The tyranny of hyper-spirituality our church culture had foisted on us set us up for disappointment because it held up religious experiences as the means of God’s grace, rather than the finished work of the cross.
Tag Archives: humility
I am preaching tomorrow from John 11. I’m not supposed to say anything about it, les people decide to stay home because Pastor’s not preaching. But I’d be reticent to say much of anything even if it had no bearing on attendance. I’m preaching angry Sunday.
It’s not typical for me, and certainly anything but typical for our church. But the words need to be said, and it scares me. They’ve been pounding about in my head and my heart ever since I first read them two weeks ago. I’ve thought twice about delivering them, and then thought about them some more. But they will not go away.
I’m scared that the people will not understand, or worse, that they will go sailing past the congregation, who will smile nicely, nod their heads, tell me how powerful the Word was this Sunday, and continue as if I hadn’t said a word.
On only two other occasions have I felt something in me struggling to come out, that I had to get out, lie I had to speak before the force shook me off my feet. It was painful. Just getting the word out was terrifying. But I had to. I think this is what some of the Old Testament prophets must have experienced, only I’m not prophet. Far from it.
This time, though, I am confronting a congregation I wish to call to task. Many times over the past months, people have told me that they want to see signs and wonders, that we should be seeking these things. Something in me recoils at hearing this. We misplace our emphasis from the giver to the gifts.
But this is not easy to say, especially given some of things I am told we will be doing during the service. So I am nervous.
O Lord, speak through my words to Your People. Speak clearly, speak directly. May they hear what you have pressed so firmly upon me. May I not get in the way. May the words of my mouth, and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight o Lord, our Rock and our Redeemer.
In recent weeks, I’ve been feeling a lot like the prophet Jonah. You may remember him chiefly for being held captive inside a large fish for three days. That’s certainly the part I remember from Sunday School all those years ago. But that’s not the part I’m thinking about.
If you remember the story, God instructs Jonah to go to Nineveh to declare God’s punishment on them. Nineveh was the capital of Assyria, which had subdued Israel, and now ruled them as a client state. We can think of it today in terms of being asked by God to travel to an ISIS camp to declare God’s judgment upon them. Jonah, of course, wants nothing to do with this, and so he takes a ship bound in the opposite direction. Why?
We have to wait for the end of the book to find out. In Jonah 4:2-3, the prophet explains himself. While the mission would seem to be an Israelite’s dream, Jonah knows better. God isn’t going to smite the Assyrians, He is going to have mercy on them. And Jonah won’t abide that. He pouts indignantly. It’s not clear what he hates more, God’s mercy itself, or his own role as an agent of that mercy.
God is nothing if not patient. Previously, He had Jonah swallowed by a great fish in the face of a terrific storm. Jonah was saved from certain drowning, and after repenting of his desire to flee God’s call, Jonah was released to obey that call. He could appear before the Ninevites as living proof of God’s mercy. Since Jonah remained recalcitrant, God tried yet again.
While Jonah kept his watch over the city, God caused a gourd vine to rise up to shelter Jonah from the fierceness of the sun (4:6). The next day, God took the vine away, sending a worm to eat it. As if that were not enough, God then sent a hot wind off the desert and a blazing sun. Jonah was scorched, so he pouted, again.
At this point, God chooses to confront Jonah directly. Why is Jonah so upset? He has done nothing to help the vine grow or preserve it from pests. Yet Jonah is so distressed about its fate that he wants to die. But what, then, of the city of Nineveh, teeming with humans made in the image of God, or the many animals within its limits? Does God not have the right to be upset about their fate? Does He not have the right to show mercy?
For the past several years, I have felt increasingly out of touch with the church I attend. Most of the people I have known, and consider friends, have left. I do not have much in common with those who remain. I would much rather be somewhere else, and yet there I remain, and Elder of the church.
Is my discomfort a sign that I should leave, or a sign that God wishes stretch me?
Jonah was clearly stretched. It amazes me that having received such an extraordinary demonstration of God’s mercy, he could not extend that grace to others. But am I all that different? I struggle to extend grace. I get hung up on others’ sinfulness. I don’t want to be seen condoning it. So how do you hate the sin, yet love the sinner?
If I am to serve them, I must love them. But if that does not come naturally, what then? Only God’s love and love them, and He can only love pour that love through me if I yield to it. We make it sound the simplest thing to do, yet I am finding it so hard. It’s the funny thing, we all yearn to be used of God, but we rarely give a thought as to how He might choose to use us.
Most people perusing my Facebook posts will note that by and large, I confine myself to post about food and our dog. This is intentional. For starters, our dog is cute, and with all the ugliness in this world, we could all use some cuteness. I post about food because nearly everyone I know eats. It’s the rare person who does not eat. As my wife happens to be a very good cook, it also affords me an opportunity to praise her publicly. I like doing that.
Too much of my feed seems to be designed to make me feel guilty or angry. See injured animals or starving children, or perhaps what the stars are doing now. Shouldn’t you be doing more? Then there is the parade, both left and right, of stupid statements or actions by political leaders. Or perhaps it is the revelation of something monstrous about some organization or other. Either way, we are supposed become angry, or fearful, or both.
I figure we get enough of that, and I have no wish to add to these fires of passion. So dogs and food it is. Besides, our dog is really cute.
Chesterton once observed that, “The only Christian doctrine for which there is empirical evidence is that of original sin.” One needed only to pick up the newspaper and read. Of course, these days, very few people actually read a physical newspaper, but you can readily substitute television or news-feeds. Or, you can simply go for a drive during rush hour.
Over the years I have heard a number of discussions on Christianity, all attempting to answer the question, “What would Jesus drive?” That is not my concern. My question is much more practical and relevant: “How would Jesus drive?”
Driving to work last week, I was reminded of a passage from Ezekiel:
The Lord God says to you, My flock: I am going to judge between one sheep and another, between the rams and male goats. Isn’t it enough for you to feed on the good pasture? Must you also trample the rest of the pasture with your feet? Or isn’t it enough that you drink the clear water? Must you also muddy the rest with your feet? Yet My flock has to feed on what your feet have trampled, and drink what your feet have muddied. Ezekiel 34:17-19 (HCSB)
Do you see rush hour traffic in this description?
I could offer an answer to the question I posed, but I think it better to leave you to answer it.
“Therefore, thus says the Lord God to them: Behold, I, I myself will judge between the fat sheep and the lean sheep. Because you push with side and shoulder, and thrust at all the weak with your horns, till you have scattered them abroad, I will rescue my flock; they shall no longer be a prey.” Ezekiel 34:20-22a (ESV)
One of the biggest challenges I face is reading the “Alumni News” section of my alma mater’s magazine for parents and alumni. I experience both envy and regret. Envy, as I see others’ success trumpeted from the pages, and regret, that my own life has fallen short. I believe I should be far more successful and important than I am.
My entirely sensible wife wrinkles her nose at this. How am I defining success? Is it an accurate definition? Why do I believe this?
Since I was quite young, I was told that I was exceptional, and that I held the promise of great things. I had talent and intelligence. Even my peers, who were not inclined to treat me well, believed this. In those dark moments when I smarted from rejection, I clung to the notion that one day, one sweet day, I would be a huge success, and those who teased me or humiliated me would be forced to acknowledge just how great and important I was. Seeing these thoughts in print reminds me of how small and shabby they are.
Why do I believe this, and is it true?
It might do to attribute this to others, but the fact is I do believe it, and have made the thoughts my own. Could it be a defense mechanism, to give sense to my disappointments? An escape from the mundane? Or is it really just a subtle manifestation of the flesh within me?
I possess abilities, but then so do many people, and ability is no guarantor of success however you measure it. Am I superior to my fellow man? No. So why should I succeed? What does God wish me to be?
There is the question, isn’t it? What does success look like to God?
If I’m honest, God doesn’t care much about what job title possess, or how far I advance. He is far more concerned with developing my character and how well I’m doing in working to advance His kingdom. That isn’t to say that God has no interest what I do professionally. He clearly desires His people to apply themselves diligently, making the most of the time. We are told to do everything as unto the Lord, after all.
Still, it hurts, reading the headlines, and wonder why I can’t be like them?
Two passages of Scripture come to mind: John 21:20-22 and Philippians 2:5-11:
But Peter turned and saw the disciple whom Jesus loved, following…. When Peter saw him, he said to Jesus, Lord, what about this man? Jesus said to him, If I want him to stay (survive, live) until I come, what is that to you? [What concern is it of yours?] You follow Me! John 21:20-22 (Ampl.)
Let Christ himself be your example as to what your attitude should be. For he, who had always been God by nature, did not cling to his prerogatives as God’s equal, but stripped himself of all privilege by consenting to be a slave by nature and being born as mortal man. And, having become man, he humbled himself by living a life of utter obedience, even to the extent of dying, and the death he died was the death of a common criminal. That is why God has now lifted him so high, and has given him the name beyond all names, so that at the name of Jesus “every knee shall bow”, whether in Heaven or earth or under the earth. And that is why, in the end, “every tongue shall confess” that Jesus Christ” is the Lord, to the glory of God the Father. Phil. 2:5-11 (Phillips)
These passages are not easy reading. I am not sure if it’s something inherent in human nature to want to compare ourselves to others and get ahead, or pressure from living in America, but the green-eyed monster exacts a terrible toll. It can never be satisfied, for there is always yet another success, just beyond our grasp, or having obtained more of one thing, we now want more of something else. Satan can ask for little better to distract us, a perpetual motion machine of discontent.
“Let Christ himself be your example….” This issue was, in large part, what His temptation in the wilderness was all about. Each time Satan confronted Him, it was to offer Christ a chance to prove to one and all that he was the Messiah. Only Christ didn’t take the bait.
He passed on the idea of loudly announcing Himself such that everyone would accept His identity. Shockingly, He felt not need to impress upon us His importance. Indeed, He was so settled in His identity that no job was beneath His dignity. He could afford to don silly disguises, or act in undignified ways, or waste His talents even, because they could in no way diminish Him.
As for my desire to be better than my peers, “What is that to you?” Jesus strove to direct Peter’s attention away from others, and himself. Peter had his task before him, to “feed My sheep.” That, and that alone, could serve as the measure of Peter– was he faithful and diligent in fulfilling his task.
Note too, that Peter’s value was not connected with how well he carried out Jesus’ instructions. Jesus declared Peter valuable before He charged Peter with his mission. His value was independent of his performance. To the nervous pulling of our egos, Jesus gives the stern call, “Follow Me.”
The call is to redirect our focus, away from ourselves, and away from others, to rest solely on Him. Instead of asking, “Am I important?” or “Am I meeting my potential?” we should be asking “How closely am I following Jesus? What is He asking me to do?”