Following Christ

Categories Following Christ

Stagnant

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I was reading some of my old posts, some of those posts from the summer I met Daniel, when I was steeping in 1 John and dealing with idols and having my love transformed.

It made me ache. A hollow sort of ache. A how-have-I-lost, what-have-I-lost, where-have-I-gone sort of ache.

I miss seeing God on the pages of Scripture, miss hearing His voice as I read. I miss the intense focused dependence, the desperate knowledge that I needed God above anything else.

What was a flowing fountain has become a stagnant pool, but how did it get here and how can I restore this sullied spring?

I need Elisha’s salt to heal the waters of my heart, so that they would no longer cause death or miscarriage (2 Kings 2:19-22). But where is such salt to be found? Where is the Lord, the God of Elijah, who brings life to dead bones?

I need the water that in me becomes a a spring of water welling up to eternal life (John 4:14).

So I come to the one who promises drink, the one who promises to cause my heart to flow out with rivers of living water.

I declare that I believe, help my unbelief.

“On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, ‘If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, “Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.”‘ Now this he said about the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were to receive, for as yet the Spirit had not been given, because Jesus was not yet glorified.”

~John 7:37-39 (ESV)

Categories Everyday Life, Following Christ

A Gracious God Gives

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We were getting ready to sit down to plan out our day of errands. I checked my phone to remind myself of what all we needed to do.

A text from Ruth asked me if I’d be interested in going to the Spice Merchant and the Nifty Nut House with her.

It was the second Saturday of the month, we were already planning on getting our coffee from the Spice Merchant – and I needed some cardamom pods.

We arranged a time to meet.

We explored, we purchased our respective items, we visited for many minutes leaned up against a shelf of Jordan almonds. After we said our goodbyes, Daniel and I got back in the car and decided it was late enough that we needed to prioritize getting recycling to the center before it closed. We’d hold off on the library, but should we drop by the post office before or after?

Might as well go by the post office. It’s on our way.

We get in, start our self service. Daniel pushes the international button. I correct him. Military addresses aren’t considered international. I fumble around, restart the process several times by accident. A postal employee locks the door to the service counter. No worries, we’ll be able to accomplish our business out here at the 24-hour kiosk.

Finally, I push all the right buttons and the screen announces: I’m sorry, we can not process APO/FPO addresses on this kiosk. Please go to the postal counter.

I look at Daniel. He looks at me. I look at the locked door. What do we do?

“I’m sorry” Daniel says.

The door opens and the postal employee asks us if we’d like in. We will be the last people given access to that room. All who come after us are told that the post office is closed.

On our way home, we remark how fortunate it was that we ended our conversation with Ruth when we did, that we chose to go to the past office when we did rather than later.

I muse that God was good to us by giving us what we wanted.

Daniel finishes the thought, “May He give us grace to accept when He is good to us by not giving us what we want.”

After visiting the library, I read the first chapter of one of the books I checked out: Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts .

She reflects on Eve’s thought in the garden: there must be more than this, something God’s not letting me in on. Eve was right, Voskamp writes. There was more. Pain, toil, sin, death. There was more, but it wasn’t good.

It reminds me anew how often I expect God to conform to my idea of good. I rail against him for not giving me the gift I want so badly. But then, occasionally, He opens my eyes to realize that withholding the supposed gift was a gift in itself.

A gracious God gives good gifts. Whatever He gives is good. Whatever He does not give, He does not give because it is not our greatest good.

Shall I accept good from the Lord and not adversity?

The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

May that ever be my cry, even as I anguish over a loss or sigh in longing for a much desired prize.

A gracious God always gives good gifts.

Categories Family & Friends, Following Christ

What I pray for your children

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If you are one of my siblings or one of my bloggy friends, I pray for you and for your children. Approximately once a week, your name pops up on my phone and, generally while I’m cleaning the toys in my office, I pray for you. If you have expressed a particular request or if I’ve deduced one from what you’ve written, I’ll pray for that; but otherwise, I pray a very specific sort of prayer.

I do not pray for your children to be obedient.

Obedient, manageable children are nice to have, easy to care for. But that isn’t what I want for you or for them.

Obedience and manageability can mask inward apathy or rebellion. Obedience and manageability can convince a child that they’re a “good kid”. They can begin to rely upon their “good kid” status. They can begin to work hard to maintain their “good kid” status. Someday, they may rebel against their “good kid” status.

I don’t pray for them to obedient. They need something more.

They need Jesus.

Even so, I do not pray for your children to love Jesus.

Many a child who “loves Jesus”–who delights to sing Bible songs, who loves to go to Sunday School, who tells his friends about Jesus–grows up to be an adult who rejects the faith.

“Loving Jesus” is often a cultural thing, about speaking the lingo of the church, singing the songs of the church, acting the way church people do.

But just like the children of hippies turned yuppie and the children of yuppies turned hipster, the children of Christianity often turn atheist or agnostic or non-practicing nothings.

I don’t pray for the to “love Jesus”. They need something more.

You see, I don’t want your children to just love Jesus, like they love their favorite toy, I want them to know Jesus.

And I don’t want your children to just know Jesus, I want them to know Jesus savingly.

And if they are to know Jesus savingly, they must know that they are depraved.

For that reason, I pray that your children would recognize their sinfulness.

I pray that they would be acutely aware of their inability to live up to God’s standard.

I pray that they would recognize the futility of their works to ever change their status.

I pray that they would fall wholly upon the mercy of God in the person of Christ.

That, my friends, is what I pray for your children.

Categories Following Christ

The Discipline of the Gospel

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On our flight home from our honeymoon, I started reading Barbara Hughes’ The Disciplines of a Godly Woman. The first discipline Hughes discusses is the discipline of the gospel.

It’s an interesting idea–that the gospel can be a discipline, that we can discipline ourselves to live out of the gospel.

But more than an interesting idea, it’s a frustrating idea.

How can I discipline myself in the gospel? It’s not like reading the Bible or going to church. It’s not something I can schedule into my day or week.

Or can I?

I tried an experiment. I set a reminder on my phone.

“Remember the Gospel,” it says.

The task pops up one hour after I last marked it complete, so about every hour during my waking hours, I am reminded of the gospel.

But is this effective?

Does this really help me remember the gospel? Does it help me remember more than just the word “Gospel” but the reality that the word represents?

I gave myself limits.

I couldn’t clear the reminder, couldn’t say I’d completed the task, until I’d actually thought about the gospel–about the reality of the gospel.

It’s become almost a game, thinking of new aspects of the gospel to contemplate.

One hour, I recite a verse about the gospel.

“The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost.” (I Timothy 1:15 ESV)

Another hour, I reflect on what the gospel accomplished.

Redemption. Adoption. Justification.

Yet another hour, I try to paraphrase the gospel as I might share it with an unbeliever.

We are all sinners, deserving God’s wrath and incapable of paying our sin-debt. But God loved us so much that He sent His Son Jesus, who bore God’s wrath in our place, dying on a cross so we wouldn’t have to die for our sins. Now He offers salvation to everyone who believes in Jesus’ name.

These are just scratching the surface of the gospel.

I ask myself what the gospel displays about God’s character.

Holiness. Grace. Justice. Love. Sovereignty over death.

I ask myself what the practical implications of the gospel are to my work life.

Forgiven, I must forgive. Loved despite my filthiness, I must love my clients despite their occasional crassness. Having received mercy, I must extend mercy.

As I review the ways I have been reminding myself of the gospel, I think of some more to use in the upcoming hours.

What are some stories in Scripture that exhibit the gospel? Who can I pray for who needs the gospel? What are wrong views of the gospel and what is the truth that exposes them? In what ways should the gospel influence my thoughts, my words, my actions, my writing?

Hour by hour, I discipline myself in the gospel.

How do you discipline yourself in the gospel?

Categories Following Christ

Pacifying Lies and the Sympathizing Truth

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I didn’t expect, when I sat down at her table, that I’d end up hearing all about her current difficulties with school.

I was looking for a place to sit, to read, to wait for the first service to get over.

I didn’t realize that God was at work, engineering divine appointments.

Our conversation was simple enough at first. I asked the usual questions one asks of a student who has just started a new school year. How are classes? Is she settled in yet? What are her favorite parts of school?

But then the levee broke and words came pouring in from every direction, threatening to drown my unprepared mind.

She was overwhelmed. She wasn’t adjusting well. She felt lonely. She’d been made fun of. She didn’t have many friends. Some of her classes were awful. She was grieved by the language the other students used. It was all so different from her old school. She didn’t like it. Not at all.

As the muddy water rushed in, swirling with the debris of a few hard weeks at school, my mind scrambled to put up sandbags against the flood.

“Hang in there. Things will get better. You’ll see.” I wanted to say. Anything to make her feel better, to staunch the hurt she was revealing.

But God, in His wisdom, has been teaching me about loving conversation–and the first rule of loving conversation is silence.

I let her speak. Let the words come. I listened and thought and prayed.

I realized how foolish and insufficient my gut reaction was.

Who says my friend’s situation will get better? Since when was “hanging in there” what she need to do? Will she see?

Those trite phrases, as comfortable as they are to say, offered no solution to her problems, no true hope to get through her difficulties.

They were little more than pacifying lies.

When she wound down her story and shared a Scripture she’d been clinging to, I now knew how to encourage and comfort my friend.

I Peter 5:7 says, “Casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.” Philippians 4:6-7 says “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, through prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God, and the peace of God, which surpasses understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”

I urged my friend to take her cares to Christ, to take comfort in His care, to allow His peace to guard her mind.

I could not promise my friend that her circumstances would get better. I don’t know that. But I could promise her that God has a better purpose in her trials.

God has a purpose to conform her into the image of Christ.

“For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers.”
~Romans 8:29 (ESV)

She can look back to before the foundations of time, where God was already purposing HER in His heart, where God was already thinking of her and planning for her.

She can look forward to the end of time, when she will be finally like Christ, when all this earth’s trials will meet their end and the finished product will be revealed.

She can take comfort in the present that God is purposing good things in her suffering. He is making her like Christ.

Things may not grow easier. She may not feel better. But as she fixes her eyes on Christ, He is making her better. As she looks at Christ, God is making her to look like Christ.

When I placed my hand on my friend’s shoulder, when I looked into her eyes and told her that God had a purpose in her struggles, she looked back at me with a new light in her eyes.

Far better than pacifying lies is the Sympathizing Truth.

“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”
~Hebrews 4:15-16 (ESV)

It is only in looking to Christ that my friend can find comfort. Only in pointing to Christ that I can be a comforter.

Categories Everyday Life, Following Christ

An Old-Fashioned Hymn Sing

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I like the modern songs of worship. The wave-your-arms-in-the-air or pump-your-fist exciting music. The clap-in-time and hoot-and-holler-at-the-end type of music.

But there’s nothing that can beat the old-fashioned hymns, tried by generations of believers, refined through decades (even centuries) of worshipers.

There’s something about knowing that you are joining a host of saints before you, singing an old chorus. There’s something about meditating on the same words by which some predecessor lived and died.

You don’t need to be in a packed auditorium when you’re singing a hymn. Even if it’s just you in your car on the way home from work in Grand Island, you know you’re joining a community of believers.

Also, there’s nothing like going through a set of old hymns to awaken one’s mind to doctrine.

To remind us of our weakness in spiritual battles–and Christ’s strength on our behalf:

“Did we in our own strength confide
Our striving would be losing
Were not the right man by our side
The man of God’s own choosing
Dost ask who that may be
Christ Jesus, it is He
Lord Sabaoth by name
From age to age the same
And He must win the battle”
~Martin Luther, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God”

The glory of sins removed:

“My sin–oh the bliss of this glorious thought–
My sin, not in part but the whole
Was nailed to the cross
and I bear it no more
Praise the Lord,
Praise the Lord, oh my soul”
~H.G. Spafford, “It is Well with my Soul”

The eternal hope of Christ’s righteousness:

“When He shall come with trumpet sound
O, may I then in Him be found
Dressed in His righteousness alone
Faultless to stand before the throne.”
~Edward Mote, “The Solid Rock”

The great sacrifice of Christ on our behalf:

“Well might the sun in darkness hide
And shut his glories in
When Christ, the Mighty Maker, died
For man the creature’s sin”
~Isaac Watts, “At the Cross”

The promise of glorification:

“Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power
‘Til all the ransomed church of God
Be saved to sin no more.”
~William Cowper, “There is a fountain”

The sovereignty of God over nature:

“That though the wrong seems oft so strong
God is the Ruler yet”
~Malthie D. Babcock, “This is my Father’s World”

God’s goal to make us like Christ:

“Come Desire of Nations, come!
Fix in us Thy humble home
Rise, the woman’s conquering seed
Bruise in us the serpent’s head
Adam’s likeness now efface
Stamp Thine image in its place
Second Adam from above
Reinstate us in Thy love.”
~Charles Wesley, “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”

The sacrifice that motivates my holiness:

“For Thee all the follies of sin I resign…
I love Thee because Thou hast first loved me
And purchased my pardon on Calvary’s tree…”
~Anonymous, “My Jesus, I love Thee”

And then a rainbow rises above the road and in raptures of delight, I sing all the more.

“This is my Father’s world
He shines in all that’s fair
In the rustling grass I hear Him pass
He speaks to me everywhere.”
~Malthie D. Babcock, “This is My Father’s World”

Categories Everyday Life, Following Christ

Bittersweet Mornings

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This morning has been the very definition of perfect.

Waking up with sun, knowing that I have plenty of time to do whatever I want to do.

Spending hours in the Word, digging deep into I John, letting the Word transform me.

Getting dressed and going to my car to get my hairbrush (which I left there yesterday after a rather rushed morning).

Bringing in the waffle blocks I’d bought at a used store last week. Searching for the perfect striped twill I’d gotten a few weeks before to make toy bags with. Cutting out a bag in the right size.

Seeing that my sewing machine was already threaded with black thread and deciding to get my black mending done while I was at it. Having plenty of time to mend several dresses and a couple pairs of slacks, even to rip out a seam that I wasn’t satisfied with.

Changing to white thread and whipping up the toy bag. Running the rope in the casing and filling the bag with waffle blocks.

Making my breakfast and enjoying it while writing a blog post.

No morning could be better.

Yet even in this, my heart is not content.

Like Naomi, returning to her homeland when God has visited His people with food, I entreat those around me to call me Mara.

God may have abundantly blessed me with today, but I am bitter that this is not my every morning. I am bitter that I have no children to play with my waffle blocks, no someone to admire my recently altered dress. I am bitter that I must work long hours in the world, leaving few for the home where I love to be.

I speak to my soul, telling it to be quiet. “Be still. Be at rest. Rejoice in the day that the Lord has given you.”

My heart does not want to listen. It wants to wallow in discontent.

I must point Mara to the end of her story, to Obed, to the promise of God in Christ.

I am not husband-less. I have Christ.

I am not child-less. I have Christ.

I am not without a Provider. I have Christ.

So do not call me Mara. I am not she.

Bitterness has no place in my soul.

Instead, I will sing like the women singing to Naomi:

“Blessed be the Lord, who has not left you this day without a redeemer, and may his name be renowned in Israel! He shall be to you a restorer of life and a nourisher of your old age, for your daughter-in-law who loves you, who is more to you than seven sons, has given birth to him.”

I will choose to sing with these:

“Blessed be the Lord, who has not left me this day without a Redeemer. May His name be renowned in all the earth. He is my restorer of life and the nourisher of my age; for He is more to me than anything.”

Categories Following Christ

Run and Hide

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I was too tired to sleep that night, staring blankly at the pillow in front of my face. The words wafted into my consciousness, “Fear God.” I pondered the words, so unexpected, so strange. Fear. My mind played with synonyms, connected words. Fear. Fright. Terror. Words that imply running and hiding.

Running and hiding? What does that have to do with fearing God? I almost dismissed the thought. But my mind would not let the topic die.

How often do we run to the least safe place? In a thunderstorm, I take shelter under a tree. In a tornado, the culvert looks safe. In terror of God, I run to hide among self-righteous rags.

But that is exactly where I should not go. There is where the full brunt of His anger falls. There is where I will never be safe.

No, the fear of God demands that I run and hide–but not just anywhere.

Fear of God drives me to run to Christ, to take refuge in Him.

It is there, enveloped by the all-powerful, righteous, and angry God, that I am safe.

Because the awful God is the only One who can save me from Himself.

I run to Him and He spreads Himself over me like a garment, absorbing the full brunt of His terrible anger.

When I am hiding in Him, His wrath finds only Himself. When I am hiding in Him, His favor is all that remains. I am forever in the eye of the storm, the Terrible God surrounding me, protecting me from Himself.

I face life’s stresses, little troubles and big. Fear God, the little voice whispers. Run and Hide, I whisper back. I must make the choice to run to Him, to hide myself in Him. He absorbs my trials.

Temptation to think, to say, to do, to be what I ought not think, say, do, or be. I want to give in to bitterness, to selfishness, to pride, to self-indulgence. Fear God, the little voice whispers. I whisper back, Run and Hide. I must run to the One who endured every temptation. I must hide myself in Him. He bears my desires.

And then I fall and deep despair fills my every thought. Why do I do this again and again? Why do I continue to sin? Why don’t I do what I know is right? Terror grips me and I want to run away, to hide.

Where shall I go? Will I hide in my work? Surely there’s enough of that to keep me hidden for months. Will I hide in my home? There’s enough cleaning to do I won’t be found for an age. Will I hide in a book? I have plenty of those, and the library has more.

Fear God, the little voice says.

And I will respond.

In fear, I will run and hide.

I will run to my terror, I will weep at His feet. “Spread Your wings over me,” I will cry in distress. And He will lift His garment, He will give me refuge in His wings. I will be safe when I hide in my Fear.

Categories Following Christ

The Cup of Rejoicing

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Jesus sang a hymn before ending his Last Seder on this earth, but He stopped short of consuming the fourth cup.

Why?

I addressed this briefly in my previous post, but I believe the reason was that Jesus had reached the end of the “now” section of the Seder–and the fourth cup was the “not yet.”

The first three of the four “I will” statements of Exodus 6:6-7 were fulfilled in Christ’s death. “I will bring you out”–sanctification for those who are in Christ. “I will rescue you”–deliverance from the power of sin and death. “I will redeem you”–redemption through the blood of Christ. Jesus died, was buried, and rose from the dead to accomplish those three things. In Christ’s death and resurrection, they were done, finished.

The fourth statement, though, still waits for its consummation.

“I will take you as my people.” This is the cup of rejoicing. This will not be fully seen until the church stands before Christ, spotless as a bride prepared for her Bridegroom (Revelation 21:2).

On that day, in Paradise, Jesus will celebrate his final Seder. He will take his bride to Himself as His own, and together they shall drink the cup of rejoicing.

“I will not drink again of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.” (Matthew 26:29)

The fourth promise of Exodus 6:6-7 and Jesus’ words in Matthew 26:29 parallel Revelation 21:

“I will take you as My people, and I will be your God” in Exodus 6 parallels Revelation 21:3, “He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God.”

Jesus’ words “when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom” (Matthew 26:29) parallel Revelation 21:5, “Behold, I am making all things new.”

This is why in my Haggadah, I introduce the fourth cup with these words:

“This is the fourth and final cup—the cup of rejoicing. Exodus 6:6-7 says ‘And I shall take you to Me for a people.’ Jesus did not drink this glass. In fact, He proclaimed that He would not drink it until ‘that day when [He] drink[s] it new with [us] in [His] Father’s kingdom.’ Jesus reserved the cup of rejoicing for that day when the consummation of that promise will occur. ‘I shall take you to Me.’ Soon, that day shall come, the wedding feast of the Lamb, when the bride shall be united with her Bridegroom. As John testified, ‘And I heard a loud voice from heaven saying, “Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people. God himself will be with them and be their God. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.”‘ And on that day, we shall drink of the cup of rejoicing.”

This is why I have the blessing over the fourth cup read:

“Blessed are You, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, Who creates the fruit of the vine. Blessed are You, O Lord our God, who has betrothed us to Yourself. Blessed are You, O Lord our God, in whom we rejoice.”

And this is why I close my Seder with two familiar refrains, one from the very last pages of Scripture; the other from the last words of the traditional Haggadah:

“And so we end the Passover Seder.
We have completed it with all its customs and laws
We have been privileged to celebrate this year
And with the Spirit and the Bride to declare
‘Come quickly, Lord Jesus’
God most gracious, holy, pure
Restore your people that speedily we might return
Redeemed, to Zion, with joy.
Next year in Jerusalem!

This is the final part in a four-part series on the four cups of the Seder. Thanks for joining me as I share one of my great passions–Christ as displayed through the Haggadah.

Categories Following Christ

A Juxtoposed Confession

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In seasons where the longing seems overwhelming, I’ll often sigh and think, “Lord, You know my heart” as the words of a Delirious song pour forth from my lips:

Lord, You have my heart
And I will search for Yours
Jesus, take my life
And lead me on

Every time these words and this melody burst into my consciousness, I wonder at my juxtaposition of “know” in my mind with “have” from my lips.

My mind tells the Lord–and myself–that He knows my heart. He knows what I desire. He knows what captivates me, what make my heart dream. He is familiar with my heart both in its baseness and its nobility.

My lips sing that the Lord has my heart–that my heart is captivated by, consumed with Him.

My mind speak the truth, my mouth what I wish to be the truth.

I close my musings with a resolution and a prayer:

And I will search for Yours

That I will seek His heart is a tacit confession that my heart is not His. I still desire my own gain, my own comfort, my own self. My heart is drawn to a hundred things that aren’t the heart of God.

But I want the heart of God, even if my heart disagrees.

Let my heart be taken prisoner, let it be enslaved. May my heart forever be behind bars, so long as it is a prisoner to the heart of God.

And with my heart your prisoner, I pray, take my body to be your slave:

Jesus take my heart and lead me on

A confession of a heart gone wickedly astray.

A confession of a soul longing to be disciplined by grace.

A confession of a woman who longs and does not long to be Christ’s slave.

“Batter my heart, three-personed God; for, you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o’erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I like a usurped town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but oh, to no end,
Reason your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived and proves weak or untrue,
Yet dearly’I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betrothed unto your enemy,
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I
Except you enthral me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.”
~John Donne, Holy Sonnet 14