just lazy

It’s really easy to read Proverbs and think of all the other people they apply to. I did that this morning when I read Proverbs 10:26: “As vinegar to the teeth and smoke to the eyes, so are sluggards to those who send them.”

Between my various military assignments and my current job in charge of four manufacturing plants, I’ve probably been responsible for a couple thousand subordinates over the years. I know firsthand how frustrating it is trying to urge lazy people to get work done. It’s like pushing a rope.

My smugness faded, though, as I thought about my work for God. How many times hasn’t he put something he wanted me to do right in my path and I walked around it on the way to what I wanted to do? How many times hasn’t he laid a need or a dream on my heart and I listened instead to all the “yeah-buts” in my head? How many service projects haven’t I sat out because I think I’m already doing a lot, I’m busy enough?

Truth is, I’m probably vinegar to God’s teeth and smoke to his eyes more often than I please him with my good work. When it comes to kingdom work, God might use an old Army term to describe me: ROAD. Retired On Active Duty.

I don’t want to be a sluggard. I don’t want to be lazy about the things of God. Am I? Maybe I’m too hard on myself, but a lot of days I think I am. But I can get better at this too. Mostly it will be about matching my priorities to God’s, which I should be doing anyway.

conflict

I remember a contentious discussion in council one time over a topic that was splitting our church. A wise elder made the point, “I’m sure there are some things Jesus would prioritize over unity among believers, but I don’t think there are very many and I doubt this is one of them.”

The author of Proverbs supported that viewpoint in Proverbs 6:16-19: “There are six things the Lord hates, seven that are detestable to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies, and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.”

Stirring up conflict, according to these verses, is hated by God as much as pride, lying, violence, and wickedness. That’s how much he values unity.

That’s not to say we all have to agree. But it does suggest that we need to work out our disagreements in respectful ways that are inclusive and tend, in the end, to bind us together.

That’s a word directed at me. I’m no longer likely to get into arguments about things, or to grumble about leaders or decisions I don’t agree with. Oh, I do some of it, but not like I used to. These days, though, I’m likely just to turn my back on those people and ignore them. I go instead to those I agree with. 

I used to see that as more mature, as avoiding arguments. I wonder this morning if this too doesn’t contribute to conflict; maybe I’m not stirring it up, but I’m not doing much to calm it down either. 

The opposite of stirring up conflict is promoting unity. That means bringing people together. It means finding middle ground. It means ensuring that I treat everyone, even those I think are wrong, with respect and love. It means letting go of my certainty of my own rightness and listening openly, keeping in mind the possibility that the other person may be right.

Just letting the argument slide by seems like a cop-out. It’s going to be a lot harder to actually bring people together. But I think that’s what Christ-followers are supposed to do.

power

After 25 years as an Army Guardsman, I think I’m as patriotic as anyone. And I certainly am not squeamish about using our military. I believe God gave the sword to government to be used for just purposes.

But over the years I’ve come to see the topic more and more like God does. It’s a view that’s captured well in Psalm 147:10-11: “His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse, nor his delight in the legs of the warrior; the Lord delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love.”

God gets no pleasure out of any government’s use of the sword, much less individuals. We talk about the ability to project power, that is, to rapidly move our troops and ships around the world to make sure things go our way. God has no interest in that.

God changes the world through compassionate hearts and those who trust in him. God protects those who look to him. God doesn’t want me to share Stalin’s sneering dismissal of the Pope when he said, “How many divisions does he have?” It’s not those thousands of troops that will achieve what God is working on.

So these days I view the images of mighty warships and intimidating flights of warplanes with ambivalence. There’s a part of me that still swells with pride; part of me still responds to the tough-guy Army slogans like “We’re the thing that scares you in the night” or “Often mistaken for the wrath of God.”

But the more mature me recognizes that God’s wrath is most likely to fall on the physically powerful who wantonly destroy. Even though God gave the sword to government, I’m not sure God personally uses armies to do his will. He permits them as a means for nations to deter evil, but God seems to prefer changing Taliban hearts and turning them to Gospel-bringers, as my missionary brother has seen him do. I think God wants to save souls, not kill them.

At a minimum, I need to realize that what God wants of me personally is to put my hope in him instead of the US and it’s military. I need to trust God instead of wanting to give Christians political power as a path to revival. I need to see that my prayers will do far more than anything anyone ever accomplished with a weapon.

for peace

Psa 120:6-7 Too long have I lived among those who hate peace. I am for peace; but when I speak, they are for war.

This verse reminds me of a Military Ethics class I took as part of my officer training. I argued against forcing enemy PWs to clear a path through minefields by walking ahead of our soldiers. I thought that even in the use of military power, we needed to be working toward a state of peace. I was the only one, and after class two others cornered me and told me if I was such a wuss I didn’t belong in the Infantry. 

This verse also reminds me of the scorched-earth approach we take to dialogue these days. We no longer seek to persuade; we don’t try to find middle ground. On even the most minor points, it seems, what we really want is to annihilate the opposing view, to overwhelm the people who hold it and burn down the last vestige of their moronic ideas. If we can’t argue their logic, we attack their credibility, or even question their intelligence. It’s even a favored tactic of one of our Presidential candidates.

It seems that many of my friends and co-workers have an endless willingness to fight. Many like me are weary of it; for us this verse resonates.

That’s why we can’t ignore the rest of Psalm 120. The psalmist is calling out to God. He sees how hard it is to keep to the way of peace when everyone else is on the warpath. And he knows that God can not only soothe and affirm his peaceful heart, but God can also change the hearts of those around him.

That’s my challenge: to pray for changed hearts. Because I’m like everyone else: I just want those dumb fighters to be defeated by my superior thinking. Instead, I should want them to hear Jesus, and to follow the Prince of Peace.

good will come

It’s hard to give. Money or time, we always have less than we wish we did. But it struck me this morning that in times like these, that’s by far the best thing for us to do.

Psalms 112:4 says this: “Even in darkness light dawns for the upright, for those who are gracious and compassionate and righteous. Good will come to those who are generous and lend freely, who conduct their affairs with justice.”

I’ve always given for the normal reasons: Because people need help, because I know I should, sometimes because I feel grateful and want to give back. And those are good reasons. The problem with those reasons, though, is they inevitably lead me to want to have some way to know the person or cause I’m giving to deserves it.

This verse suggests that my spirit of generosity is the thing that will keep me secure in troubled times. Times like right now, when society seems to be getting ever more violent, culture becomes ever more permissive, and the moral authority of our leadership ever more compromised. There’s a lot in this world right now that is dark.

This Psalm promises light in this darkness for gracious, compassionate, righteous people. It promises good things even in bad times for people who are generous and fair.

Could it be that simple? Instead of a grand crusade to capture political power, or to roll back the tide on moral issues, could it be that all I really need to do is be the kind of thoughtful, helpful person I want to be anyway?

Simple, yes, but hard too. This verse doesn’t say the darkness goes away, it says I’ll have light in the darkness. Still, it’s a different way of thinking about what a principled life looks like these days. And that’s a topic we should all be thinking about.

pondering

Psalm 111​:1 Praise the Lord. I will extol the Lord with all my heart in the council of the upright and in the assembly. Great are the works of the Lord; they are pondered by all who delight in them.

Ponder is an interesting word. According to various dictionaries, it means to think deeply about something, to consider it from every angle, even to meditate about it. Using those definitions, I wonder, based on the verse above, if I can really claim to delight the the great works of the Lord.

You see, I can’t claim really to think deeply about them, unless I happen to be working on a sermon. I know what it is to ponder something; I’ve pondered the tactical and strategic lessons of past battles, the subtle differences between warbler species, the best way to build a deck. I’m familiar with that feeling of being so engrossed in something that my mind returns to it constantly.

And yet, I can’t really remember when some work of God occupied my mind like that. I’m aware of the great things he did for his people as recorded in scripture. I’m even more familiar with the things he’s done for me personally. Yet I tend to give these things momentary thought, enough time for a prayer or a song, and then my mind is on to other, more engaging topics.

That suggests that my relationship with God is in some way less interesting or less important, or maybe just less immediate, than my passion for military history, my enjoyment of birding, or my interest in making a nice home for myself. Or any of a half-dozen other things that fill my days.

This is a problem that won’t be solved just by devoting time to it. I think the sequence in the verse is delight first, which leads to pondering. I can force myself to think about God, but will that produce delight in him? How do I generate delight in God, so that I naturally ponder his works?

I don’t know the answer, but I’m reminded of what a former pastor used to say about what to do if you don’t love your spouse. “Act as if you do,” he would say. “Eventually, you will.” Maybe there’s something there that will help. Or maybe the first thing I need to ponder is why Jesus sacrificed himself for someone so disinterested as me.

act justly

Justice is hard. Or maybe I just make it that way.

Psalm 106 really challenged me this morning. It started with verse 3, which reads, “Blessed are those who act justly, who always do what is right.” At first I felt pretty good about that, because I think I’m a just and fair person.

But as I considered things, I realized that I’m good at knowing the right thing to do when the situation involves strangers. Closer to home, though, I want to give a pass to my family, my friends, myself. Then the right thing quickly gives way to what I call mercy but is probably really just wanting life to be easy.

I wondered why that is, and then the Psalmist helped me out. After a long recitation of the history of the Israelites, he got to verses 35 and 36: “. . . but they mingled with the nations and adopted their customs. They worshiped their idols, which became a snare to them.”

That’s why! When I, or people I like, do those things I know aren’t right but want to excuse anyway, it’s usually one of those go-along-to-get-along things. The culture permits and encourages things that God calls sin, so we conform to our surroundings by doing them. Then, to compound things, I would rather not be the judgmental person that society equates with Christianity.

Have I mingled with the culture to the point that I’ve adopted their customs and worship their idols? I don’t want to think so, but I do live a lot like everyone around me. And when you try to live right on the line of what’s permissible, you will inevitably step over at some point.

My conclusion: Justice is hard for me because I look at right and wrong through the eyes of culture as much as scripture. Even though my heart screams that things are wrong, it also longs to belong. I don’t want society to exclude me because I’m prudish or rigid or intolerant.

It’s no wonder that at the end of this Psalm the author cries out, “Save us, O Lord!” But for the grace of God, I would be lost to this world.

covenant

Words of comfort this morning from Psalm 105:8-9” “ He remembers his covenant forever, the promise he made, for a thousand generations, the covenant he made with Abraham . . . .”

God’s covenant with Abraham came with a dramatic symbol. At the traditional covenant ceremony, when it came to the part where the two parties walk a path marked out by the parts of cut-up animals, God went alone. This bloody path was meant to show the consequences of not keeping the covenant. 

So when God excuse Abraham from walking that path, did he excuse him from consequence? I don’t think so. I think God was telling Abraham that he, God, would pay the price to keep the covenant for both sides. That’s how committed God was to this bargain.

The Psalmist reminds us that God will never forget his covenant, and Paul reminds me over and over in his letters that I too am now a child of the covenant.

That means that all the commitments God made to Abraham, to be his God and to prosper his people, also belong to me. Oh, I’ve messed up my end of the deal, which is to live obediently and to acknowledge God in all things. But God took care of that on the cross, literally fulfilling the demand made by those dismembered carcasses. 

God’s faithfulness to me is so unshakable that it becomes part of the context of my life. Just like the sun rises and sets, just like there is oxygen to breath, every day and always God loves me and rains his providence down on me. Who or what, then, shall I fear?

teach me

A teacher friend was describing the end of her school year to me. She works in a special needs classroom with students consolidated from a couple of districts, and her students ended up in class a week longer than some of their siblings. She said as soon as their brothers and sisters were out of school, she lost her students. They didn’t care about learning anymore.

This morning, when I read Psalm 86:11, I wondered if I was like those students, not wanting to learn (and maybe the special needs part, too). That verse says, “Teach me your way, Lord, that I may rely on your faithfulness; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name.”

My teacher friend said, “It’s almost impossible to teach if they don’t want to learn.” I had a drill sergeant who figured out how, but his technique was mostly aversion therapy so it’s probably not readily adaptable to most of life.

Have I lost my interest in learning God’s way? Am I more interested in figuring out how to have a secure retirement, or how to fix my golf swing, or the best way to build a deck? Would I rather study military history or figure out where my next life bird will come from? Do I pay more attention to professional topics like capacity planning and warehouse velocity? Honestly, I think I do.

Life is a busy, demanding thing and I fear that, when God tries to teach me, I ignore him because I’m focused on something else. And that’s a bit worrisome, because I know that God will adopt some of the teaching techniques of my drill sergeant if that’s the only way he can get my attention.

But here’s the real question: Why on earth am I not captivated by the things God teaches? Not only does He speak to the things of life - relationships and how to cope with adversity and what gives true happiness - but this verse points to an awesome benefit. It says that if I learn from God, I will also rely on his faithfulness, making life even easier.

To get my priorities right, I need to pray the second half of this verse: “Give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name.” Do I dare pray that, knowing what it might mean? Do I dare not to?

praise more than sacrifice

Maybe you’re like me. Maybe you’d rather do something nice for some than say something nice.

When I was growing up, we spoke fluent sarcasm in our house. I learned snark before it was a word. And to this day, it’s really hard for me to say good things about people or to them because I struggle to sound sincere.

I have the same problem with God. I spend a lot of time on what to do for Him, and not much time praising him. So when I read verses 30 and 31 from Psalm 69 this morning, I was prodded to change that. Those verses say this: “I will praise God's name in song and glorify him with thanksgiving. This will please the Lord more than an ox, more than a bull with its horns and hooves.”

My default love language for God is to bring the oxen and bulls, to give the money and do the work. Today, I bring praise.

Early this morning I sat on my porch with a cup of coffee. It was  gorgeous morning with just enough cool breeze to move the tall grass along the stream. Redwinged Blackbirds were singing, but that was about the only sound. It was a lovely time in a beautiful place - praise God for his wonderful creation!

Last night we rehearsed a reader’s theater production of WWII heroics of Deit Eman, who was active in the Dutch underground. Even on my fourth or fifth time through the script, I got chills at her description of the many small miracles and the large protections granted by God. Praise him for his providence, for her and all of us!

Tonight, Dawn and I are planning a quiet evening together. We just came home from 10 days of vacation with family, and had separate commitments each evening this week. She canceled an activity to free up the evening, and we’re planning some quiet, catching up time over grilled steaks and some really good wine my brother brought me from Tblisi. I’m so grateful for this talented, popular woman who wants most of all just to spend some time with me. Praise God for his institution of marriage, and for the bride he found for me!

Praise God from whom all blessings flow - all the grandkids’ laughter, the constant thoughtfulness of our kids, the great friends who combine happy hearts with dedicated faith, the abundant food and drink, the peaceful streets, the fine music and beautiful artwork, the soaring prose and funny quips, the changed hearts and healed bodies and calmed fears and soothed loneliness. Praise him, all you peoples!

I’m going to try to make this moment of conscious praise a habit. I think it will change my days.

faint-hearted

I used to think I could change the world. In fact, I was convinced I was going to. I thought I could to rise to the highest ranks in the Army and use that institution to model morality for the whole country. Or I might work my way from a mid-market daily newspaper to a world thought-leader like the Wall Street Journal, where my syndicated column would influence policy around the globe.

That was the un-informed idealism of a young man, and I abandoned those dreams somewhere in my 30s. I think if I had made that my sole focus, if I had obsessively pursued it, I could have gotten a long way down either of those paths. But I realized somewhere along the line that my relationships were more important than that, and more of a blessing.

So I formed a new dream: I was going to use my writing to win souls. I had all kinds of ideas about magazine articles and books and, later on, online aggregators. But somehow, that never came to be. I used to say it was because I don’t have time. The fact is, I spend a lot of time in leisure. Really, I kind of lost heart. And, honestly, I haven’t given it serious thought for a while.

Until I read Psalm 61 this morning. That Psalm starts out like this: “Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer. From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”

These verses made me think that I may have become faint-hearted. It’s not fear. It’s more a sense of fatalism that, since things haven’t worked out in the past, they aren’t going to. I’ve fallen into a cynical mindset that tells me not to work so hard on something that likely will never pan out. After all, the world doesn’t care much about God’s words anymore, much less mine. There’s so much working against me.

But then I think, God didn’t excuse me from his vineyards. Oh, he didn’t specifically say go write stuff, but he did say to use my talents for his people. If I’m not going to write then I’d better be doing something else. Sitting on the couch shouldn’t be an option.

This morning’s reading was a call to action for me. It was a challenge to go to that rock that is higher than I am, to re-energize my efforts for God’s people. It was a push to shake off my middle-aged lethargy and get back at it.

The thought of myself as faint-hearted shames me. There’s all the courage and energy and effectiveness in the world for Christ-followers - God has promised I will run and not grow tired, I will rise up on wings like an eagle. A faint-hearted Christian is like a cowardly lion. I don’t want that to be me.

refuge

Recently I’ve had some reminders about fear.

First, we vacationed in Europe. In France especially the fear of terrorism was obvious in all the security measures and heavily-armed police, and in fact there was a story of a tour bus being shot up just a day after we returned.

Then, a group of us started rehearsing for a reader’s theater production of “Words We Couldn’t Say,” about the Dutch resistance during WWII. Those few pages powerfully share the fear and atrocity that came with the Nazi occupation.

I haven’t often felt in danger for my life, although there were a couple of memorable occasions. I have feared pain and loneliness.

It’s good today to be reminded that nothing in this world can truly hurt me. In Psalm 46:1-3 it says, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.”

It may be that fear has its roots in our need for control and comfort, that when we feel helpless we feel fear. If I just see that God controls it all, what is there to fear?

Years ago I read “The Shack,” which was controversial for the way it portrayed God. I don’t agree with much of that book, but it did make me think about some things. One of them was how God comforted a little girl who was abducted, assaulted and murdered. The terror and pain was made manageable for her by God being present every second, murmuring of his love and what joy awaited her in just a little while.

Is that how it works? I don’t know, I’d prefer a world where little girls don’t go through things like that. But it reminded me of the unexpected strength and endurance that was there for me when I had to go through the hardest parts of my life.

God preserves his people. A lot in this world could overwhelm me, but nothing is equal to God. If he is for me, who or what truly can be against me?

wondrous plans

This morning, I was reminded of a tremendous, joyous truth, one I too often overlook: God has wonderful things in mind for me.

I was reading Psalm 40 when verses 4 and 5 struck me: “Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, who does not look to the proud, to those who turn aside to false gods. Many, Lord my God, are the wonders you have done, the things you planned for us. None can compare with you; were I to speak and tell of your deeds, they would be too many to declare.”

Sometimes, probably because I live such an easy life, what looms largest in front of me are my so-called problems. The truth is, I don’t really have problems. I have annoyances. God has blessed me with great relationships, a fantastic job, good health, plenty of wealth. What I consider problems are things like a wet spring that doesn’t let me put my landscaping in.

In truth, I’ve experienced wondrous things on my journey through this life, and this psalm reminds me that God has more planned. But I’m going to miss them if I try to live to my own agenda. Some of those wonderful things will seem like interruptions, some will look like they’ll take too much time. Sometimes in my busy chasing after what I think a good life is, I’ll miss the sunrise or the singing bobolink or the chalk drawing my grand-daughter made for me on my driveway.

And sometimes, because I can’t be bothered, I’ll miss the joy of the prisoner’s testimony or the gratitude of the flood victim. And often, because I’m basically a self-centered jerk, I miss the reminder of Jesus love for his church that Dawn tries to show me in my own home.

I suppose to a ladder-climbing career person or attention-seeking socialite these things don’t seem so wonderful. What makes them wonders is that, when I see them for what they are, my heart melts and I feel joy, the only true joy I’ve ever felt.

Because all of these things are teasers, little appetizers that hint of the true wonder to come. They’re daily proofs that God loves me. They’re promises of heaven. True wonders, indeed!

hating sin

Confession time: sometimes, when I pray, I don’t know what to ask forgiveness for. I know I’m a sinful person, but I can’t think of any particular sin at that point, so I just confess my character flaws in general.

I once heard a man opine that even though we’ll never be perfect, we can have perfect days. I don’t think that’s true for me. I think there’s a lot more truth in what the Psalmist says in Psalm 36:1-2: “I have a message from God in my heart concerning the sinfulness of the wicked: There is no fear of God before their eyes.In their own eyes they flatter themselves too much to detect or hate their sin.”

It’s easy to give myself a break where I tend to judge others. It’s easy to see the reason I spoke harshly, or didn’t give, or wasn’t grateful. Sometimes I don’t treat Dawn very well; sometimes I’m short-tempered with my siblings. But there are good reasons. I know my busy life and all the factors, and I like to think I’m a pretty good person, so I can downplay the significance of some of my sins. Like the Psalmist says, I flatter myself too much to detect or hate my sin. In fact, some sins I don’t hate at all; they’re old friends.

The basic mistake I make is that I begin to think I have some righteousness of my own. I forget that without Jesus all of my actions and motives are tainted, primarily by my own self-interest. 

But when I focus on Jesus perfect holiness, and remember what he did for me, then my petty little so-called goodness is put in proper perspective. Then I remember that my basic sin is thinking I can get by without God. I always need to repent of that. And the more I ponder on what Jesus wants from me, the more able I am to see how I fall short

This same Psalm ends with these words, in verse 28: “My tongue will proclaim your righteousness, your praises all day long.” That’s where my focus belongs. Too much attention to my own self clouds my perceptions.

blessings

A Guard friend of mine was fond of saying, “You have to go along to get along.” That’s a current attitude that suggests in order to get ahead in life, we have to conform with what everyone else is doing. And often it seems like that’s true.

But the very first verses of the book of Psalms, Psalm 1:1-2, say otherwise: “Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way that sinners take or sit in the company of mockers, but whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and who meditates on his law day and night.”

Sure, it’s a lot easier to go along with conventional thinking at work that says cutting legal corners is OK as long as you don’t get caught. It’s a lot easier to succumb to liberal pressures in the church who would compromise the message in order to be more appealing. And it’s certainly easier to be able to join the pop-culture water cooler talk than to refuse to watch shows or listen to music that promote the wrong values.

Those things are all easier, but they don’t lead to blessings. They lead to that nagging feeling of guilt, that I’ve sold out for something of dubious value. Sure, I want to be liked as much as the next guy, so I keep my mouth shut even though it seems obvious to me that there are only two genders. I don’t speak as often as I should against the emotional violence done to women. I want to take those positions that society will reward me for, instead of what’s right.

But when I find the courage to stand fast, when I don’t compromise, then the blessings come. First is that feeling of relief when the guilt goes. Next is that feeling of warmth that comes from walking close with God. And from that my heart fills with gratitude, and instead of gray skies, everywhere I look I see beauty. I get joy from other people. I sleep soundly. And the blessings just keep piling up.

Oh, sure, I might miss out on some worldly thing, or not be included by some narrow-minded people. And those things will sting a little in the moment. But those aren’t blessings anyway.

As the Psalmist says, there are no blessings like those found in obedience to God. Those other things only look like blessings when I buy the lies.

Job repents

This morning, I face yet another way that Job is a better man than I am. Job repented. 

Job 42:1-6: “Then Job replied to the Lord: ‘I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted. You asked, “Who is this that obscures my plans without knowledge?” Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know. You said, “Listen now, and I will speak; I will question you, and you shall answer me.” My ears had heard of you

but now my eyes have seen you. Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes."

I often despise myself, but I struggle to truly repent. I’m more of a “yeah, but” guy. Yes, Lord, I cursed that man but did you see what he did to me? Yes, Lord, I judged that person but look at her! Yes, dear, I know I’m late but . . . . 

How hard it is to just say, “I was wrong! What I did was sin! I have no excuses. I could have done right, but I intentionally did wrong. Please forgive me!”

I often think I’ve repented, but the way I know I haven’t really is that I repeat the same sin. I think that true repentance would involve aversion to the sin, or at least determination to leave it behind. I know sin is a struggle, but repentance should be more than just being sorry about a consequence.

Because of that, I frequently pray that God will show me what my sin looks like to him. I pray that God will show me what it looks like to the people involved. I pray that he will help me to hate my sin as much as he does. And then I pray for strength not to sin again.

So what does it mean when I pray all of that but don’t give up the sin? Probably that I’m not praying enough. I don’t expect ever to be sin-free while I’m here on earth. I do think that I will sin less and less, as I become more and more attuned to God. Maybe instead of focusing on the sin, I need to focus more on the Savior.

words without knowledge

Oh boy, did I cringe during my Bible reading time this morning. I got to the part of Job where God finally speaks, and his words to Job seemed aimed right at me. 

Here it is, from Job 38:1-3: “Then the Lord spoke to Job out of the storm. He said: ‘Who is this that obscures my plans with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me.’”

Oh, man! I instantly thought of a dozen conversations about church budget, certain services, the work of our council, the state of our denomination. I recalled frustrations I’ve vented about presidential candidates and current issues, and the intolerant language I used. I even began to wonder about some of the things I may have said from the pulpit.

How much of that was words without knowledge? How often did I speak only from the vantage point of my own experience and feelings, without trying to understand all the complexities of the situation? How can I really claim to know what’s right for all the young moms, the single men and women, the senior citizens, and the special needs people in our congregation? What do I really know about foreign policy or what happened in Benghazi or how it feels to be someone who’s confused about his or her identity?

These reflections challenge me to go back to wise words from Steven Covey, who said, “Seek first to understand, then to be understood.” This reminds me that others will believe my words, when in fact they are only my own sometimes ill-informed opinions. I want to be the person who works past the sound bites and social media furor and tries to know and speak the truth.

It’s hard to keep my mouth shut if I haven’t done that. It’s hard not to form opinions as soon as I hear the sound bite. But especially when speaking of the things of God, it’s potentially dangerous and destructive not to, because then, to use God’s own words, I risk obscuring his plans to those who listen.

To keep spouting off as I have is to invite God to say to me as he did to Job, “Brace yourself; I will question you and you will have to answer me.” What a frightening thought!

affecting God

OK, here’s another one of those mysteries I wrote about a couple weeks ago: why does God care about my life?

The way Job’s friend Elihu puts that question is this, in Job 35:6-7: “If you sin, how does that affect him? If your sins are many, what does that do to him? If you are righteous, what do you give to him, or what does he receive from your hand?”

I can’t do a single thing to add to God’s power or love or holiness. He doesn’t depend on me for happiness, he doesn’t require me to defend him or do his work. There’s nothing I can bring him that he needs.

So why does he care so much about me that he wants a relationship? Elihu asks what it does to God if I sin all the time - scripture teaches that my sin grieves Him, it makes Him sad. And, to answer Elihu’s other question, God has also revealed himself to be gladdened when I obey; in fact, that’s my best way of honoring him. Why? After all my unfaithfulness, why does he continue to pursue me?

I shouldn’t matter any more to God than the ants in my yard matter to me. It’s not like God gains strengths from his worshippers; He doesn’t become less just because so many in the world turn their backs on him. Elihu’s questions are good ones, things I wonder about a lot. 

It’s a mystery, but I’m glad God baffles me in this way. I’m glad that all the limits and drama of my earthly relationships don’t apply to the love he has for me. I don’t understand it, but oh how I appreciate it. In the end, it’s the only real hope I have.

right and wrong

There’s a line from the movie “I Robot” that comes to mind often. The cop is trying to get the scientist to see the threat, and she won’t. So he says, “You’re the stupidest smart person I know!” Sometimes I’m tempted to say that to people.

This morning I thought similar things about young Elihu, the friend of Job who, after listening to the elders speak, unleashes a rant to tell them how it really is. And he turns out to be right in everything but the key point.

Here’s the key point that Elihu makes (Job 34:10-12)  "Far be it from God to do evil,

from the Almighty to do wrong. He repays everyone for what they have done; he brings on them what their conduct deserves. It is unthinkable that God would do wrong, that the Almighty would pervert justice. 

Elihu is right on his first and last statements. It is unthinkable that God would pervert justice. He would never do evil or wrong. Elihu had a good understanding of God’s holiness.

But he was wrong in this significant way: we don’t get what our conduct deserves. Elihu sees a God of high standards and unwavering justice, but he misses the father who loved us enough to punish his son instead. Jesus repaid God for what I’ve done; God brought on Jesus what my conduct deserves. Elihu lived before Jesus, but history could have taught him of God’s mercy.

Sometimes I forget to live out this truth. Often when I sin I’m ashamed, which is good. But I get discouraged. I think I have to atone for my own sin. Life gets bleak because I never seem to get it right. 

When I just bring all that to Jesus, and beg the forgiveness his blood bought me, I feel wonderful. I relate to people better. I’m not so gloomy. It’s a beautiful thing to leave the guilt behind. So why don’t I always?

For me, the struggle isn’t so much with asking forgiveness as it is taking time for prayer. I tend to rush morning prayers because I have a schedule to meet, and then the day takes over and I never come back to it. And it’s hard to ask forgiveness of a God I’ve been ignoring.

As with everything else, it comes back to relationships. I feel the urgency of my relationships with my boss and co-workers, my friends and family. I prioritize those over my patient, ever-waiting, always-there God. That’s easiest, but it’s not right.