gloating

I confess, there were a few times during the Olympics when I was just as happy about someone losing as I was that my preferred athlete won. 

That's natural, isn't it? We like to see arrogant people taken down a notch or too. Sometimes we even like it when bad things happen to a rival. If the starting quarterback on the other team is injured, that's good news for us, right? If that golden-voiced soprano shows up at auditions with a cold, that just evens the odds a little bit.

But God's people shouldn't think like that, because God doesn't. He sent the prophet Obadiah with words of judgment against Edom, those descendants of Jacob's twin brother Esau. In Obadiah 1:12-13 God admonishes, "You should not gloat over your brother in the day of his misfortune, nor rejoice over the people of Judah in the day of their destruction, nor boast so much in the day of their trouble. You should not march through the gates of my people in the day of their disaster, nor gloat over them in their calamity in the day of their disaster, nor seize their wealth in the day of their disaster."

Of course, this is a judgment against a nation, so it would be easy to apply it to our relations with, say, Russia or Iran and move on. But God is completely constant in his character, so because there's little I can do about our official national positions I see here direction for life.

It's another example of how radical Christian obedience really is. Not gloat when Mr. Perfect embarrasses himself in a big meeting? Not gloat when Miley Cyrus gets flamed on social media for her outrageous behavior, or Lindsey Lohan ends up in jail? Not gloat when some piece of dirt surfaces that will hurt the opposing candidate? Not gloat when my insufferable co-worker's golden-child daughter gets a DUI?

On reflection, I find that while I may not be a world-champion gloater, I'm probably a very gifted amateur. My first reaction in a lot of situations is to feels satisfaction when someone else gets what I think they deserve. I find, for example, that I'm more interested in Colin Kaepernick than I've ever been before because I want to see if his actions bring consequences.

By God's grace, though, I don't stay in that mindset for very long. Usually my next feeling is shame at my smallness, and then often there's a quick word of prayer for that person as a way of forcing myself to think sympathetically.

I think that's what God wants. I think he knows that my human nature wants to gloat. I think he likes it that my better self overcomes that and goes to him with it. This is one of those things that I'm mostly getting right, but can still be better at.  Thanks be to God. 

no prophesies

There's a trend on social media lately to do a lot with a few words. Hashtags like #6wordlovestory challenge people to pack as much emotion or drama as they can into a small handful of syllables.

I thought of that this morning, when I read a tragedy in two verses. They were Amos 2:11-12 "'I also raised up prophets from among your children and Nazirites from among your youths. Is this not true, people of Israel?' declares the Lord. 'But you made the Nazirites drink wine and commanded the prophets not to prophesy.'"

Not even forty words. About 20 seconds is all I need to read it. And in that short span is the entire history of God repeatedly reaching out to his people, only to be spurned over and over again.

It seems to me that there are three elements of human nature captured in these verses. Our tendency to stray from God and cause him to chase after us is what started the whole mess in the first place.

Then, at the end, God notes that his prophets were commanded not to prophesy. That sounds a lot like, "I don't want to hear it," which is something I think a lot. When someone talks to me about my health, or gives me good advice about money, or tries to convince me to support a candidate, I react out of my own sense of rightness. I reject him (or her). I want him and his guilt-producing, change-requiring truths to just leave me alone. Even more so when a brother or sister tries to get me to see my own sin.

But perhaps worst, at least in my worldly point of view, is that horrible trait of ours that is reflected in the sin of making the Nazirites drink wine. The Nazirites vowed not to consume alcohol for as long as they served the Lord. Isn't it just typical that there are some people who wanted to corrupt them, to drag those holy ones down to their own pagan level?

I don't think I'd do that, but I confess some satisfaction when I find out that some elder or pastor or other spiritual role model has dabbled in a sin I struggle with. It makes it seem less bad, somehow.

I'm resolved after reading this tragedy in 39 words not to do that to God. He deserves my allegiance and obedience and love. May I never be the one who tells his voice, in whatever form it comes to me, to be quiet. Even more, may I never, ever be a voice of temptation to anyone trying to serve him.

discerning

Sometimes it takes me a long time to understand. Oh, I'm American, steeped daily in the culture of snark, so I often point out that others don't get it. But in truth, I sometimes get too bound up in my own sense of rightness to catch on.

This morning, I'm wondering if that's true about faith, and life, and a life of faith. In Hosea 14:9 I read, "Who is wise? Let them realize these things. Who is discerning? Let them understand. The ways of the Lord are right; the righteous walk in them, but the rebellious stumble in them."

The ways of the Lord are right, whether I realize it or not. The difference is, am I walking or stumbling through life?

The wise, discerning ones make their way more easily because for them the ways of the Lord are a broad, smooth, well-lit pathway with clearly marked stairs and turns. The ones who don't get it - me? - can stumble around because they don't see the steps, they miss the turns, they wander off the edge.

I like to think I'm wise and discerning, that I get it about obedience. But then I have to wonder about all the days that go so hard, when I stumble along and mess it up more than I get it right. If I'm so smart, how come I make life such a trial with my own willfulness?

As I think it through, this verse almost looks like it describes two separate steps. The first one, realizing that God's ways are right, comes from being wise. Maybe I can claim some small measure of wisdom, then, because I know good and well that God's way is the best way.

The second step is understanding. That comes from discernment. It's similar to realizing, but to me there's connotation of additional meaning. It implies that I will also see why. I'll make the links between obedience and blessing, between ignorance and unhappiness. Whereas realization will make me know I should follow God's ways, understanding should make me want to.

It feels to me like the second step is the one I struggle with. I have a discernment problem; even knowing the truth, I see this world as my home, and getting along in this world as my purpose and even my desire. Rather than seeing today through the lens of my eternity, I live today for today, or maybe tomorrow, or maybe I'm living for the weekend. 

I need a daily habit that makes me lift my eyes from the right now and right here of my life to the grand vista of the global reach and eternal reality of God's kingdom. Maybe prayer would be a good place to start.

promiscuous

I've used the word "unfaithful" to describe my relationship with God. I don't like it, but it's accurate so I face up to it. But to me there's a big difference between unfaithfulness and promiscuity.

God sent the prophet Hosea to challenge his people about their unfaithfulness, and he told him to use a pretty graphic example to make the point. Hosea 1: 2 says, "When the Lord began to speak through Hosea, the Lord said to him, 'Go, marry a promiscuous woman and have children with her, for like an adulterous wife this land is guilty of unfaithfulness to the Lord.'"

God accuses his people not just of unfaithfulness and adultery, but of promiscuity. Judah was not just having an affair, she was running around with any and every partner available to her. 

Is that me? Am I really a spiritual tramp, that person who's available for any fresh new sin that comes along? In addition to returning over and over to my favorite sins, do I also cast an appraising eye over new possibilities and chase the ones that appeal to me?

I like to lump it all under a single three-letter word, sin. In some ways it seems like just one thing that way. In fact, it's really easy if I just pray for forgiveness from my sins. 

But when I start trying to list my sins as I pray, I soon find that there are a bunch of different kinds. I realize, too, that I probably can't remember all of them, and that there are likely some things I do that I don't recognize as sin.

The truth is, I dabble with a variety of unfaithful behaviors. I'm not just having an affair with the world, I'm keeping a whole string of lovers on the line.

Thinking of sin this way makes me feel sordid. That's probably why God used Hosea's promiscuous wife as his example. It strips away my ability to look at my sin as somehow more just weakness that truly disgusting. 

It's hard to return to faithfulness when all your dalliances aren't even front lobe in your brain. I think I need to watch myself more closely for a while.

mercy

Our church has an awesome prayer chain. This week alone it generated an out-pouring of petitions on behalf of numerous people in need. Additionally, I get a number of additional requests every week from friends and family for prayers. 

It isn't logical, I know. But before you jump on me, the illogic isn't in thinking prayer will do any good. Prayer always works. But there's no reason on earth that God should listen. Think about it: someone disrespects you, takes your stuff without asking and breaks it, makes life choices he knows you hate, ignores you for days at a time, and then shows up with his hand out. Would you give him the time of day?

Thank God, for whatever illogical reason, that isn't how prayer works. No matter how unfaithful I've been, God hears me and responds. Daniel put it this way, in one of his prayers in Daniel  9:18-19: "We do not make requests of you because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy. Lord, listen! Lord, forgive!"

It's all about mercy, which has its roots in God's infallible, unending, never-changing love for me. Mercy means I don't get what I deserve. God doesn't treat me the way I treat him.

So I can, in my fear, run back to God's sheltering wings and he protects me. I can, in my need, turn back to my Heavenly Father and he gives me what will help me most. I can, in my sorrow or fear or anger or disgust or loneliness, vent and rail and purge my emotions, and God listens and comforts. I can talk out the foulest of my sins and He never, ever stops loving me. In his mercy, he has claimed me forever as one of his, my debts to him covered forever by the blood-price paid on the cross. So he's there at any time to listen and to help.

I guess, in the end, the most illogical thing of all is that, now that I've experienced so many times how wonderfully prayer does work, I don't do more of it. I still try it on my own first. There's no logic at all to that.

dominion

I've been called a control freak. I don't think I really am one - there are a lot of situations and circumstances where I'm pleased to seat back, let someone else drive, and enjoy the ride. But I confess, sometimes when something matters to me, I like to be in control.

It's human nature. That's why we fight so much about politics. It would be a catastrophe, after all, if someone who thinks differently than I do would exert so much control over the future of my country. It's why we fight about worship style. It's why we struggle to follow rules. We don't want to submit. And often, chaos ensues.

That's why, for me, Daniel's vision of the day we all lose control forever is reassuring. Read it in Daniel 7:13-14: “In my vision at night I looked, and there before me was one like a son of man, coming with the clouds of heaven. He approached the Ancient of Days and was led into his presence. He was given authority, glory and sovereign power; all nations and peoples of every language worshiped him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that will not pass away, and his kingdom is one that will never be destroyed."

We don't like words like "dominion." We sure don't want to be under someone else's, not even a fellow American who happens to be from another party. But we also can't be trusted overmuch with freedom of choice - we prove that every day. Our inability to subordinate our immediate wants to for a better future for ourselves, much less the good of others, argues against us.

So the idea that Jesus rules, and will rule, and that someday everyone on earth is going to acknowledge this, is one of the most comforting thoughts I have. 

But that begs the question of why I continue to hold out. After all, Jesus rules now, doesn't he? Haven't I pledge him my allegiance? Just because he's being patient, just because he wants to give people more time to meet him and learn to trust him, just because he's holding off exerting his full authority because the harvest isn't complete, all of that doesn't mean he isn't in control.

So why can't I rid my brain of these old ideas that Jesus isn't taking care of business, so I have to? If Jesus really has this, why do I worry? Why do I think my salvation will be found in a law or a rule or freedom from rules? Why am I so sure the future of this country and this world depends on getting one election right?

I've had many a debate about a Christian's responsibility in this election. Isn't it the same as my responsibility every day? Isn't it to look to my Lord, listen to his instructions, and then follow them? Even if all he says is "Trust?" 

Christ shall have dominion. Today, I'm singing that old hymn again. I hope I never forget to.

profaned

I've never been a fan of shock anything, whether it's radio, theater or language. I know, people say it grabs attention and makes a point, but I think there's a lot of danger. Those words, ideas or images shock usually because they tread on treasured, or even holy, icons. Standing on the flag, photographing a cross in a beaker of urine, dropping the f-bomb several times in a sentence - these feel calculated to offend more than to make a point.

The danger is this: sometimes the one you offend has the power to do something about it. Just ask King Belshazzar. He was partying with a few close friends when a spooky hand wrote his death message on the wall.

Here's a little more context from Daniel 5:1-2 "King Belshazzar gave a great banquet for a thousand of his nobles and drank wine with them. While Belshazzar was drinking his wine, he gave orders to bring in the gold and silver goblets that Nebuchadnezzar his father had taken from the temple in Jerusalem, so that the king and his nobles, his wives and his concubines might drink from them."

Belshazzar thought it would be funny, maybe edgy, to use God's holy objects at his pagan party. He didn't know it, but he put on a horrifying anti-sacrament that offers a depraved parody of a sacred moment Jesus would share with his disciples in an upper room. God was not amused, and for this and other offenses, Belshazzar died.

There's a word we don't use much anymore: profane. We know it in the context of language, where it describes words that are offensive. But it really applies to any inappropriate use of what God made as good and holy.

For that reason, the story of Belshazzar scares me. Think of the horrible things I've thought with this amazing brain God urges me to renew as part of my transformation. Think of the sins I've committed with the hands and feet God means to be used in the service of Jesus. Think of the vile jokes and demeaning rumors I've spread with a mouth meant to sing His praises.

Too often, the word profane describes me, even though I want to think of myself as a holy man. A fair God would strike me down, but thank Jesus, when God looks at my profanity he sees a purity made possible only by the blood of the cross. Amazing grace! How dare I cheapen it by profaning God's good things?

equipped

God had a job for four young men from Judah, and it changed their lives. They were uprooted from their homes, separated from their families, and brought into the palace in Babylon, a place that represented everything that opposed their people and their God. There, they were subjected to training designed to make them think like their enemies. Lodged in luxury, fed the best delicacies the royal court could offer, they were also immersed in the literature and history of the Babylonian dynasty. The idea was to destroy Judah by subverting its best and brightest to the service of this pagan King and his tiny gods.

But these young men were exceptional not just in intelligence, but also in faith. They didn't want the food, and they resisted the indoctrination. And God, who put them there because their people would need them and because through them he would minister to pagan Babylonia, rewarded them. Just read Daniel 1:17-20. 

"To these four young men God gave knowledge and understanding of all kinds of literature and learning. And Daniel could understand visions and dreams of all kinds. At the end of the time set by the king to bring them into his service, the chief official presented them to Nebuchadnezzar. The king talked with them, and he found none equal to Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah; so they entered the king's service. In every matter of wisdom and understanding about which the king questioned them, he found them ten times better than all the magicians and enchanters in his whole kingdom."

God gave this knowledge - it didn't come from genetics or education. God wanted his people influencing the king; he not only put them in place, but he also equipped them for the service he called them to.

The lesson is obvious, and it's been said so often it's become trite: when God calls, he also equips. But take a minute to notice the degree of equipping in this case. Ten times wiser and more understanding! No one else was even close. 

It's as if God wanted to remove all doubt. No one could ever say a pagan was just as good, or that the king was playing favorites. Belteshazzar, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, as they were renamed, would have a hard enough time as faithful young men representing God in a court full of older magicians and enchanters. There might be questions about their faith, but there would never be any about their qualifications.

I don't think God has ever done that for me. I've always had competency challenges along with those of faith. My enemies have been able to successfully argue that they're just as good as me, or even better, but without the squeamishness and limitations that go along with being a Christian. In the worldly court of business management, my little faction often takes a beating.

It would be nice if God made me ten times smarter than the pragmatists and "fake-it-till-you-make-it" types. He didn't, though, which means that I don't really need that. I can fulfill his plan at my current level of equipping, and for some reason it's better either for the plan or me to do it that way.

The reassuring point in all this is that if I ever need to be ten times smarter to do God's work, I will be. In fact, I've already had many of those times when I wonder where the words came from. I'm just average, but God and me as a team are unbeatable if I let him lead.

design

I'm as American as the next guy, meaning I value my freedom. Not just in the stars-and-stripes, bald-eagle-screaming sense of 'Merica, but also, and mostly, in the sense of wanting to decide for myself what I do.

That's why I always get a little uneasy when God reveals himself to have very specific expectations. Like this morning, reading from Ezekiel about God's plans to reestablish the temple. Those plans were pretty intricate, filling a couple of chapters.

And then God said this (Ezekiel 43:10-11) “Son of man, describe the temple to the people of Israel, that they may be ashamed of their sins. Let them consider its perfection, and if they are ashamed of all they have done, make known to them the design of the temple—its arrangement, its exits and entrances—its whole design and all its regulations and laws. Write these down before them so that they may be faithful to its design and follow all its regulations."

Two things about these verses are interesting. First, all this detail is intended for repentant people only. If the people weren't ashamed of their sin, they didn't get to know.

Second, though, God laid out in detail exactly how his people were to worship. I know, it's the Old Testament, and all those regulations were superseded by the Gospel of Grace. But God doesn't change, so the God revealed in the Old Testament is not different than my God. He may not require the exact same things now, but he does still expect that when he tells me something about worship, I will do it. Things like worshiping in the Spirit and in Truth. Things like meeting with God's people. Things like making my body a holy temple. And then all the detail of how to live out my worship provided by Paul, Peter and John in their letters to the early church.

I know I've been set free from the law as part of being washed of my sin, but it seems that faithful Christ-following requires attention to detail. Maybe it's more about the how than the what now that I'm under grace, but the point remains. Christianity isn't an anything-goes faith. Christianity requires choice-making and wrestling with ideas and methods and some very specific direction, all together adding up to a life of worship.

That's for me, though. As I witness to my unsaved friends and co-workers, the Gospel is simple. They're not ready yet to know the whole design and all the regulations of obedient living. They need first to be blinded and bowled over by the love of Jesus, like Saul. 

In the end, all the detail needs to somehow become together into an attractive, simple-seeming whole that accurately shows people what a wonderful life Christians have. The process of wrestling can produce its own joy as I walk each day a little closer to God. 

set aside

I made a mistake once, when I was a lot younger and a new usher at our church. I thought it would be funny to put some visitors in a pew that a certain farmer always sat in with is family. Even though technically it wasn't reserved, in the farmer's mind it was, and also, as I found out afterward, in the minds of most of the congregation too. The disruption was significant.

Whether or not we actually put "Reserved" signs out, we tend to claim certain seats in church, parking spots at work, tables in restaurants. After a while, we think of them as ours, set aside for our use only.

When we do that, we're just being proud. When God does it, the word he uses is "holy."

Look at the prescriptions laid out for worship in God's prophecy of a new temple, given to Ezekiel. Ezekiel 42:13-14 says, "Then he said to me, 'The north and south rooms facing the temple courtyard are the priests’ rooms, where the priests who approach the Lord will eat the most holy offerings. There they will put the most holy offerings—the grain offerings, the sin offerings and the guilt offerings—for the place is holy. Once the priests enter the holy precincts, they are not to go into the outer court until they leave behind the garments in which they minister, for these are holy. They are to put on other clothes before they go near the places that are for the people.'"

Priests, offerings, rooms, garments, all set aside for the singular purpose of worshiping God. That's what holiness is, being completely set aside for God's use. Some things used in God's service, like the iPad I use to take sermon notes in church, have a lot of other uses too. Others are meant for God alone.

I need to remember that I'm one of the things God claims as his own. He says in many ways throughout the New Testament that the people saved by Jesus blood are holy. We're meant for service to God and nothing else. 

I can easily think that I'm serving myself, or my family, or my boss. That's why I'm here, to be a good citizen and provide for my family. That's a false understanding of my purpose, though. I'm set aside for Godly purposes. When I work or socialize or entertain myself, my purpose doesn't change. I'm to show everyone by my choices what God loves. 

That means there shouldn't ever be times when I feel free to choose things God would frown at. I've heard all the arguments about being relevant to our culture, or not making faith look like such a drag. Does that mean I should watch Fifty Shades of Gray, or read the books? That one's easy, I don't want to, but a lot of people I know have. But you get my point. If I make the same choices as non-Christians, then how am I different? If I'm different only in ways that other people can't see, then how am I effective?

I think a key part of being set aside for God is this: when I truly choose only what God would choose for me, I have true joy. That's something that will blaze like a beacon in this unhappy world, so people will examine my life to see what I have that they don't. If they see all the same stuff they're already doing, they'll turn away. If they see something different, maybe they'll think about it, or come ask me.

Am I really ready to commit to a holy life? It makes me uneasy, but being a Christ-follower means growing in holiness. 

God knows

Some questions have obvious answers. "Can you believe that?" No, I can't. "Does this dress make me look fat?" Silence. "Can a man enter his mother's womb and be born again?" Of course not. "Can a dried-out skeleton come back to life?" Uh, no.

Except on that last question, the obvious answer isn't the right one. That question shows up in Ezekiel 37:3: "He asked me, 'Son of man, can these bones live?' I said, 'Sovereign Lord, you alone know.'"

It's almost a catch-phrase: "God knows." We say it when we have no idea, which is OK. But we say it to imply the answer isn't knowable. That's a wrong use of those two words.

The fact is, God knows everything. When Ezekiel says, "Sovereign Lord, you alone know," there is a huge amount of theology in five little words.

"Sovereign." Our God rules over everything. There isn't one molecule of this universe outside his control.

"Lord." Ezekiel acknowledges this God as his own; he expresses his allegiance to this God and claims his own position as a faithful foot-soldier in his Lord's service.

"You alone." No one else. Not one other being. There is no equal to God.

"Know." God knows. Those aren't just a buzz-phrase. God does know. He knows everything; there isn't one single thing in the whole universe that he doesn't know. 

Ezekiel is no dummy. He's already said and done a lot of strange things in service to this Lord. So when God asks him an obvious question, he immediately realizes that his human answer doesn't apply here. The true answer is whatever God wants it to be. Because in addition to knowing everything, God can do anything. Ezekiel knows those bones will dance if God wants them to.

What an example for my life! There are a ton of things that I don't get in life. There are so many times that I just don't know what's right. And those things cause me stress and seriously impact my joy. What if I could say, as Ezekiel does, "Hey, this doesn't look possible to me, but this is God I'm looking to here. My human calculus doesn't apply. God loves me, he is good, and he's all-powerful. He has promised good things, and what he promises he will do."

But more than that, when earthly solutions look impossible, I need to trust heavenly truth. There are a lot of issues our country faces that seem to require compromise of my values. There are world problems that threaten to engulf us. Solutions seem impossible. But God has sustained and will sustain. It's not my job to secure this country or this world for my grandchildren; it's my job to faithfully serve my Sovereign Lord. He'll sort out the Supreme Court, or any other issue, if I just trust him.

fat sheep

I don't really have a problem with racism or sexism or ageism. I'm sure there are some inadvertent attitudes or behaviors that might offend some, but as a rule I enjoy a lot of diversity at work, at church, and in society.

There is something I struggle with, though, and that's poorism. I know that isn't a word, but it should be, because I need something that captures the struggle I have in being respectful and loving to certain folks.

You see, from my position of advantage and security I can question the character of people who don't have as much as I do. I assume they aren't trying very hard. I think I have more because I'm a better person.

This morning, God challenged me to see that he hates that attitude from people like me. God said, through the prophet Ezekiel, "See, I myself will judge between the fat sheep and the lean sheep. Because you shove with flank and shoulder, butting all the weak sheep with your horns until you have driven them away, I will save my flock, and they will no longer be plundered. I will judge between one sheep and another." (Ezekiel 34:20-21)

My pride in myself and disdain for the less fortunate make me a fat sheep. For one thing, I don't see all the things that conspire against poor people, the difficulty in getting good nourishment, the fight to fund a good education, the silent judgment that makes it hard for them to get good jobs. I interview a lot of people every year, and form opinions based on my first impression of how an applicant is dressed, and how he or she talks. What if that threadbare pair of jeans is the best he owns? What if she uses simple language because she quit high school to support her mom?

To make it worse, what about all the things I do that just pile on? I don't readily give that job, not if there's someone with a better vocabulary and wardrobe available. And maybe I don't always conceal my opinion about taking help from the government. Likely my sense of superiority shows through.

In the meantime, I continue to live my fat life with my fat income, eating and wearing and owning whatever strikes my fancy, discarding things before they are used up, wasting what they long to have. In all these ways I shoulder and butt my weaker neighbors away from the trough.

God calls me instead to protect and nurture people who have less than I do, to share with them, to love them, to respect them. They, too, are his image-bearers; they're living a different level of God's providence for reasons that are strictly between them and God. That's why God will judge between me and them, because the only moral failure here is mine.

I've always known these things, but today I see that, because I don't feel them in my heart, my attitudes and behaviors are based on Satan's lie that people in poverty are worth less than I am. Lord, help me repent, and help me to commit this sin no more.

weighed down

Periodically, I spend time in self-evaluation. I review goals set previously, I reflect on how well I'm living life, I ask if I'm a good husband, father, friend, employee. I find some good and some bad. And I consistently find that the thing holding me back is my own bad choices.

For that reason, I could immediately relate to the people when Ezekiel was called to prophesy to them with these words (Ezekiel 33:10): “Son of man, say to the Israelites, ‘This is what you are saying: “Our offenses and sins weigh us down, and we are wasting away because of them. How then can we live?"'"

Those words "weighed down" have so many connotations. I think of marching with a full combat load. I think of swimming in my clothes, like I had to do in swimming lessons. I think of carrying a squirming baby around at the mall. I think of schlepping a briefcase and carry-on through the airport.

All of these cases have some things in common. There is a burden that slows me down and holds me back. And the burden also wears me down and makes me unhappy. Not only am I working a lot harder to make the same progress, but I'm miserable doing it.

That's the image God wants me to have in my head when I think about my sin. No matter what I thought when I decided to do it, that sin isn't making me happy. And it's keeping me from becoming a better person and a more obedient follower. 

It should lead me to ask, along with God's people, "How can I live?" As they said, my sin is causing me to do more than just waste my time; it's making me waste away. Every day I become less than I was the day before. This is a critical thing for me to recognize, because until I do, there's no turning around.

In the verses immediately following, God tells his people that it isn't too late, that they can still turn around and follow him. He promises not only that he won't hold their past sins against them, but also that he will give them joy and prosperity.

Joy and prosperity instead of burdens and misery. It's such an obvious choice, so why do I keep getting it wrong?

sure life

God is so good.

I think that often when I reflect on my many acts of indifference or even outright unfaithfulness to him. Those things don’t change God one iota, they just disappear without a ripple in the ocean of his love for me.

God explains this in his own word in Ezekiel 18:21-23: "But if a wicked person turns away from all the sins they have committed and keeps all my decrees and does what is just and right, that person will surely live; they will not die. None of the offenses they have committed will be remembered against them. Because of the righteous things they have done, they will live. Do I take any pleasure in the death of the wicked? declares the Sovereign Lord. Rather, am I not pleased when they turn from their ways and live?”

It amazes me that, far from the wrathful God of judgment caricatured by the world and preached by too many churches, God is first of all a God of love. The wrath is held until the last possible moment, because God wants to give sinners every chance to live.

Think of it: God takes no pleasure in the death of wicked people. America danced in the streets when Osama bin Laden was killed, but God didn’t. He wasn’t pleased when Adolph Hitler or Saddam Hussein died either. Their deaths delivered them completely into the judgment God doesn’t want for anyone.

Instead, God would have been pleased to welcome into heaven these men, and Jeffrey Dahmer and Mohamed Lahouaiej Bouhlel, the man who drove his rented cargo truck down two kilometers of sidewalk in Nice, France. Had they truly converted and put their faith in Jesus, even their heinous, criminal sins would not have been remembered by God.

Far from being offended at the thought of sharing heaven with such wicked people, I’m reassured. God’s love is sufficient. My worst acts won’t turn him off. If I cling to him, however weakly and one-handed, he won’t ever let me go.

God is so good.

trees

I’m not an expert on trees, but it sure looks to me like my hackberry tree is dead. We planted five new trees this summer, along with a dozen bushes, and the rest are looking OK (although one of the firs blew over and had to be propped back up). But the landscaping company I got it from tells me there’s likely life in the hackberry tree yet, that in the spring it will bud again.

In Ezekiel 17 this morning I read about trees, a vision of eagles trying to plant cedar shoots and failing to grow trees from them. And then, in verses 22-24, "'This is what the Sovereign Lord says:I myself will take a shoot from the very top of a cedar and plant it; I will break off a tender sprig from its topmost shoots and plant it on a high and lofty mountain. On the mountain heights of Israel I will plant it; it will produce branches and bear fruit and become a splendid cedar. Birds of every kind will nest in it; they will find shelter in the shade of its branches. All the trees of the forest will know that I the Lord bring down the tall tree and make the low tree grow tall. I dry up the green tree and make the dry tree flourish. I the Lord have spoken, and I will do it. '"

I’m not sure my dry hackberry will ever flourish, although the experts think it will. I am sure, from this metaphor of trees in the forest, that dry spirits will grow vibrant when God chooses them. Green, robust-looking men and women who have their roots in the rotten stuff of this world will wither in their souls. Humble people will be elevated, while the haughty trees will be toppled.

This isn’t the only story of trees in the Bible, and all of them have the same point: trees need to be rooted in good soil, near abundant water. Jesus revealed the Holy Spirit to be the living water we need to fulfill this vision of green growth. Jesus himself is the Truth that nourishes our souls.

That’s why we worship in the Spirit and in Truth. Jesus, not just the capital T standard of what is true and good, but also the one who showed me in his life the truth of God’s words. The Holy Ghost, who helps me understand the truth and shines that light of truth on my life. Together, by God’s grace, they turn me from a dry stick into a flourishing, green tree.

This is grace. Thanks be to God for his mercy to me.

insufficient righteousness

Far from being a hero of the faith, I aspire at best to be a good foot soldier.

Noah was a hero of the faith. He undertook an impossible task, built an ark far from water, endured the ridicule of his neighbors, collected all the animals and food for them and his family, and then led the rebuilding of society after the flood.

Daniel was a hero of the faith. He stayed true to God when tempted with the finest luxuries and greatest power a decadent, idolatrous nation could offer him. He went willingly into the lion’s den rather than stop praying to God.

Job was a hero of the faith. He never wavered through the greatest catastrophes a man could ever know, keeping his testimony of trust even when his wealth and family and health were stolen from him.

As great as these heroes were, though, they’re insignificant when it comes to salvation. God told Ezekiel so, in Ezekiel 14:12-14 “The word of the Lord came to me: ‘Son of man, if a country sins against me by being unfaithful and I stretch out my hand against it to cut off its food supply and send famine upon it and kill its people and their animals, even if these three men—Noah, Daniel and Job —were in it, they could save only themselves by their righteousness, declares the Sovereign Lord.’”

I’m not ready to wrestle with what it means that by their righteousness they could save themselves - probably that God would choose to spare them in that circumstance. What catches my interest this morning is that, great as they were, none of these men could save anyone. No man can save another. No human can save me.

It’s another reminder that the greatest of God’s image-bearers reflects only a tiny bit of his true majesty. What was impossible for men and women was possible for God made flesh in Jesus.

It makes me wonder where I put my faith. In myself? I’ll likely never be as righteous as Noah and Daniel and Job. In another person? No matter how good, they can’t save me. As someone said, salvation doesn’t arrive on Air Force 1. It doesn’t come from a pulpit either, or from the pen of the most gifted theologian. And it doesn’t come from any good work I might pull off.

The only thing that saves is faith in Jesus. It’s that simple. And that hard.

whitewashed

The truth can be hard, but following God requires a devotion to truth. In Ezekiel’s day, people showed a strong preference for good news, and prophets earned God’s wrath for not telling them the hard truth.

Here’s an example from Ezekiel 13:15-16 “So I will pour out my wrath against the wall and against those who covered it with whitewash. I will say to you, ‘The wall is gone and so are those who whitewashed it, those prophets of Israel who prophesied to Jerusalem and saw visions of peace for her when there was no peace, declares the Sovereign Lord."'

God called those lies whitewash, explaining that it made a flimsy structure look good. The whitewash misled God’s people into relying on a false hope for peace, when God was trying to get them to see the threat they were under. In this case, probably in most cases, whitewashing the truth earned God’s wrath.

It’s a call to me to tell the truth. Not brutally -”Yes, you look fat!” - but lovingly, meaning when and in ways that will help people live closer to God. I need to find the courage to remind people that some of what our culture accepts is sin. I need to find the courage to point out that some of what we Christians do to others is also sin. And I need to be brave enough always to remind even those who don’t want to hear it that there is hope, but only in Jesus.

It’s also a call to me to love the truth. Sometimes I don’t want to hear it. Sometimes I want to believe that the candidate for the other party has no good in them. Sometimes I want to believe that God’s grace is permission to sin. Sometimes I don’t want to hear the truth about what God wants me to do with my money.

But that’s like not wanting to know the calories in a piece of pecan pie. Those calories will still sit on my hips until I somehow work them off, whether I acknowledge the truth about them or not. In the same way God’s truth will haunt me, whether I accept it or not.

Serving God requires loving the truth, and speaking the truth in love. By God’s grace, may I do that today.

marked

It stretches my mind this morning to think that we have a God who can protect us with just a mark.

I know what it is to wear a mark. I used to put on a uniform, with a tape above the left pocket that said “U.S. Army.” I still carry a US Government ID card showing I’m retired military. But, as powerful as this country is, we still learned to ditch our ID cards if our plane was ever hijacked. And plenty of uniformed servicemen and women have been bombed, shot and knifed. 

God, with just a single mark, can protect completely, far beyond the ability of any government. He did it when he marked Cain, and he gave Ezekiel a vision of this ultimate protection in Ezekiel 9:3-6 “Then the Lord called to the man clothed in linen who had the writing kit at his side and said to him, ‘Go throughout the city of Jerusalem and put a mark on the foreheads of those who grieve and lament over all the detestable things that are done in it.’ As I listened, he said to the others, ‘Follow him through the city and kill, without showing pity or compassion. Slaughter the old men, the young men and women, the mothers and children, but do not touch anyone who has the mark.’”

I was thinking what a blessing it would be to have that mark, to be protected not only from the evil in this world but also from God’s judgment on it. Then I realized that I do. It may not be overt enough for other people to see it, but I bet the angels can. I like to think that to the angels the ones Jesus bought blaze like bonfires against the darkness of the world.

If I live right, people will see it too. They’ll see something different about me. That difference will likely draw hostility from some, but even so no one can challenge God’s providence or change my destiny. 

I guess in the end, if I want the world to see the mark of God on me, I have to show them. Why does that sometimes scare me? It’s counter-intuitive: I sometimes lack the courage to claim the protection. 

I’ll wear my country’s flag, my team’s colors, my company’s logo, but in some circumstances I’m uneasy about showing the mark of God on me. Why? Another thing to work on.

grieving God

A few days ago I wrote about the lamentation of being forgotten by God. Today I read of God being forgotten by his people, of how they grieved God. God will be remembered too late by people who would come to wish they had never forgotten the blessings of obedience.

In chapter 6 of Ezekiel is a detailed prophecy of the judgment that would come on God’s people, and one detail of the aftermath caught my eye. Verse 9 says, “Then in the nations where they have been carried captive, those who escape will remember me—how I have been grieved by their adulterous hearts, which have turned away from me, and by their eyes, which have lusted after their idols.”

It’s a very thought provoking verse. It makes me think how many days I go through most of the day without thinking much about God. My morning and mealtime devotions can stand like brief spiritual punctuation marks in an otherwise self-centered day. Is that a step on the slippery slope toward forgetting God?

Then I think how easy it is to grieve him. That kind of thoughtlessness alone would do it, but that will soon lead to bad choices which will grieve him even more.

Do I have an adulterous heart? Yes I do - I can be as passionate about political power or as greedy about hoarding my wealth or as proud of my own accomplishments as anyone, all things that can tug at my heart more strongly than love of God.

Do I have lustful eyes? Yes, that too - I look enviously at the passengers in first class, at the revelers surrounded by laughing friends, at the beautiful people whose physiques and glistening smiles give them a special sort of power, at the independently wealthy who no longer work, and those things can seem far better than the quiet life of enough where God’s blessings are found.

The prophesied fate of God’s people cautions me this morning that if my adulterous heart and lustful eyes pull my attention too much from God, he’ll take steps as drastic as necessary to get my attention back.

Because I made him feel bad? I don’t think so. I think a large part of God’s grief is at what he sees me, the beloved child bought by Jesus’ blood, doing to myself.

riverside visions

My imagination was captured this morning by the first few verses of the book of Ezekiel. Chapter 1:1-3 tell of the start of his days as a prophet: “In my thirtieth year, in the fourth month on the fifth day, while I was among the exiles by the Kebar River, the heavens were opened and I saw visions of God. On the fifth of the month—it was the fifth year of the exile of King Jehoiachin — the word of the Lord came to Ezekiel the priest, the son of Buzi, by the Kebar River in the land of the Babylonians. There the hand of the Lord was on him.”

I tried to put myself in Ezekiel’s shoes. Thirty years old, five years in exile. Nothing so far, at least nothing noted, to make him different than any other Jew. Just an ordinary guy, one of many Jews living along the Kebar River. Just another day, the fifth of the month - it says the fourth month so was it spring? Did the Jewish calendar correspond to ours? - when Ezekiel was going about his business, whenever that was.

And then, bam! The heavens opened - what does that mean? Did the clouds part? Was there bright light? Did anyone else notice anything? - and suddenly Ezekiel was seeing visions of God. God laid his hand on him, and he was at that moment a prophet of God.

What did that feel like? Was Ezekiel exhilarated? Terrified? Dismayed? Overawed? I try to imagine this young man, the age of my kids, and the disruption that struck his life like lightning out of a blue sky. And the great wonder and privilege of seeing and hearing God.

I’m reminded that God calls in many different ways. Some people, like me, get a lot of choice on how we work through questions of obedience and service. Some don’t. Ezekiel by the river and Saul on the road to Damascus come to mind. So does Richard Stearns, current director of World Vision, who tells how he resisted a call away from a successful career as a business executive to lead that agency, but how persistently God laid the call on him.

But I think, as I reflect on it, that in God’s eyes there are no lesser calls. I don’t think Ezekiel’s obedience was prized by God more highly than mine. In some ways, he had it harder because he had very specific instructions to follow. In some ways, I have a greater challenge because I’m not always sure what obedience looks like. In either case, provided we do our best to discern God’s will and follow it, I think God is pleased.

Today, God finds me in the middle of my ordinary life, just as he did Ezekiel. And today, he calls me to obedient witness. If I look, he’ll reveal something of himself to me. If I listen, he’ll call me to specific acts of service. What will that look like? I’m going to have to figure that out. But I want to, because for today, that’s my call. Tomorrow could be different.

forgotten?

There’s something that I’m still waiting for.

For all my adult life, I’ve tried to be an obedient servant to God. I’ve had my own ideas of what that should look like, but none of those have panned out. Instead, God put in front of me a lay preaching ministry, local church leadership, and this blog. As near as I can tell, in addition to the general call to a relationship with him and service to his people, this is God’s call for me. At a minimum, it’s my best attempt to faithfully answer his call.

What I’m waiting for still is the joy. I’m waiting for the thing I see in my missionary brother and some of my pastor and teacher friends, that sense of eagerness to get at it because of the exhilaration of doing God’s work with him. So far, I mostly feel drained, trying to keep it all going along with a busy work and family life. Often it feels like a lot of work and little reward.

Now, that in no way is a problem compared to the long march into exile that prompted God’s people to write Lamentations. But it did make Lamentations 5:19-22 resonate. “You, Lord, reign forever; your throne endures from generation to generation. Why do you always forget us? Why do you forsake us so long?”

Not to sound whiny - I have a really easy life - but my best chance of understanding Lamentations is to think about my role in ministry. Sometimes I feel like God has forgotten I’m  still waiting.  I know not only that that isn’t true, but also that it’s a self-pitying, self-indulgent way to think.

But how else can I try to imagine what might make someone feel abandoned by God? I don’t have another, better frame of reference. God has been with me in dangerous times, and times when I’ve been close to evil. He’s walked close by through poor health, not enough money, and spiritual isolation. In all those times I could feel him there. What did it feel like to feel forgotten by God? Even at my most self-indulgent whiniest I never really think God took his eye off me.

It’s a chilling thought. What would happen if he really did? I can't imagine; God is too good.

worthless visions

I remember an early criticism of my preaching. “You can’t confront people with their sin like that,” this pastor said. “You teach them doctrine and let God convict them. Let them make the connection to their own lives.”

I tried to take that advice to heart, but I just can’t do it. Taken out of the context of my life, the Bible is a dry historical document. Taken out of the context of the Bible, my life is anything I want it to be.

But I could never really articulate my visceral negative reaction to this pastor’s view until I read Lamentations 2:14: “The visions of your prophets were false and worthless; they did not expose your sin to ward off your captivity. The prophecies they gave you were false and misleading.”

Now I know what I was feeling back then: so then what’s the point! How does preaching help people if it doesn’t confront sin? The prophets of Judah did the people a huge disservice. They gave the people permission to continue in their sin, and the Babylonian exile was the result.

Any gospel that doesn’t start with my sin is a false gospel, because without sin I don’t need a savior. Any vision of an obedient life that doesn’t hold me accountable is as false and worthless as the prophecies that led Judah to destruction.

I think that pastor was trying to make more room for grace and saw my preaching as condemnation. But grace isn’t grace if there’s nothing to forgive; grace isn’t good news if there’s no sense of guilt.

Since that time I try always to preach about grace, but I refuse to bring a message that cheapens grace. Maybe I’m wrong about that, but it doesn’t feel wrong.

naked

I was shocked to learn, a couple of years ago, how many people not only have naked pictures of themselves, but also have them stored somewhere online. This unpalatable factoid came to light as part of news reporting on a hack of celebrity cell phones and the subsequent release of their salacious snaps.

Is modesty truly dead in this country? I wonder. There’s a small Christian liberal arts college in my town; modesty doesn’t seem to be a concern for many of those students. Or for a lot of other people who are old enough to know better.

I know I sound like a prude, but my reading this morning in the book of Lamentations made me consider the question. Lamentations 1:8 reads “Jerusalem has sinned greatly and so has become unclean. All who honored her despise her, for they have all seen her naked; she herself groans and turns away.”

This is metaphor, of course, for spiritual unfaithfulness. But I wondered if readers today would understand the shame. Why should being seen naked give anyone the right to despise anyone else? Why should the naked person groan in embarrassment and be unable to look people in the eye? Go to the beach, and you’ll see all the unabashed near-nudity you can stomach.

It’s an important question, because shame is a key part of recognizing sin. To lose my sense of shame means I no longer see my sin for the horror that it is. Oh, I’m still ashamed of literal nudity, but do I still feel mortified at spiritual nakedness? Those times when my lifestyle doesn’t look any different from the world, when I compromise God’s standards to go enjoy our current culture - does it bother me when others know?

I can’t remember the last time I felt embarrassment, let alone shame. Is that because I don’t do shameful things anymore? I’d like to think so. But I do a lot of things now that I would never have done in the past - things like travel or visit the grocery store on Sunday, skip church on vacation, or watch violent movies. Is that because I was wrong before?

Those things don’t bother me much now, but  I’m afraid if I search my soul I’m going to find out I’m just a lot more comfortable showing a little metaphorical skin than I used to be. And I’m afraid I’ll find more serious standards are being compromised too.