Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.--Hebrews 13:8
Honestly, it's not unbelievers I have trouble accepting and loving. It's my brothers and sisters in Christ. It's easy to compare my knowledge to theirs and consider smugly how I have far surpassed them. It's easy to think about all the things I have done for the Lord, and all the things I want to do for the Lord, and all the things I've given up for Him. (Of course, during these times, I conveniently forget that anything I accomplished was by His favor and authority, even if it looked like I was doing it.)
Comparison and competition is the natural human state of mind. And it's not a new problem.
Look at what is before your eyes. If anyone is confident that he is Christ's, let him remind himself that just as he is Christ's, so also are we, writes Paul (2 Corinthians 10:7). He continues: But when they measure themselves by one another and compare themselves with one another, they are without understanding (2 Corinthians 10:12).
I find it pretty amazing that I can simultaneously compare myself with other Christians and find myself to be "farther along" in my faith than they are, but at the same time feel dreadfully depressed and angry at my own inadequacy. That's a messed up combo of mindsets, let me tell you. But I think it's a common thought process: I feel inadequate, therefore I feel better about myself when I compare myself to others; uh-oh, I have caught myself comparing my works and knowledge to my brothers and sisters...ugh, now I feel frustrated with myself because I can't love them well. The cycle is like a hamster wheel, and you feel like you can't get off.
But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus (Philippians 3:13-14).
When I dwell on my own inadequacy, I am living in the past. When I dwell on my sufficiency, on my good works, I am also living in the past. And, like a hamster wheel, that's getting me nowhere.
God doesn't call us just so we can look back at our past failures and lament, or look at our past triumphs and measure them by others' faith journeys. When we do either of these things, we are seeking to find our identities in things outside the cross of Christ and the inheritance we have in His name. Sure, you probably have done great things for God. Sure, you have also failed and fallen into sin.
But what does that have to do with today?
He certainly has greater things planned for you than your failures, and He will do far more for you than you have yet done to glorify His name.
God's call is always now.
We get lazy and try to draw our identities from the empty well of past works--either our perceived accomplishments, or our perceived failures, or both. That's easier than focusing on now. Obeying the Holy Spirit in the moment takes effort, humility, and submission...things we would rather just skip over.
Though if I should wish to boast, I would not be a fool, for I would be speaking the truth. But I refrain from it, so that no one may think more of me than he sees in me or hears from me (2 Corinthians 12:6).
If you are submitting to the Holy Spirit today (not yesterday or tomorrow), you don't feel the urgent need to prove your identity in Christ by going around telling everyone what you have done for Him or plan to do for Him. It's just obvious who you are in Him--people can see and hear it.
Who cares what I've done for God or will do for God? Thank the Lord my identity is not dependent upon my service to Him. It is defined instead by the unchangeable character of His love toward me in Jesus Christ.
I don't want to spend my life comparing myself to other believers when I can't even see the whole picture of who they are. I don't want to construct an identity for myself based on "what kind of Christian" I am. I want the deep, unconditional, all-consuming, world-rocking love of Jesus to be what people see in my actions and hear in my voice. I want my identity to be NOW, the only place and time when I can really and truly serve my Savior.
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Friday, August 22, 2014
Great Expectations
Who among you fears the Lord,
and obeys the voice of his servant?
Let him who walks in darkness
and has no light
trust in the name of the Lord
and rely on his God.
Behold, all you who kindle a fire,
who equip yourselves with burning torches!
Walk by the light of your fire,
and by the torches that you have kindled!
This you have from my hand:
you shall lie down in torment.
Isaiah 50:10-11
It isn't surprising that one of the most prevalent childhood fears is darkness. Humans don't like darkness. We like to see what is around us and ahead of us. We invented electricity and nightlights. We are afraid when we are unsure of where we are or what might leap out at us in the night, even in our own homes.
To be honest, I feel as though I am in a season of darkness.
I have been blessed with a part-time job here, but there are no opportunities in my field in my home state. I have been applying to jobs in other states, but it is incredibly hard to get a job somewhere when you are not physically present; it looks like a wall to me. God has given me great dreams for ministry, but I haven't the slightest idea how to make these vague visions reality. I don't know what will happen to me or when it will happen to me.
I believe that God is good. I believe He has blessed me and will continue to bless me beyond what I can imagine. I know for sure that He is working His best plan, and that what He is going to do for me is beyond what I could ask Him to do.
I just really don't like sitting in the dark.
To an adventurous, driven person who thrives on action, darkness doesn't feel as scary as it feels just plain boring. God's plan doesn't seem to make as much sense as I expected it to.
But here's the lesson: my expectations need to be altered by divine reality--not the other way around.
From my worldly standpoint, it looks as though I have been cut off from the divine favor I have always enjoyed: doors opening before me without any effort, God just pouring resources and friends upon me without me even asking. It looks like I have suddenly become another one of the world's forgotten children, having to get a part-time restaurant job because "the job market is hard" and "it's impossible to find a job these days" and "even a master's degree is useless." Just another twenty-something with no direction whose trajectory upward has been completely blocked by the wall of rejection and her own confusion.
So I've done what I know how to do from a worldly standpoint: contact every connection I have, apply for every job that "makes sense," write the best cover letters the world has ever seen, and keep persistently applying until there are so many versions of my resume saved on my computer that it crashes. Using this methodology, I have gotten more than one job, but none of them paid enough for me to live on. So I feel as though I am careening wildly around a room full of locked doors with no way out.
But God has not withdrawn His favor from me. I have more than enough to keep afloat until I find full-time work. And, what's more, He could have given me any of those jobs I applied for--but none was right. He has His best plan, and He will accomplish what He purposes for me (Isaiah 55:8-13).
I have my eyes set on a job; He has His eyes set on eternity.
For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him. (Psalm 62:5)
I have been alternately frustrated by darkness and overwhelmed by joy at what I know He is accomplishing for my sake as I wait. I think He is gently using this time to prepare me for a lifetime of trust in Him. He is slowly simmering me down to reduction, a sweet syrup of trust, until I am in complete submission to Him. Although I have not been the most receptive student, He persists in teaching me, because He knows that submission is necessary for the amazing things He has planned for me to do in my life.
I have this promise from Isaiah, that if I work and work to light my own fire, to blaze my own path, I will lie down in torment. It is far better for me to walk in darkness holding the hand of Jesus than to destroy the path He has made for me with my own ambition.
That's the thing: I'm not sitting in darkness. I'm standing. I'm walking, even. Let him who walks in darkness and has no light trust in the name of the Lord and rely on his God.
and obeys the voice of his servant?
Let him who walks in darkness
and has no light
trust in the name of the Lord
and rely on his God.
Behold, all you who kindle a fire,
who equip yourselves with burning torches!
Walk by the light of your fire,
and by the torches that you have kindled!
This you have from my hand:
you shall lie down in torment.
Isaiah 50:10-11
It isn't surprising that one of the most prevalent childhood fears is darkness. Humans don't like darkness. We like to see what is around us and ahead of us. We invented electricity and nightlights. We are afraid when we are unsure of where we are or what might leap out at us in the night, even in our own homes.
To be honest, I feel as though I am in a season of darkness.
I have been blessed with a part-time job here, but there are no opportunities in my field in my home state. I have been applying to jobs in other states, but it is incredibly hard to get a job somewhere when you are not physically present; it looks like a wall to me. God has given me great dreams for ministry, but I haven't the slightest idea how to make these vague visions reality. I don't know what will happen to me or when it will happen to me.
I believe that God is good. I believe He has blessed me and will continue to bless me beyond what I can imagine. I know for sure that He is working His best plan, and that what He is going to do for me is beyond what I could ask Him to do.
I just really don't like sitting in the dark.
To an adventurous, driven person who thrives on action, darkness doesn't feel as scary as it feels just plain boring. God's plan doesn't seem to make as much sense as I expected it to.
But here's the lesson: my expectations need to be altered by divine reality--not the other way around.
From my worldly standpoint, it looks as though I have been cut off from the divine favor I have always enjoyed: doors opening before me without any effort, God just pouring resources and friends upon me without me even asking. It looks like I have suddenly become another one of the world's forgotten children, having to get a part-time restaurant job because "the job market is hard" and "it's impossible to find a job these days" and "even a master's degree is useless." Just another twenty-something with no direction whose trajectory upward has been completely blocked by the wall of rejection and her own confusion.
So I've done what I know how to do from a worldly standpoint: contact every connection I have, apply for every job that "makes sense," write the best cover letters the world has ever seen, and keep persistently applying until there are so many versions of my resume saved on my computer that it crashes. Using this methodology, I have gotten more than one job, but none of them paid enough for me to live on. So I feel as though I am careening wildly around a room full of locked doors with no way out.
But God has not withdrawn His favor from me. I have more than enough to keep afloat until I find full-time work. And, what's more, He could have given me any of those jobs I applied for--but none was right. He has His best plan, and He will accomplish what He purposes for me (Isaiah 55:8-13).
I have my eyes set on a job; He has His eyes set on eternity.
For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him. (Psalm 62:5)
I have been alternately frustrated by darkness and overwhelmed by joy at what I know He is accomplishing for my sake as I wait. I think He is gently using this time to prepare me for a lifetime of trust in Him. He is slowly simmering me down to reduction, a sweet syrup of trust, until I am in complete submission to Him. Although I have not been the most receptive student, He persists in teaching me, because He knows that submission is necessary for the amazing things He has planned for me to do in my life.
I have this promise from Isaiah, that if I work and work to light my own fire, to blaze my own path, I will lie down in torment. It is far better for me to walk in darkness holding the hand of Jesus than to destroy the path He has made for me with my own ambition.
That's the thing: I'm not sitting in darkness. I'm standing. I'm walking, even. Let him who walks in darkness and has no light trust in the name of the Lord and rely on his God.
I don't know what in the world He is up to, but I can tell you this: that it is going to be crazy, and I am going to LOVE it!
He is not training me to be independent: to learn to see the future, to steadfastly endure trial, to dig in my heels and believe. Quite the opposite. He is teaching me to draw close to Him with the trust of a daughter and hold on to His hand.
The steps of a man are established by the Lord, when he delights in his way; though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand (Psalm 37:23-24).
Even and especially when he walks in darkness. Even though, by the world's standards, it appears that I am falling, that I should fear and tremble, I am holding tight to the hand of my Father. I'm still walking. Because I am walking after Jesus, my steps are much more firm than they would be if I insisted on seeing the way.
Monday, August 18, 2014
He's Got This
Behold, the Lord God comes with might, and his arm rules for him; behold, his reward is with him, and his recompense before him. He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young. (Isaiah 40:10-11)
I've been stressed out about my life plans. I prayed to God for direction, because I was stressed about not having any foreseeable plan; then, He gave me a next step, and I got stressed about doing it--because it is not something I know how to do.
I didn't think I was an easily-stressed person as far as "planning my life" went, and for the most part, that's been very true. For most of my life decisions so far, the Holy Spirit has told me what to do, and usually it's been something fun and easy.
But I think what happens as we grow with Him is that He begins to soften our hearts to bigger designs...and we have to start facing facts that what He wants to do for us is awesome, but it also might be hard...and possibly--gasp!--uncomfortable.
Yuck. Heaven forbid there might be a chance you'll be uncomfortable!
God has been gently leading me my whole life to the place where I am finally able to accept that the rest of my life will not be comfortable. Not necessarily in a worldly sense--painful, or impoverished, or lost, or alone, or one of the many other physical circumstances that make us uncomfortable. I think this discomfort is the discomfort of confronting the unfamiliar, of not knowing how to do things. In fact, I am learning that I am for real going to be completely unable to do what I've been called to do on my own, and I am going to walk whistling up to the door of the impossible, praying that He meets me there until the moment I reach the threshold.
I'm actually less afraid of physical discomfort than I am of not knowing the plan. But I think I've finally reached a place where I can accept that, for the rest of my life, He is only going to offer me one step at a time, because if He were to give me the whole picture, I would (in colloquial terms) totally and completely freak out, man!!!! (Where's the hyperventilation bag??!)
Now that I am at this place, now that I've realized that I am called to do things that I am unable to do without Him, it's important for me to stop and remember who it is that is doing the calling.
"Truly, truly, I say to you, he who does not enter the sheepfold by the door but climbs in by another way, that man is a thief and a robber. But he who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. To him the gatekeeper opens. The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice." (John 10:1-4)
If we know His voice, we won't follow a stranger. He's not a hired hand who flees when things get hard. No--he gathers lambs in his arms.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know it altogether. You hem me in behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. (Psalm 139:2-5)
He knows you. He knows your favorite color and remembers that time you dropped your ice cream cone in first grade. He is as acquainted with your daily habits (every morning Cheerio, every eyebrow hair you pluck, every dream you dream as you sleep) as you are. He is in every detail of our lives, because He is in us.
What's more...the one who loves us so much that He pursues to know our every thought and step isn't just some random guy. He's the one true God, the God who created the universe.
Isaiah continues in chapter 40 with a series of rhetorical questions:
Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand and marked off the heavens with a span, enclosed the dust of the earth in a measure and weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance? Who has measured the Spirit of the Lord, or what man shows him counsel?....Behold, the nations are like a drop from a bucket, and are accounted as the dust on the scales; behold, he takes up the coastlands like fine dust....Do you not know? Do you not hear? Has it not been told you from the beginning? Have you not understood from the foundations of the earth? It is he who sits above the circle of the earth, and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers; who stretches out the heavens like a curtain, and spreads them like a tent to dwell in; who brings princes to nothing, and makes the rulers of the earth as emptiness....Lift up your eyes on high and see: who created these? He who brings out their host by number, calling them all by name, by the greatness of his might, and because he is strong in power not one is missing.
That's a hefty chunk, and I hate to extract only bits, so go and read the whole chapter yourself. This is a clear picture of God's character: He who stretched out the heavens, who can be taught by no one, carries you in His arms, against His chest, like a lamb.
Not one is missing. I'm reminded of Jesus' prayer shortly before He was crucified: "All mine are yours, and yours are mine, and I am glorified in them...While I was with them, I kept them in your name, which you have given me. I have guarded them, and not one of them has been lost..." (John 17:10 and 12)
Even when we're following His voice, and the mountain before us seems impossible, we are walking behind the Good Shepherd. In fact, we would never even confront the mountain if we weren't following Him--and don't you think the one who created the world would not lead you to a mountain if He didn't fully intend to prevail against it?
Sometimes, we just simply need to remember who He is.
So yes, I'll be doing things that are unfamiliar to me, even impossible for me alone. But that is the great joy of following Jesus: encountering the impossible, and then being carried through it like a lamb in the everlasting arms of the one true God.
I've been stressed out about my life plans. I prayed to God for direction, because I was stressed about not having any foreseeable plan; then, He gave me a next step, and I got stressed about doing it--because it is not something I know how to do.
I didn't think I was an easily-stressed person as far as "planning my life" went, and for the most part, that's been very true. For most of my life decisions so far, the Holy Spirit has told me what to do, and usually it's been something fun and easy.
But I think what happens as we grow with Him is that He begins to soften our hearts to bigger designs...and we have to start facing facts that what He wants to do for us is awesome, but it also might be hard...and possibly--gasp!--uncomfortable.
Yuck. Heaven forbid there might be a chance you'll be uncomfortable!
God has been gently leading me my whole life to the place where I am finally able to accept that the rest of my life will not be comfortable. Not necessarily in a worldly sense--painful, or impoverished, or lost, or alone, or one of the many other physical circumstances that make us uncomfortable. I think this discomfort is the discomfort of confronting the unfamiliar, of not knowing how to do things. In fact, I am learning that I am for real going to be completely unable to do what I've been called to do on my own, and I am going to walk whistling up to the door of the impossible, praying that He meets me there until the moment I reach the threshold.
I'm actually less afraid of physical discomfort than I am of not knowing the plan. But I think I've finally reached a place where I can accept that, for the rest of my life, He is only going to offer me one step at a time, because if He were to give me the whole picture, I would (in colloquial terms) totally and completely freak out, man!!!! (Where's the hyperventilation bag??!)
Now that I am at this place, now that I've realized that I am called to do things that I am unable to do without Him, it's important for me to stop and remember who it is that is doing the calling.
"Truly, truly, I say to you, he who does not enter the sheepfold by the door but climbs in by another way, that man is a thief and a robber. But he who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. To him the gatekeeper opens. The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice." (John 10:1-4)
If we know His voice, we won't follow a stranger. He's not a hired hand who flees when things get hard. No--he gathers lambs in his arms.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know it altogether. You hem me in behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. (Psalm 139:2-5)
He knows you. He knows your favorite color and remembers that time you dropped your ice cream cone in first grade. He is as acquainted with your daily habits (every morning Cheerio, every eyebrow hair you pluck, every dream you dream as you sleep) as you are. He is in every detail of our lives, because He is in us.
What's more...the one who loves us so much that He pursues to know our every thought and step isn't just some random guy. He's the one true God, the God who created the universe.
Isaiah continues in chapter 40 with a series of rhetorical questions:
Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand and marked off the heavens with a span, enclosed the dust of the earth in a measure and weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance? Who has measured the Spirit of the Lord, or what man shows him counsel?....Behold, the nations are like a drop from a bucket, and are accounted as the dust on the scales; behold, he takes up the coastlands like fine dust....Do you not know? Do you not hear? Has it not been told you from the beginning? Have you not understood from the foundations of the earth? It is he who sits above the circle of the earth, and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers; who stretches out the heavens like a curtain, and spreads them like a tent to dwell in; who brings princes to nothing, and makes the rulers of the earth as emptiness....Lift up your eyes on high and see: who created these? He who brings out their host by number, calling them all by name, by the greatness of his might, and because he is strong in power not one is missing.
That's a hefty chunk, and I hate to extract only bits, so go and read the whole chapter yourself. This is a clear picture of God's character: He who stretched out the heavens, who can be taught by no one, carries you in His arms, against His chest, like a lamb.
Not one is missing. I'm reminded of Jesus' prayer shortly before He was crucified: "All mine are yours, and yours are mine, and I am glorified in them...While I was with them, I kept them in your name, which you have given me. I have guarded them, and not one of them has been lost..." (John 17:10 and 12)
Even when we're following His voice, and the mountain before us seems impossible, we are walking behind the Good Shepherd. In fact, we would never even confront the mountain if we weren't following Him--and don't you think the one who created the world would not lead you to a mountain if He didn't fully intend to prevail against it?
Sometimes, we just simply need to remember who He is.
So yes, I'll be doing things that are unfamiliar to me, even impossible for me alone. But that is the great joy of following Jesus: encountering the impossible, and then being carried through it like a lamb in the everlasting arms of the one true God.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
A Voice Behind You
Not in a creepy way. Here, let Isaiah explain:
For a people shall dwell in Zion, in Jerusalem; you shall weep no more. He will surely be gracious to you at the sound of your cry. As soon as he hears it, he answers you. And though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself anymore, but your eyes shall see your Teacher. And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, "This is the way, walk in it," when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left. Then you will defile your carved idols overlaid with silver and your gold-plated metal images. You will scatter them as unclean things. You will say to them, "Be gone!" (Isaiah 30:19-22)
I recently watched the film Holy Ghost. An evangelist who was interviewed for the film, Heidi Baker, said that learning to listen to the Holy Spirit is like learning a language: you have to become childlike, and you have to be unafraid to make mistakes.
I remember feeling silly and awkward as I struggled to practice conversational Italian in my college 201 class. It was unfamiliar to my tongue, and I just knew I was making tons of embarrassing mistakes. Many people never attempt to learn a language because they are too proud to mess up.
And most Christians treat the Holy Spirit that way as well. He's unfamiliar, and we are unsure whether we're hearing His voice. And worse still: He might tell us to do something crazy! (Remember Noah's ark...or Joshua marching around Jericho...and don't even mention Ezekiel and his crazy wheels.)
So we don't attempt to listen to Him. We just call on Him when it's convenient for us ("Holy Spirit, just give me direction for this big decision!") and ignore Him on a daily basis when He might tell us to do something embarrassing...like, say, pray for somebody. Out loud.
We're afraid we'll mis-hear, and then embarrass ourselves. But if we're afraid to make mistakes, we won't ever listen to Him at all.
The above passage from Isaiah has jumped out at me several times in my life. I like the part about Him answering our cries like a father: "As soon as he hears it, he answers you." And I like that "Teacher" is capitalized here, because our Teacher is a person with a name, the Holy Spirit (John 14:26).
But my favorite part is this: And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, "This is the way, walk in it," when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.
When do you hear the voice? Rewind: when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.
It doesn't say, "You will hear a very clear, audible voice with explicit step-by-step instructions for achieving your dreams, fulfilling your purpose, and getting your dream girl (or boy) too." It says that you will get confirmation when you make a turn.
That means, act on what you think the Spirit is telling you, in accordance with the Bible, and then you will be able to see by the fruit of your actions whether it was His instruction. Most of us know the Bible already, so if the Spirit tells us to do something like, say, give someone an encouraging word (1 Thessalonians 5:11, Hebrews 3:13), it won't be crazy. It will just be daily life with the Spirit. In fact, it should be daily life anyway, since it's in the Bible.
The Holy Spirit isn't creepy. He's not tiptoeing around, leaving cryptic messages in alphabet cereal and expecting you to have heard something He hasn't said to you. He WANTS to talk to you. He doesn't want to leave you orphaned. He knows the way He has planned for you, and He wants to share it with you.
Just as you have to listen to another person and learn the way he or she communicates, you must train your ear to listen to the Holy Spirit. You have to seek Him daily, rather than just calling upon Him to rain down wisdom in a crisis, so you will be able to hear Him clearly when the crisis comes.
That takes work. It takes turning off the TV or unplugging the earbuds to sit quietly in His presence. But here's the good news: you have your whole life to learn it. And God would rather have children who accidentally pray for the wrong person (praying for someone--what a mistake!) than children who are so paralyzed by fear that they can't step out in faith, even in the smallest of ways.
And when you know how to be sensitive to His voice in the small, every day things (go there, call that person, don't eat that, stop and pray), hearing His voice in big decisions (job, moving, marriage, going on a mission trip, etc.) will become natural. And when you make a choice, you will hear a gentle word behind you, saying, "Yes. You found the way."
For a people shall dwell in Zion, in Jerusalem; you shall weep no more. He will surely be gracious to you at the sound of your cry. As soon as he hears it, he answers you. And though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself anymore, but your eyes shall see your Teacher. And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, "This is the way, walk in it," when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left. Then you will defile your carved idols overlaid with silver and your gold-plated metal images. You will scatter them as unclean things. You will say to them, "Be gone!" (Isaiah 30:19-22)
I recently watched the film Holy Ghost. An evangelist who was interviewed for the film, Heidi Baker, said that learning to listen to the Holy Spirit is like learning a language: you have to become childlike, and you have to be unafraid to make mistakes.
I remember feeling silly and awkward as I struggled to practice conversational Italian in my college 201 class. It was unfamiliar to my tongue, and I just knew I was making tons of embarrassing mistakes. Many people never attempt to learn a language because they are too proud to mess up.
And most Christians treat the Holy Spirit that way as well. He's unfamiliar, and we are unsure whether we're hearing His voice. And worse still: He might tell us to do something crazy! (Remember Noah's ark...or Joshua marching around Jericho...and don't even mention Ezekiel and his crazy wheels.)
So we don't attempt to listen to Him. We just call on Him when it's convenient for us ("Holy Spirit, just give me direction for this big decision!") and ignore Him on a daily basis when He might tell us to do something embarrassing...like, say, pray for somebody. Out loud.
We're afraid we'll mis-hear, and then embarrass ourselves. But if we're afraid to make mistakes, we won't ever listen to Him at all.
The above passage from Isaiah has jumped out at me several times in my life. I like the part about Him answering our cries like a father: "As soon as he hears it, he answers you." And I like that "Teacher" is capitalized here, because our Teacher is a person with a name, the Holy Spirit (John 14:26).
But my favorite part is this: And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, "This is the way, walk in it," when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.
When do you hear the voice? Rewind: when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.
It doesn't say, "You will hear a very clear, audible voice with explicit step-by-step instructions for achieving your dreams, fulfilling your purpose, and getting your dream girl (or boy) too." It says that you will get confirmation when you make a turn.
That means, act on what you think the Spirit is telling you, in accordance with the Bible, and then you will be able to see by the fruit of your actions whether it was His instruction. Most of us know the Bible already, so if the Spirit tells us to do something like, say, give someone an encouraging word (1 Thessalonians 5:11, Hebrews 3:13), it won't be crazy. It will just be daily life with the Spirit. In fact, it should be daily life anyway, since it's in the Bible.
The Holy Spirit isn't creepy. He's not tiptoeing around, leaving cryptic messages in alphabet cereal and expecting you to have heard something He hasn't said to you. He WANTS to talk to you. He doesn't want to leave you orphaned. He knows the way He has planned for you, and He wants to share it with you.
Just as you have to listen to another person and learn the way he or she communicates, you must train your ear to listen to the Holy Spirit. You have to seek Him daily, rather than just calling upon Him to rain down wisdom in a crisis, so you will be able to hear Him clearly when the crisis comes.
That takes work. It takes turning off the TV or unplugging the earbuds to sit quietly in His presence. But here's the good news: you have your whole life to learn it. And God would rather have children who accidentally pray for the wrong person (praying for someone--what a mistake!) than children who are so paralyzed by fear that they can't step out in faith, even in the smallest of ways.
And when you know how to be sensitive to His voice in the small, every day things (go there, call that person, don't eat that, stop and pray), hearing His voice in big decisions (job, moving, marriage, going on a mission trip, etc.) will become natural. And when you make a choice, you will hear a gentle word behind you, saying, "Yes. You found the way."
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Swallowed Up By Life
For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. (2 Corinthians 4:6)
Just swallow that for a second. God spoke light into being. Like, He invented it. And He shines in YOUR heart.
Sometimes the illumination is less comfortable than it sounds. As we draw into the light, things are exposed (Ephesians 5:13...the chapter that named this blog).
If you're human (and I imagine that, if you're reading this, you are), you know that humans are messy. And usually, we kind of like to wallow in our own mess. For example: last week, I found myself quite unexpectedly wracked by guilt about all the things I had done wrong in a particular friendship.
The feeling I was experiencing is called shame.
I know you've heard some little old lady exclaim, "Why, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" Shame is a little-discussed feeling, but one as common to humanity as anger, sorrow, and grief. It's what happens when you do something you know is wrong, and then you want to hide it from everyone (including God) in your heart forever. You feel as though you will always suffer the burden of having done it and can never get free.
Shame calls us dirty names: defeated, inferior, damaged, unworthy.
Shame convinces us that we are not good enough to be loved by God or others, and at the same time inspires us to covet the purity we think that others have and turn against them.
Shame plays games with your mind. It is an agent of the devil to separate us from the only one who can redeem our failures and to isolate us from our brothers and sisters in the church.
Shame is a hopeless feeling. It's the reason Adam and Eve covered themselves with leaves and hid from God in the Garden. Shame is when we know we're naked and we don't want to be exposed. It's the horrible realization that we are living in a jar of clay, when what we strongly desire is to live as a righteous spiritual being.
For in this tent we groan, wrote Paul, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked (2 Corinthians 5:2-3).
We Christians are the only people in the world who ought to be free of shame, because we are clothed in Jesus' awesome robes of righteousness (Isaiah 61:10). God's love covers us (1 Peter 4:8). But ironically, we are the ones going around shaming ourselves (and others...see "little old lady" comment above).
One of the Holy Spirit's most important jobs is convicting the world of sin (John 16:8). People are drawn to the cross as a result of their realization that they have committed sin and need forgiveness. But the cross is the door. We're meant to pass through, into God's kingdom.
Why? Because the Holy Spirit's other super-important job is to manifest God's presence in us. Check out the two sentences that come right after the verse above:
For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened--not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee (2 Corinthians 5:4-5)
Have you ever had a dream where you showed up naked to school and you don't care about anything--teachers, classes, homework--except finding some dead-gum clothes as soon as possible? I think a lot of us treat our spiritual lives that way, forgetting that we have been given the Spirit as a guarantee of our decency.
The Corinthians were some folks who had serious problems. They were grieving God's Spirit in pretty much every way possible, from suing each other (1 Corinthians 6:1-4) to allowing men to sleep with their stepmothers (seriously...1 Corinthians 5:1). Judging by the admonishments in Paul's first letter, they had no idea how to relate to one another or to God.
Clearly these sins are ridiculously inappropriate. But I will say that the Corinthians always give me hope. If God can work with a bunch of people as clueless as they were, surely He'll pour His Spirit into me too.
By this we shall know that we are of the truth and reassure our heart before him; for whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and he knows everything (1 John 3:19).
You'd think if God knows everything, He'd get stuck on each one of our little teeny-tiny sins. But according to John, He doesn't. Instead, He is greater than anything we can do--or any condemnation we could place on ourselves.
In fact, I think the only reason we can ever feel grief at sin is because God's Spirit is at work in us.
For godly grief produces repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death (2 Corinthians 7:10).
I think the "worldly grief" Paul is referring to is our old friend shame. Shame tells us that we have failed, that we will fail, that we will never be redeemed of our failures, and that we shouldn't even try to change because we are just a great big whopping failure, so we should probably just spend a lot of time thinking about how much we have failed.
But the conviction of the Holy Spirit is not like shame. It's a completely different ball game.
Conviction comes about because the Holy Spirit is just that: holy. Sin cannot abide with holiness, so when we are in the presence of God, we naturally feel convicted of sins. However, conviction is full of hope: it's a sudden awareness of a sin that has grieved God, followed by an eagerness to repair that part of our relationship with Him. It hurts for a moment, but then it is....well, swallowed up by life.
From now on, therefore, we regard no one according to the flesh. Even though we once regarded Christ according to the flesh, we regard him thus no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:16-17).
The same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead lives in us (Romans 8:11), and He convicts us of sin not to shame us, but to bring us closer to Him. He makes us a better house for Himself by healing our sins and all the damage they've caused us, and He does it as steadily and completely as He raised Christ's mortal body from the dead.
Shame will eat away at your identity in Christ like the bacteria of decay, dragging you down into death. But the conviction of the Holy Spirit will heal you. (Go ahead and read Hebrews chapter 12. I could have probably just typed it out here and saved myself a lot of writing.)
In Nehemiah, Ezra read the law to the Israelites on a holy day of dedication for the new wall. The people began to weep and mourn, realizing just how dirty, how full of failure, they were. But Nehemiah said, "....this day is holy to our Lord...do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength" (Nehemiah 8:10).
Shame is about you. Conviction and healing are about God. So toss the shame and enter into the heart of a Father who wants to strengthen you with His own joy at your homecoming.
Just swallow that for a second. God spoke light into being. Like, He invented it. And He shines in YOUR heart.
Sometimes the illumination is less comfortable than it sounds. As we draw into the light, things are exposed (Ephesians 5:13...the chapter that named this blog).
If you're human (and I imagine that, if you're reading this, you are), you know that humans are messy. And usually, we kind of like to wallow in our own mess. For example: last week, I found myself quite unexpectedly wracked by guilt about all the things I had done wrong in a particular friendship.
The feeling I was experiencing is called shame.
I know you've heard some little old lady exclaim, "Why, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" Shame is a little-discussed feeling, but one as common to humanity as anger, sorrow, and grief. It's what happens when you do something you know is wrong, and then you want to hide it from everyone (including God) in your heart forever. You feel as though you will always suffer the burden of having done it and can never get free.
Shame calls us dirty names: defeated, inferior, damaged, unworthy.
Shame convinces us that we are not good enough to be loved by God or others, and at the same time inspires us to covet the purity we think that others have and turn against them.
Shame plays games with your mind. It is an agent of the devil to separate us from the only one who can redeem our failures and to isolate us from our brothers and sisters in the church.
Shame is a hopeless feeling. It's the reason Adam and Eve covered themselves with leaves and hid from God in the Garden. Shame is when we know we're naked and we don't want to be exposed. It's the horrible realization that we are living in a jar of clay, when what we strongly desire is to live as a righteous spiritual being.
For in this tent we groan, wrote Paul, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked (2 Corinthians 5:2-3).
We Christians are the only people in the world who ought to be free of shame, because we are clothed in Jesus' awesome robes of righteousness (Isaiah 61:10). God's love covers us (1 Peter 4:8). But ironically, we are the ones going around shaming ourselves (and others...see "little old lady" comment above).
One of the Holy Spirit's most important jobs is convicting the world of sin (John 16:8). People are drawn to the cross as a result of their realization that they have committed sin and need forgiveness. But the cross is the door. We're meant to pass through, into God's kingdom.
Why? Because the Holy Spirit's other super-important job is to manifest God's presence in us. Check out the two sentences that come right after the verse above:
For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened--not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee (2 Corinthians 5:4-5)
Have you ever had a dream where you showed up naked to school and you don't care about anything--teachers, classes, homework--except finding some dead-gum clothes as soon as possible? I think a lot of us treat our spiritual lives that way, forgetting that we have been given the Spirit as a guarantee of our decency.
The Corinthians were some folks who had serious problems. They were grieving God's Spirit in pretty much every way possible, from suing each other (1 Corinthians 6:1-4) to allowing men to sleep with their stepmothers (seriously...1 Corinthians 5:1). Judging by the admonishments in Paul's first letter, they had no idea how to relate to one another or to God.
Clearly these sins are ridiculously inappropriate. But I will say that the Corinthians always give me hope. If God can work with a bunch of people as clueless as they were, surely He'll pour His Spirit into me too.
By this we shall know that we are of the truth and reassure our heart before him; for whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and he knows everything (1 John 3:19).
You'd think if God knows everything, He'd get stuck on each one of our little teeny-tiny sins. But according to John, He doesn't. Instead, He is greater than anything we can do--or any condemnation we could place on ourselves.
In fact, I think the only reason we can ever feel grief at sin is because God's Spirit is at work in us.
For godly grief produces repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death (2 Corinthians 7:10).
I think the "worldly grief" Paul is referring to is our old friend shame. Shame tells us that we have failed, that we will fail, that we will never be redeemed of our failures, and that we shouldn't even try to change because we are just a great big whopping failure, so we should probably just spend a lot of time thinking about how much we have failed.
But the conviction of the Holy Spirit is not like shame. It's a completely different ball game.
Conviction comes about because the Holy Spirit is just that: holy. Sin cannot abide with holiness, so when we are in the presence of God, we naturally feel convicted of sins. However, conviction is full of hope: it's a sudden awareness of a sin that has grieved God, followed by an eagerness to repair that part of our relationship with Him. It hurts for a moment, but then it is....well, swallowed up by life.
From now on, therefore, we regard no one according to the flesh. Even though we once regarded Christ according to the flesh, we regard him thus no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:16-17).
The same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead lives in us (Romans 8:11), and He convicts us of sin not to shame us, but to bring us closer to Him. He makes us a better house for Himself by healing our sins and all the damage they've caused us, and He does it as steadily and completely as He raised Christ's mortal body from the dead.
Shame will eat away at your identity in Christ like the bacteria of decay, dragging you down into death. But the conviction of the Holy Spirit will heal you. (Go ahead and read Hebrews chapter 12. I could have probably just typed it out here and saved myself a lot of writing.)
In Nehemiah, Ezra read the law to the Israelites on a holy day of dedication for the new wall. The people began to weep and mourn, realizing just how dirty, how full of failure, they were. But Nehemiah said, "....this day is holy to our Lord...do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength" (Nehemiah 8:10).
Shame is about you. Conviction and healing are about God. So toss the shame and enter into the heart of a Father who wants to strengthen you with His own joy at your homecoming.
Saturday, August 2, 2014
Happy Father's Day (a little late....)
O righteous Father, even though the world does not know you, I know you, and these know that you have sent me. I made known to them your name, and I will continue to make it known, that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them. (John 17:25-26)
A long time ago, when I was a silly college student, I went to a church group with a friend. The campus pastor's wife approached me during worship and said something like, "Sorry to interrupt, but God has placed this on my heart....some people have trouble believing God loves them. I just want you to know that God loves you."
I didn't know what else to say except "thank you," awkwardly, as the small worship band played a haphazard cover of some Hillsong tune, the dim mood lighting casting full drama over the scene.
But I was offended. Me? I thought. I have never had trouble believing God loves me. What nonsense! She's off. She's judgmental. And I'm not coming back here again.
I was raised in a full-gospel, gifts-of-the-Spirit household. With raw honesty, I will admit that I thought I knew it all. Of course God loved me, just as my parents loved me. Where did this lady get off, telling me that I doubted that? She didn't even know me.
But neither did I.
Luke chapter 15 contains Jesus' parable of the prodigal son. I won't retype it here, since it's long. But we all know the story, if we were raised in Sunday school. We know that the prodigal son asked his father for his inheritance, then went and blew it all on prostitutes and other sinfully lavish expenses. I heard a preacher say once that, in Jewish culture during this time, asking a father for your inheritance before he was dead was like saying, "You're dead to me." That's pretty harsh.
But, as we good little Sunday school kids know, the son realizes his mistake when his sin leads to bankruptcy and starvation (his just desserts, we thought, smirking smugly to ourselves), and he returns home to his father and begs to become a hired servant, feeling he is unworthy to be called his father's son.
The father receives him not only as a son, but as an honored son--as if the son had never rejected him. He completely ignores the request for a minimum-wage servant job and instead throws a feast in his lost son's honor.
Of course, the older brother, who has so far not been a part of the story, now enters the scene, angry that his father has welcomed his baby brother back. Big Brother even sulks outside, refusing to enter the house. He whines that he has been faithful and obedient to his father, yet his no-good sinful brother is being treated much better than he ever has been.
The father replies, "Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours."
I think, like both of the sons in this story, we all have a misunderstanding of the Fatherhood of God.
See, Prodigal Brother thought his father had nothing to offer him except riches; his father might as well have been dead for all he wanted to enjoy his company. Then, when he realizes he's sinned against his father, he returns home feeling unworthy to be loved.
How many of us sit perpetually at the foot of the cross, repeatedly confessing our sins and begging to just be a servant to our Father?
The Bible consistently refutes the idea that those who belong to Jesus are simply just "sinning servants" who are unworthy to be called sons. Once you belong to Jesus and become adopted as a son or daughter, it is about as easy to undo your kingdom inheritance as it is for you to reject your earthly parents' genetics. You are not unworthy of love just because you have failed. If earthly parents treat their children that way, we call them bullies and "stage moms." But we fully expect that kind of conditional love from God.
Then you have Big Brother, who believes that all his father has to offer him is stuff from the household. He resents his father, because, from his perspective, he has "done everything right" and should be rewarded. His concept of a father/son relationship is that all the father wants from him is "good behavior," and he should be given rewards in return. He doesn't realize that, the whole time, his father's entire house and all the blessings in it already belong to him, if he would only ask. They aren't a reward for being a "good boy." They are simply a part of sonship.
Big Brother has had an even greater blessing than Baby Brother: he has been with his father this whole time. The material blessings (which represent not only financial prosperity but also spiritual gifts like healing and prophecy) are secondary to the simple pleasure of his father's company, which he has had access to the entire time his brother was gone. But, since Big Brother believes that all his father wants from him is performance, and that Dad isn't interested at all in him as a person, he totally misses his father's invitation to come to the celebration feast.
How many of us are sitting outside our Father's door, sulking because we don't get what we want, or feeling unworthy to enter as a son or daughter?
All He wants from us is to be with us. Most of us, because of our screwy conceptions of fatherhood, completely miss the very heart of God for His children.
My earthly father was a good dad, by general standards. I knew that he loved me, would provide for me, and would protect me. However, because he was often consumed in his own projects, I absorbed the idea that he wasn't interested in me. Because his own father wasn't the greatest, he didn't know how to share his heart with me.
The little girl in me believed that God worked the same way. He had his own thing going, and I just got to be a part of it. He probably wasn't really interested in me. I knew that He loved me, even delighted in me; but I thought I was just a child who probably couldn't be trusted with big things. Like my earthly dad, He would just do those Himself.
Because of my experience, I wondered why God would ever really share His heart with me--and why I would even want Him to. I saw other people walking in spiritual gifts, and knew, like Big Brother, that I could ask and receive them as well. But I was a stubborn daughter who just wanted a goat instead of my Father's heart.
Like Big Brother, I thought that God was withholding something from me. I thought He was withholding His heart--so I withheld my heart from Him.
Clearly, I wasn't consciously thinking this. But somehow that misunderstanding about my Father--no matter how great our relationship was otherwise--sneakily made its way into my heart and became part of my identity.
We all think the thoughts of both of the sons at certain times in our lives. In false humility (aka pride), we believe we're unworthy to approach Him because He doesn't want dirty-faced children. Or, in blatant pride, we believe He is withholding Himself when we actually haven't asked Him for Himself, because we want a goat to celebrate with our friends--we don't really want Him.
What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent; or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him! (Luke 11:11-13)
Who is the Holy Spirit?
But when the Helper comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth, who proceeds from the Father, he will bear witness about me. (John 15:26)
The Holy Spirit is God Himself.
I don't care what your earthly father was like. Even the most amazing fathers make mistakes, and all of our parents have distorted our view of God as a Father.
But know this: that our great Father in heaven does not withhold Himself from you. Ask, and He will give you Himself, in great measure.
We may have the strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that [we] may be filled with all the fullness of God.... far more abundantly than all that we ask or think (Ephesians 3).
Jesus is our model for sonship, and He abides so closely with the Father that they are one. We should expect nothing less in our own relationships with God.
But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him (Luke 15:20).
He knows what your earthly father was like, and He feels compassion. He wants to show you the true heart of a Father who is standing at the door, gazing far down the road so that He can see you--know you--and run to meet you wherever you are.
A real Father is full of grace, and His love is truly, completely, wholly unconditional. His aim is not to "use" you. He is interested in you, and he wants to share your heart.
All you have to do is ask, and He will share His own.
A long time ago, when I was a silly college student, I went to a church group with a friend. The campus pastor's wife approached me during worship and said something like, "Sorry to interrupt, but God has placed this on my heart....some people have trouble believing God loves them. I just want you to know that God loves you."
I didn't know what else to say except "thank you," awkwardly, as the small worship band played a haphazard cover of some Hillsong tune, the dim mood lighting casting full drama over the scene.
But I was offended. Me? I thought. I have never had trouble believing God loves me. What nonsense! She's off. She's judgmental. And I'm not coming back here again.
I was raised in a full-gospel, gifts-of-the-Spirit household. With raw honesty, I will admit that I thought I knew it all. Of course God loved me, just as my parents loved me. Where did this lady get off, telling me that I doubted that? She didn't even know me.
But neither did I.
Luke chapter 15 contains Jesus' parable of the prodigal son. I won't retype it here, since it's long. But we all know the story, if we were raised in Sunday school. We know that the prodigal son asked his father for his inheritance, then went and blew it all on prostitutes and other sinfully lavish expenses. I heard a preacher say once that, in Jewish culture during this time, asking a father for your inheritance before he was dead was like saying, "You're dead to me." That's pretty harsh.
But, as we good little Sunday school kids know, the son realizes his mistake when his sin leads to bankruptcy and starvation (his just desserts, we thought, smirking smugly to ourselves), and he returns home to his father and begs to become a hired servant, feeling he is unworthy to be called his father's son.
The father receives him not only as a son, but as an honored son--as if the son had never rejected him. He completely ignores the request for a minimum-wage servant job and instead throws a feast in his lost son's honor.
Of course, the older brother, who has so far not been a part of the story, now enters the scene, angry that his father has welcomed his baby brother back. Big Brother even sulks outside, refusing to enter the house. He whines that he has been faithful and obedient to his father, yet his no-good sinful brother is being treated much better than he ever has been.
The father replies, "Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours."
I think, like both of the sons in this story, we all have a misunderstanding of the Fatherhood of God.
See, Prodigal Brother thought his father had nothing to offer him except riches; his father might as well have been dead for all he wanted to enjoy his company. Then, when he realizes he's sinned against his father, he returns home feeling unworthy to be loved.
How many of us sit perpetually at the foot of the cross, repeatedly confessing our sins and begging to just be a servant to our Father?
The Bible consistently refutes the idea that those who belong to Jesus are simply just "sinning servants" who are unworthy to be called sons. Once you belong to Jesus and become adopted as a son or daughter, it is about as easy to undo your kingdom inheritance as it is for you to reject your earthly parents' genetics. You are not unworthy of love just because you have failed. If earthly parents treat their children that way, we call them bullies and "stage moms." But we fully expect that kind of conditional love from God.
Then you have Big Brother, who believes that all his father has to offer him is stuff from the household. He resents his father, because, from his perspective, he has "done everything right" and should be rewarded. His concept of a father/son relationship is that all the father wants from him is "good behavior," and he should be given rewards in return. He doesn't realize that, the whole time, his father's entire house and all the blessings in it already belong to him, if he would only ask. They aren't a reward for being a "good boy." They are simply a part of sonship.
Big Brother has had an even greater blessing than Baby Brother: he has been with his father this whole time. The material blessings (which represent not only financial prosperity but also spiritual gifts like healing and prophecy) are secondary to the simple pleasure of his father's company, which he has had access to the entire time his brother was gone. But, since Big Brother believes that all his father wants from him is performance, and that Dad isn't interested at all in him as a person, he totally misses his father's invitation to come to the celebration feast.
How many of us are sitting outside our Father's door, sulking because we don't get what we want, or feeling unworthy to enter as a son or daughter?
All He wants from us is to be with us. Most of us, because of our screwy conceptions of fatherhood, completely miss the very heart of God for His children.
My earthly father was a good dad, by general standards. I knew that he loved me, would provide for me, and would protect me. However, because he was often consumed in his own projects, I absorbed the idea that he wasn't interested in me. Because his own father wasn't the greatest, he didn't know how to share his heart with me.
The little girl in me believed that God worked the same way. He had his own thing going, and I just got to be a part of it. He probably wasn't really interested in me. I knew that He loved me, even delighted in me; but I thought I was just a child who probably couldn't be trusted with big things. Like my earthly dad, He would just do those Himself.
Because of my experience, I wondered why God would ever really share His heart with me--and why I would even want Him to. I saw other people walking in spiritual gifts, and knew, like Big Brother, that I could ask and receive them as well. But I was a stubborn daughter who just wanted a goat instead of my Father's heart.
Like Big Brother, I thought that God was withholding something from me. I thought He was withholding His heart--so I withheld my heart from Him.
Clearly, I wasn't consciously thinking this. But somehow that misunderstanding about my Father--no matter how great our relationship was otherwise--sneakily made its way into my heart and became part of my identity.
We all think the thoughts of both of the sons at certain times in our lives. In false humility (aka pride), we believe we're unworthy to approach Him because He doesn't want dirty-faced children. Or, in blatant pride, we believe He is withholding Himself when we actually haven't asked Him for Himself, because we want a goat to celebrate with our friends--we don't really want Him.
What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent; or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him! (Luke 11:11-13)
Who is the Holy Spirit?
But when the Helper comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth, who proceeds from the Father, he will bear witness about me. (John 15:26)
The Holy Spirit is God Himself.
I don't care what your earthly father was like. Even the most amazing fathers make mistakes, and all of our parents have distorted our view of God as a Father.
But know this: that our great Father in heaven does not withhold Himself from you. Ask, and He will give you Himself, in great measure.
We may have the strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that [we] may be filled with all the fullness of God.... far more abundantly than all that we ask or think (Ephesians 3).
Jesus is our model for sonship, and He abides so closely with the Father that they are one. We should expect nothing less in our own relationships with God.
But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him (Luke 15:20).
He knows what your earthly father was like, and He feels compassion. He wants to show you the true heart of a Father who is standing at the door, gazing far down the road so that He can see you--know you--and run to meet you wherever you are.
A real Father is full of grace, and His love is truly, completely, wholly unconditional. His aim is not to "use" you. He is interested in you, and he wants to share your heart.
All you have to do is ask, and He will share His own.
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