Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery. For surely it is not angels that he helps, but he helps the offspring of Abraham. Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people (Hebrews 2:14-17).
Nobody really thinks about Zephaniah. Sandwiched between Habakkuk and Haggai (two other Old Testament prophets with hard-to-pronounce names) Zephaniah seems like just another writer of gloom and doom, an old guy with a long white beard shaking his cane at people and hollering about the wrath of God. Like most writers of the Bible who make people uncomfortable, he probably doesn't get read very much.
But I think that, especially on Christmas, we should read a little closer. In this unlikely book, we find a story not of curse but of redemption.
Zephaniah only has three chapters, but even so, I could write on and on about each of them forever, so I'd best limit myself to a particular section, at least for this post. You can read the rest for yourself. (And maybe someday I will write a book. Finding Jesus in the OT just tickles me!) For the purposes of this post, we'll break down Zephaniah 1:7-18, which in my Bible is titled "The Day of the Lord is Near."
Be silent before the Lord God!
For the day of the Lord is near;
the Lord has prepared a sacrifice
and consecrated his guests.
And on the day of the Lord's sacrifice--
"I will punish the officials and the king's sons
and all who array themselves in foreign attire" (v. 7-8).
This reminds me of the parable of the wedding feast in Matthew 22:14. The king (representing God) invites all his friends (religious people) to a wedding feast for his son (Jesus, who marries the church), but they refuse to come, mistreating and even killing the servants (prophets like Zephaniah) who have come to invite them. So the king destroys their city (their reputation for religious ritual), and instead, he invites anyone and everyone in the streets, including the homeless poor. He discovers one man who has gotten into the wedding feast without a garment. That guy gets thrown out. Basically, the story is a warning to those who consider themselves "religious," but who don't know Jesus and are not covered in the robe of righteousness that He bought for us on the cross.
These subtle few lines in Zephaniah set up the context for the following verses. I believe they indicate that the rest of the chapter is about the "sacrifice"--Jesus--whom God has prepared, which "consecrates His guests."
I don't often retype long passages of scripture (again, you're perfectly capable of reading it yourself), but I think it's important to go through verses 10-18 word-for-word so we can get a clear picture of "the day of the Lord." I'll insert scripture references rather than deconstructing each and every line in graduate school thesis fashion, just to spare you the pain of reliving your college English class. Those of you nerds like me (you know who you are) can go ballistic on it yourselves.
"On that day," declares the Lord,
"a cry will be heard from the Fish Gate,
a wail from the Second Quarter,
a loud crash from the hills [Matthew 27:51].
Wail, O inhabitants of the Mortar!
For all the traders are no more,
all who weigh out silver are cut off [John 2:16].
At that time I will search Jerusalem with lamps [Isaiah 9:2],
and I will punish the men who are complacent,
those who say in their hearts,
'The Lord will not do good, nor will he do ill.' [Revelation 3:15-16]
Their goods shall be plundered,
and their houses laid waste [Matthew 12:29].
Though they build houses,
they shall not inhabit them;
though they plant vineyards,
they shall not drink wine from them [Proverbs 10:30, Isaiah 65:22].
The great day of the Lord is near,
near and hastening fast;
the sound of the day of the Lord is bitter;
the mighty man cries aloud there [Mark 15:34 & 37].
A day of wrath is that day,
a day of distress and anguish,
a day of ruin and devastation [Mark 15:38],
a day of darkness and gloom,
a day of clouds and thick darkness [Mark 15:33],
a day of trumpet blast and battle cry
against the fortified cities
and against the lofty battlements.
I will bring distress on mankind,
so that they shall walk like the blind [Matthew 23:24, John 9:39],
because they have sinned against the Lord;
their blood shall be poured out like dust [Matthew 26:28],
and their flesh like dung.
Neither their silver nor their gold
shall be able to deliver them
on the day of the wrath of the Lord [Matthew 27:3].
In the fire of his jealousy,
all the earth shall be consumed [Song of Soloman 8:6];
for a full and sudden end
he will make of the inhabitants of the earth [2 Corinthians 5:17].
As one of my favorite preachers, Joseph Prince, likes to say, "There are no insignificant details in the Bible." (And if you're really a nerd who loves scripture cross-references, you can check out his sermons.) I'm no Biblical scholar, and I am sure Zephaniah is layered with meaning and probably refers to multiple events. But if you check all my nerd references, you will see what I think about this passage: that it refers not to a complete destruction of sinners, but complete destruction of sin and deceit on the day of the crucifixion. It is not about doom and gloom and hopelessness, as the Jews would have read it. It is about Jesus' victory over death, His destruction of false pharisaical religious tradition, and His restoration of right relationship with us. In other words, I don't think this passage is about how horrible we've been, but about how good Jesus is.
The Jews who read this would have expected relentless devastation, the angry wrath of God. To them, it would have sounded like just another warning against sin. And indeed, God doesn't lie: He intended to punish the people. It's just that He poured out their punishment on one man, His Son, Jesus Christ. I think the "fortified cities" and "lofty battlements" that are destroyed in this passage are the strongholds of the devil. I believe "the cry of the mighty man" is Jesus' cry on the cross, and the "loud crash" is the sound of the curtain being torn in two. I think the "blood poured out" was Jesus' blood, for the sake of all the people. I think He did cause blindness to fall on the Pharisees, who refused to acknowledge that He was God. And I think His jealousy does consume us completely, into the restoring fire of His love displayed through Jesus Christ on the cross. I believe He destroys mankind--that is, the sin inside of us, so that we can be reborn as sons and daughters of the King.
In the Word of the Lord from Zephaniah, the Jews probably expected utter destruction and hopelessness. But through the lens of Jesus, we see that God is a merciful and a just God. Though His people expected judgment from Him, what they got was a Savior. The Messiah was not a militant warrior who came to overturn the Roman empire and restore Israel's autonomy, as the Jews believed; God had bigger plans than that. The Messiah came to be born of a human mother into an imperfect stable, and He grew up to save the entire world from the clutches of sin and death. Zephaniah seems an unlikely book in which to read the story of Jesus; but then again, Jesus, by the world's perspective, seems an unlikely man to become our savior.
Sometimes, even in the New Testament days, we believers still expect judgment from God when we should be turning our eyes to the Savior.
I want to challenge you, on Christmas day, to rethink your expectations of God.
To all of you who feel that God is distant, angry, and wrathful: remember on this day that He came down Himself to a world full of sin, hopelessness, and brokenheartedness, just so He could bridge the distance between Himself and us. He left His throne (Philippians 2:4-11) in order to become Emmanuel, "God with us." His love is earth-shattering and sin-shattering.
Don't surrender to hopelessness today. The Redeemer lives, and His plan for your life is so much more wonderful than you expect.
And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth (John 1:14).
A very joyous Christmas to you.
Thursday, December 25, 2014
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
A Field Full of Blessings
And his father and his mother marveled at what was said about him. And Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, 'Behold, this child is appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is opposed (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), so that thoughts from many hearts may be revealed.' (Luke 2:33-35)
This is a season when we remember a teenage mother, Mary, who submitted to God's great plan for her life. Because she said "yes" to God, the greatest miracle the world has ever seen came to have breath and walked on the earth. She actually gave birth to the whole world's (and her own) salvation.
And it was all because she believed what the angel had said.
I was reading 1 Samuel yesterday morning and was reminded of another mother who believed God's word would come to pass. Go back more than a thousand years before the angel visited Mary, and you'll find Hannah, who became the mother of Samuel.
Samuel was a mover and a shaker. He was the great priest of Israel who brought righteousness back to the house of the Lord and called Saul to be king. Although the book is called "1 Samuel" (yes, he was illustrious enough to have two books named for him), I think it is, at its heart, a story about his mother and her belief in the goodness of God.
You can read chapters one and two for yourself, but I will provide a brief synopsis here. Hannah was one of Elkanah's two wives. The other wife had children, but Hannah had none. Her barrenness caused her great distress (especially because her rival wife constantly provoked her). Hannah was so depressed that she refused to eat. So, eventually, she entered the temple and cried out to God for a son, promising that, if He would give her a child, she would dedicate him to the Lord from his birth. She prayed so fervently before Him that the priest, Eli, thought she was drunk and told her to go home. Her reply was basically, "Excuse me, I'm really upset, sir. Don't be trying to blame it on alcohol. I have real problems." Eli (probably taken aback) replied, "Go in peace, and the God of Israel grant your petition that you have made to him." After that, Hannah had a son, whom she named Samuel.
I think a lot of people read this and think, "Oh, this means I should bargain with God, just like Hannah did." But I don't think that's the message of this story at all. I think this story is about intimacy with God, faith to believe that He means what He says, and initiative to go after the blessings He promises.
When Hannah came before the Lord in prayer, she didn't approach Him in pride with lofty words and hidden agendas. She did, however, approach Him with the confidence of a daughter. She knew He knew her longings already, so she let Him into her heart. The Bible says that she "was deeply distressed and prayed to the Lord and wept bitterly" (1:10), and that she "was speaking in her heart; only her lips moved, and her voice was not heard" (1:13). She was completely vulnerable before the Lord. She trusted Him with her heart and poured it out before Him (Psalm 62:8).
Although Hannah was in great distress, she had not given up. She never would have approached the temple if she didn't believe God would act on her behalf. She must have truly believed the blessings in Deuteronomy, which had been given to her forefathers and which promised to make Israel prosperous in the "fruit of the womb" (Deuteronomy 28:11). She knew the God would not give her a desire for children if He weren't going to follow through on His own word.
Hannah was a woman of initiative. Faith in God's character isn't just a concept. It's an action. Hannah made a vow, and then she followed through on that vow. She returned to the temple herself, independently of her husband, and bringing sacrifices, to offer her son to the priest to be brought up as a man of God. The Lord didn't ask her to give her son to Him; she offered him willingly. She staked everything--her very heart's desire--on the promise that God is good. She acted on her faith, and the Lord saw that she meant what she said.
In giving her son to the service of the Lord, Hannah followed the way of Abraham and paved the way for Mary: she gave her most precious blessing back to God. Because of that, she was able to partake in a plan of cosmic proportions that were beyond her imagination. She perhaps believed her son would be an average priest. Instead, he turned out to be a leader who left a legacy of righteousness that lasts into our own generation.
This is a great story, and we can all nod our heads in agreement with the concept that God is good and can be trusted. But do we approach Him with the same confidence in His blessings that Hannah had?
I think all of us have looked upon the blessings of Deuteronomy 28--for prosperity, favor, victory, and abundance--in the same way adults look at a field of flowers. Sometimes we pick them, but then we scrutinize every petal and toss them aside in ingratitude, because they "don't look exactly like what we wanted." Other times, we don't even bother to pick them at all, because they are "too pretty for us" and "they must be meant for someone more special to God than me."
All of those are lies. Jesus said that we should become like little children, and that is how we inherit the kingdom of God (ie, the blessings, favor, and roles in His magnificent plan). Children don't think about why they should or shouldn't pick a flower, nor do they criticize what is in their hands. They don't assume that the beauty is not for them. They don't think twice about showing their emotions. They just go out joyfully and take what God has made just for them and express gratitude about it.
Hannah walked into the temple and asked for God's blessing. How much more do we, under the perfect priesthood of Christ, have a right to "approach the throne of grace with confidence" (Hebrews 4:16) and ask for His blessings?
Life is complicated, but our relationship with God is not. Like Hannah, we should simply trust that He cannot lie, and that, not only will He follow through on His promise, but He wants to, because He is a good and righteous Father. AND He has a plan to bless us with a destiny beyond what we can imagine.
After Samuel was born, the Lord came to Eli and said, "I will raise up for myself a faithful priest, who shall do according to what is in my heart and in my mind. And I will build him a sure house, and he shall go in and out before my anointed forever" (1 Samuel 2:35). This is a description of Samuel, but doesn't it also specifically describe the role of Jesus? (Check out Hebrews 4-8.) Hannah's son had a tremendous role to play in the appointments of the kings of Israel, who became symbols of God's authority on earth and were ancestors in the genealogy of Christ Himself. Following God's appointed purposes, Samuel helped pave the way for Jesus' birth more than 1,000 years later.
Deuteronomy 28 lists an abundance of blessings for an obedient Israel; and because Hannah believed Deuteronomy 28, all people (not just Israelites) have a chance to believe in the full obedience of Christ and thereby secure the blessings found in that book. Her life was bigger than she knew. But she did know one thing: that God was good, and that He would follow through on His promises. And she bulldozed everything that got in the way of her grabbing those promises for herself--including her own doubt.
What blessing are you believing for today? Is there a lack that is causing you distress? Is there a desire for something good that is unfulfilled in your heart? Talk to your Father about it.
During this Christmas season, we should flip back through Deuteronomy 28 and remember the blessed life God has promised us. We should read through Isaiah and remind ourselves of God's promise for a Savior, "a great joy that will be for all the people" (Luke 2:10). God sent Jesus so that you and I could know Him and live into the destiny He has designed for us. Don't count yourself out or toss your blessings aside. He has the inheritance of heaven waiting on you, if only you walk into the temple and ask.
Merry Christmas!
This is a season when we remember a teenage mother, Mary, who submitted to God's great plan for her life. Because she said "yes" to God, the greatest miracle the world has ever seen came to have breath and walked on the earth. She actually gave birth to the whole world's (and her own) salvation.
And it was all because she believed what the angel had said.
I was reading 1 Samuel yesterday morning and was reminded of another mother who believed God's word would come to pass. Go back more than a thousand years before the angel visited Mary, and you'll find Hannah, who became the mother of Samuel.
Samuel was a mover and a shaker. He was the great priest of Israel who brought righteousness back to the house of the Lord and called Saul to be king. Although the book is called "1 Samuel" (yes, he was illustrious enough to have two books named for him), I think it is, at its heart, a story about his mother and her belief in the goodness of God.
You can read chapters one and two for yourself, but I will provide a brief synopsis here. Hannah was one of Elkanah's two wives. The other wife had children, but Hannah had none. Her barrenness caused her great distress (especially because her rival wife constantly provoked her). Hannah was so depressed that she refused to eat. So, eventually, she entered the temple and cried out to God for a son, promising that, if He would give her a child, she would dedicate him to the Lord from his birth. She prayed so fervently before Him that the priest, Eli, thought she was drunk and told her to go home. Her reply was basically, "Excuse me, I'm really upset, sir. Don't be trying to blame it on alcohol. I have real problems." Eli (probably taken aback) replied, "Go in peace, and the God of Israel grant your petition that you have made to him." After that, Hannah had a son, whom she named Samuel.
I think a lot of people read this and think, "Oh, this means I should bargain with God, just like Hannah did." But I don't think that's the message of this story at all. I think this story is about intimacy with God, faith to believe that He means what He says, and initiative to go after the blessings He promises.
When Hannah came before the Lord in prayer, she didn't approach Him in pride with lofty words and hidden agendas. She did, however, approach Him with the confidence of a daughter. She knew He knew her longings already, so she let Him into her heart. The Bible says that she "was deeply distressed and prayed to the Lord and wept bitterly" (1:10), and that she "was speaking in her heart; only her lips moved, and her voice was not heard" (1:13). She was completely vulnerable before the Lord. She trusted Him with her heart and poured it out before Him (Psalm 62:8).
Although Hannah was in great distress, she had not given up. She never would have approached the temple if she didn't believe God would act on her behalf. She must have truly believed the blessings in Deuteronomy, which had been given to her forefathers and which promised to make Israel prosperous in the "fruit of the womb" (Deuteronomy 28:11). She knew the God would not give her a desire for children if He weren't going to follow through on His own word.
Hannah was a woman of initiative. Faith in God's character isn't just a concept. It's an action. Hannah made a vow, and then she followed through on that vow. She returned to the temple herself, independently of her husband, and bringing sacrifices, to offer her son to the priest to be brought up as a man of God. The Lord didn't ask her to give her son to Him; she offered him willingly. She staked everything--her very heart's desire--on the promise that God is good. She acted on her faith, and the Lord saw that she meant what she said.
In giving her son to the service of the Lord, Hannah followed the way of Abraham and paved the way for Mary: she gave her most precious blessing back to God. Because of that, she was able to partake in a plan of cosmic proportions that were beyond her imagination. She perhaps believed her son would be an average priest. Instead, he turned out to be a leader who left a legacy of righteousness that lasts into our own generation.
This is a great story, and we can all nod our heads in agreement with the concept that God is good and can be trusted. But do we approach Him with the same confidence in His blessings that Hannah had?
I think all of us have looked upon the blessings of Deuteronomy 28--for prosperity, favor, victory, and abundance--in the same way adults look at a field of flowers. Sometimes we pick them, but then we scrutinize every petal and toss them aside in ingratitude, because they "don't look exactly like what we wanted." Other times, we don't even bother to pick them at all, because they are "too pretty for us" and "they must be meant for someone more special to God than me."
All of those are lies. Jesus said that we should become like little children, and that is how we inherit the kingdom of God (ie, the blessings, favor, and roles in His magnificent plan). Children don't think about why they should or shouldn't pick a flower, nor do they criticize what is in their hands. They don't assume that the beauty is not for them. They don't think twice about showing their emotions. They just go out joyfully and take what God has made just for them and express gratitude about it.
Hannah walked into the temple and asked for God's blessing. How much more do we, under the perfect priesthood of Christ, have a right to "approach the throne of grace with confidence" (Hebrews 4:16) and ask for His blessings?
Life is complicated, but our relationship with God is not. Like Hannah, we should simply trust that He cannot lie, and that, not only will He follow through on His promise, but He wants to, because He is a good and righteous Father. AND He has a plan to bless us with a destiny beyond what we can imagine.
After Samuel was born, the Lord came to Eli and said, "I will raise up for myself a faithful priest, who shall do according to what is in my heart and in my mind. And I will build him a sure house, and he shall go in and out before my anointed forever" (1 Samuel 2:35). This is a description of Samuel, but doesn't it also specifically describe the role of Jesus? (Check out Hebrews 4-8.) Hannah's son had a tremendous role to play in the appointments of the kings of Israel, who became symbols of God's authority on earth and were ancestors in the genealogy of Christ Himself. Following God's appointed purposes, Samuel helped pave the way for Jesus' birth more than 1,000 years later.
Deuteronomy 28 lists an abundance of blessings for an obedient Israel; and because Hannah believed Deuteronomy 28, all people (not just Israelites) have a chance to believe in the full obedience of Christ and thereby secure the blessings found in that book. Her life was bigger than she knew. But she did know one thing: that God was good, and that He would follow through on His promises. And she bulldozed everything that got in the way of her grabbing those promises for herself--including her own doubt.
What blessing are you believing for today? Is there a lack that is causing you distress? Is there a desire for something good that is unfulfilled in your heart? Talk to your Father about it.
During this Christmas season, we should flip back through Deuteronomy 28 and remember the blessed life God has promised us. We should read through Isaiah and remind ourselves of God's promise for a Savior, "a great joy that will be for all the people" (Luke 2:10). God sent Jesus so that you and I could know Him and live into the destiny He has designed for us. Don't count yourself out or toss your blessings aside. He has the inheritance of heaven waiting on you, if only you walk into the temple and ask.
Merry Christmas!
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Intimacy
In my last post, I wrote about how purely good the Father is. If He is purely good, then His love for us is pure as well. The most miraculous thing about this is that our identities are not based on anything other than His goodness.
We are defined in light of His goodness and love, not our...well, our anything. It may sound strange, but if someone asks us who we are, our reply ought to be, "The Father is good."
Our meaning of the word "good" has been reduced to a bland generalization, thanks to phrases like, "Now, be a good girl," and "This pie is so good!"
But we ought to look to the Father for our definition of goodness. He doesn't lie (Numbers 23:19). He is just (Luke 18:7, 1 Thessalonians 1:6). His word is always true (Psalm 33:4, John 17:17). He is good.
Man fell in the Garden because he failed to believe this simple truth. Adam and Eve distrusted what God had told them. As they disbelieved His word, they also disbelieved an even more basic truth: that God is good.
The most disastrous result was not condemning rebellion or physical punishment, but loss of intimacy with the Father.
If you know that you know that you know that God is good in a general sense, then you know that the intentions of His heart toward you are good. His goodness seeps into your relationship with Him, steeping all your interactions with trust and openness.
Let's go back once again to my oft-cited favorite verses in 1 John 1:3-4.
...that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. And we are writing these things so that our joy may be complete.
The whole aim of all that they had seen and heard--everything Jesus did, including His crucifixion and resurrection--was to bring us into fellowship with the Father, Jesus, and the church. The chief object was open, pure relationship, which produces joy.
John goes on: This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all. If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin. If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.
This paragraph seems roundabout and repetitive, but I think John is trying very hard to express how good God is and how much we can trust Him with our hearts--even hearts that are sinful. He is not condemning sinners, but rather encouraging them to approach the light and be cleansed, because we have a Father who is good. God's intentions toward us are always good, so He doesn't hurt those who come to Him and confess their problems. He is just to forgive our sins, because Jesus has already paid the price for them; it would be unjust for Him to still hold us accountable.
In short, true, transformative change comes into our lives when we are honest with God about our sin and problems, when we give Him permission to come inside of us with His light, expose what needs exposing, and heal whatever He wants.
It's relatively easy to trust God with your eternity; billions of people around the world have done it. It gets harder to tell Him we'll trust Him with our daily circumstances on earth. It is even harder to give things up for the sake of following Him, and then even harder when we actually begin to follow Him by serving and sharing the gospel.
I think the hardest thing, though, is coming to the Father and offering yourself--your very being--without knowing the end result. It's saying, "I trust you to come inside of me and do your redemptive, healing work wherever you need to. Make me into the person You imagined, not who I can imagine."
It's one thing to trust Him with our stuff, even our lives; but it's quite another to trust Him with our pain, our sin, our shame, and our wounds, the parts of our very selves that are so deep and dark that even we don't want to go there.
I think the only way we can do this is to know that He is good. We have to trust that what He does in us won't hurt us, but will redeem and restore us.
We can see the Father's heart in Jesus' fervent prayer for us, recorded in John 17.
"Holy Father," He implored, "keep thm in your name, which you have given me, that they may be one, even as we are one...that they may have my joy fulfilled in themselves" (17:11 and 13).
And we are writing these things so that our joy may be complete (1 John 1:4).
He is light, and in Him is no darkness at all. There is no chance anything dark can get us while we are in His presence. Know that today. He is asking us to go deeper into intimacy with Him. The thought can be scary, but the result is joy.
We are defined in light of His goodness and love, not our...well, our anything. It may sound strange, but if someone asks us who we are, our reply ought to be, "The Father is good."
Our meaning of the word "good" has been reduced to a bland generalization, thanks to phrases like, "Now, be a good girl," and "This pie is so good!"
But we ought to look to the Father for our definition of goodness. He doesn't lie (Numbers 23:19). He is just (Luke 18:7, 1 Thessalonians 1:6). His word is always true (Psalm 33:4, John 17:17). He is good.
Man fell in the Garden because he failed to believe this simple truth. Adam and Eve distrusted what God had told them. As they disbelieved His word, they also disbelieved an even more basic truth: that God is good.
The most disastrous result was not condemning rebellion or physical punishment, but loss of intimacy with the Father.
If you know that you know that you know that God is good in a general sense, then you know that the intentions of His heart toward you are good. His goodness seeps into your relationship with Him, steeping all your interactions with trust and openness.
Let's go back once again to my oft-cited favorite verses in 1 John 1:3-4.
...that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. And we are writing these things so that our joy may be complete.
The whole aim of all that they had seen and heard--everything Jesus did, including His crucifixion and resurrection--was to bring us into fellowship with the Father, Jesus, and the church. The chief object was open, pure relationship, which produces joy.
John goes on: This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all. If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin. If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.
This paragraph seems roundabout and repetitive, but I think John is trying very hard to express how good God is and how much we can trust Him with our hearts--even hearts that are sinful. He is not condemning sinners, but rather encouraging them to approach the light and be cleansed, because we have a Father who is good. God's intentions toward us are always good, so He doesn't hurt those who come to Him and confess their problems. He is just to forgive our sins, because Jesus has already paid the price for them; it would be unjust for Him to still hold us accountable.
In short, true, transformative change comes into our lives when we are honest with God about our sin and problems, when we give Him permission to come inside of us with His light, expose what needs exposing, and heal whatever He wants.
It's relatively easy to trust God with your eternity; billions of people around the world have done it. It gets harder to tell Him we'll trust Him with our daily circumstances on earth. It is even harder to give things up for the sake of following Him, and then even harder when we actually begin to follow Him by serving and sharing the gospel.
I think the hardest thing, though, is coming to the Father and offering yourself--your very being--without knowing the end result. It's saying, "I trust you to come inside of me and do your redemptive, healing work wherever you need to. Make me into the person You imagined, not who I can imagine."
It's one thing to trust Him with our stuff, even our lives; but it's quite another to trust Him with our pain, our sin, our shame, and our wounds, the parts of our very selves that are so deep and dark that even we don't want to go there.
I think the only way we can do this is to know that He is good. We have to trust that what He does in us won't hurt us, but will redeem and restore us.
We can see the Father's heart in Jesus' fervent prayer for us, recorded in John 17.
"Holy Father," He implored, "keep thm in your name, which you have given me, that they may be one, even as we are one...that they may have my joy fulfilled in themselves" (17:11 and 13).
And we are writing these things so that our joy may be complete (1 John 1:4).
He is light, and in Him is no darkness at all. There is no chance anything dark can get us while we are in His presence. Know that today. He is asking us to go deeper into intimacy with Him. The thought can be scary, but the result is joy.
Saturday, December 6, 2014
He is Good
I write to you, children, because you know the Father. I write to you, fathers, because you know him who is from the beginning. I write to you, young men, because you are strong, and the word of God abides in you, and you have overcome the evil one.--1 John 13-14
Much of the time, the things we think about ourselves are not what God thinks of us. As humans, we tend to construct our identities based what we can or can't do, how we fail, what we don't like about ourselves, what we wish were different about our circumstances, or bad things that have happened to us in the past. Our identities become this baklava made of a complex construction layers and filling, but instead of being crispy and delicious, they are grievous and hard to swallow.
Strip all of that stuff away, because the ONLY thing that matters about you is that God is ABSOLUTELY good, and this being who can do no evil loves you with an incorruptible love.
Taste and see that the Lord is good (Psalm 34:8).
Let me repeat: God is good, and the only thing that matters is that you are loved by Him.
A lot has happened since I last wrote almost a month ago. I have moved to a new state, started a new job, and seen the provision of God in the smallest of details during the transition. I have only been here a week, but He has made my path very clear down to the barest of details. I have stepped into blessings I did not ask for, blessings I couldn't have anticipated.
But one of the most important things that happened this month is that I really started to get it: my identity is that He loves me.
If you've read some of my past blog posts, you know that perfectionism and self-condemnation has been a struggle of mine. My natural tendency is to focus on what I have failed to acheive. When it comes to certain disciplines and weaknesses, I expect to disappoint myself.
Before I moved, I made several trips to Texas for interviews, housing searches, and general survey of the promised land. During one of these visits, my best good friend came with me, and she and I sat in the car to read the Bible outside of our lunch destination. (They have Chipotle here!!!! So exciting!) We were reading 1 John.
...that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. And we are writing these things so that our joy may be complete (1:4).
John continues with a verse I've often quoted: This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all.
God is completely good and pure. He has lived with the Son in perfect, pure intimacy since the beginning of time. And He wants to have that intimacy with us, so that His joy and our joy may be complete.
We overcomplicate this so much in our human hearts.
As I sat there in the parking lot discussing how good the Father is, I started to share with my friend about the layers of my own identity that I don't like. I have often felt like I don't seek Him enough or love Him enough, and that I've been resistant to His ways. I started to tell her about the ways I feel disappointed in myself and frustrated with my own spiritual imperfection.
Here I was, being blessed with a new place to live in a new season of life, and I was considering the ways I fail and don't deserve to be blessed. I think people on the outside often see me much more accurately than I see myself, because they can see that my heart is with His heart. But my mind is a complicated place, and it is constantly over-analyzing every thought and feeling.
My friend responded by telling me who God sees when He looks at me: His beloved child, whom He can't wait to bless. He sees someone who has not been resistant to His love, but rather an active seeker of His presence.
I started to cry. (In a parking lot...awkward, I know.) But my tears were not tears of frustration. Rather, they were tears of relief.
There is an incredible relief in realizing that my identity as a believer is not based on who I think I am, but what He thinks of me. My identity isn't based on anything having to do with me at all, really--it's only based on who He is.
And He is perfect and good. His love is complete light--absolutely without any negative intention or thought. It is so incredibly simple, yet so powerful that it crucified sin and defeated death for the sake of the beloved.
The beloved is YOU.
He has one expectation of us: that we receive His love.
Ironically, I think that is the thing we fail most at as Christians, and it is the thing that matters most to His heart. As we struggle to succeed in so many areas of morality and service, we neglect the one thing He treasures the most: our ability to accept His love.
I want to ask you today what my friend asked me: What are the ways in which you think you are inadequate?
And then: Why does that matter?
Go back to the list of Christian identifiers in 1 John 2:12-14. There are only three verbs in this description: you know (the Father and His Word), you are (forgiven), and you have overcome. That's past tense. The evil one has been overcome, not because of what you did, but because of what you know and believe.
Our identity is that we are loved by a perfect God. That's it. There is nothing else.
Know and believe that today. Strip away the layers of lies and abide in the simple, pure light of an identity of love.
You might have to cry in a restaurant parking lot. But believe me, the realization is worth it.
Much of the time, the things we think about ourselves are not what God thinks of us. As humans, we tend to construct our identities based what we can or can't do, how we fail, what we don't like about ourselves, what we wish were different about our circumstances, or bad things that have happened to us in the past. Our identities become this baklava made of a complex construction layers and filling, but instead of being crispy and delicious, they are grievous and hard to swallow.
Strip all of that stuff away, because the ONLY thing that matters about you is that God is ABSOLUTELY good, and this being who can do no evil loves you with an incorruptible love.
Taste and see that the Lord is good (Psalm 34:8).
Let me repeat: God is good, and the only thing that matters is that you are loved by Him.
A lot has happened since I last wrote almost a month ago. I have moved to a new state, started a new job, and seen the provision of God in the smallest of details during the transition. I have only been here a week, but He has made my path very clear down to the barest of details. I have stepped into blessings I did not ask for, blessings I couldn't have anticipated.
But one of the most important things that happened this month is that I really started to get it: my identity is that He loves me.
If you've read some of my past blog posts, you know that perfectionism and self-condemnation has been a struggle of mine. My natural tendency is to focus on what I have failed to acheive. When it comes to certain disciplines and weaknesses, I expect to disappoint myself.
Before I moved, I made several trips to Texas for interviews, housing searches, and general survey of the promised land. During one of these visits, my best good friend came with me, and she and I sat in the car to read the Bible outside of our lunch destination. (They have Chipotle here!!!! So exciting!) We were reading 1 John.
...that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. And we are writing these things so that our joy may be complete (1:4).
John continues with a verse I've often quoted: This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all.
God is completely good and pure. He has lived with the Son in perfect, pure intimacy since the beginning of time. And He wants to have that intimacy with us, so that His joy and our joy may be complete.
We overcomplicate this so much in our human hearts.
As I sat there in the parking lot discussing how good the Father is, I started to share with my friend about the layers of my own identity that I don't like. I have often felt like I don't seek Him enough or love Him enough, and that I've been resistant to His ways. I started to tell her about the ways I feel disappointed in myself and frustrated with my own spiritual imperfection.
Here I was, being blessed with a new place to live in a new season of life, and I was considering the ways I fail and don't deserve to be blessed. I think people on the outside often see me much more accurately than I see myself, because they can see that my heart is with His heart. But my mind is a complicated place, and it is constantly over-analyzing every thought and feeling.
My friend responded by telling me who God sees when He looks at me: His beloved child, whom He can't wait to bless. He sees someone who has not been resistant to His love, but rather an active seeker of His presence.
I started to cry. (In a parking lot...awkward, I know.) But my tears were not tears of frustration. Rather, they were tears of relief.
There is an incredible relief in realizing that my identity as a believer is not based on who I think I am, but what He thinks of me. My identity isn't based on anything having to do with me at all, really--it's only based on who He is.
And He is perfect and good. His love is complete light--absolutely without any negative intention or thought. It is so incredibly simple, yet so powerful that it crucified sin and defeated death for the sake of the beloved.
The beloved is YOU.
He has one expectation of us: that we receive His love.
Ironically, I think that is the thing we fail most at as Christians, and it is the thing that matters most to His heart. As we struggle to succeed in so many areas of morality and service, we neglect the one thing He treasures the most: our ability to accept His love.
I want to ask you today what my friend asked me: What are the ways in which you think you are inadequate?
And then: Why does that matter?
Go back to the list of Christian identifiers in 1 John 2:12-14. There are only three verbs in this description: you know (the Father and His Word), you are (forgiven), and you have overcome. That's past tense. The evil one has been overcome, not because of what you did, but because of what you know and believe.
Our identity is that we are loved by a perfect God. That's it. There is nothing else.
Know and believe that today. Strip away the layers of lies and abide in the simple, pure light of an identity of love.
You might have to cry in a restaurant parking lot. But believe me, the realization is worth it.
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