lustful looking

Note: I’m going to be out of the country for a few days, so I won’t be posting until I get back. Please rejoin me on June 6!

It’s easy to forget that I’m never alone. When I make those choices I think no one will ever know about, God knows.

Job put it this way, in Job 31:1-4: "I made a covenant with my eyes not to look lustfully at a young woman. For what is our lot from God above, our heritage from the Almighty on high? Is it not ruin for the wicked, disaster for those who do wrong? Does he not see my ways and count my every step?”

One nice thing about getting older is that either I’m learning more control, or my appetites have moderated, but ignoring the flashy, sexy bait the world trolls in TV ads, movies and on the street is easier than it used to be. I worry sometimes for my sons and grandsons; I don’t get the current feminist expectation that women can dress however they want and men just better keep their eyes to themselves. And the boundaries of pop culture are changing constantly, so that challenging images can pop up on the side of a bus or in a window display at the mall.

For me, though, my lustful looking these days is more likely to be aimed at other people’s stuff. I’m way more likely to want another man’s car or cell phone than I am a woman not my wife. That’s partly because Dawn is not only perfectly suited to me, but also beautiful. But it’s also because I give myself permission to covet those other things.

Job’s point, though, is this: God knows what goes on inside my head. He knows when I stop thinking like Jesus and start thinking like the world. He knows when I objectify a woman or make objects the center of my life. And it offends him as much as if I acted on my thoughts.

Be careful, little eyes, what you see. Sight leads to thoughts which lead to desires that lead to sin, which leads to death. God sees my ways, Job says, and counts my every step. It’s amazing that he still loves me.

where wisdom?

You see it a lot during this election cycle: people with opposite views both convinced of their own infallible insights. Most of the book of Job is made up of that kind of argument between Job and his friends.

It led Job to ask this question: “ Where then does wisdom come from? Where does understanding dwell? It is hidden from the eyes of every living thing, concealed even from the birds in the sky. Destruction and Death say, ‘Only a rumor of it has reached our ears.’ God understands the way to it and he alone knows where it dwells for he views the ends of the earth and sees everything under the heavens. “Job 28:20-24

This begs the question, where do I turn for wisdom? If you answer based on where I spend the most time gathering information, then I guess the Associated Press, the Wall Street Journal, CNN and Fox, Facebook and Twitter are it. I read the news, discuss things with friends, listen to the talking heads, and draw my own conclusions.

The problem with that is that only God knows where wisdom can be found. To offset the hours I spend consuming and discussing news, I spend minutes with God. That means that I’m closer to conventional wisdom than the Sophia of Proverbs. And conventional wisdom is to true wisdom what pop culture is to the arts.

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. Only God can give it to me. And the only way to God is through Jesus - “No one comes to the Father but by me,” remember?

To be truly wise, I need to talk things over with Jesus. I need to bring those concerns to him, lay out my confusion, and spend time listening. I need to spend at least enough time doing that to balance out the worldly wisdom I consume. I need to; will I?

the wicked prosper

There was a man who regularly heaped verbal abuse on me, and once threatened me with a hammer. I managed to stay calm while face to face, but always, immediately afterward, I’d get mad. I’d rage inside my own head. My biggest frustration was that this man got everything he wanted, from me and everyone else. He was a cheat and a bully, and very, very wealthy.

I thought of him this morning when I read Job 21:7-13: “Why do the wicked live on, growing old and increasing in power? They see their children established around them, their offspring before their eyes. Their homes are safe and free from fear; the rod of God is not on them. Their bulls never fail to breed; their cows calve and do not miscarry. . . . They spend their years in prosperity and go down to the grave in peace.”

That was part of Job’s lament, that the wicked prosper. And it seems so often to be true. I know that this life is just a moment compared to what’s coming, so I get it that their suffering will be long and profound. But it still doesn’t seem fair. 

But then I’m reminded of Chuck Colsen’s book, “How Now Shall We Live?”. In that book the author digs into what it means to live faithfully in current culture. He devotes one memorable chapter to some of the most wealthy, famous people on earth and how miserable they are or were, by their own admission.

It makes me think that maybe wealth was a curse to that angry bully who used to plague me. Maybe it was like drinking sea water - it looked so good to him but the more he drank, the thirstier he got. Imagine having everything you thought would make you happy, but you’re not. And now you have no idea what to do to be happy.

Of course, I’m like that. I have everything I need to be happy, but I grumble. I’m quick to see the negatives. I let happy moments go right by me because of the emotional residue of my own dark thoughts.

The question, I guess, isn’t why the wicked prosper. We all have wickedness in us; the question I’m left with is what I’ve done to deserve all the blessing I have. 

faith like that

I’ve never really had to suffer. Oh, I’ve had my injuries, but physical pain soon passes, and doesn’t bother me as much as some people anyway. I’ve been spared so far the griefs of broken relationships and lost loved ones, of financial ruin, of loss of health or home. I’ve never been persecuted, for my faith or any other reason.

I understand in an intellectual way that those things can happen to good people too, that they aren’t judgment from God. But I know that my belief in God’s providence also requires me to believe that somehow God has a hand in suffering too, at least inasmuch as he withholds his blessing.

Job put the finger directly on God. In Job 17:6-8 he said, "God has made me a byword to everyone, a man in whose face people spit. My eyes have grown dim with grief; my whole frame is but a shadow. The upright are appalled at this; the innocent are aroused against the ungodly.”

It’s a good thing I have faith in God. It’s a good thing that I believe all his promises, because when those hard things happen to me or to my Christian brothers and sisters, it doesn’t shake my faith, or at least it hasn’t so far. I wonder sometimes what God is doing, but I always trust that He is doing good.

Job did too. In Job 19:25-27 he ends with this: “I know that my redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand on the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; I myself will see him with my own eyes —I, and not another. How my heart yearns within me!”

After everything, God was still the object of Job’s longing. That shames me. In my life of ease and comfort, I have many objects of longing. May God increasingly be the greatest, and eventually the only.

limits

I have a friend who has focused his life on living to age 120. He says that’s a natural lifetime as described in Genesis, and he wants all of it. He believes that anyone who doesn’t live that long has shortchanged himself through bad life choices.

He and I have disagreed on this for almost three decades now, but I’ve never been able to say exactly why I think his goal is wrong. But this morning I read Job 14:5, which says, “A person's days are determined; you have decreed the number of his months and have set limits he cannot exceed.”

Now, maybe my friend is right, and the limit on age was set at 120. Or maybe I’m right and God has a specific lifetime planned for each of us. Even though that’s what we argue about, I don’t think that’s the point.

I think the point is that God limits us based on what he wants us to do. He gives us whatever amount of time we have not to focus on ourselves, not to live for the enjoyment of this world, but to serve his people. And after that, to go live with God in glory.

So first of all, I want to say to my friend that all the hours he commits each day to being as healthy as he can be, and all the social opportunities he passes up because the food won’t meet his standards, are hours and opportunities that could and should be used to serve other people. Even if he gets his 120 years, he’s wasting most of it.

Second, though, is the big question: why fight so hard for more days on earth when our destination is heaven? I get it that we all fear death. I don’t get people who love this world so much that they don’t want heaven.

It makes me wonder if there are ways I cling to much to my temporary life here. How do I invest myself in this world at the expense of preparing for eternity? I’m sure there are ways, but as always it’s a lot easier to point out my friend’s error than see my own.

Another thing to pray about. 

mysteries

A few days ago I found myself in one of those discussions Christians have sometimes. We can talk at length, and sometimes argue with certainty, about things like creation or the end times or heaven, things that aren’t fully revealed to us. 

Maybe we’re that way because we live in a time where certainty and proof are highly valued. We want to know for sure. Our belief in science makes us think we can know for sure. Police procedurals on TV make us think there will always be DNA or fingerprints or some solid evidence that settles the case one way or the other.

Zophar the Naamathite, for all his other bad advice, reminded Job of something I need to hear. In Job 11:7-9 he says, "Can you fathom the mysteries of God? Can you probe the limits of the Almighty? They are higher than the heavens above—what can you do? They are deeper than the depths below —what can you know? Their measure is longer than the earth and wider than the sea.”

God is beyond my ability to understand. I need the mysteries to remind me that, like a child does with an earthly father, sometimes I just need to follow because I won’t understand the explanations anyway.

And I need to be reminded that faith isn’t faith if I demand proof. When I say, “Prove it,” I’m really saying, “I won’t believe you until you prove it.” That’s the opposite of faith. It’s fine, and probably good and necessary, for me to say that to other people when we’re debating what Scripture says. I should never say that to God. 

God has chosen to leave me in the dark on exactly how to reconcile the geological record with Genesis. He hasn’t revealed precisely what will happen when the world ends. He hasn’t explained the trinity or election well enough for me to completely understand them. And that’s OK. If I ever feel like I understand God, I’ll lose my awe of him.

I like having to live with the mysteries. Sure, sometimes I’d like to just know for sure, but someday I will. Until then, there’s one thing I am certain of: I’m secure with this mysterious God. He won’t hurt me; in fact, he’ll always help me. That’s enough, for now.

proof of innocence

I experience a lot of reactions when I read the book of Job. I feel bad for Job, I get frustrated at his friends, I wonder about God. Today, I feel overwhelming gratitude.

I read Job 9, where Job talks about his frustration at his situation. He says, in part, “ But how can mere mortals prove their innocence before God? Though they wished to dispute with him, they could not answer him one time out of a thousand. . . . He is not a mere mortal like me that I might answer him, that we might confront each other in court. If only there were someone to mediate between us, someone to bring us together, someone to remove God's rod from me, so that his terror would frighten me no more.” Job 9:2-3, 32-34

We have what Job longed for. I have that “if only” someone that Job recognized was necessary to intercede for him with God. Jesus is the one to mediate between us, to bring us together, to remove God’s rod from me. I’m a less worthy person than Job, yet God has granted me what he lacked, at least at that time: a savior.

Hallelujah! The disasters I bring on myself, the ashes I choose to sit in, the dubious friends I invite into my life - these things don’t define my future. Jesus does, Jesus the God-man who knows me and loves me anyway, who died for me and rose and ascended for me. Jesus, my Lord who sits at God’s right hand and, every time someone brings an accusation against me, leans over and says, “He’s one of mine, the ones I redeemed.” And God forgives.

For Job, such an advocate would have been a huge comfort. For me, it’s something I too often take for granted.

intermittent streams

Job 6:14-17 "Anyone who withholds kindness from a friend forsakes the fear of the Almighty. But my brothers are as undependable as intermittent streams, as the streams that overflow when darkened by thawing ice and swollen with melting snow, but that stop flowing in the dry season, and in the heat vanish from their channels.”

These verses from Job kind of scare me. They say that when I withhold kindness that’s the same as forsaking the fear of God. That can’t be! Maybe Job meant if a good friend directly asks for a kindness, then I’m compelled to do it. He surely can’t mean that I’m on the hook for any act of kindness I discern might be helpful to any old acquaintance!

Thoughts like that just show how out of sync I can be with God sometimes. I’m one of those goal-oriented guys that too often see people as interruptions. I like the idea of serving others, but it just doesn’t work out well with my schedule and plans most of the time. It’s so inconvenient.

On the other hand, I don’t want to be like Job’s friends, those brothers he says are as undependable as intermittent streams. That kind of stream is dry when most needed, and only runs with water when the rest of the world is wet too.

Most of the time when I try to find the boundaries of a command from God, I learn in the end that the fact that I’m looking for the place where I’m relieved of responsibility shows I just don’t get it in the first place. God’s generous Spirit didn’t dictate a lot of fine print. Most of these things are simply stated because that’s all there is to it.

So today I read from Job that a good Christ-follower won’t withhold his kindnesses. The more I look for loopholes, the less like Christ I really am. The more like Christ I become, the less I’ll care about the loopholes.

keeping the faith

God let Satan take everything Job owned. Job lost his flocks and herds, his money, his home, his family. All he had left was his wife and his health. He went in days from being one of the most blessed men ever to having nothing.

But he didn’t lose his faith in God. This is what the Bible tells us happened when he got all the bad news (Job 1:20-21) “At this, Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground in worship and said: ’Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.’"

I don’t think I’d say that. I like my life just so. I like my property neat and well-kept, I like day to be orderly, I like decent food and drink and nice clothes to wear. I feel like I spent decades building this life, and I don’t always react well when things don’t go my way.

But that’s the point. I didn’t build this life - God blessed me in ways he chose not to bless others just as worthy. He protected my health when many of my classmates have struggled with things like diabetes and cancer. He protected my marriage even as I’ve watched many others fall apart. He gave me stability in my job, so that my income has grown steadily over time. Some of my friends have been pushed from job to job by layoffs and business closures.

Job saw a truth that I miss: everything I have came from God, and if it serves His purposes he’ll take it away again. If my comfortable life in some way compromises my relationship with God, maybe by making me think I did it myself, it can go in a heartbeat. 

No matter what happened, Job kept his faith in God. In fact, he praised God for his omnipotence even when God’s providence seemed to be withheld.

The Lord gives and takes away based on what’s best for my soul. I need to practice saying, “May the Lord be praised,” no matter what he allows in my life.

shunning evil

I think one of the struggles for Christians in America is that we co-exist with evil. In fact, we’re encouraged to in the name of tolerance.

If Job came to my home town, what would he think of God’s people here? What would he think of me? Job 1:1 says Job “was blameless and upright; he feared God and shunned evil.” Would he watch me go about life and think that I, too, shun evil?

If he watched Netflix with me, read my Twitter feed, looked over my library books, what would he think? Would he watch all those portrayals of extra-marital relationships, of violent solutions to problems, of shady business deals and corrupt political maneuverings and all the weird behaviors that happen in prison and think it’s all OK? Or would Job ask me why I choose to take in so many different depictions of evil in a day?

If Job watched me at work, if he listened to the language my co-workers sometimes use and the jokes we sometimes tell, if he heard our discussions of how to handle customers in the cheapest way possible, if he watch the backstabbing and infighting that can go on in an office, what would he say? Would he commend me for shunning evil? Would he ask me why I tolerate it?

Job wasn’t ignorant of evil. He had some hard-partying kids, the kind who needed purification and extra sin offerings after their banquets. He raised livestock in a region where raiders and thieves were common. Religions of the time often featured temple prostitutes. There were promiscuous, permissive, self-indulgent people all around him.

Yet Job somehow lived and prospered in this society. He was well thought of. And through it all, he shunned evil.

It’s a sobering challenge to me to be less of this world I’m called to be in. I’m not sure I know how to do that. I am sure I need to try.

marching choir

Here in Orange City, marching band is very much a thing. We have the Pride of the Dutchmen marching band, which regularly wins contests all over the region, and marches in holiday parades a lot.

Nehemiah had something I think would be just as cool, but I’ve never seen one: marching choirs. Two of them.

You can read about them in Nehemiah 12, which describes the huge dedication ceremony for the newly-completed wall around Jerusalem. There are almost 50 verses that describe the celebration, and in them you’ll read this, starting at verse 31:

“I had the leaders of Judah go up on top of the wall. I also assigned two large choirs to give thanks. One was to proceed on top of the wall to the right, toward the Dung Gate. . . . The second choir proceeded in the opposite direction. . . . The two choirs that gave thanks then took their places in the house of God . . . .The choirs sang under the direction of Jezrahiah.”

I love celebrations with music, and vocal music can be especially worshipful. I imagine these two choirs ringing the city with praise music. I imagine the mass choir filling the temple with sound. Way cool!

It really makes me appreciate the good music I hear in our worship services. It kind of makes me want to put a hedge of praise music around my town. That’s not practical, but it reminds me of the call of the prophet for the Jews in exile to be good citizens and bless their new communities. Part of serving God is serving my town, and even if I can’t sing my way around it, I can pray.

I’m called to be a part of this world more than apart from it. It’s good to be reminded of that.

firstfruits, tithes and offerings

Reading from Nehemiah this morning made me think a little differently about giving. I read about the Jews re-committing themselves to God’s service after the temple and walls in Jerusalem were rebuilt. As part of that commitment, they said this:

"We also assume responsibility for bringing to the house of the Lord each year the firstfruits of our crops and of every fruit tree. As it is also written in the Law, we will bring the firstborn of our sons and of our cattle, of our herds and of our flocks to the house of our God, to the priests ministering there . . . . And we will bring a tithe of our crops to the Levites, for it is the Levites who collect the tithes in all the towns where we work..” Nehemiah 10:35-38.

I noticed, maybe for the first time, that there were two levels of commitment here, firstfruits and tithes. To me, that suggests a couple of different principles at work.

The firstfruits seem to say that I will attend to God’s kingdom before my own, and I will do it as soon as I can with the best that I have. It’s a principle of priority.

In addition to that, I will tithe for the upkeep of the church and provision for those called to work fulltime in it. This is a principle of obligation. It’s God’s earliest model for how to fund ministry.

Not addressed here is the question of what I call offerings. To me, these are the responses of the heart either in gratitude for what God has done or in empathy for the hurting of the world. Beyond the symbolic commitment of firstfruits and the regular obligation of tithing, there are those times when God touches my heart either with a need or by a strong sense of blessing, and from that I want to give back. That’s why we sponsor a Compassion child, and support Wycliffe. And why thanksgiving offerings are so big.

So, three principles: God’s kingdom before mine, meet my obligations to support ministry, and give when my heart is touched. There are certainly other good understandings of when and why we give, but this is mine.

better than steroids

The people were grieving. As they celebrated God’s faithfulness to them in completing the wall around Jerusalem, they realized how unfaithful they had been to God. Nehemiah comforted them with these words: "Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks, and send some to those who have nothing prepared. This day is holy to our Lord. Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength." Nehemiah 8:10.

The joy of the Lord is my strength. I can read that two ways. On the one hand, it seems to say that I’ll be strengthened if I take joy in God. Or maybe, I gain strength because God takes joy in me. I’m inclined to the first one, because sometimes I don’t give God much reason for joy.

Nehemiah seems to be saying, “This is a celebration of God’s holiness. That’s a joyful occasion, and you’ll gain strength for your fight against sin if you take joy in the holiness of God.”

I’d like to think that’s true. I’d like to think that all my weakness in the face of temptation will fade if I just think about what God did for his people, and what Jesus did on the cross. I hope that, as I contemplate what holiness means when it describes God and what holiness means when it describes the people of God, I’m inspired toward that holiness.

And then to take joy in that, to really rejoice. To celebrate who God is and what he’s done. That should be an attitude that is impervious to temptation.

True joy in God really is a source of strength, better than steroids or weight workouts. Those can build muscle bulk but could also weaken faith as I bolster my own physical strength. They do nothing to help me fight sin.

I need to live with more joy in my life. Instead of needing something to make me joyful, I need to take joy in God. Not just for the strength, but because it’s what I was made for. And it would sure beat the misery I too often choose instead.

leading in unfaithfulness

Cult leaders seem especially contemptible to me. They use their charismatic personalities to prey on the fears of believers, all to give themselves power to indulge their own pleasure.

I don’t remember who said, “Power corrupts,” but it’s true often enough to make me fear it. Church leaders aren’t exempt. In Ezra 9:1-2 I read of Ezra’s challenges with his church leaders. 

“After these things had been done, the leaders came to me and said, ‘The people of Israel, including the priests and the Levites, have not kept themselves separate from the neighboring peoples with their detestable practices, like those of the Canaanites, Hittites, Perizzites, Jebusites, Ammonites, Moabites, Egyptians and Amorites. They have taken some of their daughters as wives for themselves and their sons, and have mingled the holy race with the peoples around them. And the leaders and officials have led the way in this unfaithfulness.’"

Have I done that? I’ve been an elder in our church. I preach, and I write. I’ve stated my opinion publicly enough that I’m sure a few people watch what I do. Have I ever led anyone into unfaithfulness?

I sure hope not. I don’t want to. But I suspect most of those leaders who took pagan wives had good arguments for it. I suspect, like me, they were experts at justifying what they want using the words of faith. As I think about it, it seems more and more likely that I misused power at some point, and likely led others astray when I did it.

Leaders are God’s gift to his church. I think it’s by his grace that they lead us well. I think it’s by his grace that, as a group, they compensate for all the flaws they have individually. Almost always, our trust in them is validate by time. 

Still, it’s a sobering reminder that when I’m in a position to lead, even just as a thought leader, there’s a lot at stake. God, please give me wisdom in those times.

faith

I’m trying to think of a time in my life when I was physically at risk because of my faith. I can’t.

The point is important to me this morning because I’m trying to put myself into Ezra’s shoes. Ezra got permission to take some of the Jews and go back to Jerusalem to rebuild the temple. He was ready to leave, but had a prayer service before taking off. Here’s how it’s described in Ezra 8:21-23.

“There, by the Ahava Canal, I proclaimed a fast, so that we might humble ourselves before our God and ask him for a safe journey for us and our children, with all our possessions. I was ashamed to ask the king for soldiers and horsemen to protect us from enemies on the road, because we had told the king, ‘The gracious hand of our God is on everyone who looks to him, but his great anger is against all who forsake him.’ So we fasted and petitioned our God about this, and he answered our prayer.”

It’s interesting to me that Ezra didn’t dare ask the king for guards, having stated his confidence in God. He felt endangered, or he wouldn’t have thought about it. But he chose to trust God rather than overcome his embarrassment and request soldiers from the king.

Not having ever been in that situation, I don’t know how I would react. I suspect, though, that I might default to the old saying, “God helps those who help themselves.” I’d probably make my case to the king for as large a guard detachment as possible.

Sometimes I meet or hear of people who put their lives on the line in faith to God. Often they’re missionaries like my brother. Sometimes they’re high school kids, like the ones killed in the Columbine shooting. Always they bring up for me the same question - would I show that kind of faith?

Probably - I’ve shown it in a lot of other areas of my life. But I’m not certain. I am grateful for the examples they set. And I pray for faith like that.

testing the heart

There’s a saying about cats: You can’t teach cats to stay off the table; you can only teach them to stay off the table when you’re in the room. It’s a commentary on the independent willfulness of cats compared to more compliant pets like dogs.

I think people might be worse, or at least I might be. Left on my own, I tend to default pretty quickly to what makes me happy.

I thought about that trait this morning as I read about King Hezekiah in 2 Chronicles 32:31 Toward the end of his reign, which was mostly successful, it says, “But when envoys were sent by the rulers of Babylon to ask him about the miraculous sign that had occurred in the land, God left him to test him and to know everything that was in his heart.”

That verse chilled me. I thought of all the times I railed against God for being silent. I thought of him watching me to see what was in my heart. I thought of my heart closing up like a fist and turning to other things for comfort. If God was testing me like he did Hezekiah to know everything that was in my heart, I’m afraid it was a test I failed.

The truth is, I walk closely with God when I can feel him there. If I don’t sense him close, I tend to wander. Am I unusual? Maybe I am. I don’t see others jumping on the table when they think the Master has left the room.

In the end, my meditation led me back to grace. For all the tests of the heart that I must have failed, I am still God’s child. I still feel his love this morning, and see his providence in my recent yesterdays. I still feel that pull toward his throne, and that desire to please him. Those things don’t come from my human heart, full as it is with un-godly things. They come from a heart changed by Jesus. Amazing grace indeed.

discouragement

I’ve been struggling with discouragement. Part of it is physical - I have an injury that keeps me from running. But more than that, there’s a sense that we’re losing. No one seems to care anymore that we’re God’s image-bearers. Any level of deviance seems not only OK, but protected. Barring a revival, I think America is a few short years away from being a post-Christian nation.

This morning, words of encouragement from 2 Chronicles 32:7-8: "Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or discouraged because of the king of Assyria and the vast army with him, for there is a greater power with us than with him. With him is only the arm of flesh, but with us is the Lord our God to help us and to fight our battles."

In that situation, Assyria came against Judah with a massive army and a ton of arrogance. The arrogance was rooted in decades of military success, but unfounded anyway. God wiped out all the warriors and officers in the camp, and the king went home so disgraced that his sons killed him.

The king of Assyria made a significant mistake: He mocked God. He did exactly what the humanists and atheists of today do. He said God was insignificant, ineffectual. He claimed God could not stop him from doing whatever he wanted. He scorned those who believed in God as superstitious and deluded.

I don’t expect God to send an angel to silence his enemies this year. But that’s only because he doesn’t want to. God will not ever be stopped by people, or anything else. He is still the sovereign lord, my sovereign lord.

Psalm 2 says, “Why do the nations conspire and the people plot in vain . . . . The One enthroned in heaven laughs; the Lord scoffs.at them.”

What I see as losing is probably really patience. God is giving people time to repent, and us time to witness. Rather than despair, I need to get to work.

like me

Some words I read this morning slapped me across the face: “But aren't you also guilty of sins against the Lord your God?” 2 Chronicles 28:10

The prophet Oded said that to Pekah king of Israel, who had been sent by God to punish King Ahaz and the nation of Judah for idolatry. Pekah killed 120,000 soldiers and took 200,000 women and children as slaves, an excessive, bloodthirsty interpretation of God’s command. Oded interfered and the captives were returned to Judah.

But those words. Within the last few days I’ve criticized our church leaders for their apathetic attitudes. I’ve railed against the politicians and their self-serving ways. I’ve grumbled about the stupid ways people parent their children, and the laziness of people I know who collect welfare.

I’m really good at seeing what others do wrong. This morning the prophet said to me, “But aren’t you also guilty of sins against the Lord your God?’

Yes! I’m apathetic, about church and many other things. I’m self-serving, I’m lazy, I did a lot of bad things when I was raising my kids. And I’m judgmental and can be very negative. 

Pekah thought his assignment from God made him special, and gave him license. I often think I’m better than others I observe, or at least that I see the truth more clearly. But the fact is that God looks at me and sees the apathetic, self-serving, lazy, negative, critical jerk that I really am, and that other people probably see me as too. And you know what? His response is to love me and forgive me.

And then he makes me better. He turns my attention back to him, he softens my heart, he firms up my purpose, and somehow I’m not any of those things anymore. Somehow I can look at those people and see that they’re just struggling to get by, like me. They sometimes buy Satan’s lies, like me. They need a Savior, like me.

In Christ, I’m a good person. But I’m no better, no more worthy or valuable, than anyone else. And without Christ, I’m among the worst. No room for pride, all the room in the world for gratitude.

pride

The four books of Kings and Chronicles are a history of failed kings. A few did pretty well, but most didn’t. You’d think somewhere along the line they would have learned about defying God.

Uzziah is typical. He becomes king, initially listens to God and then, in 2 Chronicles 26:16 we read, “But after Uzziah became powerful, his pride led to his downfall.” Uzziah goes into the temple to make his own sacrifice, usurping the role of priest. God afflicts him with leprosy, and he is quarantined in a separate house until he dies.

Pride is a dangerous thing. I remember a pastor saying that health and prosperity led to as many spiritual problems as sickness and poverty. Highly blessed people can easily think they’re pretty good. They think those blessings came from their own work. 

I sometimes think my blessings came from my own work. I paid my dues, continued my education, climbed the ladder, saved my money, avoided bad lifestyle choices. All of that is true, but those bare facts beg two points.

First, did I do those things because I’m awesome, or because God, through his word and through the companionship and counsel of fellow believers, held my hand and guided me to this good place? I’m thinking probably the second one, because I know myself to be not so awesome.

Second, even if I did those things myself, does it follow that I earned for myself the blessings? I know rich successful people whose lives are miserable. Their families are a wreck, their bodies are failing them, they have few close relationships. So why don’t I face those things?

There is a very clear message in all these stories of failed kings. Follow God, and he will bless. Follow idols and he won’t. It doesn’t seem that clear to us because sometimes God delays both blessings and judgment for his own purposes, but it’s still true.

As always, living for Jesus is backward of what seems right. The more I succeed the more humble and grateful I should be. I wonder if my friends, family and co-workers would use those words to describe me?