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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)