Earlier this week while driving home from work, thinking about the day’s events, I was taken aback by the instant beauty that surrounded me: a sun break in the midst of grey skies, so glorious, so bright, so full of promise and hope. Bare tree limbs sprinkled with buds of promised flowers, color, and leaves. Clusters of purple crocuses and bright yellow daffodils randomly planted beside the road’s edge. Two eagles circling overhead whose wings I never did see flap. How do they soar so high, for so long, so gracefully, my mind wondered? I realized my thoughts had shifted gears and I was focused on the glory of God. It seemed to radiate from every nook and cranny as I drove towards home. I paused for a moment at the stop light and in humble gratitude, praised Him for the gifts He bestowed on me…not the gift of nature per say, but the gift of revealing to me a part of who He is. Beauty, Majesty, Creator , Lover, Savior… Oh my heart is full!
Experiencing Jesus is what it means to know Him. Yes, I can read all about Him and learn plenty. Reading the accounts of those in the Bible, especially Paul (whom I relate to a little too much perhaps) are encouraging without a doubt. They offer incredible insights. The value of the Bible is unmatched by all the material possessions in the world to me. However, when my daughter asked how will the people in third world countries, who don’t have Bibles, know about Jesus, I have to believe more than the Bible is necessary for knowing God. I believe fully it is about experiencing Him.
As for us who rely on the Bible alone to know God, I say don't be content in words alone. However powerful, however insightful the words are, they are not God. I know many people who come mighty close to worshipping the book itself. Let yourself be moved through the words into the arms of Christ. Let the words inspire you, set your mind on course, and help you know about God. But don't miss Him while you're reading!
Brennan Manning, my most favorite author writes, “In Hebrew and Christian scriptures, knowledge is felt, it arises from an experience of God in faith and love rather than from human investigation.” Experience is essential to knowing Jesus. If I think back to all that I truly understand about Jesus, I believe most of what I know to be true came from what He revealed to me in my times of struggle and/or reflection. I don’t know how to explain scripturally what I know personally…It’s all rooted in faith and backed up by the infallible Word of God. Not a blind faith as many skeptics say, but a faith I trust in because I have seen God’s glory in my own life.
So, I say to my 9 year old daughter who asks about the people in third world countries, “God will show them His glory, they will experience Him, and like us, they will fall to their knees and worship Him as God.”
"A man can lay claim only to what is given him from heaven." John 3:27
Monday, March 30, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
In Search for Something Real
I sat at a table surrounded with eight kindergarteners today. I love this time of my day: being surrounded by innocence and giggles, wonder and awe. Today was no different. As I sat helping my charge, the sweetest girl with autism, I listened in on the conversation taking place between two “typical” boys. The conversation:
Oh my God!
Don’t say, oh my…you know
Why not?
Because it’s a bad word.
What if I say oh my Jesus, would that be OK?
No.
How come?
Cause we should talk nicely about Him. He is special.
Hmmm. I wonder who my Jesus will be when I grow up?
Interrupted at the worst possible moment, the teacher summoned the kids to the front of the room for the next lesson. I wondered what the little boy would have said. What would I have said if I were this boy?
My mind has sifted through several of my own conversations within the last week; with the Christian turned agnostic, the Baptist turned Jehovah Witness, and the Shaman. Unsolicited, random and without knowing what personal truths I treasure in my heart, each of these people openly shared portions of their story with me. As I listened, I found myself wondering what made them decide on that specific religion or belief. When asked, not one of them paused for thought. Each said they were looking for something ... something real, something that would make them whole. They were in search of a Savior. They faced, as we all have, the question the five year old asked: Who will be my Jesus?
For us who are in relationship with the One true God, we scoff at first, thinking these people are so far off base, that perhaps they have been brain-washed. Maybe we write them off as a lost cause. But as I listened to their stories, I saw the pain in their eyes and heard sorrow in their words… real life, real pain. I found myself hurting for them, for the brutal journey they have taken to seek out a savior, a savior that will not save them. They grasped the first thing that sounded like hope. My heart breaks for them as I know they will not find contentment where they call their spiritual home. I weep as I know I have the answer and find I’m not sure how to go about sharing it with them in a way that will impact them for eternity.
I am haunted by the five year olds question. It is a question that leads people to believe there is more than one choice in Saviors. It is a question that leads to either great pain or great fulfillment. I pray that the Holy Spirit gives me the words to answer the unasked questions of these women He undoubtedly has brought into my life!
Oh my God!
Don’t say, oh my…you know
Why not?
Because it’s a bad word.
What if I say oh my Jesus, would that be OK?
No.
How come?
Cause we should talk nicely about Him. He is special.
Hmmm. I wonder who my Jesus will be when I grow up?
Interrupted at the worst possible moment, the teacher summoned the kids to the front of the room for the next lesson. I wondered what the little boy would have said. What would I have said if I were this boy?
My mind has sifted through several of my own conversations within the last week; with the Christian turned agnostic, the Baptist turned Jehovah Witness, and the Shaman. Unsolicited, random and without knowing what personal truths I treasure in my heart, each of these people openly shared portions of their story with me. As I listened, I found myself wondering what made them decide on that specific religion or belief. When asked, not one of them paused for thought. Each said they were looking for something ... something real, something that would make them whole. They were in search of a Savior. They faced, as we all have, the question the five year old asked: Who will be my Jesus?
For us who are in relationship with the One true God, we scoff at first, thinking these people are so far off base, that perhaps they have been brain-washed. Maybe we write them off as a lost cause. But as I listened to their stories, I saw the pain in their eyes and heard sorrow in their words… real life, real pain. I found myself hurting for them, for the brutal journey they have taken to seek out a savior, a savior that will not save them. They grasped the first thing that sounded like hope. My heart breaks for them as I know they will not find contentment where they call their spiritual home. I weep as I know I have the answer and find I’m not sure how to go about sharing it with them in a way that will impact them for eternity.
I am haunted by the five year olds question. It is a question that leads people to believe there is more than one choice in Saviors. It is a question that leads to either great pain or great fulfillment. I pray that the Holy Spirit gives me the words to answer the unasked questions of these women He undoubtedly has brought into my life!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Grace Verses Tolerance
Several weeks ago while sitting in on a discussion of Chuck Colson’s book, The Faith, I became quite agitated. The evening’s discussion was broad in subjects but narrow in solution. Obama, gays and lesbians, abortion, varying religious beliefs, etc. You get the idea. These “hot topics” were discussed at length in relation to us as Christians. What were we going to do about these sins? How could we influence our society, our world and make an impact for Christ? Perhaps, we have all taken part in similar discussions to this one. However, this night I was caught off guard. What I heard in their words was fear, intolerance, bits of anger and self-righteousness. The discussion centered on how to debate and win a sinner over to Christ. This in itself isn’t a bad thing. In fact, learn your way around your Bible, understand what you say you believe and be prepared to defend it and share it in a very down to earth approach. Absolutely! But this was not the method discussed and encouraged. In fact, the discussion didn’t make it past the point of judging the sins of non-believers. (Ironically, we never discussed our own sins! And Chuck’s book would not support the way this group discussed his book. I am pretty certain of that!)
About an hour into this conversation and the inside of my cheek near numb from biting it to keep from spewing out a venomous remark, my resistance wore down. Choosing my words carefully, I said, “the problem I see with most Christians is the lack of grace they bestow upon non-believers or even other Christians who think slightly different. When our focus becomes more about the person’s sin than about the person we are not doing “it”, whatever “it” is the right way.” I’m sure you would not be surprised if I told you that silence fell over that room and not a single comment or rebuttal was made. The conversation carried on as if I had not spoken a single word. Perhaps I overstepped my welcome. Perhaps I struck a nerve. I don’t know. I do know it has led me to contemplate the difference between the Christian’s bad word: tolerance and the Christian’s misunderstood word: grace.
No matter how I look at these two words, there is an undeniable disconnect. The Christian’s loosely defined definition of tolerance, adapted from Chuck Colson’s book, says we are offended less and less by non-believers sins or life-style and that we cannot become more relevant to win over the hearts of pagans. We must stand firm in our faith, no matter the cost. Although I understand that there can become a point where truth is side stepped for acceptance of others, I believe deeply there is a place for tolerance. Intolerance sees the sin. Grace sees the person. And we love them anyway. I’ve tried to make this a more substantial argument in my mind, but it doesn’t need to be. Being tolerant of other people’s life style doesn’t mean we are abandoning our professed convictions. It doesn’t mean we’re saying it’s OK. It says, I accept you in spite it and I hope that you can accept me in spite of the plank sticking out of my own eye.
I’m reminded of Todd Agnew’s song: My Jesus. A few lines in the song read:
Cause my Jesus would never be accepted in my church
The blood and dirt on His feet would stain the carpet
But He reaches for the hurting and despised the proud
I think He'd prefer Beale St. to the stained glass crowd
The song paints a picture of who Jesus really is and who we have made Him out to be. ( Lyrics below). I wonder, with so much intolerance in the church, if our Jesus really would be accepted in our doors. Grieves my heart to think He might not.
We cannot show grace if we are not willing to endure (tolerate) each other.
Open the eyes of my heart Lord. Help me to see others as you do: lost and hurting, made in the image of your Son. Give me eyes of grace. Humbly, I beg to be your hands and feet, Dear Lord. Let me not shy away from the unknown, from my fears. Give me compassion, simple words to articulate Who you are. Help me to love like you love.
My Jesus
By Todd Agnew
Which Jesus do you follow?
Which Jesus do you serve?
If Ephesians says to imitate Christ
Then why do you look so much like the world?
Cause my Jesus bled and died
He spent His time with thieves and liars
He loved the poor and accosted the arrogant
So which one do you want to be?
Blessed are the poor in spirit
Or do we pray to be blessed with the wealth of this land
Blessed are they that hunger and thirst for righteousness
Or do we ache for another taste of this world of shifting sand
Cause my Jesus bled and died for my sins
He spent His time with thieves and sluts and liars
He loved the poor and accosted the rich
So which one do you want to be?
Who is this that you follow
This picture of the American dream
If Jesus was here would you walk right by on the other side or fall down and worship at His holy feet
Pretty blue eyes and curly brown hair and a clear complexion
Is how you see Him as He dies for Your sins
But the Word says He was battered and scarred
Or did you miss that part
Sometimes I doubt we'd recognize Him
Cause my Jesus bled and died
He spent His time with thieves and the least of these
He loved the poor and accosted the comfortable
So which one do you want to be?
Cause my Jesus would never be accepted in my church
The blood and dirt on His feet would stain the carpet
But He reaches for the hurting and despised the proud
I think He'd prefer Beale St. to the stained glass crowd
And I know that He can hear me if I cry out loud
I want to be like my Jesus!
I want to be like my Jesus!
Not a posterchild for American prosperity, but like my Jesus
You see I'm tired of living for success and popularity
I want to be like my Jesus but I'm not sure what that means to be like You Jesus
Cause You said to live like You, love like You but then You died for me
Can I be like You Jesus?
I want to be like my Jesus
About an hour into this conversation and the inside of my cheek near numb from biting it to keep from spewing out a venomous remark, my resistance wore down. Choosing my words carefully, I said, “the problem I see with most Christians is the lack of grace they bestow upon non-believers or even other Christians who think slightly different. When our focus becomes more about the person’s sin than about the person we are not doing “it”, whatever “it” is the right way.” I’m sure you would not be surprised if I told you that silence fell over that room and not a single comment or rebuttal was made. The conversation carried on as if I had not spoken a single word. Perhaps I overstepped my welcome. Perhaps I struck a nerve. I don’t know. I do know it has led me to contemplate the difference between the Christian’s bad word: tolerance and the Christian’s misunderstood word: grace.
No matter how I look at these two words, there is an undeniable disconnect. The Christian’s loosely defined definition of tolerance, adapted from Chuck Colson’s book, says we are offended less and less by non-believers sins or life-style and that we cannot become more relevant to win over the hearts of pagans. We must stand firm in our faith, no matter the cost. Although I understand that there can become a point where truth is side stepped for acceptance of others, I believe deeply there is a place for tolerance. Intolerance sees the sin. Grace sees the person. And we love them anyway. I’ve tried to make this a more substantial argument in my mind, but it doesn’t need to be. Being tolerant of other people’s life style doesn’t mean we are abandoning our professed convictions. It doesn’t mean we’re saying it’s OK. It says, I accept you in spite it and I hope that you can accept me in spite of the plank sticking out of my own eye.
I’m reminded of Todd Agnew’s song: My Jesus. A few lines in the song read:
Cause my Jesus would never be accepted in my church
The blood and dirt on His feet would stain the carpet
But He reaches for the hurting and despised the proud
I think He'd prefer Beale St. to the stained glass crowd
The song paints a picture of who Jesus really is and who we have made Him out to be. ( Lyrics below). I wonder, with so much intolerance in the church, if our Jesus really would be accepted in our doors. Grieves my heart to think He might not.
We cannot show grace if we are not willing to endure (tolerate) each other.
Open the eyes of my heart Lord. Help me to see others as you do: lost and hurting, made in the image of your Son. Give me eyes of grace. Humbly, I beg to be your hands and feet, Dear Lord. Let me not shy away from the unknown, from my fears. Give me compassion, simple words to articulate Who you are. Help me to love like you love.
My Jesus
By Todd Agnew
Which Jesus do you follow?
Which Jesus do you serve?
If Ephesians says to imitate Christ
Then why do you look so much like the world?
Cause my Jesus bled and died
He spent His time with thieves and liars
He loved the poor and accosted the arrogant
So which one do you want to be?
Blessed are the poor in spirit
Or do we pray to be blessed with the wealth of this land
Blessed are they that hunger and thirst for righteousness
Or do we ache for another taste of this world of shifting sand
Cause my Jesus bled and died for my sins
He spent His time with thieves and sluts and liars
He loved the poor and accosted the rich
So which one do you want to be?
Who is this that you follow
This picture of the American dream
If Jesus was here would you walk right by on the other side or fall down and worship at His holy feet
Pretty blue eyes and curly brown hair and a clear complexion
Is how you see Him as He dies for Your sins
But the Word says He was battered and scarred
Or did you miss that part
Sometimes I doubt we'd recognize Him
Cause my Jesus bled and died
He spent His time with thieves and the least of these
He loved the poor and accosted the comfortable
So which one do you want to be?
Cause my Jesus would never be accepted in my church
The blood and dirt on His feet would stain the carpet
But He reaches for the hurting and despised the proud
I think He'd prefer Beale St. to the stained glass crowd
And I know that He can hear me if I cry out loud
I want to be like my Jesus!
I want to be like my Jesus!
Not a posterchild for American prosperity, but like my Jesus
You see I'm tired of living for success and popularity
I want to be like my Jesus but I'm not sure what that means to be like You Jesus
Cause You said to live like You, love like You but then You died for me
Can I be like You Jesus?
I want to be like my Jesus
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Clarity Verses Trust
The following is an excerpt from the book, Ruthless Trust written by Bennan Manning. I share this lengthy excerpt because it resounded with me so deeply, reaching the vary point of my spiritual struggle. I read these words this morning and have been in awe at their insight. I pray they cause you to ponder as well, that your eyes may be enlightened and you will find encouragement for your soul.
Carving clarity, we attempt to eliminate the risk of trusting God. Fear of the unknown path stretching ahead of us destroys childlike trust in the Father's active goodness and unrestricted love.
We often presume that trust will dispel the confusion, illuminate the darkness, vanquish the uncertainty, and redeem the times. But the crowd of witnesses in Hebrews 11 testifies that this is not the case. Our trust does not bring final clarity on this earth. It does not still the chaos or dull the pain or provide a crutch. When all else is unclear, the heart of trust says, as Jesus did on the cross, "Into your hands I commit my spirit." (Luke 23:46)
If we could free ourselves from the temptation to make faith a mindless assent to a dusty pawnshop of doctrinal beliefs, we would discover with alarm that the essence of biblical faith lies in trusting God. And, as Marcus Borg has noted, "The first is a matter of the head, the second is a matter of the heart. The first can leave us unchanged, the second intrinsically brings change."
The faith that animates the Christian community is less a matter of believing in the existence of God than a practical trust in his loving care under whatever pressure. The stakes here are enormous, for I have not said in my heart, "God exists," until I have said, "I trust you."
The first assertion is rational, abstract, a matter perhaps of natural theology, the mind laboring at it's logic. The second is "communion, bread on the tongue from an unseen hand." Against insurmountable obstacles and without a clue as to the outcome, the trusting heart says, "Abba, I surrender my will and my life to you without any reservation and with boundless confidence, for you are my loving Father. (Pg. 6,7)
Carving clarity, we attempt to eliminate the risk of trusting God. Fear of the unknown path stretching ahead of us destroys childlike trust in the Father's active goodness and unrestricted love.
We often presume that trust will dispel the confusion, illuminate the darkness, vanquish the uncertainty, and redeem the times. But the crowd of witnesses in Hebrews 11 testifies that this is not the case. Our trust does not bring final clarity on this earth. It does not still the chaos or dull the pain or provide a crutch. When all else is unclear, the heart of trust says, as Jesus did on the cross, "Into your hands I commit my spirit." (Luke 23:46)
If we could free ourselves from the temptation to make faith a mindless assent to a dusty pawnshop of doctrinal beliefs, we would discover with alarm that the essence of biblical faith lies in trusting God. And, as Marcus Borg has noted, "The first is a matter of the head, the second is a matter of the heart. The first can leave us unchanged, the second intrinsically brings change."
The faith that animates the Christian community is less a matter of believing in the existence of God than a practical trust in his loving care under whatever pressure. The stakes here are enormous, for I have not said in my heart, "God exists," until I have said, "I trust you."
The first assertion is rational, abstract, a matter perhaps of natural theology, the mind laboring at it's logic. The second is "communion, bread on the tongue from an unseen hand." Against insurmountable obstacles and without a clue as to the outcome, the trusting heart says, "Abba, I surrender my will and my life to you without any reservation and with boundless confidence, for you are my loving Father. (Pg. 6,7)
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Significance Revealed
By the time I was eight years old, I had seen the communion plate pass before me hundreds of times. It was always followed with the words from Luke 22:19, “He took the bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.” As the organ played softly and a sense of solemnest filled the church, the congregation would partake of the bread in unison. It was followed with the juice and the words, “this cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you”. Drink it in remembrance of me. I was fascinated by the ritual, filled with complete wonder and sure that if I partook of the bread and juice, I would instantly be filled with answers to all my questions. It was magical, I convinced myself.
Sitting just a few rows back from the front of the church alone with my brother and sister, while mom sang in the choir and Dad served communion on the opposite side of the church, I knew this was my time. I was eager, filled with anticipation to partake of this special sacrament. I longed to be a part of something special. Just as the plate was to pass before me, I caught a glimpse of my mother’s eye and a quick jerk of her head, telling me “no.” It was subtle, but I knew she meant business. I didn’t understand but I let the plate pass by me. I remember her response so clearly when I later asked her why I couldn't take communion. She said, “It’s important for you to understand what it truly represents first.” It’s been a whole lot of years since then, but each Sunday (as our church and several that we have attended since offers communion weekly) I have pondered the question: Do I really understand the meaning, the significance of communion?
Out of fear of not understanding, I haven’t taken communion for a very long time. But two Sundays ago, that changed. It changed with the simple words from our Pastor. He said, “This is a time to remember His sufferings and to embrace His glory.” Simple, like I said. So simple it didn’t seem right or at least not enough, which caused me to go home and dig. I read for hours, skimming every book I had in my home library that touched on the subject. And what I was left with at the end of the night was two-and- half pages of notes that all said roughly the same thing, the same things I already knew, the same things I have read and heard about my entire life.
So the next Sunday, feeling a deep pounding in my chest that I have learned to take notice of, I heard God saying, “it’s time Beloved”. I didn’t make excuses. I didn’t hide behind my questions. I didn’t try to justify anything. I just went. Head hung low and tears spilling down my cheeks, I slowly walked to the front of the church to partake in the bread and juice. I walked back to my seat, sacraments in hand where I couldn’t help but to sob deeply. I buried my head in my lap and let God lead me through this.
My thoughts made their way back to the night of the supper, when Jesus spoke those words. Oh, how he must have trembled as he spoke, perhaps biting his lip from time to time to keep from sobbing as he tore the bread and poured the wine. How could he not, as He told the twelve about becoming our sacrificial lamb and making a new covenant with His people. The twelve hung on his every word, trying to comprehend what He was telling them, but it was out of their grasp, out of their understanding. Yet, they ate the bread and drank the wine, because they believed Him to be the Son of God and He told them to do this as a way to remember what He would do for them. I find great comfort in knowing the disciples didn’t quite get it but obeyed anyway because they longed to worship Him. The next day, they would understand that the wine represented the cup of redemption; which Jesus became, pouring out his blood, his life for the redemption, the rescue of man. We have been redeemed and forgiven. We have been bought with a price! A price that cost Him his life!
Sitting there sacraments in hand, seeing so clearly the picture Christ left for us of that night, being fully aware of my sinfulness, my unworthiness and knowing to the depth of my soul that He did it all for me, I inhaled the sweetest way I now know to worship and honor Him. I remember Him, what He did for me, embracing the gift of grace and forgiveness He has bestowed on me. I am amazed by His glory.
(I don’t know if I really had the understanding at 8 years old and my mother was right in making me stop, question and understand before partaking in the Lord’s Supper. I’m sure she didn’t think it would take me 28 years to figure it out. Nonetheless, she was right! Thank you mom for challenging me, which brought me closer to the Lord)
Eph. 1:7-8 “In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that He lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding.”
In looking for the lyrics to an old hymn I sung as a child, I stumbled across the lyrics below. They suit better than the ones I was looking for and mirror my heart completely.
I Stand Amazed
Written by- Marc Byrd
I bring You my heart
I bring You my praise
I bring You my broken dreams
I've lost along the way
I lift up my voice
I lift up my hands
I lift up the moments in my life
That I don't understand
And I lay it at the cross
Where I'm surrounded by
Your grace
And I marvel at the wonder of Your love
I stand amazed
I stand in awe
I stand forgiven in the midst of it all
Before You I bow
Before You I fall
Blessed Redeemer,
Sweet Savior of all
I stand amazed
I offer You thanks
I offer my life
I offer a sacrifice of praise
When I'm scattered by the night
For You are my shelter
You are my King
You are the risen Son of God
The Lord of everything
Now I'm standing at the cross
Where I'm surrounded by Your grace
And I marvel at the wonder of Your love
There is life in His body
There is grace in His blood
There is peace for the sinner
Given by God's grace
Sitting just a few rows back from the front of the church alone with my brother and sister, while mom sang in the choir and Dad served communion on the opposite side of the church, I knew this was my time. I was eager, filled with anticipation to partake of this special sacrament. I longed to be a part of something special. Just as the plate was to pass before me, I caught a glimpse of my mother’s eye and a quick jerk of her head, telling me “no.” It was subtle, but I knew she meant business. I didn’t understand but I let the plate pass by me. I remember her response so clearly when I later asked her why I couldn't take communion. She said, “It’s important for you to understand what it truly represents first.” It’s been a whole lot of years since then, but each Sunday (as our church and several that we have attended since offers communion weekly) I have pondered the question: Do I really understand the meaning, the significance of communion?
Out of fear of not understanding, I haven’t taken communion for a very long time. But two Sundays ago, that changed. It changed with the simple words from our Pastor. He said, “This is a time to remember His sufferings and to embrace His glory.” Simple, like I said. So simple it didn’t seem right or at least not enough, which caused me to go home and dig. I read for hours, skimming every book I had in my home library that touched on the subject. And what I was left with at the end of the night was two-and- half pages of notes that all said roughly the same thing, the same things I already knew, the same things I have read and heard about my entire life.
So the next Sunday, feeling a deep pounding in my chest that I have learned to take notice of, I heard God saying, “it’s time Beloved”. I didn’t make excuses. I didn’t hide behind my questions. I didn’t try to justify anything. I just went. Head hung low and tears spilling down my cheeks, I slowly walked to the front of the church to partake in the bread and juice. I walked back to my seat, sacraments in hand where I couldn’t help but to sob deeply. I buried my head in my lap and let God lead me through this.
My thoughts made their way back to the night of the supper, when Jesus spoke those words. Oh, how he must have trembled as he spoke, perhaps biting his lip from time to time to keep from sobbing as he tore the bread and poured the wine. How could he not, as He told the twelve about becoming our sacrificial lamb and making a new covenant with His people. The twelve hung on his every word, trying to comprehend what He was telling them, but it was out of their grasp, out of their understanding. Yet, they ate the bread and drank the wine, because they believed Him to be the Son of God and He told them to do this as a way to remember what He would do for them. I find great comfort in knowing the disciples didn’t quite get it but obeyed anyway because they longed to worship Him. The next day, they would understand that the wine represented the cup of redemption; which Jesus became, pouring out his blood, his life for the redemption, the rescue of man. We have been redeemed and forgiven. We have been bought with a price! A price that cost Him his life!
Sitting there sacraments in hand, seeing so clearly the picture Christ left for us of that night, being fully aware of my sinfulness, my unworthiness and knowing to the depth of my soul that He did it all for me, I inhaled the sweetest way I now know to worship and honor Him. I remember Him, what He did for me, embracing the gift of grace and forgiveness He has bestowed on me. I am amazed by His glory.
(I don’t know if I really had the understanding at 8 years old and my mother was right in making me stop, question and understand before partaking in the Lord’s Supper. I’m sure she didn’t think it would take me 28 years to figure it out. Nonetheless, she was right! Thank you mom for challenging me, which brought me closer to the Lord)
Eph. 1:7-8 “In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that He lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding.”
In looking for the lyrics to an old hymn I sung as a child, I stumbled across the lyrics below. They suit better than the ones I was looking for and mirror my heart completely.
I Stand Amazed
Written by- Marc Byrd
I bring You my heart
I bring You my praise
I bring You my broken dreams
I've lost along the way
I lift up my voice
I lift up my hands
I lift up the moments in my life
That I don't understand
And I lay it at the cross
Where I'm surrounded by
Your grace
And I marvel at the wonder of Your love
I stand amazed
I stand in awe
I stand forgiven in the midst of it all
Before You I bow
Before You I fall
Blessed Redeemer,
Sweet Savior of all
I stand amazed
I offer You thanks
I offer my life
I offer a sacrifice of praise
When I'm scattered by the night
For You are my shelter
You are my King
You are the risen Son of God
The Lord of everything
Now I'm standing at the cross
Where I'm surrounded by Your grace
And I marvel at the wonder of Your love
There is life in His body
There is grace in His blood
There is peace for the sinner
Given by God's grace
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
To Understand Works, We Need to First Understand Faith
“Faith without works is dead”. (James 2:17) I came across this verse last week and have been contemplating it’s meaning since. It’s a simple sentence, no hidden meaning, yet caused me to wonder if I am doing this “Christian” thing right. If I claim to have faith but am not storing up good works in the Lord’s name for eternity, is my faith in word only? Are works the only tell-tale sign of our faith?
My mind has consistently focused on the word “works” in this verse. The word on its own has a negative connotation. Who wants to do more than they are already doing? My mind goes to my non-Christian friends…reading this verse would become one more tally on their score board for not choosing Christ. It requires work. They would argue that salvation is not a free gift after all. Without understanding true faith, I might readily agree. However, I need to point out that works are the result of salvation, not the means to it. It is essential to understand that works are not shame or guilt based. (Read on to get a better understanding…hopefully)
Here’s the beautiful part. When the world rejects, He embraces. When I am empty, He fills me up. When I can’t seem to hold on to Him, He doesn’t let go of me. When I walk away, He stands by my side. He will never leave me or forsake me (that has got to be my most favorite promise of all!) Though I was in the world, filled with sin, He chose me, gave me His son, paid my punishment of death and gave me life, calling me His daughter. Truly there is none like Him. He is my beginning. He is my end. I love Him with a love that nothing can compare. I have put my hope, trust and life into Him. My faith is in Him.
When you are loved completely and unconditionally like this you can’t help but to love in response. (I love Him because He first loved me.) Love spurs action. Our faith in Him is proven by what we do in response to that belief. Action always stems from a belief. What actions do we live out in response to what we say we believe about the Lord?
I have felt convicted this week. I struggle constantly between being of this world, but not in it. (I don't think I'm quite OK with living in exile yet. See my last post) My most consistent sin, I feel, is hiding my faith at times, caring entirely too much what others think because I desperately desire to be accepted. (There are actually several sins within that sentence, but no need to look more closely). 90% of my day is spent in the world, where by law my faith is to be kept under wraps. My witness, my “works” come out through my motives. Why do I do the work I do? Yes, for the paycheck, but also because I genuinely care about my job. (I know not all of you can say the same) How do I keep my motives pure? I know this will sound like a holier than thou attitude, but it is truth. I pray every morning on the way to work that I would work as if I am serving Him. Working for the school district doesn’t inspire me to give 110%, working as if unto the Lord makes me want to give my everything. I pray that my co-workers would see something different in me. I pray that if they should ask, that I would have the courage to share about the One I love so much, that it is Him I work for every single day.
This week dissecting this scripture, I wondered if I needed to start serving in the church again, if I needed to find more volunteer opportunities to prove my faith in the Lord. After thinking about this, I honestly believe it is not only about that. I believe it is being true to your belief and living your day to day as if you could wrap it up as a present and give it back to the Lord. Oh how I desire more than anything to bring a smile to His face as He opens my gift.
My mind has consistently focused on the word “works” in this verse. The word on its own has a negative connotation. Who wants to do more than they are already doing? My mind goes to my non-Christian friends…reading this verse would become one more tally on their score board for not choosing Christ. It requires work. They would argue that salvation is not a free gift after all. Without understanding true faith, I might readily agree. However, I need to point out that works are the result of salvation, not the means to it. It is essential to understand that works are not shame or guilt based. (Read on to get a better understanding…hopefully)
Here’s the beautiful part. When the world rejects, He embraces. When I am empty, He fills me up. When I can’t seem to hold on to Him, He doesn’t let go of me. When I walk away, He stands by my side. He will never leave me or forsake me (that has got to be my most favorite promise of all!) Though I was in the world, filled with sin, He chose me, gave me His son, paid my punishment of death and gave me life, calling me His daughter. Truly there is none like Him. He is my beginning. He is my end. I love Him with a love that nothing can compare. I have put my hope, trust and life into Him. My faith is in Him.
When you are loved completely and unconditionally like this you can’t help but to love in response. (I love Him because He first loved me.) Love spurs action. Our faith in Him is proven by what we do in response to that belief. Action always stems from a belief. What actions do we live out in response to what we say we believe about the Lord?
I have felt convicted this week. I struggle constantly between being of this world, but not in it. (I don't think I'm quite OK with living in exile yet. See my last post) My most consistent sin, I feel, is hiding my faith at times, caring entirely too much what others think because I desperately desire to be accepted. (There are actually several sins within that sentence, but no need to look more closely). 90% of my day is spent in the world, where by law my faith is to be kept under wraps. My witness, my “works” come out through my motives. Why do I do the work I do? Yes, for the paycheck, but also because I genuinely care about my job. (I know not all of you can say the same) How do I keep my motives pure? I know this will sound like a holier than thou attitude, but it is truth. I pray every morning on the way to work that I would work as if I am serving Him. Working for the school district doesn’t inspire me to give 110%, working as if unto the Lord makes me want to give my everything. I pray that my co-workers would see something different in me. I pray that if they should ask, that I would have the courage to share about the One I love so much, that it is Him I work for every single day.
This week dissecting this scripture, I wondered if I needed to start serving in the church again, if I needed to find more volunteer opportunities to prove my faith in the Lord. After thinking about this, I honestly believe it is not only about that. I believe it is being true to your belief and living your day to day as if you could wrap it up as a present and give it back to the Lord. Oh how I desire more than anything to bring a smile to His face as He opens my gift.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Is My Life Compromised?
I’ve written and rewritten this blog entry in my mind so many times over the last two weeks, yet haven’t attempted to put actual words on paper until now. I thought I could write about something else until I figured out how to go about this inner wrestling but my heart wouldn’t allow another subject to penetrate my soul. Sometimes that’s just how the Lord works in my life…He doesn’t let me off the hook until I totally relinquish it to Him and wait for Him to speak truth back into my life. Over the course of the last two weeks, He has brought countless scriptures, conversations and even yesterday’s sermon to me and released me to write freely today.
Is My Life Compromised?
With all the New Year resolution talk these past weeks I have felt the Lord continually bombarded me with two words: contentment and identity. These two words so vastly different in themselves, yet they blend together like oil pastels on the canvas of the Christian’s life.
Resolutions, I believe are formed from being dissatisfied with some area of our life or in hopes to add something to our life to feel more complete, more joy, more… something. Striving for better or more in our lives isn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, I honestly believe, discontentment is wonderful when if forces us to reach beyond ourselves, to perhaps risk. That’s when real growth happens in our lives.
As I think about this, I am asking myself, when was the last time I risked? When was the last time I didn’t hide my faith in the midst of friends or co-workers or even in my church for that matter? My heart aches as I can’t recall. I say I’m not ashamed of my God. I say that I love Him. But do I, if I am trying to resemble the world more than Him? Where do I find my identity?
This brings me back to resolutions and the goals we set for ourselves. Are the goals we’ve made to look more like man or God? Am I more concerned about what I want or what others think than what Jesus thinks? If we resemble man and live up to man’s goals and man’s expectations, we have in a very real sense elevated man to god status. Think about it.
Our Pastor touched on this subject yesterday, when he talked about Peter. Remember how he, Jesus’ best friend and disciple who lived morning, noon and night for three years with Jesus, denied knowing Him; not just once, but three times? Why did he do this? We know he loved Jesus. The answer is simply because he feared man. He was looking for man’s approval, not God’s. With a grievous heart, I wish I could say I have only denied Him three times.
Our identity is to be found in Christ. Our reflection is to mirror Jesus. If we are to live a life of obedience to Christ we will not look like the rest of the world. Are we OK with that? We will live in exile. Are we OK with that? We will feel out of place, perhaps persecuted. Are we OK with that? Beloved, we need to be OK with being holy (set apart, different). I know I will spend my whole live striving to reach this place. I know I will struggle. But I also know my heart leaps at the thought of being more like Jesus. So I risk. I press on.
1 Timothy 6:6 “But godliness with contentment is great gain”. This statement is the key to spiritual growth and personal fulfillment…to seek first his kingdom and his righteousness (Matthew 6:33): Turn to God first for help, to fulfill your thoughts with His desires, to take His character, His pattern.
Is My Life Compromised?
With all the New Year resolution talk these past weeks I have felt the Lord continually bombarded me with two words: contentment and identity. These two words so vastly different in themselves, yet they blend together like oil pastels on the canvas of the Christian’s life.
Resolutions, I believe are formed from being dissatisfied with some area of our life or in hopes to add something to our life to feel more complete, more joy, more… something. Striving for better or more in our lives isn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, I honestly believe, discontentment is wonderful when if forces us to reach beyond ourselves, to perhaps risk. That’s when real growth happens in our lives.
As I think about this, I am asking myself, when was the last time I risked? When was the last time I didn’t hide my faith in the midst of friends or co-workers or even in my church for that matter? My heart aches as I can’t recall. I say I’m not ashamed of my God. I say that I love Him. But do I, if I am trying to resemble the world more than Him? Where do I find my identity?
This brings me back to resolutions and the goals we set for ourselves. Are the goals we’ve made to look more like man or God? Am I more concerned about what I want or what others think than what Jesus thinks? If we resemble man and live up to man’s goals and man’s expectations, we have in a very real sense elevated man to god status. Think about it.
Our Pastor touched on this subject yesterday, when he talked about Peter. Remember how he, Jesus’ best friend and disciple who lived morning, noon and night for three years with Jesus, denied knowing Him; not just once, but three times? Why did he do this? We know he loved Jesus. The answer is simply because he feared man. He was looking for man’s approval, not God’s. With a grievous heart, I wish I could say I have only denied Him three times.
Our identity is to be found in Christ. Our reflection is to mirror Jesus. If we are to live a life of obedience to Christ we will not look like the rest of the world. Are we OK with that? We will live in exile. Are we OK with that? We will feel out of place, perhaps persecuted. Are we OK with that? Beloved, we need to be OK with being holy (set apart, different). I know I will spend my whole live striving to reach this place. I know I will struggle. But I also know my heart leaps at the thought of being more like Jesus. So I risk. I press on.
1 Timothy 6:6 “But godliness with contentment is great gain”. This statement is the key to spiritual growth and personal fulfillment…to seek first his kingdom and his righteousness (Matthew 6:33): Turn to God first for help, to fulfill your thoughts with His desires, to take His character, His pattern.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)