Very rarely do I wake up late. Most mornings I get up in darkness. I get up so early in fact, the sun is still struggling to awake and rise. In those hours before dawn, I usually find myself in conversation with God. Those conversations usually come in the form of a series of "I don't understand." Let me expound....for instance, on events that have occurred in just the last few days......
God, I don't understand why I have to move out of my apartment. The manager said I couldn't be a full time student and live here. She actually encouraged me to lie about my student status on an affidavit. I wouldn't do that and was served with a notice to vacate by the end of October. I can live here unemployed, I can't live here as a student. I don't understand how being honest can be met with such a seemingly adverse consequence. I thought honesty was due some kind of reward or something....
God, I don't understand how my car can run fine one day and be totally broken the next. I didn't make it to school because when I started my car it sounded like it was running on 3 cylinders instead of 6. I drove from my apartment to the dealership garage down the street, left it there, and walked back home. Still awaiting the final verdict. Preliminary findings are that my car is literally running on 3 cylinders. One cylinder isn't working at all and two others aren't getting enough compression to work properly. "Internal engine problem" had the same slap in the face effect as "you have cancer" would. I don't understand how my car could be that sick when I have taken good care of it. The most devastating is the potential cost to repair it....possibly 3 to 4 thousand dollars. I don't understand how this could happen God when you know I don't have that kind of money. I just don't understand.....
I don't understand my season of alcohol abuse. I don't understand failed relationships. I don't understand my season of unemployment....over 300 resumes sent out, only two interviews, and I didn't make the grade. I don't understand why I'm not preaching and teaching from a pulpit in a church somewhere. I don't understand being a student at the age of 51. I don't understand much in the events that have transpired over the course of my life. And as the adage goes: The older I get the less I understand. Understanding fully the "why's" these things have happend is still a mystery and may remain a mystery for the rest of my life.
In the heat of progressively bad news yesterday, I wondered where God was. For awhile I was tempted to throw my hands up and say,"forget it."......a tendency I have had within me for a long time. I didn't go there, again, for reasons I don't understand. I stayed calm and inwardly uttered prayers to God in faith. The more I prayed the less I wanted to throw my hands up. The thought of a drink didn't enter my mind. Before, that would've have been the solution to everything...I would fall along this train of thought...well, the God in heaven isn't fixing this so I will turn to the god in the bottle who will.....and that god never does. It was like the worse the news got, the tighter my embrace of God.
This morning I got up before the sun as usual but my prayers were different. I found myself just being before the Lord and praying for those I know and love. The car wasn't foremost on my mind. Finding another place to live wasn't either. I really just wanted to enjoy the communion with the God I don't fully understand. And that's the thing I realized.....I don't fully understand God. There is a shroud of mystery about him, an aura of the unexplainable that surrounds him. This led me to some thinking.....
If I knew God as infallibly as he knows me, would I turn to him? Probably not. If I knew his thoughts before he thought them, would I worship him? Probably not. If I saw tomorrow as clearly as he does, would I praise him? Probably not. It is indeed the aura of the unexplainable that attracts me to him. The shroud of mystery about him reminds me that he indeed is God and I am not. I wouldn't need him if I could carry his title and completely fulfill his job description. This mystery of him causes me to run to him like a moth flies to a flame....but falling into his embrace is life, not death....and I want to live,....really, really live.
The moment I was adopted into his family through the shed blood and sacrifice of his son Jesus, he embraced me and called me son. He still calls me son, he has never let go his embrace of me, and his embrace has always been gentle. I wasn't alone yesterday, he was present, even when I didn't feel his presence. He promised to never leave me or forsake me....through the whole of my life, he has kept that promise. I have never out-offended his plan for my life. He has never thrown his hands up and said,"forget it." with me as I have done with him too many times to count. My vision is so small I can't even see beyond the front door of my apartment. He sees the whole of my life....and he is performing and working his will in it, and doing so for my good. The times I've felt least used of God in my life are probably the times I've been used most of God....I don't understand that either.
He is teaching me that he is God even in the storm. He is teaching me to trust him in the storm. I have always been a "praise God" kind of guy when things go my way and a "where is God" kind of guy when things don't. I am learning that he is God no matter what kind of day I am having and he has something to say to me in both the good and the bad that come my way. He controls it all. He was in control of my yesterday and he is in control of my today and even my tomorrow.
It comforts me today to know that he knows me infallibly, completely, and has designs on me that are for my benefit, not my demise. I find life in him and no other. I rest in that revelation. So, I embrace him, his mystery, and the aura of the unexplainable about him. He loves me dearly. He gets me. He understands me. He sees me. I may feel like the most unimportant person on the planet....he doesn't feel that way about me. Therefore, I praise him, I worship him, and I turn to him when skies are bright and when the storms come.....and in it all I discover joy and life beyond description. Blessings to one and all!!
"My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts, and my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine, for just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts higher than your thoughts." -God Isa. 55:8-9 NLT
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Scabs
It was a perfect day for performing death-defying, breath-taking feats of extreme daredevil biking. The sky was blue, the grass a rich green...early summer....August heat hadn't browned it yet, no wind, and just me and my buddy, Joel, preparing to jump the ramp we made with a 2x10 piece of lumber and a plastic milk crate. There were alot of perfect days that summer.
We had the perfect machines.....stingray bikes with banana seats, chopper handlebars, and baseball cards clothes pinned into the spokes of our wheels. What a menacing sound they made when we rode up the dirt road that ran between our houses! I'd like to think we were the prototype of the extreme biking you see today on ESPN....a bummer we never got credit for that.
For a sleepy, small, picturesque town in upper Northeastern Oklahoma, this was the most exciting thing of the summer to happen just shy of the 4th of July fireworks display; which was always done from the high school football field every year. And really....how can you compete with a fireworks display when there was also hot dogs, popcorn, cotton candy, and cokes involved? OK, OK...it might not have been the most exciting thing, and maybe there weren't alot of spectators, but Joel and I were intent on getting better and going faster and flying higher jumping that ramp with each run.
Along with the successes in our jumps, there were also the failures....or might I say, crashes. With the crashes came scrapes and bruises and a little inhaling of dirt and dust. I think my elbows stayed a constant scab from late May to early September.
This was my method of triage...If I crashed and scraped my elbow and no blood ran down my arm I got on my bike and rode the ramp again. If I crashed and scraped my elbow and blood did run down my arm; I took a break, went into the house and would yell something like, "Mom, I need a little help here!" She was a wonderful nurse and I think a nervous wreck! She just didn't get that an eight year old boy had to do what I was doing. It was for the greater good of the fraternity of eight year old boys the world over.
"Surgery" was a wet washcloth compress to stop the bleeding, a quick look to make sure I didn't need stitches, a spray or two with Bactine to ward off infection, and a Band-Aid. She then would lovingly scold me, tell me not to jump my ramp anymore, kiss me on the forehead, and send me outside again to play. But....like a moth drawn to a flame....I went to the ramp and made more runs to perfect my craft. Women!!....or maybe more appropriately....Moms!!!
There was never a scrape on the knees as I remember. It was probably because Mom dressed me in those Sears Tough-Skin jeans with the sewn in knee patches. More protection there than the knee and shin pads a hockey goalie suits up with. The elbows though....they were the appendages I used consistently to break my fall when I crashed. They were marked up all the time and I wore those wounds very proudly. However, I hated the scabs that formed after a day or two....they were ugly, so I picked them away when they appeared. In my infinite eight year old wisdom, I didn't realize the scabs were a part of the healing process. At the pleading of Mom and Dad to leave my wounds alone and let them heal....I would not....I could not...the sight of the scabs were hideous to me. They had to come off!!!
In the peeling away of a scab the blood rushes to the surface of the wounded area again. Sometimes it stops there and sometimes it leaks out. Associated with that there is also the twinge of a sting and once again the wound is tender, sensitive to touch, and fresh....like it just happened. The sting of that peeling away served as a reminder of my crash. It was like I relived the glory of my daredevil biking in the sting of peeling away my scab.
For an eight year old that's all well and good. As an adult it is a totally different matter. In my adulthood those wounds moved from my elbows to my heart. I have survived many wounds. Some wounds have been due to circumstances beyond my control, some have been self-inflicted, and some have been made by the actions and words of others. All of us have been wounded one way or another. Some say it is part of the ebb and flow of life....and there is a truth in that. At one point or another we all can relate to a wounded heart because at one point or another we have all had one.
I used to think very stoically about my wounds....that my wounds and hurts make me the sum total of who I am....that they play a role in my personality, my interaction with others, my view of God, and my own self-evaluation. And while there are elements of truth in that, I am no longer convinced that's the whole purpose of my experiences. If it is, then I fall victim to and become a slave of my hurts. It's like the perpetual peeling away of a scab....where the wound never heals, is always fresh, and a constant stinging reminder of my crashes.
God wants me to heal. It is not his purpose I remain in a constant state of wounded or hurt. Purpose in those things?....yes, if I truly believe he works all things together for my good....and I do. But to remain there, no. For the longest time I found my identity in my wounds, they defined me. I moved from one hurt to the next and lived there until the next hurt came along. At times the hurts were many, all at once, so I even learned to multi-task them. In that state I found ways to cope....mainly through the mind-numbing abuse of alcohol. Alcohol abuse became my remedy, my medicine. It was the Bactine to my scraped elbow. It didn't however, fix anything....it only made the wounds hurt all the more.
For me, I started healing when I realized my identity was wrongly placed. I am not the sum total of my sins, my failures, my wounds, or my hurts. They don't define me. So what does define me,....or better yet,.....who defines me? The answer is simple and I guess a little obvious....Jesus. Jesus defines me. His life, his ministry, what he brought about in his death, burial, and resurrection....all these work together in defining me. Ephesians, chapter 2, gives a very lucid and direct explanation of who I was before Christ, and who I became after Christ.
Before Christ I was lost, far away from God, estranged, dead in my sins...there was no life in me at all. After Christ I was saved (rescued), brought near to God, reunited in right relationship, made alive in Christ. My identity is found in Christ. I live my life in him and he lives his life through me. The Word of God goes on to say in other areas that I am a son, adopted by God through the saving work of Christ on the cross. Being a son also makes me royalty. I am seated with Christ in the heavenlies and I share in all his blessings. If I am the sum total of anything, I am the sum total of who he is in me. Grasping that helps me understand Jesus when he said his purpose was to give me a rich and satisfying life.
My wounds serve a purpose in that they point me to the healer of them. He who reigns in me and over me. My wounds serve a purpose in that from them I draw experience. strength, and hope in the one who has helped me overcome them. My wounds cause me to be filled with compassion for those who are wounded and create in me a desire to help them heal. But....praise God....my wounds don't define me. I am in my Lord Jesus, and he is in me....in him do I discover the "me" he made.
Living wounded is no life....surviving and enduring our wounds is no life. God doesn't want to do his work in spite of us or instead of us, he wants to do his work in and through us. We are his righteousness in Christ Jesus! I want to live that rich and satisfying life Jesus said he came to give! How about you? Let the wounds heal, quit picking at the scabs! I believe the Lord wants to see us ride up the ramp at break-neck speed and fly higher than ever before!
"The thief's purpose is to steal and kill and destroy. My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life." -John 10:10 NLT
We had the perfect machines.....stingray bikes with banana seats, chopper handlebars, and baseball cards clothes pinned into the spokes of our wheels. What a menacing sound they made when we rode up the dirt road that ran between our houses! I'd like to think we were the prototype of the extreme biking you see today on ESPN....a bummer we never got credit for that.
For a sleepy, small, picturesque town in upper Northeastern Oklahoma, this was the most exciting thing of the summer to happen just shy of the 4th of July fireworks display; which was always done from the high school football field every year. And really....how can you compete with a fireworks display when there was also hot dogs, popcorn, cotton candy, and cokes involved? OK, OK...it might not have been the most exciting thing, and maybe there weren't alot of spectators, but Joel and I were intent on getting better and going faster and flying higher jumping that ramp with each run.
Along with the successes in our jumps, there were also the failures....or might I say, crashes. With the crashes came scrapes and bruises and a little inhaling of dirt and dust. I think my elbows stayed a constant scab from late May to early September.
This was my method of triage...If I crashed and scraped my elbow and no blood ran down my arm I got on my bike and rode the ramp again. If I crashed and scraped my elbow and blood did run down my arm; I took a break, went into the house and would yell something like, "Mom, I need a little help here!" She was a wonderful nurse and I think a nervous wreck! She just didn't get that an eight year old boy had to do what I was doing. It was for the greater good of the fraternity of eight year old boys the world over.
"Surgery" was a wet washcloth compress to stop the bleeding, a quick look to make sure I didn't need stitches, a spray or two with Bactine to ward off infection, and a Band-Aid. She then would lovingly scold me, tell me not to jump my ramp anymore, kiss me on the forehead, and send me outside again to play. But....like a moth drawn to a flame....I went to the ramp and made more runs to perfect my craft. Women!!....or maybe more appropriately....Moms!!!
There was never a scrape on the knees as I remember. It was probably because Mom dressed me in those Sears Tough-Skin jeans with the sewn in knee patches. More protection there than the knee and shin pads a hockey goalie suits up with. The elbows though....they were the appendages I used consistently to break my fall when I crashed. They were marked up all the time and I wore those wounds very proudly. However, I hated the scabs that formed after a day or two....they were ugly, so I picked them away when they appeared. In my infinite eight year old wisdom, I didn't realize the scabs were a part of the healing process. At the pleading of Mom and Dad to leave my wounds alone and let them heal....I would not....I could not...the sight of the scabs were hideous to me. They had to come off!!!
In the peeling away of a scab the blood rushes to the surface of the wounded area again. Sometimes it stops there and sometimes it leaks out. Associated with that there is also the twinge of a sting and once again the wound is tender, sensitive to touch, and fresh....like it just happened. The sting of that peeling away served as a reminder of my crash. It was like I relived the glory of my daredevil biking in the sting of peeling away my scab.
For an eight year old that's all well and good. As an adult it is a totally different matter. In my adulthood those wounds moved from my elbows to my heart. I have survived many wounds. Some wounds have been due to circumstances beyond my control, some have been self-inflicted, and some have been made by the actions and words of others. All of us have been wounded one way or another. Some say it is part of the ebb and flow of life....and there is a truth in that. At one point or another we all can relate to a wounded heart because at one point or another we have all had one.
I used to think very stoically about my wounds....that my wounds and hurts make me the sum total of who I am....that they play a role in my personality, my interaction with others, my view of God, and my own self-evaluation. And while there are elements of truth in that, I am no longer convinced that's the whole purpose of my experiences. If it is, then I fall victim to and become a slave of my hurts. It's like the perpetual peeling away of a scab....where the wound never heals, is always fresh, and a constant stinging reminder of my crashes.
God wants me to heal. It is not his purpose I remain in a constant state of wounded or hurt. Purpose in those things?....yes, if I truly believe he works all things together for my good....and I do. But to remain there, no. For the longest time I found my identity in my wounds, they defined me. I moved from one hurt to the next and lived there until the next hurt came along. At times the hurts were many, all at once, so I even learned to multi-task them. In that state I found ways to cope....mainly through the mind-numbing abuse of alcohol. Alcohol abuse became my remedy, my medicine. It was the Bactine to my scraped elbow. It didn't however, fix anything....it only made the wounds hurt all the more.
For me, I started healing when I realized my identity was wrongly placed. I am not the sum total of my sins, my failures, my wounds, or my hurts. They don't define me. So what does define me,....or better yet,.....who defines me? The answer is simple and I guess a little obvious....Jesus. Jesus defines me. His life, his ministry, what he brought about in his death, burial, and resurrection....all these work together in defining me. Ephesians, chapter 2, gives a very lucid and direct explanation of who I was before Christ, and who I became after Christ.
Before Christ I was lost, far away from God, estranged, dead in my sins...there was no life in me at all. After Christ I was saved (rescued), brought near to God, reunited in right relationship, made alive in Christ. My identity is found in Christ. I live my life in him and he lives his life through me. The Word of God goes on to say in other areas that I am a son, adopted by God through the saving work of Christ on the cross. Being a son also makes me royalty. I am seated with Christ in the heavenlies and I share in all his blessings. If I am the sum total of anything, I am the sum total of who he is in me. Grasping that helps me understand Jesus when he said his purpose was to give me a rich and satisfying life.
My wounds serve a purpose in that they point me to the healer of them. He who reigns in me and over me. My wounds serve a purpose in that from them I draw experience. strength, and hope in the one who has helped me overcome them. My wounds cause me to be filled with compassion for those who are wounded and create in me a desire to help them heal. But....praise God....my wounds don't define me. I am in my Lord Jesus, and he is in me....in him do I discover the "me" he made.
Living wounded is no life....surviving and enduring our wounds is no life. God doesn't want to do his work in spite of us or instead of us, he wants to do his work in and through us. We are his righteousness in Christ Jesus! I want to live that rich and satisfying life Jesus said he came to give! How about you? Let the wounds heal, quit picking at the scabs! I believe the Lord wants to see us ride up the ramp at break-neck speed and fly higher than ever before!
"The thief's purpose is to steal and kill and destroy. My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life." -John 10:10 NLT
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
A Life Unlived, A Life Realized
"For God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself, no longer counting people's sins against them. And he gave us this message of reconciliation...."
- 2 Cor. 5:19 NLT
He was nervous, trembling, pacing, and praying. He wasn't waiting for news of the outcome of a major surgery of a loved one, he was waiting to enter the pulpit and preach his first sermon in 15 years. Hundreds of things were shooting through his mind. Did he still have it? Was he prepared enough? Would God speak his grace and life through him? Would the hearers respond? Would he in some way honor God in the message? Who in the world wants to hear from a guy in his 50's who hasn't preached in 15 years?! And on and on his mind went....
It was by some miracle he found himself in this place. He had spent a good part of his life wandering, messing up, and surviving the consequences of him messing up. Most of the trouble he had lived through was frankly due to alcohol. It caused trouble in his relationships, all of his relationships. It caused trouble with the law as well. He new from firsthand experience what it was like to sober up in a jail cell. He lost jobs, friends, and the trust of many. In his mind he had been a disappointment to his God, himself, and a myriad of others. Who in the world would want to hear anything from a guy like that?! Especially anything spiritual!!
But here he was, getting ready to preach. Preach the glorious good news of Jesus Christ. Preach the wonders of the Word of God. To preach life, redemption, and grace. He was well acquainted with those things too. He knew what it was like to helplessly struggle with addiction and failure. He knew what it felt to be shunned and shamed. He was well acquainted with guilt. But from the garbage heap of his poor choices he had experienced the power of God's forgiveness. He knew personally of the power of the Holy Spirit to enable him to be an overcomer. He knew of a God who never gives up on His children....no matter how far away from Him they stray. He knew that what God had done in his life, God would do in the life of another.
He was aware too that every saint in that congregation was also a sinner saved by grace. And because of that they needed hope to carry on just for another day. An assurance of God's love overcame him,... God's love for him, God's love for those who would be listening to the sermon. And then a calm settled in...and he was ready....ready to be used however God chose to use him that day...he left his office and took his seat on the platform.
All the faces were new, he still didn't have a good handle on putting names to those faces. He scanned the congregation to find a reassuring look....he found one...in the eyes of his wife. She met him when he was just a burned out ex-preacher who believed he would never realize his call, that he would continue to live a life of existence, of survival, of just getting by. He was still struggling to stay sober, to keep sober....still had bouts with relapse. She saw the fighter in him, she believed in him, she encouraged him, and trusted God to show him His possibilities for his life. They connected immediately....she got him....he got her. She understood him....he understood her. They went through some rough tests in their relationship but by Gods' grace weathered them all. (Neither of them knew it then, but all the testing was preparation for the special ministry of helping addicts recover and find Christ that God would eventually lead them in.) She gave him that reassuring look that only he recognized and immediately in his heart, he praised God for her. He loved her so!
The song worship ended and now it was time to worship in the preaching. He quietly got up, went to the pulpit and said, "Please turn your Bibles to John, chapter 3, verse 16....". He was now in the reality of the life God had always intended him to live....an amazing journey of grace, forgiveness, renewing, and restoration culminating in that one moment....and his journey was just beginning!
Afterward: This fictional short tale testifies to a God who utterly forgives and completely restores those who have fallen in their walk with Him along the way. I can testify that there is no fall so far that God's grace can't reach and renew. He isn't done with us until He calls us home to be with Him. The dreaming isn't over until the breathing stops! Many in our churches hurt, they have fallen. They need a hand of understanding, of reconciliation, of love. May we be the church that is always faithful to that ministry and calling.
- 2 Cor. 5:19 NLT
He was nervous, trembling, pacing, and praying. He wasn't waiting for news of the outcome of a major surgery of a loved one, he was waiting to enter the pulpit and preach his first sermon in 15 years. Hundreds of things were shooting through his mind. Did he still have it? Was he prepared enough? Would God speak his grace and life through him? Would the hearers respond? Would he in some way honor God in the message? Who in the world wants to hear from a guy in his 50's who hasn't preached in 15 years?! And on and on his mind went....
It was by some miracle he found himself in this place. He had spent a good part of his life wandering, messing up, and surviving the consequences of him messing up. Most of the trouble he had lived through was frankly due to alcohol. It caused trouble in his relationships, all of his relationships. It caused trouble with the law as well. He new from firsthand experience what it was like to sober up in a jail cell. He lost jobs, friends, and the trust of many. In his mind he had been a disappointment to his God, himself, and a myriad of others. Who in the world would want to hear anything from a guy like that?! Especially anything spiritual!!
But here he was, getting ready to preach. Preach the glorious good news of Jesus Christ. Preach the wonders of the Word of God. To preach life, redemption, and grace. He was well acquainted with those things too. He knew what it was like to helplessly struggle with addiction and failure. He knew what it felt to be shunned and shamed. He was well acquainted with guilt. But from the garbage heap of his poor choices he had experienced the power of God's forgiveness. He knew personally of the power of the Holy Spirit to enable him to be an overcomer. He knew of a God who never gives up on His children....no matter how far away from Him they stray. He knew that what God had done in his life, God would do in the life of another.
He was aware too that every saint in that congregation was also a sinner saved by grace. And because of that they needed hope to carry on just for another day. An assurance of God's love overcame him,... God's love for him, God's love for those who would be listening to the sermon. And then a calm settled in...and he was ready....ready to be used however God chose to use him that day...he left his office and took his seat on the platform.
All the faces were new, he still didn't have a good handle on putting names to those faces. He scanned the congregation to find a reassuring look....he found one...in the eyes of his wife. She met him when he was just a burned out ex-preacher who believed he would never realize his call, that he would continue to live a life of existence, of survival, of just getting by. He was still struggling to stay sober, to keep sober....still had bouts with relapse. She saw the fighter in him, she believed in him, she encouraged him, and trusted God to show him His possibilities for his life. They connected immediately....she got him....he got her. She understood him....he understood her. They went through some rough tests in their relationship but by Gods' grace weathered them all. (Neither of them knew it then, but all the testing was preparation for the special ministry of helping addicts recover and find Christ that God would eventually lead them in.) She gave him that reassuring look that only he recognized and immediately in his heart, he praised God for her. He loved her so!
The song worship ended and now it was time to worship in the preaching. He quietly got up, went to the pulpit and said, "Please turn your Bibles to John, chapter 3, verse 16....". He was now in the reality of the life God had always intended him to live....an amazing journey of grace, forgiveness, renewing, and restoration culminating in that one moment....and his journey was just beginning!
Afterward: This fictional short tale testifies to a God who utterly forgives and completely restores those who have fallen in their walk with Him along the way. I can testify that there is no fall so far that God's grace can't reach and renew. He isn't done with us until He calls us home to be with Him. The dreaming isn't over until the breathing stops! Many in our churches hurt, they have fallen. They need a hand of understanding, of reconciliation, of love. May we be the church that is always faithful to that ministry and calling.
A Long Random Thought About Mercy
"O my God, lean down and listen to me. Open your eyes and see our despair....We make this plea, not because we deserve help, but because of your mercy."
- Dan. 9:9, NLT
Mercy: compassion, forgiveness. From a legal standpoint this term indicates an act of pardon. The releasing of an offense to one totally undeserving. We find this in the acts of compassion and grace of God toward his children, and we see it in forms of compassion and grace extended from one human to another.
At some point in our lives we have been rendered the recipient of mercy, not because it was deserved but simply because it was given. That's what mercy is really....a gift. I could write a book on the merciful actions of God and others given on my behalf. You would think it would make me a better person, that it would somehow make me more merciful to others who have offended me....but it sometimes does not. What is it about an offense that makes me just want to get even? Why do I want to punish the offender...make them pay as it were? Why do I still tend to nurse an unforgiving heart when I have been shown so much mercy in my life?
What is wrong with me?!! It is a self-righteous spirit that rears its' ugly head when I'm wronged. I have a bent toward a..."See, I told you so" attitude. Yet, I know my own weaknesses, my own failings, my own dark secrets. I think it makes me feel superior to the one in request of my mercy. They wronged me, I lost sleep over it, so now I am going to dangle them over the fire a little bit and then forgive them later....make them sweat a little just so they know how much it hurts....is it just me that does this? Am I the only tainted saint out there? What to do about this?
First, I am in need of forgiveness for being like this. There's a heart problem, big time. I need God....I need God because I am sick. My disease is sin. I need God to live through me for it is not in my nature to be compassionate....I need his compassion. It is not in me to be forgiving, I need his forgiveness. I don't know how to be merciful....I need his mercy. My flesh screams for justice when I am hurt by another....but my sense of justice is a far cry from God's. I need God. Period!!
The other side is I also know what it means to dangle over the fire by anothers' resistance to be merciful to me. I have offended many. I have hurt many. Some may never forgive. I know what it's like to lose sleep over my sinning against God and others. Chances are you do to. Being unmerciful is such a burden to carry. It isn't God's way for us.
What if God responded to me as I have responded to others regarding being merciful? What if I prayed, asked him to lean near and hear my cry of despair, my plea for mercy and he said, "No"? A man most miserable you wouldn't find anywhere than that. But he doesn't. His forgiveness, his mercy is without limitations and without conditions. He extends to us what we absolutely don't deserve. Does he discipline? Yes. The Word of God says he disciplines those whom he loves. But even his discipline is an act of mercy. He fights for our attention through his mercy. He won't give up on us. Even when we are in the fires of our own bad choices, He purges us, cleanses us. What a loving God!
I need a God-like character. Only he can give that to me. I pray when I die one of the things said of me is that I was compassionate, that I was freely forgiving....without limitations and without conditions. It is my prayer that whether I am bumped by blessing or offense all that flows from my heart is the love of Christ.I have a way to go on learning this lesson. Maybe I am the only one who struggles with this. If I am, put me on your prayer list for I desperately need it!
- Dan. 9:9, NLT
Mercy: compassion, forgiveness. From a legal standpoint this term indicates an act of pardon. The releasing of an offense to one totally undeserving. We find this in the acts of compassion and grace of God toward his children, and we see it in forms of compassion and grace extended from one human to another.
At some point in our lives we have been rendered the recipient of mercy, not because it was deserved but simply because it was given. That's what mercy is really....a gift. I could write a book on the merciful actions of God and others given on my behalf. You would think it would make me a better person, that it would somehow make me more merciful to others who have offended me....but it sometimes does not. What is it about an offense that makes me just want to get even? Why do I want to punish the offender...make them pay as it were? Why do I still tend to nurse an unforgiving heart when I have been shown so much mercy in my life?
What is wrong with me?!! It is a self-righteous spirit that rears its' ugly head when I'm wronged. I have a bent toward a..."See, I told you so" attitude. Yet, I know my own weaknesses, my own failings, my own dark secrets. I think it makes me feel superior to the one in request of my mercy. They wronged me, I lost sleep over it, so now I am going to dangle them over the fire a little bit and then forgive them later....make them sweat a little just so they know how much it hurts....is it just me that does this? Am I the only tainted saint out there? What to do about this?
First, I am in need of forgiveness for being like this. There's a heart problem, big time. I need God....I need God because I am sick. My disease is sin. I need God to live through me for it is not in my nature to be compassionate....I need his compassion. It is not in me to be forgiving, I need his forgiveness. I don't know how to be merciful....I need his mercy. My flesh screams for justice when I am hurt by another....but my sense of justice is a far cry from God's. I need God. Period!!
The other side is I also know what it means to dangle over the fire by anothers' resistance to be merciful to me. I have offended many. I have hurt many. Some may never forgive. I know what it's like to lose sleep over my sinning against God and others. Chances are you do to. Being unmerciful is such a burden to carry. It isn't God's way for us.
What if God responded to me as I have responded to others regarding being merciful? What if I prayed, asked him to lean near and hear my cry of despair, my plea for mercy and he said, "No"? A man most miserable you wouldn't find anywhere than that. But he doesn't. His forgiveness, his mercy is without limitations and without conditions. He extends to us what we absolutely don't deserve. Does he discipline? Yes. The Word of God says he disciplines those whom he loves. But even his discipline is an act of mercy. He fights for our attention through his mercy. He won't give up on us. Even when we are in the fires of our own bad choices, He purges us, cleanses us. What a loving God!
I need a God-like character. Only he can give that to me. I pray when I die one of the things said of me is that I was compassionate, that I was freely forgiving....without limitations and without conditions. It is my prayer that whether I am bumped by blessing or offense all that flows from my heart is the love of Christ.I have a way to go on learning this lesson. Maybe I am the only one who struggles with this. If I am, put me on your prayer list for I desperately need it!
The Raging War Within
Rain, pouring rain....the palm leaves weren't enough to slow it down or provide any shelter. Waiting.....waiting for the first wave of attack. My buddy, Alan, and I were the first line of defense in protecting the perimeter of our camp......drowning in the pool of water we now crouched in. We were in blackout mode....attack was imminent. Question was...where were they going hit us first?
They hit! Came out of nowhere it seemed. Fire flashes from their M-16's lit up the night. For about ten minutes it was nothing but chaos! We dug in and did our best to stave off the enemy from penetrating our quadrant. We were successful, but Alan was hit in the process. How I dodged a bullet is beyond me!
So it is with war and war training. No one really got hit, or wounded, or died in the fire fight. It was military training. Our enemy was the Philippine National Army and they were teaching us Air Force guys how to defend an airfield under attack. They were good, very good. Even with equipment like night vision goggles, they still hit us out of nowhere! How could that happen? Needless to say, our commanding officer wasn't too pleased. So we did it again, and again, and again....until we got it right.
In my walk with God I have come to realize firsthand how relentless the enemy is in attacking my faith and hurting my relationship with the Lord. He comes, it seems, out of nowhere. A sneak attack that totally catches me off guard. Oh I have the equipment....the latest translation and study bible, the benefit of great preaching on Sunday, Christian friends who are an encouragement to me, a prayer life...all the latest equipment...and yet he still comes out of nowhere and makes my life a chaotic hell. How does that happen?
I mean, I do all the right things, go all the right places, study all the good things, hang out with good people...and still he attacks and murders me as if there were no preparation at all, no faith at all. And the worst of it.....I hear him laugh as he walks away.
I don't have all the answers for this. I do have a thought or two. First, the Word of God says that our enemy walks about like a ravenous lion seeking whom he may devour. When you get into the language there you realize that he wants to tear us to pieces! He wants to destroy us! He wants to murder us, kill us again and again!! See, he isn't just a little miffed about his situation, he is angry beyond angry about it. He's already lost...it isn't a question of if, but a matter of when. He hates God and he hates God's people. He will stop at nothing to ruin God's work here on earth by ruining God's people.
I don't think I fully get that sometimes. He wants to destroy me. Render me useless in the kingdom of God. He wants to destroy God given relationships in my life. He wants to disgrace me, humiliate me, shame me, guilt me, and kill me. Even with all the equipment I have to fight him with, I don't think I take his hate for me seriously enough and I get caught off guard. He comes out of nowhere and attacks me at my most vulnerable spot. He knows what my kryptonite is! I feel I take him too lightheartedly. And that is when he hits.
Second, Paul talked about the war on the inside with his two natures. He said something to the effect of,..."the things I shouldn't do, I do....and the things I should do, I don't." He understood that even with this new nature inside, the Jesus in us, there was still that bent toward sin, toward selfishness, toward evil, toward shaking a fist at God and going our own way. It's there, it's ever present, and it's ours for life. But the deal is, it doesn't have to live big in us. We have been given help and our help is more powerful than our enemy. Something I have to tell myself on a daily basis or I will stumble and fall on a daily basis.
For me, it is a constant raging war within. If you can live without that fight, more power to you. But also for me, that war assures me of whose side I'm on. When the enemy attacks with doubts of salvation, and he does, I look at the fight....I look at where I'm dug in, and whose camp I'm defending. I'm on the right side alright....so if I never get a break....I will go out fighting...and I will fight again, and again, and again....until I get it right....on the right side!
How about you? Done any fighting lately?
"We faithfully preach the truth. God's power is working within us. We use the weapons of righteousness in the right hand for attack and in the left hand for defense." -2 Cor. 6:7, NLT
They hit! Came out of nowhere it seemed. Fire flashes from their M-16's lit up the night. For about ten minutes it was nothing but chaos! We dug in and did our best to stave off the enemy from penetrating our quadrant. We were successful, but Alan was hit in the process. How I dodged a bullet is beyond me!
So it is with war and war training. No one really got hit, or wounded, or died in the fire fight. It was military training. Our enemy was the Philippine National Army and they were teaching us Air Force guys how to defend an airfield under attack. They were good, very good. Even with equipment like night vision goggles, they still hit us out of nowhere! How could that happen? Needless to say, our commanding officer wasn't too pleased. So we did it again, and again, and again....until we got it right.
In my walk with God I have come to realize firsthand how relentless the enemy is in attacking my faith and hurting my relationship with the Lord. He comes, it seems, out of nowhere. A sneak attack that totally catches me off guard. Oh I have the equipment....the latest translation and study bible, the benefit of great preaching on Sunday, Christian friends who are an encouragement to me, a prayer life...all the latest equipment...and yet he still comes out of nowhere and makes my life a chaotic hell. How does that happen?
I mean, I do all the right things, go all the right places, study all the good things, hang out with good people...and still he attacks and murders me as if there were no preparation at all, no faith at all. And the worst of it.....I hear him laugh as he walks away.
I don't have all the answers for this. I do have a thought or two. First, the Word of God says that our enemy walks about like a ravenous lion seeking whom he may devour. When you get into the language there you realize that he wants to tear us to pieces! He wants to destroy us! He wants to murder us, kill us again and again!! See, he isn't just a little miffed about his situation, he is angry beyond angry about it. He's already lost...it isn't a question of if, but a matter of when. He hates God and he hates God's people. He will stop at nothing to ruin God's work here on earth by ruining God's people.
I don't think I fully get that sometimes. He wants to destroy me. Render me useless in the kingdom of God. He wants to destroy God given relationships in my life. He wants to disgrace me, humiliate me, shame me, guilt me, and kill me. Even with all the equipment I have to fight him with, I don't think I take his hate for me seriously enough and I get caught off guard. He comes out of nowhere and attacks me at my most vulnerable spot. He knows what my kryptonite is! I feel I take him too lightheartedly. And that is when he hits.
Second, Paul talked about the war on the inside with his two natures. He said something to the effect of,..."the things I shouldn't do, I do....and the things I should do, I don't." He understood that even with this new nature inside, the Jesus in us, there was still that bent toward sin, toward selfishness, toward evil, toward shaking a fist at God and going our own way. It's there, it's ever present, and it's ours for life. But the deal is, it doesn't have to live big in us. We have been given help and our help is more powerful than our enemy. Something I have to tell myself on a daily basis or I will stumble and fall on a daily basis.
For me, it is a constant raging war within. If you can live without that fight, more power to you. But also for me, that war assures me of whose side I'm on. When the enemy attacks with doubts of salvation, and he does, I look at the fight....I look at where I'm dug in, and whose camp I'm defending. I'm on the right side alright....so if I never get a break....I will go out fighting...and I will fight again, and again, and again....until I get it right....on the right side!
How about you? Done any fighting lately?
"We faithfully preach the truth. God's power is working within us. We use the weapons of righteousness in the right hand for attack and in the left hand for defense." -2 Cor. 6:7, NLT
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