Freedom

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,

                because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor;

he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,

                to proclaim liberty to the captives,

and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;

                to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor….

                                --Isaiah 61:1-2

Let’s talk about freedom.

Freedom is, ultimately, what Jesus came to give us. He said so Himself, when He unrolled the scroll in the temple and read the verse above. He just stood up, read it, told them it was fulfilled in Him, and sat down again like it was no big deal (Luke 4:18).

But of course it was a big deal. This was the verse Jesus chose to use to reveal His identity. He could have used any verse he wanted—all the scriptures predicting the messiah were about Him. But He wanted to make it clear: I have come to set the captives free.

What does that mean?

Let it be known to you therefore, brothers, that through this man forgiveness of sins is proclaimed to you, and by him everyone who believes is freed from everything from which you could not be freed by the law of Moses. (Acts 13:38-39)

Yes, to this day whenever Moses is read a veil lies over their hearts. But when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. (1 Corinthians 15-17)

In a fallen world, people are captive to sin. Jesus came to free us from sin so that we could have a restored relationship with His Father. He fulfilled the law so that its accusing voice could be silent, and we could walk in relational freedom with our Creator.

I know, big concept. But let’s scale it down a bit and talk about the opposite of freedom—idolatry.

That’s right, I said it: idolatry. Idols. They’re not just little golden statues. They’re the comforts and pleasures your heart settles for in the place of God.

I know you don’t want to talk about them. Right now, you’re probably thinking about an idol you don’t want to face. ….Or you’re just confused about what idols are. So let me help you out: idols are anything that keeps you from concentrating on God—even things that appear to be good.

One of our pastors this Sunday gave me a spiritual kick in the face (although he was very nice about it). I am going to plagiarize the story he used (although I’m not sure you can plagiarize the Bible, because then God would have to sue you), because it was that good. He was speaking about the story in 1 Kings when Elijah challenges the worshippers of Baal to see whose god is stronger. Baal was the local neighborhood idol who (in this story) was in charge of fertility. Coincidentally, Baal also demanded child sacrifice.

Seems a little hypocritical, right? The pastor said, “Your idol will take from you the very thing it promises.”

“Baal” is a name that comes up throughout the Old Testament, and it can refer to any of the many made-up gods in ancient times. The Israelites repeatedly cheated on God with Baals, even though God sent prophets, did signs, and proved Himself to them time and again.

You may think, why would anyone do that, when they had all these signs and wonders to prove that their God was faithful to them? Why would they go off and worship something made up?

Well, why would I run to anything but God for comfort or security? Why would I want to think about anything but His goodness and majesty, when my life is a testimony to it already?

Maybe my idols are just as impressive as dinky little statues, but I can still see them. They’re easier to dedicate myself to than the all-powerful God of the universe. They’re easier because, when I worship them, it’s all about me; I don’t have to worry about them actually loving me back.

This brings us full circle to the subject of freedom. Before we are freed by the Messiah, Jesus, we are enslaved to sin. All sin boils down to idol worship at its core, because sin is a way to seek security, value, and pleasure outside of the One we were created to seek security, value, and pleasure from. Sin is placing your trust in anything that isn’t Jesus.

If you’re a believer, Jesus has set you free, and the ONLY way you can be enslaved is if you choose to be.

Listen to what Paul says:

For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery. (Galatians 5:1)

This verse would not even be necessary if the early Christians weren’t willingly submitting themselves to other things that were not God. In their case, their idols looked good—righteousness and following the law. However, their good intentions devolved into judgment, exclusion, and strife—not to mention a gross misunderstanding of the complete work of the cross of Christ. Additionally, their relationships with God surely suffered, because they misunderstood their right standing with Him based on Jesus’ blood instead of works.

So…..even good things can be idolatry. One of the sneakiest ways the devil can get us is through idolatry in human relationships—especially Christian relationships.

It looks good, right? You are walking in fellowship with someone (a significant other, friend, mentor—any other believer), and he or she is helping you along in your spiritual walk, just as we are supposed to do in the body of Christ. But then that person slowly slips into the place where Jesus should be; after all, it’s easier, not to mention more tangible (usually) to receive appreciation, affirmation, and love from another person instead of God.  

This may have happened to me recently.

Relationship idolatry can be a crafty thing. You think, “It’s ok. It’s just a little pet idol. It’s not really going to hurt me.” Anyone who has ever looked at a cute kitten, reached down to stroke it, and had teeth sunk into his flesh can tell you it’s not just a pet. You’ll never shake it off without drastic measures. (I mean, I love kittens, but the metaphor fits.) And relationships aren't the only "good" idols. Performance, work, "fighting for a good cause"--all of these things can become idols when they begin to become your security and comfort.

You don’t just get to accept your pet problems if you belong to Jesus. You may think the things you struggle with aren’t that bad, and you’re willing to keep them around even though you have to fight them regularly. 

Saying, “Oh, that’s just something I’ll always struggle with” isn’t an excuse. Jesus is just as satisfied with that as He is when an alcoholic says, “Oh, I’ll always be tempted by alcohol”; or when a porn addict says, “Well, I’m going to fight this addiction my hardest, but I guess I’ll always be tempted by it.”

What part of “set the captives free” don’t you understand?

If you want to be free from those things that consume your thoughts, you can have freedom today, this very minute.

But you have to want it. That’s the tricky thing about freedom. Most people are perfectly happy to be enslaved to their idols. I have been, at least. 

Only when it gets to the point where slavery is more uncomfortable than sacrificing what we love are we willing to change. For example, I realized that my addiction to a relationship was actually interfering (for an embarrassingly long time) with my ability to talk to God. To me, this was devastating—I wanted to enjoy the communion with God that I have always enjoyed. So I had to take what I loved with my selfish, human love and throw it at His feet.

It's not easy, and it hurts. However, almost as soon as I (we—there are, after all, two people in a relationship) destroyed the idol, I experienced a kind of freedom that I have come to expect from a redemptive God.

Give God your idol, and He will give you a changed heart in return, so that you won’t even want the thing you wanted. In fact, He'll turn it around and redeem it, so that the very thing that was intended by the devil to take your relationship with God will drive you more and more toward Him.

THAT’S how Jesus sets the captives free.

I think the process of sanctification is simply just the process of becoming more and more free, one chain link or  padlock at a time. We tend to think of sanctification as God’s discipline, and it does lend itself to pain, but only because our deceitful hearts want something besides God. When He takes those things out of our hands, we are able to open our grasp and receive the love He wants to give us. We are able to receive Him.

And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes for the Lord who is the Spirit. (2 Corinthians 3:18)

And where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.

Fruit by the Fathom

Through him then let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name.--Hebrews 13:15

I have prayed recently that I would see the fruit of my prayers manifested in small ways, that my heart might be encouraged. Several days this week, God has shown me a garden of people who have been nourished by His words over them through me, and I was delighted.  The fruit of our prayers is made manifest every day; we just seldom stop and look for it. 

I would like my life to be like a beautiful garden where other people can grow and be nourished by His word.

"With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable shall we use for it? It is like a grain of mustard seed, which, when sown on the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth, yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes larger than all the garden plants and puts out large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade."—Mark 4:30-32

God has lately been teaching me about how His word grows fruit.

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.—Isaiah 55:10-11

What an awesome promise that is. This has always been one of my favorite verses because it emphasizes the creative power of God’s word.

After my hop to Isaiah 55 the other morning, I skipped over to Isaiah 58, which speaks of the result of believing His word and deciding to follow it:

…if you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday. And the Lord will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail.—verses 10-11

I don’t know about you, but to me, “pouring yourself out” indicates that you will become empty. But this verse says you will be like a spring of water that never runs dry, a garden that never lacks rain. This is because the thing you’re pouring out isn’t everything you have to give; it’s something that comes directly from God. He gives the growth (1 Corinthians 3:7). His word in us accomplishes what He purposes.

Not only do we have access to His word in the scriptures, we can also hear directly from Him if we have the Holy Spirit living in us. If we abide in His word, as Jesus said (John 15:7), it can continually be creating beautiful things in us.

Confession: I struggle to listen to God and allow myself to be nourished by the word He has for me. I am a chronic multi-tasker with an overactive mind and body. This combo pretty much wrecks my ability to focus on any one particular thing without trying very hard; you can forget about sitting still. (If you’ve ever sat next to me, you know this…sorry.) But the other day, I was patiently listening to someone speak because I knew God wanted me to listen. This verse came to mind: “…for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen” (1 John 4:20). It stands to reason: if you can’t listen to your brother whom you have seen, how can you listen to God whom you have not seen?

Ouch.

Listening to other people is hard enough, because I can actually look into their eyes. I start trying to listen to God, and next thing you know, I’m distracted by my laundry or my breakfast dishes. Talk about settling for less than His best.

As I was praying about that this morning, I got an image of one of my more difficult students. I have a lot of super-relational children. They are hooked on the care and attention of others. So when I go and pick them up, they have to tell me everything about their day—and I listen, even though I have a thousand other things to do, and what they’re telling me is really small and inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

I think God listens to us like that. I think I long for His attention so much that I begin to chatter on about things that are unimportant, and He just patiently waits for a chance to get a word in edgewise.

Just as I want to nourish and shape my children by my words, God seeks to tell us things that build us up and mold us for our good. See, unlike our words, which are basically meaningless, even destructive, apart from Him, God’s words are always good, and always fill us up, sprinkling our garden with water so that we may grow up to be beautiful.

Unfortunately, too often I react to God like my students react to me. I understand, vaguely, that He cares for me and that His words are good for me; however, my immediate desire is to take my shoes off, be distracted by His other children, complain about being hungry, slouch in my chair, and chatter on and on about Pop Tarts instead of listening to what He has to say. (True life elementary school situations.)

I have one particular student who is always driven to finish all the tasks we agree to do during our session; he always says, “Can we just skip this? Can we go ahead? I want to get finished!” Like him, I can see the vision, the end result, and I just want to move ahead. But, ironically, in order to move ahead and be able to accomplish the vision, I have to sit still and listen to His instruction. Like this student, I prefer to interrupt my own lesson (even though I am the one who wants to finish) to ask irrelevant questions and demand candy for no reason. (Yes, this really happens in real life.)

But I think God wanted to show me that image of my students not to emphasize how bad I am at listening, but how delighted He is with me when I do. The sheer pleasure I feel when these little ones turn their eyes to me, receive the instructions I give, and absorb information from my mouth is a feeling that is hard to beat. If you are a teacher, you know what I mean. God wants me to know that this is how He feels when I quiet myself long enough to receive what I know is good for me, to be nourished so that I can grow.

The original sin of Adam and Eve is that they did not listen to God—they listened to a liar. The liar told them that God was not trustworthy, and they ought to ingest the fruit of the tree of life. You see, we should not be grabbing this fruit and stuffing ourselves with it; we are meant to produce the fruit, in a metaphorical sense. And problems always occur when we stop listening to God’s voice and believing what He says, and start listening to a lying imposter, who has crept into the wondrous garden that God created with His words. Adam and Eve tried to do things backwards. (It’s a common problem for humanity.) We want to eat the fruit instead of receiving the water that makes it grow from our own branches so that others may share in it.

In Colossians 1:6, Paul speaks of the hope we have in the gospel. “Of this you have heard before in the word of the truth, the gospel, which has come to you, as indeed in the whole world it is bearing fruit and growing—as it also does among you, since the day you heard it and understood the grace of God in truth…”

The word bears fruit, guys. Let’s receive it, so that we can speak it, and so that it can go forth and create a garden of the whole world.

Revisiting the Love Cycle

For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.—Galatians 5:13

I don’t know about you, but I have less of a problem with the serving part of this command and more of a problem with the being served.  

I think that our ability to graciously accept service from other believers—true, God-love-motivated service—is just as much a sign of our spiritual health as being able to serve others in a godly way. This is a realization I’ve continually had throughout my close walk with Christ, but for some reason I keep forgetting about it. (Sheep’s memory.)

I think that if we are able to be served, our perspective about ourselves and God is right….and if we aren’t…we may be thinking as the world thinks.

A couple weeks ago, I posted a blog about the love cycle: realizing and walking in the realization of God’s love for us, and thereby being enabled to love others. I want to add another element to that realization. It’s just like God to add more and more layers, just when we think we understand something. He’s like an eternal layer cake of love that goes on forever.

So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy, complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from rivalry or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.—Philippians 2:1-3

You’re thinking: “Yes, Paul, of course! We should serve others as more important than ourselves and avoid all this rivalry business.” These instructions may seem silly because the idea behind them is so obvious. But it’s amazing how often pride (ie: the opposite of humility) can creep into our service.

The world tells us that everything is a competition. Watch less than five minutes of any television show (and especially the commercials), and you will see an explosion of egos gone wild. Every message we hear tells us that we should distinguish ourselves—that we should look better, think better, act better, dress better, run better, eat better, even sleep better than our peers. And it’s not just America. It happens everywhere. Even in the most ancient societies, people fought and killed each other over who got to be king of the village.

I think that’s called “rivalry,” with more than a pinch of “conceit” thrown in. Mmm…pride soup. (Not an eternal layer cake of love.)

That’s the world’s mindset, manifested in an endless plethora of ways. It tells us we should count ourselves better than others. We must outdo everyone. The message slips in when we least expect it.  And we least expect it in Christian service.

I like to be the leader; I like to be in control; I like to pride myself on how much I serve. I also like to serve my friends more than they serve me—to get ahead of them in acts of service. I mean, most of the time, I am not consciously thinking about this. However, in the drawer in my mind where all of crazy American cultural ideas are stored (along with some discarded habits and a few forgotten grudges), I keep the “tit-for-tat” mentality. Service is a debt; if someone serves me, I must repay them. And, if possible, I want to be in the black—I want to have done more acts of service for my brother or sister than her or she has done for me.

This is the world’s mentality, and it must be broken.

Notice that Paul does not instruct the Philippians to “be of one heart.” He tells them to “be of one mind,” and that’s how they will complete his joy. The mind is where perspectives—wrong and right—dwell and battle it out. Humility—understanding who you are in relation to God, and then in relation to others—is a mindset.

Paul is urging the believers in community in Philippi to all count each other more important than themselves. We tend to forget that this passage was addressed to an entire community. If the whole community is counting others more worthy than themselves and serving like crazy, then who are they serving? Each other, of course. That means, at different times, some people are serving, and some are receiving service. Someone has to be receiving service at some point. (It’s really hard to wash someone’s feet while they are washing someone else’s feet.)

You can imagine how crazy this would get if everyone were keeping tabs. “Well, last week Susie washed my feet, so I have to wash her feet this week…but dang it, Johnny washed her feet today! Shoot, I’ll just have to invite her over to dinner and count it even.” If hundreds of people were doing this (millions, in the entire body of Christ), it would get pretty confusing pretty fast. Not to mention the fact that all of these people would be operating separately, keeping their own tally of what’s happened, as if all of their service belonged to them in the first place.

Jesus said, “When you give a dinner or a banquet, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, lest they also invite you in return and you be repaid. But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you. You will be repaid at the resurrection of the just.” (Luke 14:12-14)

It’s easy to say, “Sure, Jesus—I can give all my money to the poor who can’t repay me. I can feed the homeless. I can run the food pantry.” Those things are wonderful, and we should do them. Physical needs being met for those who can’t repay—that’s mercy. But it’s harder to admit that, when we enter into the body of believers, we have to sometimes become those who can’t repay.

After all, a leg without an eyeball is blind; an arm without a leg is crippled. Within the body of Christ, the love that we exercise in service toward one another isn’t our own. It—along with we ourselves, by the way—belongs to God. We cannot do His magnificent works without His power. And we pretty much never can do anything great or important or powerful for His kingdom without each other. It’s the way things are.

I got to thinking about this because I have had to accept a lot of service over the past six months. I have had friends and relatives offer me shelter, food, clothing—you name it. They have literally met my physical needs. All of my friends serve at church, and they serve me in so many ways on a daily basis. I have also had to accept the service of nearly 100 volunteers who work with me to get my job done. All of these things have been things I haven’t been able to pay back, yet, in my worldly mentality, I have attempted to pay them back anyway.

Some of my service and gifts to other believers has been because I genuinely want to serve them. But these pure motives often get mixed up with my pride, which makes me want to ensure that the service tab has been paid, or to make people admire my service. Then I become uncertain of the reasons for anything I do.

I thought to myself, “Maybe this is just a season when I need to relax and be served.”

But no, that’s not the case; I am actually serving at church and at work now more than I ever have before—like, an insane amount. Then I realized: when other people serve me—feeding me, keeping me warm, helping me relax—they are enabling me to serve others. It’s that simple.

We need to serve one another, because how can we go into the world and do the hard work of serving the lost if we don’t have someone feed and clothe us and offer us refuge? Missional living is something you cannot do alone. You don’t just strike out, pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, and get to work. Missional living is not the American way—and neither is Christian community.

Within the body of Christ, the love cycle isn’t this: you serve your friend, she serves you back the next day, and we call it even. The love cycle is me serving you; you serving the next person; them serving the next person, until the whole body “builds itself up in love” (Ephesians 4:16), and it’s always even, because we’re all part of the same body, and we all benefit, because we belong to one another. When I serve you, I am serving myself, too; when I accept service from you, I am serving you by allowing you to serve. Real humility comes when we realize that service--giving it and receiving it--is not about us at all, but about the entire body.

Let that blow your mind for a second.

Love God, love your brothers, Jesus and the gospel-writers say repeatedly. They also mean, Be dependent on God, and be dependent on each other. The world would say that’s unhealthy.

But, as we’ve already established, the world’s mentality is unhealthy. (Watch MTV for a few minutes if you don’t believe me.)

Paul continues speaking of a healthy mindset in Philippians:

Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also 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. (chap. 2, v. 4-8)

We have the mind of Christ. We are members of His body, after all. He is the head that joins us all together (Colossians 1:18).

So if you are having trouble with this accepting-service thing, an immediate and temporary cure would be to go watch TV and make yourself sick on the world’s mentality. But what you should really do is press into the head of the body, Jesus Christ—the one who served even to the point of death on a cross because He knew that it would lead to the joy of being able to call you home, into His body, where you belong.

Peace to You

Earlier this week, I got stuck in traffic. I know, shocking in DC, right? But this wasn't normal traffic. It was the dead-stop kind, the kind that makes people lose their minds and honk at the drivers in front of them, even though they can't go anywhere. It took me about 30 minutes to even get onto the interstate, and then much more time to get home. Do you know what it feels like to literally go 5 miles an hour? Because I do.

It wasn't more frustrating than I could handle, and surprisingly, I didn't have such a bad attitude about it (thanks to God). But I kept thinking I would eventually see an accident, or a closed lane, or something that would explain the traffic. I didn't. It was completely unexplained. I still don't know why it was moving (or not moving) that way.

As I was sitting there debating whether or not to try a different route (and probably get lost), I was also thinking about how my life has felt just like this in the past week or so--like I am sitting here spinning my wheels, unable to see the reasons why I am going nowhere. I am frustrated both at work and in my personal life. I feel like I have worked so hard, and there is still so much I want to do.  I am starting to falter.

This feeling is what they call "discouragement." It is the reason Paul and the other New Testament writers were always writing to the churches to encourage one another, to take courage, to endure and be steadfast. When you begin to look at things from a human perspective, well...it's pretty discouraging.

Before I launch into a pathetic country song about my feelings, I would like to clarify that, for the most part, I am discouraged because I allow myself to be discouraged. Just like Jonah sitting under the shriveled tree at the end of his book, I am pleased to be angry, to make my life about me and what I can or can't see.

But I am not who my life is about.

Let's take a dive into scripture. (Come on, you knew it was coming.)

In Luke 24, we read about the risen Jesus approaching His disciples on the road to Emmaus. By the way, the angel that met the women at the empty tomb had told them to tell the disciples to meet Jesus in Galilee (Mark 16:7). But instead of following these directions, they were wandering around in the country outside Jerusalem, probably unsure where they were going. Like the disciples, we all find ourselves depressed and wandering about without direction, because the circumstances of our earthly lives weigh us down, and we simply don't trust the directions He's given us.

Isn't it great how Jesus descends and meets us where we are: lost?

As Jesus talked to His disciples on the road (they didn't recognize Him, by the way), they told Him that they disbelieved the women's testimony about His resurrection. Jesus said, "O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken!" (Luke 24: 25).

Slow of heart. I don't know about you, but I am much more  often slow of heart than slow of mind (although that happens a lot, too). Especially when it comes to believing what the prophets have spoken:

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, 
     because the Lord has anointed me 
to bring good news to the poor; 
     he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, 
to proclaim liberty to the captives, 
     and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; 
to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor, 
     and the day of vengeance of our God; 
to comfort all who mourn; 
     to grant to those who mourn in Zion--
to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, 
     the oil of gladness instead of mourning, 
the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit; 
     that they may be called oaks of righteousness, 
the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified.
                               --Isaiah 61:1-3

That's a lot of promises right there. But too often, I am slow of heart, and I leave my garment of praise in the closet, next to the rain coat that doesn't get used very much. That's because the garment of praise belongs to the Lord, and the faint heart belongs to me. And, if I want to make my life about me, it's obvious which one I should put on.

Note the last phrase of the last verse of this passage from the prophet Isaiah: that he may be glorified. I want my life to glorify the Lord. And it is my belief that, if I am following Jesus, He will glorify Himself in me, and there's not really much I can do to stop it. But I can definitely dishonor Him with my words and my attitude, especially when I know full well what He's given me.

Discouragement has to do with not knowing the ending, with not being able to see the good that is to come--or knowing about it, but losing sight of it because of circumstances. Discouragement means turning your eyes to look around you rather than at the One who has guaranteed His good intentions toward you. It has to do with walking by sight and not by faith (2 Corinthians 5:7).

Discouragement is normal, especially around this time of year, when it's cold and it seems like we're working a lot without seeing much fruit. I don't think God is surprised when we are discouraged. I don't think He is surprised even when we are discouraged on purpose, in spite of knowing His promises to us. In times of discouragement, He appears to us like He appeared to His disciples after they had seen Him on the road to Emmaus and were still full of doubt: "Peace to you!" He says (Luke 24:36). Of course, the disciples were still quite upset--I mean, this man they thought was dead had just materialized in the living room. This was not what they had expected. So Jesus continued: "Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself" (Luke 24:38).

When we are discouraged, He comes to us with that rhetorical question, asked in such a gentle voice: "Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts?" And He says to us, "Remember who I am. Remember when I brought you through that trial, and when you saw me work miracles. Remember. Don't falter. Don't be faint of heart."

"See my hands and feet, that it is I myself." Jesus invites us to see not our circumstances, but to see Him.

I don't know what I want to say in this post except that, if you are discouraged, know that God isn't surprised. Look to the reality of the promises of Jesus. He's there, and He's waiting to walk through the wall and say, "Peace to you!"

The Love Cycle

And he said to him, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets."

                                                                                                   --Matthew 22:37

So, I haven’t written in awhile, and I am going to blame this on actually having friends that I hang out with all the time. It’s a big change from sitting in my room by myself, listening to All Sons and Daughters on repeat and journaling about my loneliness.

But having friends is just what I want to talk about anyway.

Over this past year, I have been praying to understand love a lot more than I do. Shocker (get ready for this): God is answering my prayers. He has been gently and patiently instructing me in love, and the more I learn, the more I feel like I don’t know.

The thing about love is, it can be confusing when you are a human, because real God-love is pretty much an alien thing beyond our imagination, yet we are programmed to search for it.

He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man’s heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.—Ecclesiastes 3:11

I don’t feel frustrated by this, though, because I know that He makes everything beautiful in its time—including me. I can’t make myself beautiful. Only He can do it. And if I ask Him to teach me about love, He will teach me much more about it than my pea brain can comprehend, because He doesn’t teach my brain—He teaches my spirit.

And that’s a good thing, because the only way we can understand His word is by His spirit.

Speaking of the Word, this is the passage that kind of rocked my world a week or two ago.

     Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love. In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us.

     By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit. And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent his Son to be the Savior of the world. Whoever confesses that Jesus is the Son of God, God abides in him, and he in God. So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. By this is love perfected with us, so that we may have confidence for the day of judgment, because as he is so also are we in this world. There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. We love because he first loved us. If anyone says “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen.

                                                --1 John 4:-7-20

I know that’s a lot, but it’s just too good to cut.

I’ve always thought this passage was redundant and a little too circular, as if John was just struggling to convey a message that wouldn’t come out right. But I see now that it is meant to be circular. It’s a description of the love cycle.

God loved us first, while we were still running around in sin, hostile to everything holy. He loved us by doing something, by acting: sending His only Son to be a living sacrifice who would pay for what we were doing. But, according to this text, that’s not when His love was perfected. It wasn’t even perfected when He raised Jesus from the dead.

Let’s reiterate: So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. By this is love perfected with us, so that we may have confidence for the day of judgment, because as he is so also are we in this world.

His love is perfected when we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us, and when we stand confidently before Him without guilt or shame. It’s NOT perfected when we say, “Well, I guess God loves me, but I don’t think He is going to heal me.” Or, “I mean, I know God loves me, but I am not sure He is really going to provide for me, so I am not going to ask Him for what I need and try to get it myself.” His love is perfected when we come to Him as children, as His own Son would: because as he is so also are we in this world. His love is perfected when we are no longer afraid of punishment, of condemnation: because perfect love casts out fear.

There’s one rhetorical question I need to ask: are you harboring any shame or guilt in your relationship with God? If so, please allow His love to be perfected in you. This perfection is an ongoing process, a daily thing, and we all must make the choice to allow it to happen.

So this is the love cycle: God loves → us, we receive that love, and then we love → God.

And there’s another essential part of the equation. When we love → God, we can also love → others. ….No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us. Honestly, the only way we really can love other people is by the power of His Spirit, as new creations. In the flesh, we just don’t cut it.

It’s just a big circle of love. But it does have a beginning. And the beginning is God loving us, and us receiving His love.

Unfortunately, most of us try to do it backwards. We head counter-clockwise against the flow, always running in circles and continuously frustrated that our efforts are getting us nowhere. We go after all kinds of stupid and crazy things to make us feel like we’re worth something, like we’re important and valued. But what if the thing you use to fill yourself up isn’t a thing? What if it’s a person?

It’s one thing to know you shouldn’t be sacrificing your heart to money or drugs. It’s another when the thing you are trying to satisfy your heart with is a human relationship, or an assortment of human relationships. This is the most dangerous form of idol-worship, because relationships are good. God made us to be relational. He created Adam to be in communion with Him, to walk with Him in the garden; He created Eve not to fill a void in Adam, but to enrich his relationship with God, to share in it and spur him on in it. This was the purest triad of relationship.

Trouble happened the minute Adam trusted in someone else’s word rather than God’s—even if the person he trusted was walking with him in the purest human-to-human relationship the world has ever seen. At its core, original sin was relational. It was a distrust in God. Humanity started to think, “Maybe God is a liar. Maybe we will not surely die….maybe this other person is right….”

Think about it for a moment. There is probably someone in your life—a friend, a mentor, a spouse, a family member, or even your child—whose opinions you value, whose company you cherish above all others’; a person for whom you would bend over backwards (which I literally did one time when one of my dear friends asked me to take a yoga class with her). This person could be someone who is not literally in front of you now, but in whom you are hoping—like a mystery future spouse. Are you using this person to fill the relational hunger in you for God? If you are, you are setting your relationship up for failure.

I’m not trying to condemn here. I’m only telling you what I know from experience. Replacing God with someone else is always painful. There are no exceptions.

It’s good to submit to one another and value others above ourselves. That’s biblical. But there is a fine line between submitting in love and submitting in affection. I have seen a lot of “good people” fall into the trap of the reverse love cycle: we love → other people, and we think that this helps us to love → God, who then in turn will love → us.

The problem is, you can’t start with yourself, because, on your own, you can’t love anybody. You have to know the original source of love, and He has to abide in you. You can’t manufacture love on your own. You only have affection, which is simply the result of natural preferences. Affection is conditional, and it lends itself to favoritism and blind loyalty, which leads to jealousy and strife. Unfortunately, this is how most of the world understands the word “love.”

God, on the other hand, shows no partiality (Romans 2:11). Even when we are faithless, He still sets the love cycle in motion by being faithful to us anyway (2 Timothy 2:13). As humans, we have a hard time comprehending this. It’s just not how we operate.

Good thing we get to be recreated by the Holy Spirit. By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit.

The Spirit is the keystone of the equation.

We are meant to have close friends, to have wives and husbands, to have children. That’s biblical. And, naturally, there are certain people with whom we click better than others. Jesus had 12 close buddies, and even among those, there were 3 who spent more time with Him.

But the sin occurs when we attempt to replace Jesus with these other relationships, when our hope rests in them. When we expect others to be Jesus, we will always be disappointed, because we are seeking something from them that they cannot give. This is not love at all. It is feelings and behavior that are motivated by our desire for affection, attention, and affirmation, and have little to do with the other person (and his or her best interests) at all.

We all seek to fill ourselves with others at some point—and, if we don’t watch out, these relationships can destroy us. Be on the alert for our adversary, who loves to take the beauty of relationships, which God created, and make a shipwreck of them. It’s kind of his favorite hobby. All sin is relational sin, because ultimately, we are sinning against God and destroying our relationship with Him.

The worst (or best) is when you realize you are replacing God with another person, and that you have to give this up. It’s a hard decision to make. But once you give that person (or more than one person) to God, He will bless you back with an abundance of love—real, pure love.

Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from who the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love.—Ephesians 4:15-16

Isn’t that the most beautiful image? What a sweet letdown to realize it doesn’t matter whom you love, as long as you are loving the Lord; and that you are free to love everyone in His Spirit. Jump on into the love cycle. It’s a beautiful process--and He will make you beautiful in your time.

Those Who Enter

American culture focuses on the future. We live in a perpetual race. The future is often at our fingertips—we can post pictures on Facebook in 5 seconds, and instantly the future becomes the past. We get impatient and bored, and we think that our goals are like apples in a sun-ripened orchard, just waiting to be plucked.

Like 90% of the world, and 99% of Americans, I have a lot of trouble living in the present. In other words, I begin to focus on “what I’m doing for Jesus,” instead of Jesus Himself. If you’ve skimmed over any of my other blog posts, or if you know me in person (which I’m willing to bet you do if you are reading this), you know this is a recurring problem in my spiritual walk, as it is for many believers.

Being forward-looking is not a bad thing. Paul thought about goals and the future. In Philippians, chapter 3, he speaks of striving to “attain the resurrection from the dead”—meaning that, by faith, he would not let go of the life he had found in Jesus for the death of the law (verses 9-10). That’s a dense thought. He continues:

But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.—Philippians 3:12-14

If that’s not forward-thinking, I don’t know what is. But Paul isn’t making minute ministry plans here. He is looking ahead to one thing and one thing only: Christ. His goal was “the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” In other words, “I want to go up and be with God in Christ.”

Let those of us who are mature think this way, he writes, and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal that also to you (v. 15). And I tell you what, He will!

A few weeks ago, I asked God in prayer to reveal to me what He wanted to say to me, instead of me babbling on and on about what I wanted from Him. Sometimes (ok, all of the time), God has something to say to us if we’d be quiet long enough. (He is the omniscient one.)

So I asked Him to tell me what He wanted me to know. Turns out He was just waiting for the invitation. When we walk by the Spirit, we can all feel God impressing things on our hearts. {Check out Jeremiah 31:33-34.} Here is the essence of what I felt He was telling me:

Enjoy this moment. Submit.

I am not asking you to be superhuman. I will take care of that. I only want you to be a part of my body.

I have not placed you where you are with you in mind. I have placed you here with my body in mind—of which you are a part. The health of my body depends on all the parts working together. As a part of my body, you benefit from its health, even as you contribute to its health. You have been placed here: you, specifically, at such a time as this; yet nothing is about you.

At the same time, I delight in you. I want you to stop waiting for your ministry to begin the way you imagine it. Just do it. This church, this geographic area, is not just one stop on your imaginary life plan. It is a part of my body. Sure, you will learn how to lead in the positions I’ve entrusted to you—but this “goal,” this result, is not the object.

When will you learn that the most important time is always now?

Don’t disengage. Don’t serve just for the experience. You will make an impact for the people you are serving, but only because I am making an impact.  Please, come go with me! I want your company on this journey. Stop thinking about other places you’d rather be, because the only place I want to be is right beside you, enjoying this experience with you. I’m by your side. Why would I take you somewhere I don’t want to go?

 I am freeing you from your addiction to the future. Don’t think that what you are doing is less than what you want to do, some stair step on the way to some greater dream. While you’re scheming, I’m trying to do my perfect work in you, and to impact those around you with my light.

Wipe the smudges off the lantern. You’re just the glass. I’m the light inside. Let me shine. That’s all you have to do. Get rid of your pride and take joy in the great tasks I am trying to accomplish with you. Work together with other members of my body. I have given you these others, and when you love them, you are loving me.

The smudges on the lantern are whatever parts of ourselves that we won’t give to God: our pride, our fears, our perceived identity outside of Christ (all inter-related sins). As long as we’re focused on those things (whatever that looks like for each one of us), the light is going to be hidden behind a sooty mess.

Which is unfortunate, since Jesus said, No one after lighting a lamp covers it with a jar or puts it under a bed, but puts it on a stand, so that those who enter may see the light. For nothing is hidden that will not be made manifest, nor is anything secret that will not be known and come to light (Luke 8:16-17).

Imagine how ridiculous that would be: to light a lamp and then put it under a jar (which would eventually extinguish it), or put it under a bed (which would likely set the bedclothes on fire). Only a crazy person would do that. No, instead, we set it on a stand. It is the only generator of all vision in a dark house.

Some people think that, with this statement, Jesus meant that we should go around smiling all the time and covering up our true selves behind false cheerfulness. But that’s too easy. Actually what He meant was that, when we are walking closely and honestly with Him, He changes all the earthly fragments of our identity into the beauty of His identity. His light turns us inside-out, and it glares into the darkness so that all can see who He is, not who we are. That’s a bit more of a painful process than just walking around jolly like Santa Claus or Barbie all the time.

Everything that is exposed to the light is revealed (Ephesians 5:13), even parts of ourselves that need to be cleaned out. If the lamp isn’t burning, you can’t really see the soot. It’s a beautiful thing to see the trash of your self-made identity, the distraction of your self-planned goals, even for ministry. It means there’s light on the subject.

When I was thinking about my little lantern with the smudges on it, I realized I needed to take a look at my wrong beliefs about who I am. I need to rub away my dreams and plans, because they are based on what I think I am good at. Newsflash: we are the clay, not the potter (Isaiah 45:9, Jeremiah 18:6). The potter can make us into whatever He wants or needs us to be in the moment we are called to minister. We have to be so empty of ourselves and so full of Christ that He has room to work through us when the moment arises.

And the moment is now.

As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”—Luke 9:57-58

How many times have I said, “I will follow you wherever you go!” Following implies future, because followers are “going somewhere.” When I’m following, I am going after something exciting. I may be partially motivated by my love for Jesus and desire to be with Him; I may even be mostly motivated by that. Jesus definitely told us to “follow him”—but He also told us to sacrifice our own identity (Luke 9:23-25). We shouldn’t be unwilling to do what He has set before us now. Sometimes, when I swear I will “follow Him wherever He goes,” I am revealing my desire to be wherever I am not right now,  to leave behind what I think is boring in the present moment and pursue something way more adventurous.

Adventure-seekers are generally pretty selfish about it. We want the drama. We don’t want the work. But what Jesus told the guy was, “You want to serve me? Ok. Here is something you can do for me in the present moment. You can give me a place to stay, where you are.”

Bet that thrill-seeker was not so enthusiastic after that reply.

I’m just reading into scripture here, because there are a variety of things Jesus could have meant with this saying. So take what I have to say at face value. It’s just that this particular verse slapped me yesterday while I was reading, because it showed me how Jesus feels about passion without willingness to submit. I have a tendency to plan and wait for an exciting future, and ignore the present—walking by sight and not by faith (2 Corinthians 5:7). If I can see the future—visualize it, make plans for ministry, imagine the things that I think God is trying to do, based on my perceived gifts—then I don’t have to have much faith, do I? I’m thinking I’m looking at a lot, but my lamp is hidden under the jar of my own beliefs about what I can do. In order to really do what God wants, I have to submit to His leading on a daily basis. And today He might not be telling me to build a palace; He may be asking me to fluff the pillows.

Or be kind to my brother. Or listen to this one person today that I just really don’t care for when I think I have other things to do. Or work with youth at my church when I want to go home and nap. Those things are a little less glamorous and a little harder to swallow than the far-away idea of moving to Africa and adopting a bunch of orphans. (This may have actually been a semi-serious plan for half a second in my past.)

The Lord was calling that man on the road to fellowship with Him. He was calling him to share his home. And, ultimately, He calls us to make our hearts His home. THAT’S the “upward call.” It’s a lot more comfortable to dream about the future, where we feel we have control over our circumstances, than invite Him in where we are now, which may not be a place we really want to be.

I realize that God gives us natural ministry gifts. He also wants us to be forward-looking enough to consider where we’re going, so we’re not just blindly tossed about by the world. But we shouldn’t restrict ourselves to what we think God wants to do, in our natural minds. He wants to give us a vision for HIS plans. Because, you see, God places us somewhere not to glorify us. He places us within His body so that we can work together to glorify Him. It is amazing how easy it is to forget that, particularly when you are a twenty-something with a lot of big dreams for your life.

No one after lighting a lamp covers it with a jar or puts it under a bed, but puts it on a stand, so that those who enter may see the light.—Luke 8:16

The Word doesn’t say, “People passing on the street will see the light,” or “people two villages away will see the light.” I don’t doubt that those people do see the light; however, Jesus said that “those who enter” will see the light. “Those who enter” are the ones you let into your home—people you invite to get close to you and partake of your heart’s hospitality. For Jesus, that was everyone; He was constantly welcoming the rejects of society.

Ministry isn’t some plan for the future. Ministry is people.

Ministry is giving wayfarers a pillow for their heads in your own home (possibly literally, but also figuratively) and sharing what you have. It’s inviting Jesus in to be the light, and inviting others to enter to see the light, not in the future, but today. That’s no easy task, but it makes us dependent upon Him.

God doesn’t make mistakes in His body. He knows where every part goes. The ones around you are the ones who need ministry—especially your brothers and sisters in Christ. Yes, God has great, radical dreams for your ministry. But you can’t get there if you’re trying to get there. He has to do the work. He is just asking you for a place to stay.

* * * *

I realized after writing this whole post that I ought to take my own advice a little more seriously.

I have come to these same realizations over the past several months, but with more and more dimension each time. This time, I had a painful moment of guilt, because I am too restless and impatient to stay in one place. DC was not my first choice of location (to say the very least), but at least it’s exciting. What if Jesus asks me to settle somewhere—like my hometown? Egad. Blech. That’s scarier than moving all the time.

I am in the awkward stage where I am too old to go back to my family, but I don’t have my own family yet—so I can’t exactly settle anywhere. All I can do is cling desperately onto the close friends I have, treating them like family, and recognize the precariousness of this arrangement. I want to follow Jesus somewhere exciting, because if I don’t, I will have to go back to one of the places I came from. I am depending on HIM to be my family, to be the one who goes with me.

You know, I think He’s cool with that. He wants to be with me. As Peter would say, “Lord, to whom shall we go?” (John 6:68)

But I still have to be willing to look beyond my desire for excitement and accept His leading, even if it’s somewhere I don’t want to go. I have to be open to back-tracking, if that’s what He wants. I don’t think it is, but I have to be willing to fluff the pillows no matter what house they’re in. It seems paradoxical, but following Him might mean settling with Him.

I know this post is super-long, but now seems a good time to include another set of words the Lord spoke into my heart while I was praying about this a week or two ago:

I am with you. All these things that are new to you, unfamiliar and scary—all the places you have been over the past five months—the PRECARIOUSNESS of your life—that which looks like imbalance—I hold ALL of that in my hands. Everything unfamiliar that you see—the terror that your eyes see [Psalm 91:5 &6; Psalm 53:5]—is under my domain, my authority. Just because you are more comfortable with your surroundings now does not mean I am more in control. I have always been just as in control as I am now; you just couldn’t perceive it as fully.

 In joy, confront the unfamiliar. Unfamiliarity will be an unpleasant thorn your whole life if you allow it to be. Cast off the familiarity of your dreams, and allow me to do my work in you. Your own soul will be unfamiliar to you, because of the work that I am continuously doing there. If you remain uncomfortable with unfamiliarity, you will be uncomfortable even within yourself.

Be comfortable with ME. Behold, I am doing a new thing; you haven’t the depth to perceive it [Isaiah 43:19]. So stop trying to perceive it in your own wisdom. Joy isn’t held down by the soul; it is sensed by the spirit. It is not something perceived from the outside, but rather wells up from the inside, where I live…in this way, it is outside of your ability to generate, while at the same time it comes from inside you and not from an external source. The purpose in your heart is like deep water [Proverbs 20:5]; if you have my understanding, you will draw it out, along with streams of endless joy.

Joy does not rely on its own wisdom. Joy knows nothing but me. And in that way, it knows everything.

Y’all, He loves us too much to make it about us. He wants us to experience HIS joy, free from ourselves.

The main thing is this: whether we are nomads or settled, we are never really at home, because our citizenship is in heaven. We won’t be home till we get there. In the meantime, we have to cling on to the One who came down from that place and made His home in us.

Pray for me as I live out this truth: He is constant. All we have to do is submit. When I slow down enough to really ponder it, that freedom is enough to inspire my joy. 

Fear Not

Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?

I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.

--Isaiah 43:19

And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy that will be for all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.

--Luke 2:10-11

The Christmas story is not a children’s tale about a baby born in a stable and laid in a manger. It is not something to ponder whimsically once a year and then forget about like the piles of torn-up wrapping paper in the trash. The Christmas story began before people existed and is still happening today. It is the story of a God who became one of us so that He could rescue us out of darkness, so that we might become heirs along with Him, as sons and daughters, in a kingdom we cannot, even with the farthest reaches of our intellect, imagine or understand.

If you feel like that’s hard to comprehend, it’s probably because it is. Frankly, it’s a lot easier to just eat cookies and wrap presents than to sit here and try to put into words a story that cannot really be put into words.  After a hiatus from writing for a month or so, during which God has been working with me on a lot of things (stay tuned for later posts!), I find myself suddenly two days out from Christmas, wrestling with the idea of incarnation—a spirit becoming flesh.

The first being to become flesh was Adam. God made him out of dust. He breathed the spirit of life into Adam’s flesh through His own nostrils. Then He took part of Adam’s flesh—his rib—and created Eve, Adam’s bride. They were spiritually and physically one flesh. Adam said, “‘This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man.’ Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh” (Genesis 2:22).

In the beginning, flesh was something beautiful. It was uncorrupted. It was only a vessel in which a spirit could live. But then something happened. The flesh got control. Through their mouths, Adam and Eve ingested sin. They didn’t believe God’s Word—that the fruit of the tree would bring death. Their flesh had never seen death and couldn’t even conceptualize what it was.

But when death entered the earth, it spread and formed this earth that we know now, in which death is the constant and life the anomaly. Now, humanity’s flesh causes its spirit to die a little more every single day, instead of its spirit giving life to its flesh. How backwards it all became.

God loved humanity. He wasn’t going to give up on the horror His creation had become. So how was He to restore what was lost?

He said, “I will become flesh. I will come down there, and I will re-do the marriage.”

When I was little, we had this picture book about a little girl and her relationship with God. All the illustrations were done in soft pastels, and everything seemed to be surrounded by this faint glowing light. Jesus was a tall yet unintimidating figure with a very demure beard and a kind face, clothed in a soft robe with a blue sash.

When I pray, to this day, I see that image of God from the picture book: Jesus all haloed and robed in pastels and looking like he stole his beard from 1967. This is embarrassing for me to admit. You’d think I would have outgrown this by now. But humans are visual; we need images. That’s probably why the Israelites kept returning to images of Baal. They wanted something to look at, something to identify with. I think our culture often does us a disservice by instilling these images in our minds—a little blonde baby in a manger, a whimsical floating angel choir, a cartoon Jesus breaking cartoon bread—so that our images of Him are reduced to what we can imagine.

I’m not saying we should take all the Bible story coloring pages away from our kids. What I’m saying is that we should stop looking at the Incarnation from the perspective of children’s storybook pages and begin to conceptualize it as the great cosmic narrative that it is.

Maybe you already do. I do, when those moments of wonder hit me. It’s just that my mind, and my blind human eyeballs, tend to be my downfall. I sometimes find it frustrating that God is impossible to illustrate. Every time the Old Testament writers attempt to describe what they’ve seen, they always have to say, “It was like this….,” comparing their visions of God with things that were familiar but pathetically inadequate to illustrate His glory. (See Ezekiel if you want to read some weird descriptions.)  I feel like I am constantly trying to draw a picture of God for myself with chalk pastels, and all I am doing is getting the dust all over my hands and smudging the paper.

John tried his best to put the mystery of the story into words and came up with some of the most perplexing, beautiful, and wonderful verses in the Bible:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

—John 1:1-5

God is not an image. Jesus is the force through which we see all images: He is light.

Yet, He became flesh, became something to see and touch and feel, so that He could be Immanuel: God with us.

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.—John 1:14

He came down here and experienced flesh like we experience it, experienced death as we experience it, in the most gruesome of ways. And here is the GOSPEL, the good news, the good tidings of great joy for ALL people, the truth: He defeated flesh and death. He rose from the dead. He brought light into darkness, and He rescued His bride.  

Thus says the Lord: In this place of which you say, ‘It is a waste without man or beast,’ in the cities of Judah and the streets of Jerusalem that are desolate, without man or inhabitant or beast, there shall be heard again the voice of mirth and voice of gladness, the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride, the voices of those who sing, as they bring thank offerings to the house of the Lord…

           --Jeremiah 33:10-11

Adam was the first man. He was supposed to be the first son of God. But he didn’t believe God; he believed his flesh. He believed what he saw in the natural world instead of believing the Word, the promises, of God. He brought darkness, by which we are all blinded, and death, which we all were destined to suffer.

Just as Eve was created out of Adam’s flesh, we as believers are recreated out of Jesus’ spirit. We are wedded to Him, and we become one flesh with Him. He says, “This is my body. Eat. This is my blood. Drink. Become like me. Become a son. Become a daughter.” Just as Adam ate and brought darkness and death, we can eat again, and bring the life that is the light of men. WE are now the Word incarnate! When we become believers, we receive His implanted word (James 1:21), and every day we receive the incarnation—His spirit becoming flesh in our own flesh. “If anyone loves me,” said Jesus, “he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him” (John 14:23). Our spirits become Christ’s spirit; our flesh, His flesh.

A new marriage. A new, uncorruptible body.

Back to God’s plan A.

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

                For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall break forth into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

--Isaiah 55:10-12

Your mind is blown, I know. We can’t understand. But we don’t have to. Because He is with us.

In the lengthy stretches of depression I suffered at the beginning of the semester, when I was stressed and crying in my car, at my lowest points, I asked God for comfort. I didn’t receive elaborate oratories full of thunder and fire from heaven; the word that I got was always, simply, “I am with you.” And those were some of the sweetest moments with the Lord I have ever had.

How could I not believe a God who came down here Himself, became a man of flesh who could be seen, and touched us? Literally. He touched the flesh that had been corrupted by sickness and death, and He gave it life.

It’s time to take a pause this season and remember how mysterious, awesome, and wonderful it is that we can receive this life through Jesus Christ. If we are brave enough to come out of the darkness, out of this death that is familiar to us, we can receive the light and actually begin to see.

He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.—John 1:11-13

What a sweet relief it is to be born not of this fleshly death, not of ourselves, but of an eternal being, our Father, God.

If you want to see God, don’t let your old blind flesh drag you down into death. Come into the light.

And from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father’s side, he has made him known.—John 1:14-18

Don’t forget to re-gift this Christmas. As Jesus said Himself: “Heal the sick, cleanse lepers, cast out demons. Freely you have received; freely give” (Matthew 10:8). Bring life and light to a world that was cast into darkness.

Hear the prophecy that Zechariah spoke over his son John, who would make the way straight for his cousin, Jesus:

And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High,

for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,

to give knowledge of salvation to his people in the forgiveness of their sins,

because of the tender mercy of our God,

whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high

to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,

to guide our feet into the way of peace.

--Luke 1:76-79

Because of the tender mercy of our God, who loved us enough to come down and be with us and to touch us, we can have light. When you have light, you don’t have to sit in darkness anymore and be afraid of the shadow of death hovering over you. So—fear not!

Merry Christmas!