Baby Daddy: A Christmas Revelation

He went away from there and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. And on the Sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astonished, saying, "Where did this man get these things? What is the wisdom given to him? How are such mighty works done by his hands? Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon? And are not his sisters here with us?" And they took offense at him.--Mark 6:1-3

And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.--Luke 2:6-7

I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. Yet a little while and the world will see me no more, but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live. In that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you.--John 14:18-20

"Is this not the son of Mary?" That question would have hung in the air like an accusation. Everyone knew (or thought they knew) that Jesus was illegitimate. Where did he get off, doing miracles in the name of God? How dare he--a despised orphan, a fatherless castaway--go around telling them he knew THE Father of creation. What's more--that he was His own son.

Didn't he know who his mother was? The people of Jesus' hometown didn't give Him a family name. They called Him by the world's epithets: unloved, rejected, unclaimed, insane, futureless.

That's because they hadn't been there thirty years earlier in a stable in Bethlehem where a baby was wrapped up and placed in a manger. They didn't know what the shepherds knew: that angels sang when Jesus was born because He was the only person in all of creation since Adam to NOT be born an orphan.

When I was a little girl, I was fascinated with the figure of the baby Jesus in our manger scene. I would take it and study it every Christmas. I would let my sister put in the other figures, but I had to place the baby Jesus in his rightful place, between Mary and Joseph, where the motionless shepherds and wise men could stare blankly at him from their porcelain faces. Something felt right in that ritual, physically placing the baby where he was supposed to be. Even then, I was intrigued by the mystery of the baby Jesus.

The Bible says that Jesus is the "second Adam" (1 Corinthians 15:45). But Adam was created a full-grown man; why did Jesus have to be a baby? Why couldn't He just descend to earth in a pod like Superman, or emerge an adult from a seashell like in that story about Aphrodite? I can tell you one thing, it would've made a pretty dramatic impact if He had washed up on the shore of the Sea of Galilee as a full-grown man and said to the fishermen, "Hey, follow me."

Superman and Aphrodite aren't real (sorry, comics fans), but Jesus is. And He was born in the same way all of us are. (I'll spare you the details.) What's more, He was born into a stable, surrounded by smelly animals and probably a lot of other people, who were likely talking about the suspicious and inconvenient circumstances of this birth.

We can imagine that "all of the fullness of the Diety dwells bodily" in the full-grown figure of Jesus (Colossians 2:9). But imagine all of that goodness and purity and power in a baby. Probably no more than six or seven pounds--just a baby, too little to talk, too helpless to do much more than cry and sleep.

Yes, the body of the man Jesus on the cross reveals impactfully His humility. But this is a fresh revelation for me this Christmas: the figure of the baby Jesus gives humility a sweetness and touches a chord somewhere even deeper in our hearts.

That's because if there is a baby, there is a father. Even the people of Nazareth knew that. A full-grown man can try to make it on his own. But a baby represents the existence of someone with ability and authority who will raise this helpless little being from infant to adult. A baby represents the presence of a patriarch who will make this tiny, seemingly useless human into an heir based on nothing but the testimony of blood.

Sadly, in our world, there are too many babies whose fathers are not present. But that doesn't change the fact that the fathers exist. You cannot create a baby without a father. It is impossible.

So the miracle was not as much that a virgin conceived without a father, but that there was a father, and the father was God himself.

If you think it's weird, you're not the only one. I'm sure Mary thought it was weird more than anybody.

Children are precious to God. They are so precious that He allowed His son to become one of them--helpless, weak, having done nothing yet to deserve accolade or fame--and then put on a concert of angels singing, "This is my Son; in Him I am well pleased." When Jesus was too little to defend Himself, too little to throw a punch, too little to talk, even too little to walk, His Father protected Him from Herod's wrath. His Father carefully chose earthly parents to take care of Him. According to Jewish law, His Father gave Him His own name and an inheritance. And the inheritance was His own Spirit, His own image, His own words, which brought light to an orphaned people and adopted them as children of God.

You see, the Nazarites thought that Jesus was fatherless and abandoned, a nobody; but just the opposite was true. He was the first baby born who had a heavenly Father. And He was born that way so that we could have a heavenly Father, too.

Very few of us can identify with the brutality Jesus experienced on the cross, but all of us can identify with a baby. We are all babies. It is important for us to come to the cross and realize that He became our sin. But it is also important for us to come to the stable and realize that He came as a son. He was a son first.

Jesus had to be born so that He could be the "firstborn among many brothers" (Romans 8:29): the first of a new family of people who would never be orphans again. When the devil points at us and says, "You're an orphan!", Jesus points to the angels who sang in a starry sky the night He was born and says, "No, we are fathered. We are loved."

The angel choirs are singing for you, too.

Merry Christmas!

Sing to God, sing praises to his name; lift up a song to him who rides through the deserts; his name is the Lord; exult before him! Father of the fatherless and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation. God settles the solitary in a home...--Psalm 68:4-6

Amazing Grace

I know I haven't written in a while. October and November are kind of make-or-break months for new teachers, and writing got pushed to the back corner as I attempted to survive. I made it to Thanksgiving break, though! And there's no other reason for my survival than the very title of this post. 

So here I am popping up again to tell you about grace.

You see, I've been struggling with grace because it is difficult for me to grant grace to myself. As I panicked and fought through my second six weeks of teaching, I started to recognize thought patterns of unforgiveness and hatred toward me. Coworkers even commented on my self-hating speech. I was crying out for help. 

Of course, this affected the way I saw the kids. When I was short-tempered with me, I was short-tempered with them. When I was meditating on God's love toward me, I was overflowing with love for my students.

It seems obvious, right? But this internal vacillation between gripe and grace is pretty normal in a fallen world. Too often, we look at ourselves with our own eyes rather than His. We make our failures huge and His grace very small. I think the reason we do this is because we don't really understand grace. 

I know that biblical "grace" means "unmerited favor"--not only that God does not destroy us because of our sin, but that He goes above and beyond to extend favor and authority and blessing to people who utterly, truly do not deserve it. It goes beyond merciful salvation and into the promises of abundance in God's kingdom. Mercy would be a parent holding back his hand before he slaps a misbehaving child; grace is the same hand being extended for a hug or a present to the same little brat. 

Most people would consider that to be bad parenting. However, the same people would also say that a Toddlers in Tiaras mom or a super-competitive sports dad demanding perfection from his or her child is also a bad parent. (Yet that's what they expect from God, who has been a dad for waaaaayyy longer than they could imagine...like since the beginning of time.) Grace does not deflect natural consequences for bad behavior, but it does allow the irrevocable right to join the family of God for eternity. It's not sterile, bureaucratic police authority; it's flesh-and-blood parental authority. It's an adoption sealed in blood that legally transfers the rights of a Son onto the adopted party, regardless of how sinful or weak that person is. 

So I had the scholarly definition down, but that didn't change how I was condemning myself every day for being imperfect at work as well as in my personal life. Basically, I was my own psycho stage mom. Nothing was good enough for me. So because I was struggling with the concept of grace, I asked the greatest Teacher of all what He wanted me to know about it. 

I am still listening, but I wanted to share what He told me so far.

Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. --Philippians 2:4-11

Talk about the totality of authority. EVERY knee shall bow, and EVERY tongue shall confess His name. But the aim of this passage isn't Christ's authority. It's about the servitude, humility, and obedience of Jesus--which are made that much more unbelievable because He had so much authority. 

Obedience, servitude, humility, and sacrifice are not words that we like to talk about in our Bible studies. But Jesus reminded me of them the other day when I asked. These qualities bear the nature and character of grace. 

God Himself came to earth and served us, even to the point of a humiliating and excruciating death. 

He told me to think about when He washed the disciples' feet, which seemed pretty random until I really read it and thought about it. (It's in John 13 if you want to check it out.)

Jesus told Peter, "What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand." (Story of my life.) They didn't get it. They were thinking in the world's economy. Jesus was greater, therefore He should have his feet washed, not them. Peter cried, "You shall never wash my feet." (Save the drama for your mama, bro.)

Or, as John the Baptist put it, "I am not worthy to untie His sandal." It seems like, initially, Jesus couldn't win with these guys: John wouldn't dunk Him in water, and Peter wouldn't let Him dunk his feet in water. Nobody was willing to get wet. Both were submitting to a worldly ideology: honor should be surrendered to the more honorable party.

Right?

But that is not the attitude of grace. Grace says that the greater shall serve the lesser. (Ever read about Jacob and Esau?) Grace is a powerful person with legal authority surrendering his rights to serve someone who has no power and no authority. God's grace extends even beyond that. In His death on the cross, He surrendered His rights as a son and heir. In His resurrection, He got them back--and conferred them to you and me. It was the greatest act of service of all time.

Wipe your brains off the wall, because I know your head just exploded. 

Jesus told Peter, "If I do not wash you, you have no share with me." He meant, "If I don't serve you, you cannot receive my grace. If you cannot receive my grace, you cannot come into my kingdom."

In other words, serving others isn't true obedient service if you think that you're a piece of junk. True service involves sacrifice. People who think they are a piece of junk have no problem serving because they already think they are less than other people anyway. They're not sacrificing anything. In fact, they're just confirming a negative identity they already believe in. But a gracious person knows who he is and what authority he holds, and he serves anyway. 

Once again....#mindblown.

The Person of Grace--Jesus Christ--knew He was the Son of God. He never had a doubt about it. But He chose to wash feet and die on a cross for people who were beyond undeserving. It seems ridiculous in the world's economy. Not only was it the greatest act of service of all time, it was the greatest sacrifice of all time.

And that gets me to the main point.

If service is the action of unconditional love, grace is the attitude of unconditional love. Grace chooses to honor those who are considered less worthy of honor. In fact, grace delights to honor outcasts, rejected orphans, failures, screw-ups, those lacking in every refinement, the dirty, the broken, the weak, people with snot coming out of their noses and mean words coming out of their mouths.

What's more....

It's trite but true: you can't give what you can't receive. If you're in Peter's position, proclaiming that Jesus will NEVER EVER NOT IN A MILLION YEARS wash your feet, you have no part in His kingdom. His gracious sacrifice is what gave YOU the right to enter as a son or daughter.

When He washed His disciples' feet, Jesus said, "For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you." He went on to say, "Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever receives the one I send receives me, and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me." There seems to be a lot of reception there, as well as a commandment (reiterated by Jesus throughout the gospels) to serve one another. The only way to truly serve others is with an attitude of grace. And you can't have an attitude of grace if you can't receive His grace toward you.

You know why? Because His grace--His greatest act of service--conferred upon you the rights and authority that He has. And if you cannot receive that service, you cannot receive that new identity as "Son" or "Daughter," heir of power and authority in the kingdom of God. And if you can't accept that honored position, you cannot choose to step down from honor and become a servant. If you believe yourself to be un-honorable, your service means nothing. Your service and sacrifice are only as valuable as you are. 

So my self-condemnation and stage mom antics are not only a slap in the face to Jesus' sacrifice of service, they're a direct insult to the attitude of His heart and the nature of His person. 

I'm still trying to grasp it. All I know is, I have been honored with the commission to serve children--the class of people most often rejected and discounted by the world, those considered the most helpless and least deserving of favor. In the world's economy, children are a burden or annoyance, if they're not outright disgusting. The world says they are valuable not for what they are, but for what they could be. Grace says that what they are is worthy of honor. 

I think God compares us to children for a reason.

If I show my kids honor by serving them, putting them before myself (even though many times their behavior makes them completely undeserving), I am acting with an attitude of grace. And that's one way that, like Jesus, I can look just like my Dad.

Sacrifice and service both start with grace. While sacrifice and service are in your hands, grace is in your heart.

I'll close with this: that yes, grace is an attitude that motivates action. But grace is also a person.  Grace and truth came through Jesus Christ (John 1:17). If you want to know grace, just ask Him who He is.

Suitcases

When I pack for a trip, I pay less attention to organization and more to volume--that is, fitting as much stuff as is humanly possible in my suitcase. As a result, I often cannot find the thing I'm looking for when I arrive at my destination. I make sure to pack for every possible situation short of extraterrestrial abduction, but I end up unprepared because I don't put everything in a place where I can find it.

What's more, I'm usually too lazy to pack it all back up every day, which means that my clothes end up all over the floor of the room where I'm staying. It just takes too much effort to take all of the junk I've crammed in my suitcase and repack it once I dig it out. My hotel room ends up looking like a fashion excavation site. Red tape is needed. Some of you are cringing right now and thinking to yourselves, "I will NEVER travel with her!" I don't blame you. As Paul would say, your condemnation is just.

The fact is, as a traveler, I usually think I'm overprepared because I've packed everything I can think of, but I end up unable to use the helpful things I've brought because I've packed them up with a bunch of useless junk. I'm confused and frazzled because I haven't taken the time to organize my suitcase.

I wonder if my heart doesn't look the same way.

I'm a passionate person with a wild imagination. God made me that way on purpose. He made no mistake and no second guesses. But that also means that my mind and heart can run away with me. Rabbit trails of thought entangle with fleshly emotions to create a monster. Most of the thoughts are worries or daydreams. They center on the future--an alternate reality future of worst case scenarios and crazy fantasy plot lines at the same time. These thoughts burrow deep into my heart, creating moods that are just off the wall, kitten-with-a-string excited or soul-crushingly anxious. My mind manipulates my emotions until both look like my overflowing suitcase, bursting with wrinkled thoughts and feelings that I think I need. In reality, they're just a tripping hazard or distraction at best. At worst, they're destructive to my relationships with others because they are spilling out into their lives, and they are burying the things I really need.

Worries, daydreams, and over packing have one thing in common: they are all born of a desire for control.

I know I don't have to tell you that basically none of the things I worry or dream about have ever actually happened. That's a lot of brain energy to waste. Yet I continue to think of them over and over because, for some crazy reason, it makes me feel like thinking about them somehow gives me control. And desire for control is just fear; and fear is distrust of God. The whole thing is a cycle of selfishness.

"Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you must also forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony" (Colossians 3:12-14).

It's really not that complicated. But sometimes I can't find these things to put them on because they're buried under a pile of selfishness.

Earlier this week, while I was driving, the Holy Spirit abruptly but very gently told me that I am very selfish in my thoughts. I like to retreat to a kind of enchanted Willy Wonka chocolate factory in my thoughts and emotions, a place where I am in charge. This place is especially appetizing when I feel like I've failed or haven't met some (imaginary) standard I've created for myself. This place is all about me because it nurses my wounded pride and doesn't allow my thoughts to center on anyone but me--not the people around me, certainly, and definitely not the Lord.

Jesus gave us one command, y'all. ONE: "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you" (John 15:12).

And again, 1 John reiterates: "Beloved, I am writing to you no new commandment, but an old commandment that you had from the beginning. The old commandment is the word you have heard. At the same time, it is a new commandment that I am writing to you, which is true in him and in you, because the darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining. Whoever says he is in the light but hates his brother is still in darkness. Whoever loves his brother abides in the light, and in him there is no cause for stumbling" (2:7-10).

There's no stumbling for a guy like that because his stuff is picked up off the floor.

When my thoughts are about me and my future, they're overwhelmingly complex, convoluted, and emotion-inducing. When they're about Jesus, they're often at the same time about selflessness toward others, and they hold for me a respite much sweeter and eternal than the pleasures of the chocolate factory.

If I'm being honest, I haven't often experienced this respite because I'm too worried about cramming all my thoughts in my mind like socks in a suitcase. But today, as I was praying about getting freedom from my mind, I saw a picture of the Lord gently picking up a suitcase...and then dumping it completely out, giving it a good few shakes to get the things wedged in the corners out of there. Ouch.

You're probably thinking about how you pack. One of my friends is the most efficient packer I have ever met. She can roll things up, wedge them in shoes, and basically fit your whole house in a two by two bag. It's amazing. She's like Mary Poppins.

But at the same time, this friend has had problems her life with efficiently overpacking her heart--and then zipping it shut.

Maybe she is free from a lot of that now, but her story reminds me of another way our hearts are like suitcases: when we are through packing them with unnecessary comforts, we close them and fasten them shut. We want to carry around our issues and insecurities, always coming back to baggage claim to pick them up no matter how heavy or ugly they are. We are even proud of how organized we are, how much we can fit in a small space.

And then they explode in our hotel room just like mine always does: overflowing, not with good things, but with distraction, futility, and regret. They affect our relationships with others--the one and only thing Jesus commanded us to protect.

I'm not getting down on myself here, because I know that this is a process. We all have struggled with packing our suitcases wrongly. It's time to simplify and do what Jesus commanded the 72:

"Carry no moneybag, no knapsack, no sandals, and greet no one on the road" (Luke 10:4).

In other words, leave the baggage behind. You don't have time.

It's not easy to let God turn your heart and mind over and dump them out; but it sure makes your journey lighter. And the best thing is, in Jesus, you don't have to struggle to pack all your insecurities into your bag. Instead, He gives you a completely new bag--one big enough to hold Himself. Then He fills it with His love.

And it's ok--it's even His desire, in fact--for that to run over, onto the hotel floor, out into the streets, and into the whole world.

"And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:19).

That goes for shampoo, underwear, and all the acceptance and love you long to hold in your heart.

Put Your Shoes On

I haven't written in more than a month! But I forgive myself because I have been writing....assignments, lesson plans, emails, flashcards, etc. etc. etc. The first month of teaching has been a blur of up-and-down feelings and constant motion.

But it has also been a time of God working in my life. Naturally--He is always up to something, and He uses every ounce of what you experience in the natural to weave a tapestry of His purpose in your heart. He doesn't waste a drop.

Stressed at the enormity of the task of teaching first grade, I was reading Ephesians this morning. Ephesians is my go-to book for realigning my perspective and purpose.

Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace.--Ephesians 6:14-15

I could go on and on about the various parts of the whole armor of God, but I want to concentrate on the shoes. Think about your morning routine. Probably the last thing you put on is shoes. You put them on right before you step out the door. They are the last part of the armor, the part that signals, "Ok, now I'm ready to go." They represent, as the verse above tells us, readiness.

But the Bible doesn't say that they are shoes to "kick the devil's face in," "trip the enemy," or "run and chase them down, shank 'em in the kidney, and stomp on their heads." (Which, to be totally honest, is more my style.)

According to this verse, the shoes that make you ready are made of peace. 

What an odd word in the midst of a passage about armor and warfare.

Furthermore, these shoes are not for making you run but for making you stand--a strange thing to do when the enemy is coming at you. It would seem far more logical to either charge back at them or run away.

I think I've been running a lot lately--either toward my perceived problems or away from them. Running is an action. It is born from the belief that it is up to me to "do something." When I'm faced with an impossible task, I avoid it like the plague, or I charge into it full-force. Like, if there were a physical representation of the fight, it would look like me running full-speed into a brick wall and pushing with all my might, OR running in terror in the opposite direction. If you know me, you know that the running-into-a-brick-wall with stubborn "I can do this!!!" resolve is my most common go-to response; but both reactions look like ME doing something to preserve MYSELF, conquering in my own strength or retreating. The problem with me making those choices is that, either way, I'm going to collapse in exhaustion eventually and then be so stressed out that I can't even sleep.

This may or may not be a cycle in my current lifestyle.

I've heard people say, "God will never give you more than you can bear." Frankly, I think that's total BS (excuse my letter-cursing). He will most definitely give you more than you can bear, because He never intended for you to bear it in the first place. He has intended all along for you to stand in those ready shoes of peace while He fights the battle. If you think you have even one ounce of strength to do something for Him, then you're just lying to yourself. What He's called us to do is so much bigger than people can do.

Ironically, yes, we do have to make a choice to participate, and we do work harder for Him than we would for an earthly master. But when grace is flowing through the whole thing, it doesn't feel that way.

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.--Matthew 11:28-30

If you're anxious, it's because you think you're the one responsible for getting the job done. You're taking out your little sword and running at your tasks with all your might. And that's a dangerous place to be. I know, because I am speaking from that place. That place will break you. The yoke of the world is too heavy.

If your shoulders feel burdened today, like things are piling on and piling on without stopping, then you need to take a look at your feet. You're probably barefoot.

You need to put on the readiness of the gospel of peace. This peace isn't some kitschy word-decal for your wall, or an ambiguous term we use to sing Christmas songs. Joe's Crab Shack doesn't have a copyright on it. This peace belongs to one person: Jesus Christ. And if you are found in Him, you have this peace at the ready.

This peace is knowing that your future is sealed up and that you belong to the Creator of the universe (Romans 1:6, 2 Corinthians 1:22). It's the peace of knowing that nothing can go wrong for you, no matter what (Romans 8:28). It's peace that comes from the undeniable love of a Father that anesthetizes and obliterates fear (1 John 4:16-18). It's the peace of eternity. It's not escapism; in fact, it's tapping into divine reality, which supersedes anything you experience in the world.

If you have your whole armor on but no shoes, you might as well go home. You can't leave your feet--the part of your body designed for standing--unprotected in the heat of the battle.

So if you're running today with no shoes, give your torn and bleeding feet a rest. Cut some time away from your duties and get into the warm, inviting foot bath of the Word of God. Don't condemn yourself for not being able to "cut it," because your flesh feet were never meant to stand against the spiritual forces of darkness. You weren't designed to beat your body against a brick wall...or a mountain, if you will. (Trust me, my bruised-up body knows.)

Frankly, your opinion of yourself doesn't really matter, so you might as well not even waste your time thinking about your inadequacies or measuring your abilities. It bears no relevance whether you think you're enough, because He is enough.

And knowing that is a treasure that no one on earth can give you.

And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.--Philippians 4:7

In the Belly of the Whale

Recently, the Lord prompted me to read Jonah again, so I did. It's not that long, and you could read it yourself right now in less than ten minutes. A lot of Sunday school teachers have turned it into a funny little tale with cutesy cartoon whales; and on the surface it seems like a story of rebellion and punishment. But that's not what these four little chapters are about.

It is about a man who had an earthly focus where God was dreaming much bigger. It is about a man who could not stop the wonderful plans God had for him, no matter how hard he tried to stay in his own comfort zone.

If you've ever struggled with selfishness or been motivated by your own comfort, this post's for you!

You know the story: God tells Jonah to go and tell the city of Nineveh to repent of their evil deeds, but Jonah refuses and runs the opposite direction, jumping on a ship to Tarshish, "away from the presence of the Lord" (1:3). This man was not just ignoring God, but intentionally and proactively running away from Him.

Before you judge Jonah, think about the times in which he was living. Ancient people were not concerned for social justice or world peace. Life, to them, was short, painful, and cheap. They didn't hesitate to kill people. Which was probably exactly what the Ninevites were doing. Imagine every kind of abuse that can be done to the innocent, and you probably have a pretty accurate picture of Ninevite culture.

So of course Jonah didn't want to go to a violent city and tell them they should "repent or be destroyed." He was picturing a less-than-receptive audience...rotten tomatoes would have been the least of it. But God is good: so He was concerned for innocent lives in Nineveh. And so, as Jonah fled the Lord, his ship was thrown into a violent storm.

The Bible says that Jonah's travel mates found him sleeping in the middle of the storm.

So the captain came and said to him, "What do you mean, you sleeper? Arise, call out to your god! Perhaps the god will give a thought to us, that we may not perish." And they said to one another, "Come, let us cast lots, that we may know on whose account this evil has come upon us." So they cast lots, and the lot fell on Jonah. Then they said to him, "Tell us on whose account this evil has come upon us. What is your occupation? And where do you come from? What is your country? And of what people are you?" And he said to them, "I am a Hebrew, and I fear the Lord, the God of heaven, who made the sea and the dry land." Then the men were exceedingly afraid and said to him, "What is this that you have done!" For the men knew that he was fleeing from the presence of the Lord, because he had told them (1:6-10).

Jonah (revealing his flair for the dramatic) instructs the men to throw him overboard to appease God and calm the storm. This alone shows a wrong attitude of God. Jonah believes that God demands his life as sacrifice because of his disobedience. Hear this, New Covenant believers: God does demand your life. But, like Jonah, you don't give your life as a waste, a final death, a punishment for disobedience; you give your life to follow a greater plan that God has designed for you. You trade it for something so much better than your comfort and earthly perspective.

The Bible says that the storm immediately calmed when Jonah was tossed overboard, but I believe that was not because God was "appeased", but because He wanted to protect Jonah. He is not an emotionally volatile God who flies off the handle when His children disobey Him; rather, He "hedges up their way" (Hosea 2:6) to prevent them from hurting themselves. (Kind of like a baby gate.) And so the sea calmed, and God sent a "big fish" (whale, whatever) to swallow Jonah--not to punish Jonah, but to save his life.

Remember, it was Jonah's idea to get into the boat in the first place, and Jonah's idea to be thrown overboard. God's only motivation throughout the whole story is to keep Jonah going in the direction He has appointed--His plan A for Jonah's life. If He hadn't appointed a whale to swallow him, Jonah would have drowned.

There's not really much else to do when you're stuck inside the stomach of a large animal except pray, which is what Jonah does. Funny enough, he doesn't really repent for running away, but he does thank God for his life. I think his biggest revelation inside the belly of the whale was this: that God is the designer of his path, and even his own attempts at suicide were not going to thwart God's plan.

How long does it take us to realize that? Usually we have to have a "whale experience," something that submerges us in our own helplessness. There was a transformation in Jonah's relationship with God in this moment. In the belly of the whale, Jonah finally came to grips with the fact that he wasn't wise enough or strong enough to run his own life. He declared, "Salvation belongs to the Lord!" (2:9). At last, he trusted the Lord with his physical life.

But his story wasn't over. After the whale vomited Jonah up, the Lord told him a second time to go to Nineveh.

Anyone who has ever struggled with a bad attitude or rebellion against authority can probably imagine the language that came to Jonah's mind in that moment. "Are you serious, God??" Because being in the belly of a whale is no joke. According to stories about modern-day people who have actually survived it, the experience leaves you hairless, your skin bleached white by stomach acid, your eyes more than likely damaged, and your sanity lost.

Jonah probably thought, after his disobedience and the physical side effects, he was in no shape to go and preach to the people.

How many times do we feel the same way? That we're not good enough, not strong enough, to do what God has asked because of our failures or sins?

Yet that's exactly the place where God wanted Jonah. As he walked into the city, declaring the wrath of God, people probably stared at him like he was a zombie, because that's what he looked like. His own disobedience had paved the way for their belief. His testimony was a sign.

Again, we know the story: the people repented, and God didn't destroy them. But still the story is not over. Because Jonah (naturally emotionally disturbed at this point) is angry that God doesn't destroy Nineveh. After all, he has just made a fool of himself, walking around, bald and bleached, declaring destruction. So he sits down to "see what would become of the city" (4:5). I can just feel his attitude at this point: "I'm just gonna sit my butt right here and wait for you to destroy this city!"--hoping against hope that God would do it, even though he knew He wouldn't.

What an earthly attitude. How many times do we want to see others fall in order to feel better about our own failures? In spite of everything, Jonah still wasn't getting it.

Jonah says to God, "Therefore now, O Lord, please take my life from me, for it is better for me to die than to live." And the Lord said, "Do you do well to be angry?" (4:3-4).

That question always hits me hard, because I can sometimes be dramatic like Jonah when my own earthly plans aren't fulfilled. I find myself having a terrible attitude. Nothing can please me. I complain about everything. And meanwhile God is asking, "Do you do well to be angry?"

Jonah apparently didn't learn his lesson well enough in the belly of the whale, because he gets even more dramatic. Even if he now understands that his death is under the control of God, he's still concerned about physical comfort while he's alive. To be fair, his body was probably not in the greatest shape. Even so, he was very happy when "the Lord God appointed a plant and made it come up over [him], that it might be a shade over his head, to save him from his discomfort" (4:6).

God doesn't want us to be in physical pain or anything. We have physical needs, and He cares for those. But I think sometimes we (especially in the Western world) become so consumed with our physical comfort that it controls every decision we make. When we start living our lives that way, there isn't much room for God to work, because our first concern is looking out for #1, not God's magnificent plans of cosmic awesomeness.

Well, to add insult to injury (at least in Jonah's mind), God destroys the plant, leaving Jonah to sit (where he has chosen to sit, mind you) in the sun.

"Do you do well to be angry for the plant?" God asks Jonah (4:9). "Yes, I do well to be angry, angry enough to die," Jonah replies.

Whoah, cool it, drama queen. Jonah is full of brazen, teenage punk sass, but God has the last word.

"You pity the plant, for which you did not labor, nor did you make it grow, which came into being in a night and perished in a night. And should not I pity Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than 120,000 persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and also much cattle?" (4:10-11)

That question ends the book of Jonah: why shouldn't God have mercy on people, whom He created and loves, people who don't understand that they are in sin? And if Jonah cares for the insignificant plant, why shouldn't he look outside himself to care about the things of God's heart? Jonah has no reply, apparently. There is no more to the book after that question mark. And I think there's a reason for that. God leaves us to answer that question: If you care for the insignificance of your own comfort, why do you not care for the greater plans that God has for the world?

God would never have sent Jonah to Nineveh if He didn't want to spare the city. Why do we believe that God is so ready to destroy us for disobedience, but reluctant to save and redeem?

Isn't the wisdom of God a wonder? Because I seem to recall another man who slept in the bottom of a boat during a storm; a man who woke and calmed the sea with only the sound of His voice. That man also willingly sacrificed his life to save others; but unlike Jonah, Jesus redeemed the whole world. Jonah was sleeping in the relief of fleeing (or so he believed) the presence of God, but Jesus slept because He lived in the presence of God and trusted Him with his life.

And by the way, Jesus spent three days in a dark, scary, torturous place, too--and He came out the victor. Jonah exalted himself and was made humble; Jesus humbled Himself and was exalted.

And that's the lesson of Jonah. God does not destroy; He redeems. Take heart in that promise.

Sacrifice, Part Two

I want to talk to you about New Testament sacrifice.

Yes, I know that I just published a post declaring that all that sacrifice stuff was over. Jesus died as sin so that, in Him, our flesh and hearts and spirits could be made new and pure as well. But if you are reading this, you are still living on earth. And I think we'd all agree that, while our spirits have been made completely right before God in Christ, earth is still a nasty, nasty place, because "we do not yet see everything in subjection to him" (Hebrews 2:8).

As I said in my last post, because Jesus died and rose again, it is now unnecessary for anyone to die either spiritually or physically (aka resurrection bodies and heaven). But people still do. That is the reason for the Great Commission. That is the reason we don't immediately go to heaven when we become believers: so that, living this resurrection life, we may attract the broken, hurting, and dying and bring them to new life on earth and in heaven.

You can believe in Jesus and go to heaven when you die without much change on earth. You can assent to the deity of Jesus without submitting your daily life to Him. But that's half the gospel. And these days we have a Bride who has been deceived into believing that half of the cross is enough.

The fact is, you can live in as much spiritual death as you want. You can keep your mind full of worldly thoughts; you can refuse to address internal issues that cause sin; you can persist in negative, untrue beliefs. You can remain in fear.

As Paul addressed the Galatians: "You are no longer a slave, but a son" (4:7). But God will not force freedom on you if you don't want it. You can wander in the desert for 40 years if that's what you prefer. But I'm telling you there's a promised land that has already been bought by the blood of Jesus and paid for with His body, and it's got your name on it.

Jesus told an over-zealous Peter, "The one who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet, but is completely clean" (John 13:10). Your spirit is completely clean if you are in Christ, and you're going to heaven. But if you want to reach a dying world with the "readiness given by the gospel of peace" as shoes for your feet (Ephesians 6:15), you have to wash them daily in the Word of God...that is, Jesus Christ and His truth. His sacrifice.

This leads me back to the sacrifice thing. Jesus was the once-for-all offering that killed sin forever. But the dust of sin's zombie corpse still clings to our feet because we live on earth. It whispers lies: that we are not good enough, that bad things will happen to us, that we will be tossed about in the world's whims. Sin--ours an other people's--argues with the Word of God in our lives. And even though we are a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17) and not of this world (John 17:16), we often believe these lies over the promises of God.

Like any good zombie, sin inspires fear. Fear is like one of those Old Testament sacrificial lambs coming back from the dead, creeping around your house bleating, "I'm baaa-aaack!"

Gross.

Not to be graphic, but part of New Testament sacrifice is laying your own unbelief and fear on the altar every day and cutting its throat. When that offering is burned in the spiritual realm, it gives off a pleasing aroma to God.

For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be the glory forever. Amen. I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.--Romans 11:36-12:2

Paul is addressing the Romans here. If you recall, the Romans were the ones who nailed Jesus to the cross. They understood the cost of sacrifice.

Whoever separated the Bible into chapters divided these verses, but I think they are better read back-to-back. I think you can't understand 12:1 without reading 11:36. From him and through him and to him are all things. ALL THINGS. That means EVERYTHING that you are. The totality of this statement should make the lines following it hit you with greater gravity: present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.

We tend to think about these verses in terms of sacrificing your "body" by abstaining from sin, or becoming a martyr, or whatever thousands of other ways that law-oriented preachers have parsed it out. I support keeping your body from sin, definitely, and sacrificing your time, money, and talents to the church; and my personal opinion is that martyrdom is an honor. But I think these verses go deeper. Yes, living sacrifice is something much different from martyrdom.

A while back, I tried to explain "sacrifice" to a group of ESL fourth-graders who were unfamiliar with the word. After a lengthy discussion with many examples, they concluded that sacrifice is "giving up something you want for someone else." That's an over-simplification, but it rings true.

Sacrifice is submission to the Word of God in the face of the world's scare tactics. Why? Because it costs us something.

I think that, often, we want our fear. We believe that if we give up control of our lives to God, He won't come through for us. We still think we can manage things ourselves. We think all the weight of responsibility is on us. So we hold on to our anxiety, as if worrying about something or over-thinking it gives us control. (FYI: it doesn't. Not any more than unicorns can fly in the sky.)

So to lay fear and anxiety on the altar of God every day is sometimes the hardest thing we can do because it means releasing control. And that requires humility.

I think this kind of sacrifice applies to anything--pet sins, unforgiveness, hoping in romantic relationships over Christ, etc. But I am addressing anxiety specifically because it is personal.

I have been struggling with many worries as my first year of teaching approaches. I was also struggling with a negative attitude. To be honest, my internal emo negativity is simply a by-product of pride, because in my human heart I believe I deserve to be in control of my life and that, of course, everything should be easy-peasy lemon squeezy for me (to put it in elementary terms).

But I decided that I was tired of being in an anxious state. I also concluded that my bad attitude was really a killjoy for the positive, bubblelicious woman God created me to be. I had a choice whether to accept the lies of fear and pride or to BURN THEM. Well, y'all know I can be a spiritual pyro. So I took the fear of disappointment, failure, along with my nasty bad attitude and every other zombie in my heart's closet, and burned them on the altar before God.

You can't imagine the relief I felt and the joyful intimacy with God that was born from submission to Him in these areas. Now that I'm gaining freedom, He is showing me more and more of who I am and what He can do in my life. I can't go back now. If the lies try to come back, I'll just put them back up there, fire up the blowtorch of the Father's love, and give them what they deserve as a criminal against the daughter of the King.

I think this type of sacrifice is what God really wants. Everyone struggles with anxiety and pride, but the beautiful news is that, as believers, we have the power to renew our minds every single day by completely rejecting the lies of darkness in the light of His promises.

Present your bodies holy and acceptable, Paul instructs us. The action word here is not "make your bodies holy and acceptable," but rather present. Because of Jesus, we already are holy and acceptable; it's our daily submission to that truth that makes a clean presentation. According to these verses, if we even want to know what is acceptable and good and perfect, we have to renew our minds to the truth.

The truth is Jesus Christ and His sacrifice. The truth is God's perfect love for you.

I challenge you to examine your heart to find areas of fear or negativity, then submit those areas to God in humility and intimacy. He will come through with fire from heaven to burn up the sacrifice.

Sacrifice, Part One

For since the law has but a shadow of the good things to come instead of the true form of these realities, it can never, by the same sacrifices that are continually offered every year, make perfect those who draw near.--Hebrews 10:1

A major act of worship for Old Testament Jews was sacrifice. They could not enter the temple without presenting a sacrifice for sin. This sin offering opened the door for Jews to commune with God in the more holy parts of the temple. (You can read Leviticus if you want to know all the specifications and gory details.)

We don't sacrifice animals anymore, but just imagine what it might have been like. (Sorry to all you animal lovers out there.) Imagine leading your lamb, the one that you had herded and protected from its birth, up to an altar, laying your hand on its head as a symbolic imputation of sin, and watching its throat slit for your impurities and transgressions.

To most suburban Westerners, this practice probably seems at best weird and at worst cruel, barbaric, and primitive. To a non-animal lover like me (again, sorry), it just seems nasty and troublesome. Can you imagine the sacrifices of thousands of animals burning on altars? I mean, just think about how much blood that would be. There were probably some serious smells happening in the temple courts, and none of them were pleasant. Even though the priests' methods were relatively humane (and the animals were probably going to be slaughtered and eaten eventually anyway), sacrifice is not a pretty picture.

The question you're probably asking yourself about now is, "Why would God require such a strange and bloody thing?"

So....think about all the genocides, murders, child abuse, forced labor, sex trafficking, broken relationships, oppression, cruelty, disease, disasters, hopelessness, depression, uncertainty, anxiety, failure, addiction--the unfathomable horror of our world. (As if you weren't already appalled at the animal sacrifice thing.) Consider all that chaos and terror for just a moment.

Then consider a God who is the exact opposite of all of that. Imagine a being who "is light, and in him is no darkness at all" (1 John 1:5). No dark spot in Him at all--not one atom of cruelty, not one thought of hate.

It's hard for us to imagine one so perfect in love, goodness, justice, and purity. But since we're human, we are all too familiar with sin and its consequences. We understand pain. So we can perhaps grasp the goodness of God by thinking of it as a direct contrast to everything we know.

If one so perfect does exist, it would be impossible for someone like me or you--someone who has been exposed to and has participated in the imperfection of the world--to enter His presence without first becoming clean from impurities.

For us to become clean, sin has to die.

That was what the animal sacrifice was for: to symbolically slaughter the sins of the people. Devout Jews saw this process repeatedly over the course of their lives until sacrifice became inseparable from their existence and their identity: God is good. You are not. Someone has to die. Over and over again. Were you a jerk to your neighbor? Kill a goat! Did you drop a hammer on your foot and utter a curse? So long, pet doves. You can try to be perfect next week...but I wouldn't count on that bull making it to his next birthday. The Jews became defined by the hopelessness of how imperfect they were in comparison to God.

Have you ever felt like a failure? Have you ever felt hopeless?

I want to introduce you to my friend, Jesus.

You see, the reason for all the animal sacrifice was to remind the Jews that they could never achieve perfection on their own. It was to show them that they needed a permanent sacrifice. Animals are sinless because they can't make decisions, like we do. They don't have a sense of right and wrong or a deep sense of love. (Again, sorry animal lovers...I know your dog loves you, but I promise your mother, wife, friend loves you in a deeper way.) In order to take care of our problems once and for all, we needed a sinless human.

I want you to think about Jesus on the cross. There are many graphic descriptions of crucifixion you can find if you really want to know the details. I think every believer needs to understand what Jesus went through on the cross, not so that we may be condemned, but so that we may be convinced of our holiness through the perfection of His sacrifice.

Think about the animals being slaughtered. Then think about the perfection of God in contrast to the horrors of the world. Then think this: God sacrificed Himself.

I'm not trying to be morbid. (Network TV now provides a great selection of morbidity if that's what you're after.) I'm just telling the truth. It's amazing to me how many Christians try to worship without recognizing the cross. His death is our life.

And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God (Ephesians 5:2).

When he said above, "You have neither desired nor taken pleasure in sacrifices and offerings and burnt offerings and sin offerings" (these are offered according to the law), then he added, "Behold, I have come to do your will." He abolishes the first in order to establish the second. And by that will we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all (Hebrews 10:8-10).

It's hard for us to wrap our minds around sacrifice, especially literal sacrifice. As we see above, God doesn't really enjoy it either--especially not when He was the object of sacrifice Himself. Not really a fun-in-the-sun Kodak moment for Jesus. But sacrifice is a requirement that God must impose because He is perfectly good. His nature demands purity.

I could write a whole book about God's holiness, the symbolic nature of offering, and why sacrifice is required to approach Him. If you want to talk about that, send me an email. (Or better yet, read The Attributes of God by A.W. Tozer.) For the purposes of keeping this blog post shorter than War and Peace, I'm just going to wrap it up with thoughts about why Jesus said "It is finished" on the cross.

Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God (2 Corinthians 5:21).

Jesus not only bore our sin, He became our sin. When He died, sin died. All the sin in us--past, present, future--died.  The God-man who had never known separation from the perfect goodness of God, who was completely unfamiliar with the horrors I described earlier in this post, had to become the horror. Try to wrap your mind around that.

Sin--all the horror of the world--was separating a perfect Father from His wounded, terrorized children. For a time He was content for it to be slaughtered in the flesh of bulls and sheep. But one beautiful day, He took sin and violently destroyed it once and for all, flogging it, piercing it, and nailing it to a cross in the form of the flesh of...Himself.

We may never really understand this glorious exchange in this earthly life. It's a mystery that should leave us humbled.

All the sin in us was placed on that cross. It became unnecessary, from that moment on, for anyone to die for sin. Goats, bulls, lambs, doves never had to die again, and we don't either. Jesus died--and in Him, so did we.

But that's not all. The greater news is this: Jesus rose from the dead--and in Him, so did we. We live a new reality, one infused with hope and success and freedom.

And that's what I want to talk about in my next post. Stay tuned.

Gimme that Gospel

I have been listening to gospel music lately. (If you haven't made a Israel Houghton Pandora station, DO IT.) Even non-Christians listen to gospel because of it is so exciting and moving. You can call it emotionalism or whatever you want, but the fact is that, if it's done right by people who really have a heart of worship, gospel music brings a spirit of joy that can be felt even by people who don't know the Lord.

If you know me, which most of you do, you know that I spent a lot of time in graduate school studying American slavery. (Why I would pick such a depressing subject to specialize in, I don't know.) It occurred to me this week that one of the reasons gospel music is so moving is because it is a genre created by people who understood the meaning of freedom. Even during the restrictive and horrific times of Jim Crow laws and government-approved African-American oppression, gospel music was a way for a disadvantaged people group to find purpose. It was a constructive outlet for intense emotions. In addition to that--and this is the reason I've been listening to it this week--gospel music is appealing because it communicates dogged resilience and stubborn perseverance. It's laughing in the face of oppression; it's flagrant rebellion against the lies of a relentless enemy; it's running out in front of an oncoming army and screaming like a madman with the kind of boldness even William Wallace would admire.

Honestly, it's borderline ballistic. But the reason there is an under-melody of joy in gospel music is because it is sung from a position of victory. It is sung by people who have stepped into the light of freedom from a place of intense bondage. They know what slavery is, and they are NOT going back.

Christians of all backgrounds: this is our story.

"For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, 'Abba! Father!'"-- Romans 8:15

We were all captivated and held hostage by sin until Jesus came and liberated us (Isaiah 61:1). As people who are free, we should be unstoppable, walking in the authority of sons and daughters. We have the keys to Dad's house in our pockets.

But I think that many of us (well, all of us at some point) think like the Israelites after they were liberated from Egypt.

"'...I will bring you into the land that I swore to give to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob. I will give it to you for a possession. I am the Lord.' Moses spoke thus to the people of Israel, but they did not listen to Moses, because of their broken spirit and harsh slavery."--Exodus 6:8-9

All human beings are born into slavery. We are all born into a culture, an onslaught of mindsets, a fallen world that breaks spirits until we submit to slavery. Gospel music emphasizes freedom from slave mentalities that color every thought and action of our daily lives. I think that's why it touches even unbelievers: because they, too, have experienced slavery.

Jesus wore a crown of thorns so that your slave mentality could be redeemed. But sadly, we as Christians are often more content to wander in the wilderness, with a victim mentality and without an identity, eating manna the rest of our lives, than enter the promised land. We've been so brainwashed by the slave master that we can't conceive of a victory that has already been won.

How many of you know: if you're in Christ, you are more than a conqueror simply based on His victory (Romans 8:37). If you still see yourself as a slave or victim, it's in your mind.

I'm not knocking anybody for this, because this week has been an exercise in breaking every thought that comes from fear. I asked the Lord to give me discernment about thoughts that move me deeply, lead me down rabbit trails in my mind, or influence my behavior. If they are thoughts that come from slavery, from fear, they get thrown on a bonfire. If they are a thought from or about Jesus, they get to stay.

There really are only those two choices for any thought in my mind that is deeper than what I'll eat for breakfast or brushing my teeth. Jesus or fear. I'm not over-analyzing every thought (Lord knows I've had enough analyzation)--I've asked for divine discernment from the Spirit of God. And He shows me the origin of the thought before I finish thinking it. It's that simple: keep it or burn it, and go on your merry way. It's so incredibly freeing that it makes me want to sing gospel music from my rooftop.

God created me (and you) to be fearless. This is a kind of fearlessness beyond "having fear and continuing anyway." It's kingdom boldness. It is to literally be without fear in everything because the love of God casts out every consideration but Himself (1 John 4:18). Slaves are afraid; followers of Christ are without fear. I want that so badly. But I can't embrace that identity if I'm agreeing with and submitting to the slave master of fear.

It's not easy to submit your thought life to God. To be honest, I've been holding onto it all this time because--like a true slave--I felt like it was the one thing I could control. But in reality, it was controlling me. In my thoughts, fear was able to creep in and influence my behavior. Worse, it was hijacking my identity, because I hoarded my mind and didn't allow God in. The enemy was able to accuse me of the very things I was afraid to be accused of.

It takes good friends to remind you that broken spirit and harsh slavery are not your identity. Fear is not your identity. It took several people in my life (as resistant as I am) to remind me that I don't have to let fear influence my thought patterns. A good friend (or sibling...thanks, little bro) will tell you, "Your thoughts are, like, ridiculous psycho. Better look at what's motivating that. Hello, you're not a slave."

There were actually slaves after the Civil War who weren't aware that they were free because they were so isolated. They continued to submit to a life of slavery just because no one told them the good news.

I'm telling you today. Jesus has already freed you. The only weapon the devil has is to convince you that you're still a slave. Ask for discernment of your thoughts, because Jesus will surely break every chain in His name.

Genie in a Bottle

I am in a season of what we who speak Christianese call "pruning." It is also referred to as "the winepress." In regular people talk, it's called, "OUCH."

If you want true transformation, if you want to become who He designed you to be, it usually means spiritual heart surgery. The world has influenced our minds with its abuse and ideas. He removes those things to make room for His endless, perfect love: the only thing in the universe that offers us unconditional security and hope.

Through His Holy Spirit (and only through Him), God has brought me such a long way, and freed me from so many wounds and issues that I didn't even know were there, which is awesome. It's just that the process sometimes feels heavy...or like someone is giving you a shot in your soul...a shot with a really long, fat needle that burns and makes you want to slap the nurse. You feel SO MUCH BETTER when it's over, and it doesn't even last that long, but the whole time it's happening, you're screaming, "This is not what I signed up for!" You come in for a lovely little checkup, and you end up having a procedure for a problem you didn't know you had.

Have I made my point clear? God gets rid of the cancer that is killing us. He heals those emotional wounds and the prideful mentalities and the false hopes, replacing them all with the eternal goodness of Himself. But boy is it a rattling process sometimes.

I realized recently that, due to years of of-and-on pruning seasons (and one too many dramatic, taking-yourself-too-seriously worship songs), I tend to think of Holy Spirit as the cosmic killjoy of the Trinity, the mean nurse with all the shots. This is the picture in my head: Jesus is leaping around doing backflips on His white horse and yelling, "I'm King of the Universe!" and Holy Spirit is standing nearby with a scowl like Felix Unger, shaking His head and saying, "Tsk, tsk, Jesus...there is really no need for all these shenanigans. The are people are messed up and MUST be FIXED if I am expected to live inside them. What a dirty job, but...(sigh) someone has to do it. Since you and Daddy are having too much fun, I guess it will have to be me."

I know this sounds ridiculous. When I realized it this week, I was like, "Wait a second....that's not what the Bible says."

I've been re-reading Romans 8, and it's been coming at me from every sermon I've heard over the past week or two, so I guess there's a reason for that. I won't retype the whole thing here, but I think you should go read it for yourself.

To set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace (v. 6).

Life and peace. Not stress, hopelessness, and punk alternative music.

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom (2 Corinthians 3:17).

What if we really believed that? God Himself--Jesus and the Father--are the Spirit. He's not some awkward third-party body guard, silent and moody, waiting to kick people in the rear end. Nor is He God's enslaved minion, like the Genie from Aladdin, a special friend who just grants selfish wishes whenever we snap our fingers. He's not an afterthought to the Trinity. He is THE Spirit of GOD, with all of God's personality and goodness. And He is Jesus' greatest gift to us, and actually a better part of God to have around even than Jesus in the flesh, because He can live inside of us. Jesus said so Himself (John 16:7).

And Paul goes even further.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control....(Galatians 5:22).

If we work to obtain these things ourselves, we simply can't do it. Yes, you can be successful for a time at managing your behavior....But it's not really about the behavior. If you don't address the root issue that causes unhealthy behaviors, or adopt the right thinking that causes the good behaviors, sin is always going to be a challenge, and you're always going to be fighting it.

But what does Romans say the Spirit brings?...Oh yeah, peace.

So although the pruning process is painful, it's way less painful than spending your life fighting against your own wounds and then internalizing victimization as your identity. This goes WAY deeper, but if you want a great example of "failure to heal," you could just read Judges. It's the story of people recognizing right and wrong, then trying to live up to a moral code without addressing the issues that caused their hearts to want to sin in the first place. They always failed, which resulted in such disasters as people poking out one another's eyeballs, stabbing obese kings to death, and cutting up their own concubines...oh yeah, and then mailing the body parts to different people.....Folks got issues.

"Royal fail" doesn't begin to describe humanity in so many of our failings. But it's really not our fault that we're messed up. I think that when we go through seasons of pruning, we tend to think we're defective. The light of God shines on us (Ephesians 5:13), we see our faults, and we think, "Gosh, how can He ever use me? I'm a hot mess." We even sometimes feel hopeless, like there is no way we will ever overcome these issues, sins, negative thoughts, wrong beliefs.

And let me assure you: we won't. Thanks be to God: it's not up to us, because we can't do it. That's like asking a 2-year-old to perform brain surgery. Even if they were smart enough, they don't have the fine motor skills to even pick up the utensils.

But Holy Spirit does.

And His ultimate goal is not to condemn us or make us feel down on ourselves. He convicts the world of sin, but He convicts God's people of who they are (John 16:8). He doesn't "discipline" us like earthly fathers, who get angry and spank without explanation (Hebrews 12...just read the whole chapter). Rather, God disciples us through His Holy Spirit, leading gently and healing and comforting through Holy Spirit in a way only He can do.

Basically, Holy Spirit doesn't have ulterior motives to crush followers of Jesus into submission to God. He has one aim: to make the love of God known to the world through Jesus Christ. When that love enters, sure, it prunes some things; but it's only clearing things out of the way so we can experience the JOY of knowing the love of the Father through Jesus Christ. 

Holy Spirit isn't some mysterious, creepy old sorcerer. He is not a grumpy old man. He is not some floating, enigmatic mist, either. He has a personality. He is actually God Himself coming to live within us. He is deep and rich and sometimes, well, weird. (I mean, regeneration of limbs and being raised from the dead is kind of strange....and these things do happen in the world today. Holy Spirit is working.) He can seem mysterious. However, relationship with Him is really not that complicated. He comes to bring simplicity to our walk with the Lord by revealing the heart of the Father through the Son. And when we get the epitomal revelation that the Father loves us, and in that is our whole identity, we're relieved, filled not with emo songs about rejection and failure, but with joyful songs of worship. (Sorry, Death Cab.)

If you're in a time of pruning, great! God is just de-complicating your spirit to make room for His joy.

From now on, I will picture Holy Spirit smiling and laughing, full of life and the realest kind of love there is.

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light (1 Peter 2:9).

It's a Bird...It's a Plane.....

For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.--Ephesians 2:8-10

Every kid wants to be a superhero. If you work with kids, like me, it's a topic that comes up quite a bit...especially during times when the students are supposed to be talking about letters and numbers, not movies and comic books.

So I am reminded often of my favorite superhero, Spider-Man. I've wondered before why he is my favorite, but I think it's because Peter Parker is so relatable. He's just a dumb kid from a poor area of town with no social skills and no future (at least in the Tobey Maguire movie version--I am uneducated about the comic books or the more recent films). He's smart, but a lot of good it's doing him...he struggles even to make conversation. He even has a selfish, scared, revengeful heart that causes him to let a burglar get away...and he loses his Uncle Ben because of his own mistake. 

Peter Parker is a loser with a capital L. I mean, really: this kid's got NOTHING. 

Nothing except a radioactive spider bite that changes his life.

I think that when Marvel published the comic books about Spider-Man, they didn't realize that, in some unorthodox way, they were telling the Christian story.

For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men. For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. He is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, whom God made our wisdom and our righteousness and sanctification and redemption (1 Corinthians 1:22-30).

That's a hefty chunk of scripture, but what it's saying is that God is so wise that even his "foolishness" (something that looks foolish to the world--the entire message of grace and redemption through Jesus) is way wiser than what we can come up with. 

If you feel today that you are an idiot, unaccomplished, lowly, exhausted, worthless, unable to do anything for God: great!! I mean, we'll work on your self-esteem...but when you're at a place of surrender like that, knowing that what God has commissioned us to do is way harder than you could ever accomplish, you're at a wonderful place, because that's just where God can use you. 

I mean, think about it: Jesus didn't say "Go out and make converts, beating people in the head with a Bible and telling them to get saved or go to hell." That's actually pretty easy.All you'd have to do is go into the streets, knock a few people around, and go home and eat a hamburger and watch TV, feeling good about yourself for what you've "done for God." 

But what Jesus actually said was, "Go out into the world and make disciples" (Matthew 28:16-20). That means having real relationship with people--even people we in our Pharisee mindsets find dirty. It means listening to them, holding them, teaching them, cleaning their wounds, praying for them, and authentically caring about them, sharing our hearts with them as He does and loving them even if they reject and kill you. That's hard stuff. If you think you can accomplish that without the Holy Spirit, you have a rude awakening coming. And, not to be a jerk, but if you think you can do that in your own strength, chances are you're not actually doing it. You've probably skipped straight to the eating a hamburger and feeling smug about yourself part. 

It's the truth. And I'm preaching to myself more than anyone.

But thanks be to God, because He humbles us enough to get us out of our own way and lead us to the fulfilling life of ministry He designed from the first.

Think about Batman. He had some SERIOUS childhood issues. He needed therapy. But instead, he adopted a savior complex, built a cool car, hired a genius butler, and tried to redeem his own issues. Sure, he was smart, could learn any number of languages, probably had 25 graduate degrees, and could probably beat even Karate Kid to a pulp. But all of that didn't heal his pain. It did nothing to redeem him. At the end of the day, Batman is just a guy wearing a weird black mask and missing what was stolen from him in his childhood.

Meanwhile, Peter Parker is daydreaming about really cool Batman-esque cars when he accidentally shoots some web out of his wrist and exclaims, "Hey, I didn't know I could do that!" 

We are all inept in our human strength, no matter how great and awesome and talented and mysteriously charming we are. The cross brings us to this life-altering revelation. But that's not all. Jesus didn't just die: He was raised from the dead. And the same Spirit that raised Him from the dead lives in YOU, Spirit-filled believer (Romans 8:11). When you start walking in that revelation, you discover powers you didn't know you had...and, haphazardly, probably clumsily, but definitely with eternal effects, you start living the Great Commission.

Like Batman, I was a scholar, an intellectual, someone who often didn't stop to listen to the Holy Spirit because, obviously, I already knew exactly what to do. God had to show me more and more that being a snotty little hipster was basically as weird as dressing up in a black skin-tight outfit and trying to save the world by myself. I'm not getting down on myself here; God gave me tremendous talents and skills. I am very blessed. But it tends to be the talented of us who put the most pressure on ourselves. It tends to be the over-achievers who invest most of our identity in what we can do. I want you to experience this relief today: it's not about you. It's all about Jesus.

While my own talents can accomplish a lot in the world, and even make a few people's lives better, they can't bring them the deep, personal, intimate healing, joy, and love that God wants to give everyone. Without Him, I can't bring freedom to a lost and dying world. I'm just a person with a savior complex who needs therapy.

When I look at myself from an eternal, cosmic perspective, I look a lot like Peter Parker: I got nothing...just a lot of pride and maybe some photography skills. I'm really glad the saving of the world doesn't depend on me, because, frankly, the world would have no hope. Instead, we have an eternal hope: Jesus Christ...who, by the way, already saved the world and probably looked way better (and less creepy) than Batman doing it.

Jesus said, "Turn and become like children." Children want to be superheros. They dream of great things, and they know they can't get there by themselves. Like them, we need a radioactive spider bite from Holy Spirit. And what a beautiful, tremendous relief it is to discover that, in the consistency and perfection of God, NOTHING depends on your skill, wisdom, intellect, beauty, or ability to build really cool cars. It all depends on Him, so just go for what He's telling you to do. Even if you're imperfect, He's still going to make it happen, because He is perfect.

I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted (Job 42:2).

It's the great joke of the gospel: God is so awesome that He can make even a talking donkey (Numbers 22) or rocks accomplish His purposes (Luke 19:40). His foolishness is wiser than men.

But He doesn't use rocks. He can do what He wants in spite of us, but He desires to do it with us. That's the gospel.

If you're talented, great. But don't put so much pressure on yourself to achieve, because that only leads to paralyzing fear, anxiety, and failure. Only when you realize it's not up to you will you start walking in the boldness He's called you to--and you will really change the world.

I don't normally read the Message, since it's such a paraphrase translation, but I like how it gives life to Matthew 11:28-30. So that's the thought I want to leave with you, the sweet, relieving invitation of Jesus:

"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me--watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."

For an over-achiever like me, this is good news. Happy web-slinging, folks.

Half-Full? That doesn't sound like the gospel to me....

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.--Psalm 23:5

Can you imagine a soldier going out on the very front of the battle lines, sitting down at a banquet table, humming as he ties on one of those Red Lobster bibs, and eating a scrumptious meal as if nothing were going on? Think about the faces of the enemy as they march toward him. They would probably look at each other like, "What does this guy think he's doing?"

With God, that's basically what we get to do. This verse doesn't say, "God shows me a place to cower and hide from my big meany-britches enemies until they go away." It says that He prepares a table (read: the most DELICIOUS heavenly buffet EVER), even when the enemy is prowling around.

Eat that, devil.

I think our "enemies" are often not physical people that want to chop our heads off, like they were in King David's day. I think, for us in the Western world at least, "enemies" are far more insidious, and they want to do to us spiritually what King Saul wanted to do to David: spear us to a wall....or at least cripple or maim us.

Unfortunately, they are often successful.

I'm talking about fear and an earth-bound mentality.

If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.--Colossians 3:1-3

Things that are above. Why did Paul have to write this twice? Because, although these Christians were born-again in their spirits, their minds were still concerned about their earthly lives.

I don't want you to quit your job and spend three weeks on your face in prayer. (I mean, unless God tells you to. In that case, right on, brother.) We're not meant to go around like zombies, only thinking about roses and clouds and bumping into door frames. It was Paul who said, "If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat" (2 Thessalonians 3:10). But we're also not meant to treat work as a treadmill, an endless task, believing that WE are the ones providing for ourselves--that our earthly comforts depend completely on us. We are not meant to be afraid of earthly tasks--afraid to do them, or afraid not to do them.

I think what this verse from Colossians means is this, Stop worrying about yourself and thinking too far into the future about your physical needs. By the same token, stop over-spiritualizing every earthly detail of your life. Just work together with His energy, remembering who you are and from whom your provision comes. 

You CAN accomplish your tasks in this earthly life--just do it to the rhythms of my grace, knowing that this isn't the end or the object. Your earthly life is a mist (James 4:14). Stop being afraid of a future that isn't here. Have confidence in your Redeemer. Remember that you're a son or daughter of the King, and your treasure is with Him.

It's the biblical equivalent of James Earl Jones's voice in The Lion King: "Remember, Simbaaaa....remember who you are...." (Speaking of over-spiritualizing earthly things....) I mean, as soon as Simba realized his identity, he was empowered to take back the kingdom. Because it really wasn't about his uncle or who was in charge of the pridelands--that was earthly stuff. It was about his relationship with his father, and realizing that he was royalty. (I KNOW my Disney references bear witness with some of y'all in your spirit...don't even lie!)

I tend to err on the side of over-working rather than under-working, fearing that if I don't "get ahead" financially (as if I can foresee what my expenses will be), I will "fall behind" (whatever that means). At the same time, I also sometimes become paralyzed when faced with earthly choices (as meaningful as jobs or as insignificant as ordering at a restaurant) because I fear making a "wrong choice" and suffering regret. I have consistently over-thought decisions I have had to make. The conflict between indecision and overworking is what causes pretty much every kind of stress I have felt in my life. I'm being real. I know y'all are following me.

This week, God has ordered me specifically to rest and not work. (And, to emphasize the point, He removed whatever work schedule I could have had...He knows me too well.) This is hard for me, because Earthly Mentality #1 (WORK WORK WORK) started pounding in my head. Earthly Mentality #2 (THINK THINK THINK) decided to join the party as well. The result was mild depression, a symptom of fear.

But, as I have obeyed and spent much time in prayer and worship, I learned some things about the heart of the Father. It's only Wednesday, and already I have had two unexpected work opportunities open up for me for greater financial blessing and experience. Not only that, but I've had several ministry opportunities, which I've been able to take advantage of due to my open schedule.

Basically, He is working it out better than I could have with all my planning, strategizing, scheming, or worrying.

Over and over again, He has to say to me, "Relax, honey. I promise you, I got this. You're going to like my plan way better than yours."

The pivotal truth is this: we are in Christ. There is no need to be concerned about earthly things. Be responsible for them, and live your life, but don't allow fear of them--of not doing it right, of not having enough, of failure--keep you from accomplishing things in the spiritual realm.

I think sometimes we fear making a "wrong decision," so we make no decision. We do nothing. We become paralyzed by fear, too concerned about our earthly lives to break free from them, or even to live them at all. We either run around like crazy hamsters on wheels, or we sit down and play video games all day. We go around trying to find out if the glass is half-empty or half-full, trying to create in ourselves a "good attitude" or to convince ourselves that our bad attitude is prophetic, a signal of negative things to come.

But people who created that metaphor are all wrong when it comes to Christians. We don't see the glass as half-full OR half-empty. Our attitudes aren't limited by what the world sees. We are seated with Christ in heavenly places (Ephesians 2:6), which makes for a pretty good view. We know our work in the world is important, but it's nothing compared with eternity. We don't rely on ourselves for understanding, like people of the earth, anxiously peering into the glass and measuring drop by drop.

We don't have to try to overcome our "bad attitudes" or to manufacture some kind of "good attitude"--we have a God attitude. Our way of thinking  is genetic. It comes from our Father.

We can have perfect peace when the whole world is in chaos, because we get something they don't. We understand that the cup isn't the object. The Living Water is....and our cup overflows. Half-full or half-empty isn't really a question.

You have no reason to fear. God has set a five-course banquet and fancy silverware before you in the presence of your fears, because they're only smoke screens and lies. You are a child of the King. Eat up. And drink up, too, because your supply will never run out.

"If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, 'Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.'"--Jesus (John 7:37-38)

Don't Burn the Onions

"I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted."--Job 42:2

Onions need to be cooked at a low temperature, because if you get your skillet too hot, you're going to burn the butter and blacken the onions. You will end up with a sizzling mess.

But I have a bad habit when it comes to cooking onions. Impatience, twenty-first-century addiction to instant gratification, and simple hunger kick in. I end up turning the temperature high because I want my onions to cook faster. As a result, instead of perfectly tender onion strips, I end up with pieces that are black on one side and raw on the other. This makes for a meal that is ready faster but is not nearly as appetizing as one that is timed properly.

Just like I have a hunger for dinner, I have a strong hunger for full-time ministry. (This blog is going to speak to those of you who have the same desire.) I want the bing bang boom of the Christian life: moving to a third-world country, adopting some orphans, picking out people's lice, praying for the sick, casting out demons--everything. I have a wild imagination. I want to do the stuff that other people say I'm crazy for doing. I want the fire! I want the kind of life people want to read books about....you know, books like Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. I'm into the epic stuff, the Acts life, the sell-all-you-have-and-follow-me directive. (At least, this is what I tell people.)

I'm a pretty extreme person. Any onion I've ever cooked can testify to that. (Can I get a witness?? ...Nope, they're all burned to a crisp.)

I wanna get to it. Sometimes my everyday American life (Texas style) seems to have about as much flavor as a saltine cracker compared to the Asian buffet adventures I dream up for myself. I can get restless and impatient--even though moving here and teaching elementary school were steps of faith, pretty extreme. In fact, they were exactly what God told me to do.

I was half-mindedly contemplating all of this while cooking dinner recently. As I struggled impatiently to watch slow onions cook, I considered turning them up. But God said to me, Stop. Don't burn the onions.

Just as it takes the perfect amount of time and temperature to cook onions to the perfect consistency, so it takes just the right conditions for God's plan for me to come to pass in the way He intends. He's the cook, not me. He knows just how to spice, just how to stir, just how much time He needs to get it just right. It's not that I'm a smelly, belligerent, raw onion; it's just that the big plan is much more intricate than I can imagine and involves way more people than I would choose to involve in my onion-burning impatience. Since He created me, He knows perfectly how to prepare my life.

While He cooks, the table must be set. Other dishes must be prepared, other ingredients chopped, other pots boiled. If I neglect to do those things and concentrate only on the onions, I will end up with nothing for dinner but burnt onions.

See what I mean?

I know it's a cheesy metaphor, but I think you're tracking with me.

What's more, if you rush His process trying to get to your big dream, you miss the amazing gifts He has placed in your path.

Picture a wife on date night with her husband. She knows they're going to her favorite restaurant, because he's already told her. She can't stop thinking about that big, juicy steak that she knows is waiting for her. So she throws aside the chocolates, the little notes left all over the house, the conversation in the car, the whole movie he brings her to watch (which she asked to see in the first place). She completely ignores her husband, in fact, because she wants to eat steak.

Getting the picture? The husband doesn't care as much about the steak as he does about spending time with his bride.

Like I say, I know all this sounds pretty cheesy, and I don't like sounding cheesy. I am not trying to give you prescribed answers to fix your spiritual problems. I know firsthand: waiting is HARD, especially if what you're waiting for is something you've been promised by God Himself, something you know is so wonderful and so amazing and beyond your wildest dreams because, after all, He does for us beyond what we could ask, think, or even imagine (Ephesians 3:20). It's easy for restlessness to kick in. Restlessness breeds impatience; and impatience, resentment.

That's a dangerous combo, people...hot enough to scorch any meal the Celestial Chef is trying to prepare.

Not that you can really ruin His plan for your life anyway. But you can make it way less fun than He intended for it to be for you.

I don't mean we shouldn't contend for those big ministry dreams we have. We should definitely ask for and pursue them. Actually, I believe we should hold on to those dreams, because they're already happening. We should remember that God is a right now God. In His eyes, the ministry is already around you right now. Don't forget to set the table because you're so ready to eat. Don't neglect to stop and pray for a stranger, feed the orphans, be faithful at work, train your tongue, forgive your family member, serve at church, wash someone's feet, because you are "waiting" for "big ministry" to happen.

You're called. Don't make excuses for not doing what is right in front of you. If you don't do small things now, you'll probably wimp out about big things later. (I may already know about this from experience, so don't think I'm condemning you.)

But also remember that you can relax and rest easy, because the One who does the ministry isn't you. Not only is ministry being done through you, it is being done on you, like, at the same time!

For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them (Ephesians 2:10).

He prepares everything for the meal beforehand, then cooks it for you. Don't forsake a single morsel of the feast prepared for you by a God who cares more about the details and the big picture than you do. Believe me, if He promised it, He will do it.

Onions really don't take that long to cook, anyway.