beautiful feet

I think I have ugly feet. 

For one thing, they’re long and narrow, so they look big even though they’re actually not. Then I have these long skinny toes that never really relax, and they have ugly peeling caluses on the ends from all the running I do. My heels also have dry scaly places. 

But I think sometimes I might have Biblically beautiful feet. Isaiah 52:7-8 says: 
“How beautiful on the mountains
are the feet of those who bring good news,
who proclaim peace,
who bring good tidings,
who proclaim salvation,
who say to Zion,
‘Your God reigns!’”

I guess it doesn’t really matter what my feet actually look like, if I use them to bring God’s word then people will be glad to hear them on the floor and see them climb the pulpit steps

It’s a good reminder that worldly standards of beauty have little to do with what God thinks is beautiful. God loves to see obedience, and love, and service. Hands and feet that do those things, especially giving the glory to God, will always please him.

engraved

For a fire-and-brimstone prophet, Isaiah had some comforting things to say. One of my favorites, another passage I often use as God’s greeting when I lead worship, is from Isaiah 49:15-16:

“‘Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget,
I will not forget you!
See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;
your walls are ever before me.’”

This image of a love stronger than a mother’s always touches me, because I watched my wife mother our children with the same tender selflessness she now shows our grandchildren. It’s hard to imagine anyone loving me that much, although I know my Mom does; that God loves me even more is mind-blowing.

On top of that, he has carved my name into his palms; more than just a tattoo, he has used something like a knife or acid to engrave my name where he will always see it. He was willing to go through the pain and disfigure himself permanently as his commitment to remember me forever. Even though it’s all metaphor, it was still the way God chose to explain how he loves me.

There’s no room in this to ever feel sorry for myself; no matter how hard I think my life is, I am not forgotten. God remembers me, he’s watching and aware; he’ll intervene as soon as it looks like I’ll need it. In the meantime, he knows he’s equipped me already to deal with a lot.

When I don’t see him, it doesn’t mean he’s not there. It just means I’m not looking.

no one sees

I used to travel with a man who loved the night life. He did things on the road that he would never do at home, and, when asked about it, would say, “Who’s going to know?”

I thought of him this morning when I was reading in Isaiah 47. God is speaking to people he calls “lovers of pleasure,” a group he describes as “lounging in your security,” and to them he says this, in verses 9 and 10:

“‘You have trusted in your wickedness
and have said, “No one sees me.”
Your wisdom and knowledge mislead you
when you say to yourself,
“I am, and there is none besides me.”
Disaster will come upon you,
and you will not know how to conjure it away.”

No one sees me. I’m not hurting anyone. Who’s going to know? These are the things we say to ourselves to rationalize our sins. But when I’m tempted to think like that, I have to remember a couple of things.

First, God will know, and God is the one who told me not to do that. Do I really fear the consequences of other people knowing of my sin more than God? Or do I trust so much in God’s grace that I don’t fear him anymore? That’s cheap grace, something I hope I’m never guilty of.

The second thing, though, is that there’s a reason God told me not to do that, and the reason is this: that thing is bad for me. That thing will make it harder to live right, it will steal my joy, it will compromise my witness, and it will damage my relationship with God. All of the things that that I was made for will be diminished, first among them my happiness.

“Lovers of pleasure, lounging in your security” is a good description of many Americans, and of many Christians. I need to be sure that my earthly knowledge and wisdom don’t deceive me.

Who’s going to know? I will, and God will, and it will make both of us unhappy. Beyond that, it shouldn’t really matter if anyone sees.

ignorant nothing

There is a kind of person who is an ignorant nothing. I know, we’re not supposed to say mean things like that, but I’m just repeating what God said. Here it is, in Isaiah 44:9-10:

“All who make idols are nothing,
and the things they treasure are worthless.
Those who would speak up for them are blind;
they are ignorant, to their own shame.
Who shapes a god and casts an idol,
which can profit nothing?”

Later in Isaiah 44 the prophet talks about a man who cuts a log from a tree. Half of it he burns for heat, and he carves an idol from the other half. This man, evidently a common figure of that day, literally was worshiping firewood! A man like that, according to this passage, is ignorant. He’s nothing.

Good thing I’d never do that. I’d never put my hope in a created thing instead of the creator. I’d never look to a politician for my safety. I’d never find security in my job. I’d never pin my hopes for good health on food. I wouldn’t do any of those things, would I?

It’s worth remembering in this time of talking heads and celebrity evangelical spokespersons that those who would speak for these modern-day idols are ignorant, and those who would attempt to make idols of these things are nothing.

It’s a good reminder to me that the true voices for God, the true prophets of our age, are the ones who speak Christ crucified and nothing else. Only the Prince of Peace can save us, and anyone who says anything else is an ignorant nothing.

by name

I read one of my favorite passages this morning, one I often use for God’s greeting when I lead worship. Here it is, the Lord speaking to his people from Isaiah 43:1-3:

“‘Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am the Lord your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior . . . .’”

Today, with the devastation of Hurricane Harvey and the continuing threat of fire in Montana and other places out west, these words seem especially significant. People here at home and around the globe are being tested in the water and fire, and, as he has promised, God is right there with them.

I think I like the realism of this promise. God doesn’t say my life will be easy. He doesn’t use the word “if.” What he says is that when the trouble comes, I won’t face it alone. When the danger threatens, I will still be secure. When events make me fear, God will grant me peace.

That’s not just a commitment by God to his people; it’s God’s vow to me. He summoned me by name, verse 3 says. He knew me personally, called me individually, and makes this promise to me as a person. He says, “Greg, there isn’t a thing you’ll face alone in all of your life. No matter what happens, Greg Steggerda, you’ll be fine because it will be you and me together. And I’ll make sure none of it touches you, if you just keep holding on to me.” This is literally a promise with my name on it.

I am loved and called to an intimate relationship by a personal God. What an amazing thing that is!

corners of the earth

I’m overwhelmed today by how much God wanted a relationship with me.

Look at this, from Isaiah 41:8-10:

“But you, Israel, my servant,
Jacob, whom I have chosen,
you descendants of Abraham my friend,
I took you from the ends of the earth,
from its farthest corners I called you.
I said, ‘You are my servant’;
I have chosen you and have not rejected you.
So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

As a spiritual son of Abraham, I take these verses as addressed to me, and I’m struck by this description of what God has done to build his kingdom. He’s traveled to the ends of the earth, and from all its corners he has called his elect.

My corner happens to be Dutch Protestant northwest Iowa. I’ve been privileged so far to meet Azeri Christians from Baku, a Micronesian, Laotians, Somalis and Latinos. I’ve worshipped with black Southern Baptists in Atlanta, Koreans in Waegon, Anglicans in London and Lutherans in Heidelberg. All of us have in common that God called us from that part of the globe where he placed us, and put us to work there.

I hope someday to meet converted Taliban, of whom I’ve heard, and former atheists and Neo Nazis, because God not only looks to every people and language, he saves us out of every kind of false or mistaken belief. For even the most hostile world view, God has an answer of love, delivered through his people, that overwhelms the hate.

I don’t know why. I know that I’m a pretty feeble addition to God’s army, although my heart is in the right place. God doesn’t really need me, but he called me, and (look at verse 10) he holds and helps me every day out of his great strength. The deal seems pretty one-sided.

That’s not stopping me from doing my best, though. Not being able to do everything, to paraphrase the quote, isn’t keeping me from doing the things that are in my reach every day. While I muster my strength and courage for that grand thing I hope to do for God one day, I will serve with a multitude of smaller tasks.

That may be why he calls us from all of the corners of the earth. Maybe hoeing weeds diligently in my small mission field is all God expects in return for this amazing grace.

special

I had a rough week. I was in Tulsa, trying to keep my calorie count under control, and it was a struggle. One night I had to settle for bourbon bacon chili. Another I ate Texas spring rolls, which are super-sized and stuffed with pulled pork. Last night it was four-cheese mac’n’cheese with jambalaya shrimp on top.

It occurred to me on the way home that I have an unusual problem with food: I can afford as much of it as I want, and really good food at that.

That bit of introspection struck me as I read through Isaiah this morning. In Isaiah 25:6 I read this:

“On this mountain the Lord Almighty will prepare
a feast of rich food for all peoples,
a banquet of aged wine—
the best of meats and the finest of wines.”

At first the only thing that seemed really good about this prophesy was the quantity – I noticed words like feast and banquet. I blew right past the terms “rich food” and “best” and “finest.” That’s a mark of how abundantly I have been blessed. To most people, those would be exciting words.

The fact is, this is a vision of inclusion. I forget constantly that I am among the most privileged, that many, maybe most in this world and even in this country don’t often get a chance to eat rich food. The best meats – how about a tuna steak or porterhouse? – aren’t unusual for me, but are pipe dreams for many.

And then there’s the fact that food in this passage can be taken as a metaphor for blessings of all kinds. All the people who are on the outside looking in because of their poverty or skin color or gender or primary language will, in God’s kingdom, be elbow to elbow with me and my kind.

This morning I’m grateful for the fantastic wealth of what we in America consider being middle class. Moreso, I have a renewed appreciation for the easy life I have because God chose to put me with a white family in Northwest Iowa.

Mostly, I’m grateful for the fact that, when it comes to my salvation, none of that makes any difference. God loves me for other reasons, the same reasons he loves the Azeri street sweepers and Ethiopian gem miners and Laotian immigrants and unemployed West Virginian coal miners. He loves us all because he decided to, in his grace. And he invites us all to the great banquet of his blessing in eternal life.

I’m nothing special, but I’m also something special: a child of God, saved as an act of grace by the sacrifice of Jesus out of God’s great mercy, for no reason except God chose to. It’s what God wanted for every one of his image bearers. How can I love them any less?