages that are surcharged with judgment, verses that are all lightning, Scriptures that are hot as hell with God's anger, that other Scriptures must be quoted if we would realize a completing view of God, as to his personality and government and purpose; and the last and uppermost verdict will be, "God is love." When God once begins to be gracious, turns away from judgment, and dawns upon the world's consciousness like a new morning, who can tell what he will do? He gives with both hands; he withholds nothing; he not only causes the storm to cease, he proceeds to positive hospitality, goodness, beneficence; he comes down to us to search into our need in all its extent and urgency, and crowns the day with infinite satisfactions."

Oh dear Father, that these words might be sweet to my soul, feeding my soul hunger as I ponder them throughout my busy day!

The Ministry of Grace

2009-10-04T09:05:00.000-07:00

The following is an excerpt from The People's Bible, published in 1891. I love this book for its frank depiction of the Christian way and its unashamed praises of the loveliness of Christ:

Does not love give boldness, courage, hope, confidence? May not love go higher than any other inquirer or worshipper? Many there are on the first step of the throne; some a little higher up; but what figure is that, highest of all, white-clothed, with a face all light, with an eye kindled as the sun? The name of that highest, purest, sweetest worshiper is Love. It is therefore not strange that there would be in the Bible even a book steeped in love (The Song of Solomon), a soul sick of love, a heart without a dividing passion, a consecrated flame of affection. That such a book may be put to wrong uses is perfectly true; but what is there that may not be abused? What flower is there which a villain may not pluck and put upon his breast as a seal of honor? What bird is there which the cruelest hand many not kill? What word is there in all speech which a perverted imagination may not use for immoral or corrupting purposes?

We are right in thinking of Christ himself as the cause or origin of all this love. "Draw me, we will run after thee." There is a drawing force in life, a gracious impulse; not an impulse that thrusts men forward by eager violence, but that lures them, beckons them, draws them, by an unspeakable but most mighty magnetism. "No man can come to me, except the Father which hath sent me draw him." : Observe the difference between the words to draw and to drive. It is the special function of love to attract, to fascinate, to shut out all other charms, and to fix the vision upon itself; and under that sweet compulsion men will dare any peril, face any darkness, traverse any distance, though the road be lined by ravenous beasts. "We love him because he first loved us." God does not ask from us an affection which he himself has not first felt: the love is not on our side, except as an answer; the love is on God's part, as origin, fountain, spring, inspiration. "God is love." If God were only "loving" he might be something else---a mixture, a composition of elements and characteristics: God is more than loving, or he is loving because he is love. We say of some men, They are not musical, they are music; they are not eloquent, they are eloquence. In the one case you would but describe a feature or a characteristic; in the other you indicate an essence, a vitality, an individualism bound up with the thing which is signified. This love may be resisted; this drawing may be put aside. We may say even to him who is chiefest among ten thousand and altogether lovely, We will not have thee to reign over us; we have made up our minds to turn the day into night, and the night into one horrible revelry, and we would not have they presence amongst our orgies and supper or feast of hell. Thou would plague us; the feast would turn to poison under they look or touch; so we banish thee, and enclose ourselves with evil spirits, that we may make night hideous. A tremendous power is thus given to man. He could not be man without it. Every man has the power to leave God, but no man has the right to do it. Am I asked what is this drawing? Hear the apostle when he puts the inquiry, "Despises thou the riches of his goodness and forbearance and long suffering; not knowing that the goodness of God leads thee to repentance?" Do not mercies break thee down in tears? Does not daily kindness penetrate thy obstinacy, and turn they stubbornness into prayer? This is an appeal which is manifest, and not merely sentimental. The appeal is founded upon the goodness of God, and the goodness of God is the common story of the day; it begins to be seen when the dawn flushes the awakening earth with earliest light; it grows with the growing sun; it burns visibly and comfortingly in the setting day; all night it breathes its whispered gospel upon the heart of man;--it is written on the front-door of the house; it is inscribed on every window-pane through which the light comes with its needed blessing;--it is in every loaf, turning it into sacramental bread; it is in the cup, stirring the contents into holy wine, as sacramental blood; --the goodness of God was at the birth of the child, rocked the cradle of the child, watched over the growing life of the child, and will never forsake the advancing life, unless indeed that life shall grieve the Spirit, and quench the Holy Ghost.

This is what is meant by it being "all of grace." It never occurred to the heart of man to seek God or to love God. Who can love omnipotence? Who can love omniscience; or who can love ubiquitousness, onipresence--a mere occupation of space? Love does not answer such ideas; there may be a bowing of the head, a closing of the eyes, a wondering of the imagination, a standing back as from an intolerable glory; but love does not know that sphere, love does not speak that language. "God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son." : now we begin to feel a new emotion, there is upon our arm a human touch; there is mingling with our fellowship a human voice; there is a shrouded Deity, a concealed God. "Great is the mystery of godliness: God was manifest in the flesh." : Accompanying that revelation there is a drawing power, and having been once drawn we wish to be closer still; our cry every day is, Draw me: there is another height to be conquered, there is another land to be seen, there are other gardens growing with all the fulness and odour of the paradise of God: draw me, and I shall not see the danger; draw me, and I shall fly where I cannot walk. This is the ministry of grace; this is the ministry of providence; this is that spiritual ministry which operates without bound or time or space.

The Narrow Road

2009-09-23T18:33:00.000-07:00

What did Jesus mean when he spoke of the narrow road which leads to life? Perhaps it's the difference between being a believer and being a disciple. To assent intellectually to the truth of the gospel is one thing; to absorb the teachings of Christ, allowing them to transform us inwardly, is an altogether different experience. While we can stay on the low roads, stuck in the rut of the abcs of Christianity, there are joys, challenges and steady growth awaiting those who heed the call to "come up higher."

Years ago I came across the following list of Christlike Virtues. I can't think of a better way to take stock of one's spiritual maturity than to study this list with honesty of heart. The first time I did so I was jolted out of my spiritual complacency. I hadn't known, for instance, that the perversion of the virtue purity is puritanical. I wouldn't have guessed that the perversion of Biblical joy is frenzy.

As you go through the list, you're likely to find a few surprises. Don't lose heart, though, if you find yourself too often on the wrong side of the list! Growth takes time. It's all a part of the lifetime work of the Sanctification Process:

Christlike Virtues: James 3:17

Virtue Opposite Perversion

Pure impure puritanical

Peaceable fussy compromise

Gentle harsh unkind restraint

Entreatable unapproachable yes-man

Merciful merciless indulgent

Fruitful fruitless obsessed with numbers

Steadfast wavering inflexible, rigid

Honest dishonest brutal

Christlike Virtues: Galatians 5:22,23

Love hate possessiveness

Joy pain frenzy

Peace war neutrality

Longsuffering impatience lenience

Gentleness hardness softness

Goodness badness finicky nice

Faithfulness faithlessness legalism

Meekness arrogance weakness

Temperance undisciplined fleshy effort

" . . . giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue, to virtue knowledge, to knowledge self-control, to self-control perseverance, to perseverance godliness, to godliness brotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness love. For if these things are yours and abound, you will be neither barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. For he who lacks these things is shortsighted, even to blindness, and has forgotten that he was cleansed from his old sins." (2 Peter 1, 5-9, TNB)

Godspeed

2009-09-14T21:24:00.000-07:00

Well everyone, I've been wanting a new look for my blog and here it is at last! I'm so pleased with it that I decided I'd change the name as well.

Sweet Comfort is what I called the little monthly publication I did years ago for incarcerated teens. I wanted them to have something they could hold in their hands and linger over after their monthly Bible study--something which would speak to their hurting hearts about a loving God.

Because many of the teens receiving Sweet Comfort had only a 5th grade reading level, I purposely kept the wording simple. I scoured books and available materials online for inclusion in my little magazine, condensing them to more easily fit the attention span of my targeted audience. Sweet Comfort became a spiritual Reader's Digest of sorts, and oh how I loved piecing it together each month, anticipating each poem, story or article's potential for changing lives.

I didn't necessarily want all of the writing in SC to be authored by me, which is why I went on scavenger hunts searching for nuggets of wisdom and truth. I still don't care to have everything here derived from only one source, and so you'll find many writers represented here, each one sharing their unique perspective on things that matter. I like to think of this new, electronic version of Sweet Comfort as a sojourner's journal clumsily patched together over the years, smudged with the tears of one who has often wrestled with God. I think of it as one heart, imperfect and fumbling (yet in earnest) speaking out to other hearts of the mysteries, pitfalls and joys of the journey heavenward. (Once in a while a fellow pilgrim stumbles my way and writes a few lines in my journal, thus gifting me beyond measure.)

See, this is where the narrow road has led me, I will write. Perhaps it will lead you likewise, but probably not. God is so creative that He probably never leads two individuals in the same exact path. But the direction is the same. The hazards of the journey vary only in minor detail.

As I trudge my way ever farther from the strident godless society in which I dwell (oh, and sometimes isn't it true that my feet positively skip, for the joy that awaits my journey's end?), a verse takes up its chorus in my head:

For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, works for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal. (2 Cor.4:17,18.)

I wish you Godspeed for the journey,

Changes

2009-08-17T17:53:00.000-07:00

I haven't been blogging here recently, but that's about to change. Within the next couple of weeks I should be getting a total blog makeover, complete with a name change. I've decided to change the name of my blog to Sweet Comfort.

Please come back and check out the new changes!

The Narrow Road

2009-04-08T08:55:00.001-07:00

After much thought I've come to the conclusion that I must part ways with the Adventist system of beliefs.

Though I could write paragraphs explaining the whys of my decision, I think it best to simply state my intentions. It's never been my goal to argue anyone into anything, nor to convince others that what they believe is erroneous. What I must do for my soul's sake is to return to the roots of my faith, specifically the root teaching about grace.

It's been decades since I've had any true understanding of grace. I know why and when I got derailed; there is no point in going into all of that yet again. I don't believe that by renouncing Adventism I'm losing my salvation. I've arrived at this juncture in my life after much spiritual wrestling. Christ must be all: the beginning, the end and everything in between. As I've stated before, should He lead me back into Adventism I will gladly follow, but for now I find I can't even keep my eyes on Him with the shadow of Ellen White hovering over me like an angry teacher.

It's important to stress that I'm only letting go of Adventism, not Christianity. They are not one and the same. I need grace in my life. I need to feel the assurance of the love of my Saviour, and I've not been able to find that within the confines of Adventism.

I've no quarrel with those who remain in the Adventist church. I've nothing in my heart but affection for all my brothers and sisters in Christ, be they Adventist or not. There isn't time enough left in this world to be at odds with one another, to devour one another with angry dissension.

I'm doing the only thing I can do which is to set aside everything which hinders my walk with my Saviour. The law kills, but the Spirit gives life. This will be my focus then: to avoid whatever repels, while wholeheartedly embracing that which draws me closer to His side.

The plain truth

2009-03-13T11:58:00.000-07:00

The deeper my study of the writings of Adventist's prophet, Ellen White, the more troubled I become. For instance she had this to say about illness:

"It is a sin to be sick; for all sickness is the result of transgression." (Health Reformer, August 1, 1866)

Huh? Does this mean that the Apostle Paul's thorn in the side was the result of sin? What about Job? He was clearly afflicted with sores from head to toe after Satan obtained permission from God to so afflict him. God's own testimony to Job's character was this:

"And the LORD said unto Satan, Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that fears God, and eschews evil?" (Job 1:8)

There is simply nothing in the scriptural account of Job 's drama to indicate that his illness and sufferings were the result of sin. How then did Ellen White arrive at her conclusion that "all sickness is the result of transgression?" Would God have told her this, by dream or vision, when it so clearly contradicts biblical truth? Hardly.

This following EGW quote hit me particularly hard. I don't know, maybe it's my maternal instincts rising up in protest, but I could hardly believe what I was reading:

"God loves honest-hearted, truthful children, but cannot love those who are dishonest . . . the Lord loves those little children who try to do right, and he has promised that they shall be in his kingdom. But wicked children God does not love . . . when you feel tempted to speak impatient and fretful, remember the Lord sees you, and will not love you if you do wrong." (An Appeal to the Youth, pp. 42, 61, 62)

Oh my goodness, doesn't it make you wince to read these words? Think of a little child hearing such scoldings! By such harsh words (which are a lie to the loving character of God), children are groomed and prepared for full-fledged pharisaism. Can't you just see them growing into legalists by degrees until, by the time they reach adulthood they are no longer capable of trusting in God's grace? Where on earth did she get this message? Compare her words with these:

"But God commends his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." (Romans 5:8)

"Love your enemies." (Luke 6:27)

We'd better hope God loves each one of us, even those who have yet to turn to Him. After all, none of us were born loving and worshiping Him.

Do you believe that Jesus was the Lord God Almighty? I guess I'd simply assumed that this was a foundational teaching of Adventism. But listen to this:

"The man Christ Jesus was not the Lord God Almighty." (Letter 32, 1899, quoted in the Seventh-day Adventist Bible Commentary, vol. 5, p. 1129)

There is so much more I could list here of the things which trouble me in the writings of Ellen White. But for now I must stop, for a sort of spiritual nausea is permeating my spirit. I think of how highly I used to regard her writings, though never actually checking out the veracity of them for myself. I did as probably a majority of those raised in Adventist families have done: accepted without question what was taught. If Ellen White said it, that was good enough for me! I cringe just thinking of how gullible I was.

For those reading this who are current Adventists, I feel I must say once again that I am not writing this blog in order to have a public forum for Ellen White or Adventist bashing. There's a world of difference between all that "bashing" implies, and a sincere desire to dig down deep into the word of God to discover truth. I've no axe to grind--but if I discover that what I've been taught and believed in for decades is full of many untruths which contradict the Bible, you'd better believe I'm going to be writing about that here. If, as I am suspecting more and more all the time, it turns out that Ellen White has been revered nearly on the level of a Pope, or Christ Himself, it would be wrong of me not to say so plainly.

It's painful to find out that what one has built their entire life around is false to the core. How well I know that. I'd rather not delve too deeply into the Spirit of Prophecy writings. I'd just as soon plaster a smile on my face, go through the rites and rituals I learned by rote during my childhood, and not rock the boat. Can't I just sort of coast along until the time comes for me to cross the Jordan? Well, apparently not.

I'm open to hearing both sides of this. All I ask is that if you leave a comment please do so respectfully.

no turning back

2009-03-07T13:59:00.000-08:00

I've been "away" from the Seventh-day Adventist church for about 10 years now. I mean this in a physical sense mostly, for still I struggle to disentangle my thinking from Adventism's peculiar mind-set.

It's very difficult for me to come to the Scriptures open-mindedly. Bits and pieces of the writings of Ellen G. White come to me in dribs and drabs, everything I read underscored and twisted with her confusing statements. I can nearly picture her (and I mean no disrespect here, but I do have to have some sense of humor about this) perched on my right shoulder, shaking a stern finger of condemnation.

I can only tell my own story, I suppose. I can only say that in all my years (decades) of being an Adventist, her writings did more harm to me than any junky novels or Hollywood fluff I may have absorbed. Junky novels don't really interest me, but sometimes I've read them to kill time, or to avoid my sinking heart. Same with movies. The thing is, when I used to read so much Ellen White I expected to be taught something about the character of God. It wasn't fluff I wanted, but truth. I turned to her writings as someone lost in the woods might turn to a compass to find their way home. I longed for reassurance that God loved me in spite of all my stumble-bum ways. What I came up against every time in her prolific writings was a skewed perspective of His character. Oh I didn't know at the time, or even suspect, that her view of things was skewed; I took everything she wrote as gospel truth. And what I read scared me time and again.

How completely I flung myself into her words, trusting her, heart and soul. Ellen would never lead me astray! God had inspired her to speak truth; of course the truth sometimes hurt. Sometimes it has to wound before it heals (she might have even written similar words herself, for all I know--they do seem vaguely familiar.)

Maybe it's just me-- but judging by the numbers of members who have left Adventism, maybe not. All I know is that the more "plain testimonies" I read, the more my heart sank. The more my heart sank the more out of control became my entire life. I drank to forget Sister White's strident words, warning me that even one indulged sin would keep me out of heaven. I snorted coke for the same reason. Sometimes I even teetered on the brink of suicide, so sure was I that God was disgusted with me.

How often I turned to the pages of her writings feverishly searching for one word of comfort! I can picture it now, wincing at the remembrance of my frantic attempts to find some sort of loophole. Perhaps she was mistaken, just a little. Just maybe God really did harbor a degree of love for me, and maybe I hadn't yet crossed that invisable line. Hopefully my name had yet to come up as He solemnly, methodically judged the living saints preparatory to the Second Coming.

Nights I'd lie in bed counting my infractions of the day, lining them up against any good deeds I'd done. Was I forgetting anything? Sister White had written that even one unconfessed sin would bar us from eternal life. How could I be sure I hadn't overlooked something? Thus began years of hounding myself nearly to the breaking point, of doubting the reliability of my conscience or, for that matter, the Holy Spirit's ability to remind me of unrepented sins.

Well. I can only look back on this long period of time in my life with a sigh, and much sadness. Some may read this and suppose I must have a neurotic turn of mind to have been so consumed with my sins and so influenced by The Spirit of Prophecy writings. Not so. My story is not all that unusual, sad to say. There are many baffled souls in the world who have left Adventism for the very reasons I did. To say I left because I came to the point of doubting if she were truly God's messenger isn't true. That came after the fact of my leaving. No, I left because I was bone weary of hearing how impossible it is to be accepted of God. I left because I found the Adventist church to be coldly aloof and self-righteous. What it finally came down to was that if I wasn't ever going to measure up to God's holy standards, if I was going to hell anyhow, I may as well divorce myself from a religion whose teachings did nothing to inspire hope in my heart.

I wish I had a different story to tell. I wish I could say, with honesty, that I've the heart of a rebel, that I have no desire to know and obey God. At least that would be an end of it. I could come to terms with my hardened heart and let go all pretense of being a Christian. But nothing could be farther from the truth.

As I stumble along the best I can, ignoring the condemning voice of that old time prophet, choosing instead to focus on the basics of what I know to be true of God, this one shining truth gives me hope: I've loved God for over 50 years and I'm not about to toss that aside now, having come this far.

Blessed Assurance

2009-02-02T08:01:00.000-08:00

Soaking in the tub the other evening, the words life is hard floated through my mind. Before I had time to wonder why that little phrase had popped up, it was followed by another: this world is not my home.

Neither of these phrases are new to me. I've known the truth of them for quite some time, but it took an awful lot of hard knocks before their reality sunk in. Life is hard was especially difficult for me to accept. When I consider my abusive childhood (which propelled me into abusive relationships during my teen and adult years); when I face the shameful fact that I've been married and divorced four times, or remember that I had a serious drinking problem for a number of years: oh, there are too many things to count which should have clued me in, earlier in life, that life is indeed hard.

I was reluctant to admit this, either to myself or others, because (as I now realize) it seemed to be an accusation about God. About His character and motivations. Weren't Christians supposed to take whatever came their way with a smile and a shrug, even if that smile were false all the way through? I thought this. I believed this. I believed too that if I were to tell others how I really felt, how shamed and guilty and fearful and full of despair, I'd be admitting that God just couldn't cut it. I'd be proclaiming before the universe that God talked the talk, but couldn't walk the walk. A refuge and strength in time of trouble? Hardly!

Strange how perspective plays such an all important role in rightly comprehending God's character. For instance, I somehow had gotten it into my head that I must shelter God from the ridicule He'd surely receive if I were to admit to anyone that my heart was faint within me. (I'm rather astonished now to realize how familiar I was with the Psalms during my growing up years. Didn't I notice how often King David voiced his complaints? And what of his raw honesty? Why didn't that clue me in to the possibility of being honest with myself, and with God?)

Now it occurs to me that God has never given me the job of image management--either my own or His. While it's true we're to be a light in the world so that others may see our good works and praise God, I no longer believe that externals are all that matter. If I do some extraordinary work in an effort to bring glory to Him, I think it matters deeply if my heart is in the right place. God doesn't need me to falsely rope others in. He doesn't need me to defend Him, or make excuses for those times when it seems like He just doesn't come through as promised.

I once got into a near argument with a friend about this very subject. Her contention was that life is really pretty good. Mine was more like, huh-uh, hold on a minute. Life is hard. I wasn't about to back down, for it'd taken me too many decades to come to the place of being able to admit to this truth.

We all know, at least on some level, that this is reality. Though we have moments of pure joy and hope, there's no denying the fact that living in a sinful world is hard. Try though we might to bury our heads in the sand of denial, there will come to all sooner or later those circumstances which nearly do us in. Times when there is no comfort at all in Jesus' promise to be with us to the end of the world.

Nearly two years ago I stood in my son's hospital room, gazing down at him in his comatose state, wondering how this could have happened. I was both surprised and not surprised by this turn of events, by the motorcycle accident which was trying its best to rob him of his life.

I don't get it, I remember telling God in my mind. I don't see how my son is supposed to come to you some day (as you've promised me) if he dies from this accident, or ends up a vegetable for life. I was surprised by the accident simply because it's not something one can ever be prepared for. At the same time I wasn't surprised, because it'd been my experience that God was always doing the unexpected. There is simply no way to predict His actions and decisions, and so the fact that He'd allowed this accident to happen didn't come as a big shock to me.

During those days of waiting for my son to come out of his coma, of sitting by his bedside for 8 hours at a time, except for my frequent escapes to the Smoking Room, I had plenty of time to ponder the ways of this God I'd chosen to betroth myself to as a child.

In the Smoking Room, I saw people hooked up to machines (and yes, still smoking in spite of that fact!) There was a man with a big hole in his face where his mouth should have been. There was a man who'd had most of his bladder removed-- oh, there were so many in a world of hurt. But one thing I noticed is that quite often I'd hear someone, in the midst of telling the rambling tale of what had brought them (or a loved one) to the hospital, say "Well you know God knows just what's He's doing. I sure don't understand, but I know there's a reason for everything."

Statements along those lines were small comfort as I stood or sat, waiting for my son to wake up. They didn't do much to warm my heart as a top brain surgeon showed me x-rays and spoke to me of my son's brain being sheared. How that was worse that if it'd simply gotten bruised. As I stumbled through my days in a fog while doing my best to turn a deaf ear to the daily scathing emails from my son's ex, accusing me and my entire family of everything under the sun (not true, not true!), I marveled that the poor wretches I met in the Smoking Room could find any ray of hope in such hopeless situations.

A relative brought a plaque into my son's hospital room, which read, "Faith makes things possible, not easy." How often my eyes wandered to those words, my heart silently saying a hearty Amen to the truth of this statement. The plaque now hangs over the archway to my kitchen. No matter how many times I try to hang it straight, every time I glance at it I see that once more it's hanging askew. One day one of my sons came to visit, and that's the first thing he noticed.

"Hey Ma," he said, with a twinkle in his eye, "your faith's crooked."

"Ah, story of my life," I said, and we both laughed.

Well, but isn't it? My faith is often crooked or weak or pitiful, but lately I've come to see it's not so much faith in God that is waning, it's faith in myself. Or the circumstances of life. But whoever said I was supposed to have faith in myself anyhow, let alone in the outward circumstances of life in this precarious world?

My son lived through his accident. With eight brain injuries, he's facing many challenges. He lives in a group home, and comes home to visit on the weekends. He can do many of the things he used to do, but he's not the same person he used to be. Sometimes I think I have two sons with the same name. He'll say or do something so like his old self that I nearly do a double-take. And then he'll say something so out of left field, which makes no sense, that my heart sinks. Oh yeah, I tell myself, he has brain injuries.

Life is hard, and we would all do well to remember that Jesus told us we would have tribulations in this world. That's what I like about Him: He always tells us the truth. And so I hang on to this one truth while at the same time holding close to my heart another: this world is not my home. Thank God. Oh thank God that this is so. Thank God we've all been given this choice (of choosing which world to call home), and that early in life I chose to be a pilgrim in this world.

Yes, my faith is oftentimes crooked, but I find that when God seems but a stranger I've only to hang out more with His Son and then everything in my thinking gets straightened out.

2009-01-27T13:56:00.000-08:00

The Kingdom of God is a Party

"All the Gospel accounts tell us that sinners flocked around Jesus. His love for God brought him into contact with all manner of men and women, none of whom seemed to find him an embarrassment. Nor did Jesus consider them an embarrassment to him. It was the religious hierarchy who had difficulty with Jesus. And frequently, his association with disreputable types was a particular source of criticism by religious groups.

"Churches and religious people today do not make friends easily with people who are looked down on in society-jailbirds, prostitutes, drug addicts, drunks, thieves. This suggests that they may not be so near to God as they suppose. "Sinners" do not find churches attractive, so that sinners and would-be saints often keep to their respective ghettos.

"However, there are refusing exceptions to the rule. Tony Campolo, professor of sociology at Eastern College, tells the story of his visit to Honolulu for a Christian Conference. On his first night there, he awoke sometime after three (a six hour time difference had confused his sleep pattern) and left the hotel in search of a place to get something to eat. Eventually he found a tiny coffee shop, with one man behind the bar who served him coffee and a doughnut. Tony was the only customer until, quite suddenly, the coffee shop was filled with girls. Some sat at small tables, others at the counter near Tony. From their conversation he learned an astonishing amount about Honolulu's night life, for the girls were discussing their night's work and their male clients. These girls were prostitutes. He tells the story:

I overheard the woman sitting beside me say, "Tomorrow's my birthday. I'm going to be thirty-nine." Her "friend" responded in a nasty tone, "So what do you want from me? A birthday party? What do you want? Ya want me to get you a cake and sing 'Happy Birthday?'
"Come on!" said the woman sitting next to me. "Why do you have to be so mean? I was just telling you, that's all. Why do you have to put me down? I was just telling you it was my birthday. I don't want anything from you. I mean, why should you give me a birthday party? I've never had a birthday party in my whole life. Why should I have one now?"
When I heard that, I made a decision. I sat and waited until the women had left. Then I called over the fat guy behind the counter and I asked him, "Do they come in here every night?"

"Yeah!" he answered.
"The one right next to me, does she come here every night?"
"Yeah," he said. "That's Agnes. Yeah, she comes in here every night. Why d'ya wanta know?"
"Because I heard her say that tomorrow is her birthday," I told him. "What do you say you and I do something about that? What do you think about us throwing a birthday party for her-right here-tomorrow night?"
A cute smile slowly crossed his chubby cheeks and he answered with measured delight, "That's great!..."
"Look I told him, "if it's OK with you, I'll get back here tomorrow morning about 2:30 and decorate the place. I'll even get a birthday cake!"
"No way," said Harry (that was his name). "The birthday cake's my thing. I'll make the cake."

At 2:30 the next morning, I was back at the diner. I had picked up some crepe-paper decorations at the store and had made a sign out of big pieces of cardboard that read, "Happy Birthday, Agnes!" I decorated the diner from one end to the other. I had that diner looking good. The woman who did the cooking must have gotten the word out on the street, because by 3:15 every prostitute in Honolulu was in the place. It was wall-to-wall prostitutes...and me!

At 3:30 on the dot, the door of the diner swung open and in came Agnes and her friend. I had everybody ready (after all I was kind of the M.C. of the affair) and when they came in we all screamed, "Happy birthday!" Never have I seen a person so flabbergasted...so stunned...so shaken. Her mouth fell open. Her legs seemed to buckle a bit. Her friend grabbed her arm to steady her. As she was led to sit on one of the stools along the counter we all sang "Happy Birthday" to her. As we came to the end of our singing with "happy birthday dear Agnes, happy birthday to you," her eyes moistened, when the birthday cake with all the candles on it was carried out, she lost it and just openly cried.

Harry gruffly mumbled, "Blow out the candles, Agnes! Come on! Blow out the candles! If you don't blow out the candles, I'm gonna hafta blow out the candles." And, after an endless few seconds, he did. Then he handed her a knife and told her, "Cut the cake, Agnes. Yo, Agnes, we all want some cake."

Agnes looked down at the cake. Then without taking her eyes off it, she slowly and softly said, "Look Harry, is it all right with you if I... I mean is it OK if I kind of... want I want to ask you is...is it OK if keep the cake a little while? I mean is it all right if we don't eat it right away?"
Harry shrugged and answered, "Sure! It's O.K If you want to keep the cake, keep the cake. Take it home if you want to."
"Can I," she asked. Then looking at me she said, "I live just down the street a couple of doors. I want to take the cake home, OK?" I'll be right back. Honest!" She got off the stool picked up the cake, and, carrying it like it was the Holy Grail walked slowly toward the door.

As we all just stood there motionless, she left. When the door closed there was a stunned silence in the place. Not knowing what else to do, I broke the silence by saying, "What do you say we pray?"

Looking back on it now it seems more than strange for a sociologist to be leading a prayer meeting with a bunch of prostitutes in a diner in Honolulu at 3:30 in the morning. But then it just felt like the right thing to do. I prayed for Agnes. I prayed for her salvation. I prayed that her life would be changed and that God would be good to her.
When I finished, Harry leaned over the counter and with a trace of hostility in his voice, he said "Hay! You never told me you were a preacher. What kind of church do you belong to?"
In one of those moments when just the right words came, I answered, "I belong to a church that throws birthday parties for whores at 3:30 in the morning." Harry waited a moment and then almost sneered as he answered, "No you don't. There's no church like that. If there was, I'd join it. I'd join a church like that!"

[from Changing on the Inside by Dr. John White, Servant Publications, Ann Arbor, 1991].

Salvation

2009-01-22T16:51:00.000-08:00

The following post is from Simple Life in Christ. Its author has kindly granted me permission to publish it on my blog:

It is always fascinating to me how often I encounter dedicated Christians who question their own salvation. I find it equally shocking to talk to 'casual believers' who are absolutely certain they are in!

The issue of salvation is a challenging one and I hope you aren't waiting for me to tell you who is saved and who isn't, because that is up to God.

Paul tells us in Romans 5 that through Christ, believers have, 'obtained access by faith into the grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.' He goes on to say in vs. 5 that this hope 'does not disappoint, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us! ' In chapter 8 of the same letter, Paul assures us that when we have life in the Spirit, we have been freed from sin and death. So how can that be right!? Because I know for certain that I have sinned since I have become a Christian….many times in fact!

John can help us out here, so have a look at 1 John 1:5-10. John here contrasts 'walking in light' and 'walking in darkness'. One is the path to life with Christ, the other leads to death and separation. It's interesting to note, vs 8 says that we must be honest about our sins; they are real and cannot be ignored. But they are not ignored by God; vs. 7 says that are cleansed by Christ. An important note there that is made in some translations is that this cleansing is continual, not a one time event.

So what does all of this mean? Let me tell you what I think. I'm not going to cite passages here for the sake of readability, but if you would like references to anything I say, I'm happy to share them.

We are told in the Bible that no person is without sin. So we are not justified by our own actions. All of our justification comes from Christ, and our trust in Him. If we trust in Him, with all that we are and obey Him, we are given His Spirit and we walk in His light. While on this walk, we continue to sin, but we stand in the grace of God, and Christ continually cleanses us. Such people, though still sinning, can be confident in their salvation.

The problems come when we do one of two things. The first one is that we can consciously choose to turn our backs on God. If we do this then we walk a path that leads to death. The second problem is if we choose to put something…anything in the spot where God belongs; the dearest thing to our hearts. The Bible says that this also, will separate us from God and His Spirit.

I think the problem for those who aren't confident in their salvation as they do their best to follow God is that they are relying too much on self. When they sin, they are shattered because they believe that they must be perfect to be saved. This is ridiculous! The whole concept of Christianity is that I know I can't be perfect!! I joined my life to Christ because I need Him to access the grace and mercy of God. If you feel this way, focus more on Christ and what He has done and is doing, and trust in that. The other issue here could be that you realize that, in reality, Christ is not what's most important to you and that you've just been going through the motions. If this is true, turn back to Him! He will forgive you and give you and abundant life!

On the other hand, some walk around with the false hope that God will save them no matter what. It is true that God can and will forgive ANY and ALL sins for those who turn to Him and put their trust in Him. But we cannot just say that we believe, and then do whatever we want. We must live a life that demonstrates that Christ is our all. Christ repeatedly said that those who don't walk the walk are not with Him. Our actions are not what saves us. Christ saves us when we trust Him completely. But when we trust Him completely and obey Him, it will change our actions.

Let us turn to Christ with all that we are, and have faith in His power and love! And let's have a greater confidence in God's power and desire to save us!

Like I said, if you want to read in the Bible for yourself about this, just email me with your questions, and I'll be happy to share the passages with you.

Seventy Times Seven

2009-01-20T08:22:00.000-08:00

I've been pondering forgiveness lately: its nature and necessity. Some of the questions which have arisen are:

Can sin which is unrepented of be forgiven--by God or anyone else?
Do we sometimes, out of a false sense of the responsibility to be forgiving, offer it too readily to those who are undeserving? (By undeserving I mean unrepentant.)
If we do offer forgiveness to one who has shown no true contrition, are we enabling them to continue down the destructive road of rebellion towards God?
As Christians, does the command to forgive as we've been forgiven mean a blanket forgiveness for all who say the words "I'm sorry"--even though there is no evidence that the one mouthing those words means them, or has adjusted their behavior accordingly?

This has been so much on my mind lately because of an ongoing situation with my mother. As a child I knew the heartache of a mother who was distant and unprotecting. She sided with her hubby (a pedophile) by choosing to stay with him for financial security rather than holding him accountable for his misdeeds.

I've discovered that it's not even so much that long ago bad decision on her part which has me so emotionally confused about this whole issue of forgiveness. It's more a matter of her actions and words towards me since then; the absence of any contrition or a willingness to see how her lack of a maternal instinct to protect has created for me lifelong struggles and sorrows.

About six years ago I came to the point of realizing I could no longer have a relationship with my mother. This was not an easy decision to make, but a necessary one if I was to seek healing and restoration from the wounds of childhood. Time and again my mother proved to me her unwillingness to see the enormity of what she had done, towards me and my younger siblings and even towards future generations. The legacy of pain bequeathed to me is something I've had to fight against every day of my life.

If I were to toss aside every instance of her continued animosity towards me in favor of attempting to make peace with her, would I be interfering in God's work of convicting her of sin? If I were to lightly gloss over the heinousness of her crimes would I really be paving the way for some kind of peace between us or merely calling evil "good?" (“Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil: that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!” - Isaiah 5:20. ) Without honesty there can be no true peace, merely a quick sweep under the rug of those unpleasant things we'd rather not think of, let alone discuss. The Bible does tell us "as far as possible, be at peace with everyone." This implies that it's not always possible. Some will not choose peace, for it is too costly. One of the reasons I disconnected from my mother was that I'd come to the realization that this was the case with her. Things had reached the point between us where I could do one of two things. I could try to push her for the kind of honest relationship she obviously had no use for, or I could walk away. Gone were the days of playing games, of talking about everything under the sun except for the elephant in the room between us. I couldn't stomach any more pretense--it made me feel like the world's biggest fraud.

I know we're commanded to forgive. Seventy times seven, in fact. That's an astounding thought! And yet . . . can there be authentic forgiveness when it is not truly sought from the heart? If one wants simply to hear the words "I forgive you" (to relieve their surface naggings of guilt) but shows by their deeds and words that they are not one bit remorseful, isn't a hastily proffered forgiveness tantamount to casting pearls before swine?

I want to please God in all that I do. Because of decades of involvement with legalism, I've a tendency to assume that whatever His will may be it will involve something unpleasant and hard. Constantly I must remind myself that He is a God of love, not force or cruelty, not even of the school of thought which commands us to "keep a stiff upper lip."

God loves me. He loves my mother too. He doesn't want me to have to live a lie, I'm convinced of this. I'm also convinced that He longs for her to fall on the Rock and be broken, to fall at the foot of the cross in true contrition and receive forgiveness. This can't happen if everyone in her life refuses to hold her accountable. To hit rock bottom she needs for those who have been shielding her from the consequences of her actions to step aside and let God deal with her sin and guilt.

He is much kinder in his judgments than we sometimes think, but He doesn't wink at sin for He knows its devastating cost: the life of His only Son.

One more thought on this subject. I often confuse forgiveness with reconciliation. I've heard over the years many times that there's a difference between the two, that it only takes one to forgive but two to reconcile.

I hope to keep this in mind as I struggle with my attempts to understand this whole issue of forgiving those who have trespassed against me. If anyone has any light to throw on this subject, I'd be grateful for any little bit of wisdom thrown my way.

Losing My Religion (one of two parts)

2008-12-29T10:01:00.000-08:00

(I responded to the Prince's endearments . . . )

There isn’t time enough in this world to tell the whole story of what was stolen from me, what was lost, and what I held onto fiercely in spite of the batterings my body took during the era known as My Childhood.

I’ve been contemplating a lot of things lately. The other day while listening to Rock of Ages I was flooded with memories of that other me. That me who existed before the abuse. That innocent child who fell in love first with her daddy, and then with her daddy’s God. I’ve a memory of riding in the car with my father on the way to the Green Stamp redemption center. Back then (in the 60’s) in this part of the country, you received a certain amount of Green Stamps every time you bought gas. Dad saved them for me and told me that when I had enough books of stamps saved up, he’d take me to redeem them.

What delicious anticipation to be riding alone in the car with the person I loved most, on my way to getting what I wanted more than anything in the world: a grownup sized white Bible. For months I’d pored over the Green Stamps Catalog, savoring the thought of choosing anything at all. We were poor, so the toys were definitely a temptation. But once my eyes lit on the white Bible, that was it, decision made. I’d only seen a few white Bibles before and they seemed to me to shine with purity and goodness. The white leather gleamed like the first snow of winter, or granulated sugar sparkling in the sun.

Dad boomed Rock of Ages and other favorite hymns while we sped along alone in our own little universe. My feet couldn’t keep still; they kept time with his singing all the while my thoughts raced urgently: hurryhurryhurry! I was half-convinced that all the white Bibles would be taken before I could turn in my books of stamps. I imagined that everyone in the world was drooling over them, longing to smell that unique new Bible smell while caressing them with fevered, awed hands.

When we finally arrived at our destination I burst through the door like a drunk staggering into a tavern desperately in need of that first drink of the day. The decrepit old man behind the counter flashed a yellowed tooth smile at us, and tried to direct me toward the toy counter. But I wouldn’t budge. That Bible lay nestled behind glass amongst mundane items, seemingly winking at me.

“The toys are this way,” he said, turning to the next glass counter. Dad grinned at him and told him that I wasn’t interested in toys.

“She wants the white Bible,” he said, clearly pleased with my choice. There was no mistaking the surprise in the old man’s expression as he raised his brows and gave Dad a considering look.

“A Bible?” he echoed. “We don’t carry any children’s Bibles,” he continued, his voice edged with doubt at this whole puzzling scenario.

“I want the grown-up one,” I piped up. “The white one.”

With an exaggerated shrug of his bony shoulders, and a heavy sigh, he unlocked the glass case with a tiny key, and in what seemed to me like slow motion removed the Bible (the only one, I noted) and handed it to me.

“Well,” he said slowly, scratching an ear, “I hope you . . . enjoy it.”

The joy on my face should have told him there was no way I wouldn’t.

I don’t remember the ride home except that I kept removing the lid from the cardboard box and running my hands over the soft leather. My fortune had just improved and boy was I rich now!

I treasure the memory of that longing for some tangible evidence of God’s love, something I could hold in my hands and caress. To the very core of me I believed that I belonged to Him, perhaps even in some mystifying way on a deeper level than I belonged to my dad whose eyes I could look into, whose skin I could touch and whose laughter comforted and pleased me.

When I was five, probably half a year before acquiring my Bible, I’d responded to an altar call at a camp meeting service. There under that big tent I went forward with a dozen or so others, and knelt in the sawdust to commit the most sacred act of my life: betrothing myself to God. I was the youngest penitent there and as I knelt with eyes shut, I felt the kiss of God. Not literally, of course. Somewhere within my little soul there was such a profound exchange of affection that, when the preacher placed his big hands on my skull and prayed over my life, I experienced something which can only be described as an electrical current surging all the way up my spine to the top of my tingling head. When I rose to my feet there was no doubt that I’d be blessed, and blessed good.

But who was this God I’d welcomed into my heart? What was His nature? Was He a good God, a bad God, or perhaps just indifferent? Oh, but if He was at all like my father, there must be nothing but laughter and contentment in His presence, for how could it be otherwise?

Life had much to teach me. I was too young at the time of that altar call to know that loving God and knowing God were not one and the same. That asking Him into my heart and life did not in any way exempt me from the tribulations of this sin-racked world. That loving Him was not meant to be a passive thing, or something which revolved solely around my comfort, my preferences or even my happiness. I had ahead of me a lifetime journey of learning what it meant to truly love Him, and what His love meant to my life.

The pilgrim begins his pilgrimage shod with what he supposes is ample protection against life’s storms. Indeed, he hardly believes there will be storms, so strong is his love for the One who called him to the first step of his journey. Ah, and there’s the rub. For in his zeal and mighty enthusiasms, he’s overlooked or forgotten–or perhaps never realized–that he is but at the beginning of a continuous journey. The first step is not the entire journey, it is nothing but a first step. A decision made. An internal YES to the eternal Lover. A covenant entered into, sealed with a handshake (a gentleman’s agreement) or a bowed head or violent tears or a barely audible whispered prayer of self-loathing. A marriage of sorts. The covenant makes possible the marriage, but the marriage must still be worked out and lived one step and day at a time through various trials and boredoms and heartache and fears.

At that tender age I knew none of this. I knew of one thing only and that was love responding to Love. My heart could not have understood what was about to transpire in my little universe, and so my ignorance of the true nature of my spiritual transaction was a necessary, preordained kindness.

Sacred Romance (an original poem)

2008-12-21T20:30:00.000-08:00

Sweet Ancient of Days,

Come to me wearing any disguise:

thorny rose
soft-footed snow
mournful wind
or rain tippity-tapping my window pane.

I will learn to love the snow because of you
learn to pick out the disparate notes of your serenaded love in melancholy music
in the fresh smell of cotton dresses steamed under the iron,
in the remembrance of my father's laughter, though now its merry swirl is not meant for me.

Wear wood smoke as your cologne
and autumn's vulgarity of colors as bold contrast to my drab little self.

Like a blind woman whose fingertips have grown accustomed to Braille
and to the unique texture of things, I will caress the barks of trees
the familiar landscape of knee scabs;

will tremble with the desire to be
the warp and woof of your weaver's loom,
my self woven (bones, hair and all) into a gorgeous tapestry,
another kind of tapestry than what I dreamed I could be.

Ancient of Days,

my dreams are too big for me,
my child's hands drop them clumsily
even as I blink back tears at my ineptness, my lack of grace.

I turn at the slightest rustling sound
my ears keen for your approach.

Oh! I love you so,
I betroth myself to you
to your light in my baby brother's eyes,
and to the sound of your lullaby meant just for me
in the sighing of falling embers
and in sun drenched streets I dare not explore without you.

Sweet Ancient of Days:

tarry with me one more hour
linger near while mother frowns over the stove
and the stepdad smirks at my stupidity;

stay lest my soul wither away
and I lose myself for want of you.

Stay.

Memories of a Reluctant Sabbath-keeper

2008-12-21T20:00:00.000-08:00

This is a difficult post to write because it stirs up old memories and emotions I've fought all my life to put behind me.

I've been thinking how tender was my heart toward God when I was a five year old, tender and enthusiastic. It doesn't take much for a child to feel loved; it doesn't take much to destroy that sense of being loved, of being the apple of someone's eye.

My stepdad brought Adventism into my life, and with it many things which wounded but--not quite--destroyed my spirit. What strange religion was this, what desert or wilderness whose terrain was as unfamiliar to me as my stepdad's constant anger and preverse love of sadistically mocking me every time I turned around?

There had been no training for this, for this wasteland of caustic remarks and severe punishments for petty (or no) reasons. When the Sabbath rolled around my heart sank, for I had so many mixed feelings about this day, this set-apart day deemed holy by the Adventist Church. (It's significant that I express it in this way, rather than stating it was deemed holy by Jesus.)

The Sabbath could mean just about anything, in our home at least. One week we were forbidden to spend our allowance, play with friends or watch TV. Instead we were ordered to spend the day in our rooms, reading the Bible. Now, I had a love of God which caused me, at the age of 6, to spend all of the Green Stamps my daddy had saved up for me, on a beautiful white Bible. Scripture wasn't repugnant to me. I loved its sometimes lyrical, poetic writing, loved so much more about it than I disliked. But to be forced to read Scripture all day long, as if I and my half-siblings were sinners of the highest magnitude, while the stepdad lollygagged on the couch in his Fruit-of-the-Looms, watching sports: well, this definitely rubbed me the wrong way. It insulted my strong sense of justice, and oftentimes I rebelled by not opening my Bible at all unless I heard approaching footsteps come to check on me.

Other weeks we kids were allowed to walk to the store, play with friends, talk on the phone--pretty much what we did on all the other ordinary days. This confused me, much as I liked being able to play on the Sabbath like all the "normal" (meaning non-Adventist) kids on my block. Also confusing was the fact that my stepdad didn't attend church, smoked, cussed, and did other things I won't go into now. We weren't the typical veggie-links eating Adventist clan, not by a long shot. Something deep within me was troubled by the huge gap between what the church taught about Adventism and what really took place within the walls of our middle-class suburban walls.

This I remember: the tortuously drawn out Sabbaths in the summer time as I lay on my bed listening to the sounds wafting through my open window of my friends hooting and hollering outdoors, doing all the things I should be doing as well if only my stepdad was some kind of fair, some kind of decent--some kind of human. I fretted and silently fumed; jiggled my foot in impatience, glared at my shut Bible, temporarily hating it as if it were the cause of every injustice in my life.

The Sabbath was by turns a holy, holy day (maybe even holier than God himself, it seemed), and a joke with no punch line. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. My mother steadfastly refused to explain anything to me, or to intervene on my behalf to the stepdad. This left me with no information, no means of processing what all of this meant. The Sabbath wasn't the only bane of my existence, there was also Ellen White and her strict, no-nonsense teachings, and the list of thou-shalt-nots which I could never remember. My head ached just trying to keep track of everything.

Life hadn't always been this hard! Why, once upon a time I loved going to church (Sunday School it was called.) My enthusiasm for God knew no bounds; my love for Him shone nearly as bright as the noonday sun. Something had eclipsed my view of God, warping His features so that now I dare not look Him in the eye (so to speak), but hung my head. Not out of reverence so much as out of a deep sense of shame.

The Sabbath . . . ah, those two words cause me so much heartache and confusion and yearning. I would not throw you out, is what I'd like to tell the Sabbath (as if it were a person one could talk to), but I just don't know any more. I think you might be an impostor, or just some relic from a long, long time ago and my life is confusing enough without you.

Sacred Romance

2008-12-14T22:52:00.000-08:00

What can I say about this book by Brent Curtis and John Eldredge? The highest praise I can give is that it encapsulates everything pertinent to a love relationship between an individual and God.

The first time I had the good fortune of reading this book, it took me back to the infrequent blissful times of my childhood, of dreaming in my backyard fort of writing stories (never guessing I was in the midst of my own mini-drama) and passionately serving God with all my heart. Back when I was ignorant of the harshness of life, and the barren wastelands and wildernesses that were yet before me, I reveled in knowing I belonged to the universe because I was in relationship with its Creator.

The following excerpts from Sacred Romance may not only stir up your curiosity about this this book--I'm hoping it will also whet your appetite to learn more of the One who has been romancing you your entire life:

Who am I, really? The answer to that question is found in the answer to another: What is God's heart toward me, or, how do I affect him? If God is the Pursuer, the Ageless Romancer, the Lover, then there has to be a Beloved, one who is the Pursued.
We are faced with a decision that grows with urgency each passing day: Will we leave our small stories behind and venture forth to follow our Beloved into the Sacred Romance? The choice to become a pilgrim of the heart can happen any day and we can begin our journey from any place. We are here, the time is now, and the Romance is always unfolding. As Chesterton said, "An adventure is, by its nature, a thing that comes to us. It is a thing that chooses us, not a thing that we choose." Lucy wasn't looking for Narnia when she found it on the other side of the wardrobe; in a way, it found her. Abraham wasn't wandering about looking for the one true God; he showed up with an extraordinary invitation. But having had their encounters, both could have chosen otherwise. Lucy could have shut the wardrobe door and never mentioned what had happened there. Abraham could have opted for life in Haran. The choice before us is a choice to enter in . . . So much of the journey forward involves a letting go of all that once brought us life. We turn away from the familiar abiding places of the heart, the false selves we have lived out, the strengths we have used to make a place for ourselves and all our false loves, and we venture forth in our hearts to trace the steps of the One who said, "Follow me." In a way, it means that we stop pretending: that life is better than it is, that we are happier than we are, that the false selves we present to the world are really us. We respond to the Haunting, the wooing, the longing for another life. Pilgrim begins his adventure toward redemption with a twofold turning: a turning away from attachment and a turning toward desire. He wanted life and so he stuck his fingers in his ears and ran like a madman in search of it. The freedom of heart needed to journey comes in the form of detachment.
The Sacred Romance is not something to be managed, but to be lived. We cannot remove the element of mystery from the road before us nor can we eliminate the dangers. But we can learn from pilgrims who have gone before something of the road conditions, the weather, the hazards, and the places of rest and refreshment.

Yes, for me this book is like a long drink of iced-cold water on a sweltering summer day. It appeals to my pilgrim heart, to the sense of not belonging in this world as well as what I've sensed since childhood: even in the midst of great abuse and sorrow, someone somewhere is romancing me.

Truth or Sentimentalism?

2008-12-12T08:43:00.001-08:00

In a way, I sort of wish I still believed in Adventism. Such a huge part of my childhood, it brings up all sorts of nostalgia when something reminds me of Ellen White, or the Sabbath, etc. How much easier things would be for me, spiritually, if I could just run back to the safe little haven of Adventism, after having said a decisive goodbye to all my lingering doubts.

Except, Adventism wasn't really a safe haven for me, not at all. It was something, though. Something to cling to while as a child I went through the worst kinds of abuse imaginable. Is that a good enough reason to hang on to my old belief system, because it afforded me the illusion of safety when I most needed it? Should sentimentality rule, or truth?

I'm sad sometimes thinking of all this, for as every Adventist knows Adventism is a way of life at odds with the world, and even to some degree with the rest of Christendom. A way of life which would sound like Greek to those on the outside looking in, with talk of veggie-links, The Shut Door doctrine, the Three Angels' Message, etc.

My abuser introduced our family to Adventism. That's no reason to toss it overboard, but it does give me pause when attempting to sort out my belief system. My real father, before the stepfather took over, introduced me to God. Ah, there's the difference! He was so enthused about God and Jesus and Heaven and all the rest, that it was contagious and I too fell in love with my Saviour. While my dad was still a part of my life, loving God was as natural as breathing. I gave my heart to Him at the age of five.

When everything changed and the stale rigidity of Adventism replaced my heart's love for God, it did something to me on a very deep level. Suddenly God had become this being who was untrustworthy, unknowable and to be honest unlikeable. He seemed to hover over me watching my every move, hoping to find something on me to hold against me for all of eternity. It seemed almost as if He was hoping for a good excuse to keep me out of Heaven.

Strange, this turn of events! God had never treated me this way before. What had gone wrong? Was it me? Something I did or said? With squirming shame I knew what it had to be, that my holy God could not stand the sight of me because of the disgusting things my abuser forced me to do in secret corners and darkened rooms. And the stain of my guilt was not coming out ever, of that I was sure. How then to win God's heart once more? How, when I had no control over the perversions of the adult in my life who should have loved me purely as my own father had once done?

Yes, how simple it would be (if I could manage it) to return to what I learned by rote in that long ago land of childhood when questions were forbidden, and my abuser ruled with his fists. How tempting to allow myself to just float back to the nebulous safety of the ark of Adventism, to stop questioning whether I ever believed the whole SDA thing in the first place, or if it was just one more thing forced on me by a sadistic man.

Godpleasers

2008-09-13T06:39:00.000-07:00

Christian Women Online

A Holy Experience

Brandon Heath

Jesus Culture

Last Days Ministries

Theological Musings

Unveiling Hope

Give Me Your Eyes (another excellent song by Brandon Heath)

I Know This Much is True

2008-07-16T19:47:00.000-07:00

The reason for naming this blog Baby Steps to Christ is simple: a childlike faith is most pleasing to God. Though we are expected to grow up into Christ and become mature doers of His word, this is not something which happens overnight; it's a process by which we become more and more like the Beloved.

I've been thinking of all the controversy surrounding Ellen White's little book, Steps to Christ. Many ex-Adventists believe that it wasn't her own work, but that of her longtime assistant, Fannie Bolton. Such a little publication to cause such a mighty stir! Beyond this I thought too of the astounding bulk of her writings spanning so many decades: letters to individuals and churches; articles for The Review & Herald as well as other Adventist publications; and of course, the volumes of books she wrote to keep us as a people in line.

So much complication! I thought of the easy manner in which at the age of five I discovered a loving God and gave my heart to Him completely by accepting Jesus as my Saviour. Whatever steps brought me to that point were simplicity itself. No giant steps (as in the game Mother May I?), no leaps and bounds. Simply the daily unfolding of my spiritual perceptions until I found myself wooed into the arms of Love.

Why can't it be this simple today? For those of us who grew up as Adventists, it's never that simple. Baby steps to Christ, then--that's the goal I've set for myself. Baby steps all the way back to the beginnings of my first spiritual awakening, to that delicious sense of belonging to the Beloved and pleasing Him immensely by the very fact of my existence and my response to His heart.

An Invitation
If you're an ex-Adventist filled with confusion, whose heart aches for some kind of connection with God, or anyone (regardless of your religious background) who is seeking truth, won't you join me on my journey back to the fundamentals of faith?

On this blog I plan to explore such topics as:

What are the elementary beliefs of Christianity
Are we truly saved by grace alone, or do works play a role in our salvation
Does Ellen White pass the Biblical test of a true prophet
How does one make sense of all the religious confusion with which society inundates us

This is not a comprehensive list; I'm not putting any kind of rigid expectations on myself to follow a specific outline. I prefer to take things slow and easy, allowing the Holy Spirit to guide me in my continuing quest for truth.

Food for the Journey

2008-06-16T18:55:00.000-07:00

So long as we imagine it is we who have to look for God, we must often lose heart. But it is the other way about---He is looking for us. (Simon Tugwell)
We live our lives before the wild, dangerous, unfettered and free character of the living God. (Walter Bruggeman)
From The Sacred Romance:

Julia Gatta describes impatience, discouragement, and despair as the "noonday demons" most apt to beset the seasoned traveler. As the road grows long we grow weary; impatience and discouragement tempt us to forsake the way for some easier path. These shortcuts never work, and the guilt we feel for having chosen them only compounds our feelings of despair. What is a pilgrim to do? Listen in on the whispers of Pilgrim and his companion, Hopeful, in their dungeon:

Pilgrim: Brother, what shall we do? The life we now live is miserable. For my part I know not whether it is best to live, or to die.

Hopeful: My brother, remember how valiant thou has been heretofore? Apollyon could not crush thee, nor could all that thou did hear, or see, or feel, in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. What hardship, terror and amazement hast thou already gone through . . . remember how thou played the man at Vanity Fair, and was neither afraid of the chain, nor cage, nor yet of bloody death?

Now a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, broke out in this passionate speech: What a fool am I, to lie in a stinking dungeon when I may as well walk with liberty. I have a key in my bosom called Promise, that will open any lock in Doubting Castle.

Pilgrim lay in despair because he had forgotten. Hopeful urges him to remember, both all he had been through as well as the assurances he has from the One who called him on the journey. Life on the road requires recollection of our Love's past deeds on our behalf and his promise of continued faithfulness to us. We will need courage and patience and those are strengthened by remembering. We will need memory, which is to say, we will need faith . . . it would be a dreadful mistake to assume that our Beloved is only waiting for us at the end of the road. Our communion with him sustains us along our path.