Entries Tagged as 'Faith'
Posted on: Tuesday, March 7, 2017
This is an archived Sky Blue post originally published in May 2014.
Not every difficulty is a storm: sometimes life is a drought.
We do not always suffer because of dramatic tribulations, but small things that compile, constant weariness that takes a toll, the routine cruelties of human beings that build up over time and shut us down by centimeters. Daily life can leave our spirits unbearably parched.
As we grow older, we begin to realize that ice cream, summer vacations, and the annual cooperation of Santa are not enough to satisfy us. We become disillusioned and search for other things. This search is really the key to so many human decisions, from using drugs to getting married to establishing empires. We are always on the hunt for a high to keep us satisfied. But life continues to let us down.
Some people search for happiness in success, others in security, others in respect. Many search for it in love, as F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote:
“And in the end, we were all just humans, drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.”
This past year, I have been searching. I wish that the books I’ve read and the sermons I’ve heard over my lifetime about the sufficiency of Christ could have clicked for me at a heart level. But for some reason, I was fairly sure that God had missed something. Yes, yes, inHispresenceisfullnessofjoyandinHisrighthandarepleasuresforevermorePsalm16:11, I know. But I’m pretty sure this friendship is also crucial to my happiness. Also, this guy. Also, my family. Also, having a lot of fun all the time. Also…..
But recently this left me in a desert, tired and drained and lifeless. My sources of security had failed me. I was spending my money on sawdust and working for things never meant to sustain the divinely-thumbprinted human soul (Isaiah 55:2). I’d been trying to stay alive on muddy water from a puddle, ignoring the living water that was mine in Christ (John 4:10). I had been shackling myself to dependency on things meant only to enrich my life but never to define its meaning, chaining myself to the fear that I would be broken if my heart was broken, when I was actually free in the Lord to live and give and love while all the time remaining rock-solid secure in the everlasting belovedness that is my reality because I am His (Galatians 5:1).
When everything is stripped away, the follower of Christ will find that he/she stands. When life gives us no sustenance, we see without distraction the river of life in our souls. I never understood what John 7:38 means until right now.
In the past few months that I’ve been absent from blogging, this is what I have learned. The God who chose the desert nation of Israel as the stage on which to display His glory for the galaxies works through the desert of life on a fallen planet to bring supernatural, odds-defying peace and happiness to redeemed souls. From a desert, He has brought me to the highest place I have ever walked. I knew it, I believed it, but now I have tasted, seen, and found it to be true: Jesus is all I need. Everything else is a blessing, but no matter what happens in life, I can have joy. This world is a desert, but I will never go thirsty again. Has life left you disillusioned and drained? Come to the water (Revelation 22:17). This is what your soul was made to drink, and nothing less will fill you up.
Though the fig tree should not blossom
nor fruit be on the vines
the produce of the olive fail
and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold
and there be no herd in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the LORD;
I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
GOD, the Lord, is my strength;
He makes my feet like the deer’s;
He makes me tread on my high places.
Posted on: Saturday, February 11, 2017
Humans are not good at balance. We live in extremes. Liberty to the point of lawlessness, or discipline to the point of asceticism. We boast in the flesh one way or another: in our ability to express it or in our ability to control it. We take pride in our sin or we take pride in our purity. We are the judge who condemns or the judge who pardons. In both extremes, we take the throne and play god.
Grace is the line that we walk, the one we fall off of on both sides when we stop looking at Jesus. And there is no self-glory in grace.
Grace exists because law exists. We stand in need of grace because God’s standards are high, fierce, and unbending. He is not permissive. He is not flexible. We broke the law, and if you are tempted to think the law does not matter, look at the cross and see the blood God bled for His law. Jesus Christ died because the demands of His law had to be met. We do not get a pass.
We don’t deserve this love and we can’t achieve it or buy it or earn it or win it back. Doing good deeds to earn God’s favor is like trying to polish the deck of the busted Titanic. We’re already sunk.
Grace exists because we are not good. We get grace because we are so loved.
That is the balance of grace. It’s a law that matters, and it’s a love that covers. It’s not taking away the law and not adding to it either. You don’t need to help God out by removing the commands that are unpalatable in the 21st century or by hedging His rules with extra rules to be on the safe side. God doesn’t need our help. Follow His law. Obey your conscience. Trust that He is able to lead and convict your brothers and sisters without your licentiousness or your legalism. Walk in love, because you are loved. Look around. You’re swimming in grace. Don’t despair. You have hope, victory, and resources as a child of God. Look down. Have you fallen off the way? Has your heart built callouses that let you indulge in the sins for which your Savior died? Are you subsisting off of pride in your culture, creed, and browbeating way of life instead of drinking deep from the living water of truth: the truth that you are loved in spite of, and not because of, who you are; the truth that your identity is “beloved sinner;” the truth that Heaven will be filled with whores and thieves and other people despised by the Pharisees of the world who are there on the same exact merits as you, dressed alike in Christ’s white robes, welcomed into the embrace of God? And then look up, look at Jesus, and walk the line of grace.
Posted on: Thursday, December 22, 2016
We may be keenly aware of the darkness as Christmas 2016 approaches. But the darkness is always there.
The general consensus is that 2016 was a rough year (for many families in middle America, it felt like business as usual). Depending on your political views, the situation in the U.S. may seem optimistic, uncertain, or just bleak. Elsewhere, there is less room for debate: In Syria, children are being killed by their government, and there is no “good side” and there is very little hope.
When I am in my hometown (and not my apartment in San Francisco), I am more conscious of nighttime. There are always lights in a city. But nighttime is impressive outside of city limits. A full moon is not mistaken for another streetlight. It is shocking and beautiful and clear as a diamond.
I drove home the other day, winding through the hills on an empty highway, and the night was so dark but the waxing moon was almost full and lit up the treeline. I thought of Psalm 125:2: “As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the LORD surrounds His people, from this time forth and forevermore.”
I close my eyes and I can see Jerusalem. It is surrounded by mountains, a city on a hill. I can see all the towns where Jesus grew up, where He spent His time.
One of the best things about familiarity with Israel is getting stripped of the idea that the places where Jesus lived are picturesque. Footage from Aleppo reminds me of Bethlehem and Nazareth. These are not sweet villages, they are just difficult–hot and dirty and crowded and poor. When you watch the news and you see the streets of Aleppo, think about Jesus as one of those children on one of those streets, because that’s what Bethlehem is like, and that’s what Nazareth is like. His home, too, was war-torn and threatened, full of people under bondage, people afraid for their lives and the lives of their children. That was the dark place where the Advent happened.
In dark mountains, unblinded by yellow fluorescent bulbs and screaming neons, I see a million stars and my breath is taken by the moon.
In a dark world, no longer confident in the goodness of humanity or rendered complacent by comfort, I see Jesus Christ.
If you feel overwhelmed by the bleak state of things, know two things: First, you are right. Mankind is worse than you thought. But, God is better. He is better than we can imagine.
Into this place, His light shone, and His salvation was glorious.
False lights keep us blind; seeing eyes rid us of complacency. No more false hope. The truth sets us free. There is one light that came into the world–one hope, one message, one justice, one salvation, one victory, one peace. Born in a dark place, born for a dark earth. Don’t backlight the manger or minimize the stink of a barn and the coldness of a desert night. Don’t ignore the injustice of an innkeeper sending a woman to a stable to give birth. Don’t bury your head in the sand and ignore the serious nature of world events and what those events tell us about who we are. See all of this with wide-open eyes, because this is the darkness that shows the incarnation for what it is: shocking and magnificent. We are the shepherds on a hill, living lonely lives of labor, and angels came and sang to us. We are kings in a foreign land, following delusions, chasing our intellect in circles, and a star shone and God opened our eyes and we were made to worship the King. Into our worst mess and our most stonewalled pain, God came down and He walked with us. We saw Him and we felt His presence.
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given;
and the government shall be upon his shoulder,
and his name shall be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Posted on: Sunday, June 5, 2016
The church is an unlikely group, but we have Jesus Christ in common. We are called to accept one another when it comes to things that don’t matter. Instead, we often condemn others for trivial things and isolate ourselves, either by forsaking community or by living in false conformity. We avoid vulnerability in order to protect ourselves, but as a result we are deprived.
In a TED talk on Vulnerability, researcher Brené Brown said:
“Shame is really easily understood as the fear of disconnection. Is there something about me that, if other people know it or see it, I won’t be worthy of connection?”
The gospel is unique. We are called to live in community, but also in private communion. Not “on display”–with special uniforms, dietary restrictions, and other marks of religiosity–but in quiet holiness. Not in performance–with loud public prayers and declarations of fasting–but in truth; praying and giving in private, loving truly, acting in the interest of others instead of in the interest of self-promotion.
There are two extremes: Separatism, and total immersion. We’re not supposed to escape the world in safe communities, hiding our light under a bushel. At the same time, it’s foolish to pretend that being salt and light in a dark world is easy. Out here, we need the church more than ever.
It would be easy for believers–both those who are strong in conscience and Christian liberty and those who are not–to block out dissenting voices. With the unprecedented accessibility of the Internet comes unprecedented imperialism over our social groups. With the click of a button, we can excommunicate people from our own little kingdoms.
But if everyone decided to protect their lives from intrusion by cutting out dissenters, we would create pockets of sectional, isolated living, and we would all be stagnant and prickly in our own little comfort zones, surrounded by yes men. Flannery O’Connor said, “Conviction without experience makes for harshness.” If I only socialize with people who think just like me, I’ll never be challenged and I’ll never be changed. And neither will the people I’m avoiding.
Brené Brown points out that the word “courage” comes from the Latin word for heart. The original definition of courage is: “to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart.” This reminds me of James 5:16:
Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed.
It is easy to play a role, to give an appearance of following rules, to say what you’re supposed to say and do. It’s much more difficult to be honest about your failings and to let people love you when you’re weak, lonely, or struggling.
It is easy to subscribe to a set of strict, manmade rules–rules that sound like those mocked in Colossians 2:21: “Do not handle, do not taste, do not touch.” (That passage goes on to say that these human, “religious” regulations have the appearance of wisdom, but are of no value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh.) It is much more difficult to live a prayerful life of faith and obedience, trusting God’s guidance through the gray areas of life, looking to Him every day for the wisdom and strength we need to make our way in a dark world.
There are no shortcuts to holiness. Our private prayer lives inform our public walks. When we live in openness and transparency before God, we are able to live in openness and transparency before others. When we understand that we are forgiven and free in Him, resting in His righteousness, our shame disappears, and we can experience true community.
I think if every Christian took Romans 14 to heart, many of our problems would disappear.
Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand. Romans 14:4
Shame keeps us from community, but Christ came to abolish shame. In Him there is no pretense–we are all sinners who need a Savior–and in Him there is no condemnation. It takes courage to be honest about our failures, and it also takes courage to allow others to stand and fall before their Master without our permission. It feels good to judge; it lets us give ourselves a pass. Legalism and separatism are the easy way out. Rules are easy. Private obedience and trust, public honesty and vulnerability, a love that believes the best of others (1 Corinthians 13:7)–this is the radical life of a transformed person.
Where the Bible is clear, we must be clear. For everything else, there is grace–the kind of grace that kills shame, brings joy, and can only exist in God’s house.