I need…

When I was working in fast food (many a year ago), my pet peeve was people who’d come in and say “I need a 1/4 white with a side of spinach and a side of macaroni. And I need a half whole wheat roll instead of a cornbread.”

Okay, so it wasn’t that particular order that annoyed me. (Although why anyone would want a roll instead of Boston Market’s cornbread completely escapes me–sorry Mom and Dad.)

What annoyed me was how these customers glibly stated that they needed x, y, and z.

I wanted to tell them, “You don’t need a quarter white. You want a quarter white, or you’d like a quarter white, or your wife will nag you if you don’t get a quarter white. But you don’t need a quarter white.”

Of course, I was too good at customer service to let my annoyedness show. So I smiled and got them what they “needed.” They were, after all, paying customers.

I’ve realized, though, that I often do the exact same thing.

No, I don’t tell fast food workers that I need the items that I actually just want–but I regularly tell God or others all about the things I need.

My computer is running slowly–I need a new one.

I have to feed paper sheet by sheet into my printer–I need a new printer.

My camera is battered and bruised–I need a DSLR.

I am tired–I need a vacation.

I need, I need, I need.

When really, I have everything I need.

“And my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus.”
~Philippians 4:19

Actually, there is just one thing I still need (having been given, in Christ, all that I need for life and godliness).

I need contentment.

“Not that I speak in regard to need, for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content: I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound. Everywhere and in all things I have learned both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
~Philippians 4:11-13


Agents of Grace

I wonder what you thought you were doing when you sang the chorus that impressed me with wonder at God’s reign.

Performing, probably–

But you were an agent of grace to me.

I wonder what you thought as you wrote the books that touched my heart, stimulated my mind, moved me to give glory to God.

Perhaps you longed for greatness or for self-expression–

But you were an agent of grace to me.

I wonder what you thought as you debated the Constitution that would make me a free woman in a free land.

Maybe you had mighty ideals of how a country should be ruled–

But you were an agent of grace to me.

I wonder what you thought as you passed my resume along after a teal-suited interview.

Were you just doing a favor?–

But you were an agent of grace to me.

I wonder what you thought as you built the road that transports me safely to Grand Island and back.

Maybe you were just getting the job done–

But you were an agent of grace to me.

Common grace, bestowed freely
The grace unexplained
Wielded through conduits unsuspecting

Unbelievers, agents of God’s grace to me.

A Quick Note to Myself

Reminder: Worth

Your worth does not depend on how many assessments you complete at work.
Your worth depends on what God says about you.

“Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.”
~Matthew 10:31

Reminder: Rest

Your rest is not found in sleep on a bed (or a spare couch or a car seat).
Your rest is found in Christ Jesus

“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
~Matthew 11:28

Reminder: Truth

Your feelings are not truth.
Christ Jesus is truth.

“I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.”
~John 14:6

Reminder: Life

Your circumstances are not your life.
Christ Jesus is your life.

“For you died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is our life appears, then you also will appear with Him in glory.”
~Colossians 3:3-4


A Free Lunch

Economists like to say that there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Political conservatives remind the world that somebody has to pay for it.

Imagine with me, though, a world in which a free lunch exists.

Imagine that there were lunch…a fancy five course affair…an all-you-can-eat-buffet…that was actually free.

It didn’t cost anyone anything to make.

Even so, I would have no right to demand that I receive such a lunch. I would have no claim with which to petition the owner of such a restaurant.

So he wouldn’t lose anything in giving it to me? He still would have no obligation to give it to me.

Even if there were a free lunch, I could not petition to receive it on my own merit. I could only petition the kindness and the pity of the host.

But the economists are right. There is no such thing as a free lunch.

Which makes my petition all the more worthless.

If someone else has paid a great price to procure and prepare this feast, how could I convince him that I deserve a free invitation?

Again, and all the more so, I must throw myself at the mercy of the host. The only case I can make for myself is His kindness, His beneficence.

And so it is in this economy of grace.

A great feast–even Christ Himself–is laid before us.

A great price–even Christ Himself–has been paid to procure it.

I cannot attempt to earn entrance to this feast, have no right to claim it as my own.

I can only fall upon the grace of the Feast-Giver.

“Because of Your grace, admit me. In accordance with Your unfailing love, grant me favor.”

And in His unfailing love, He opens wide the doors and sets a place for me at the table.

A costly feast.

Completely undeserved.

A free lunch.

In the economy of grace.


Nobody puts Bekah on the Shelf

Remember that line from Dirty Dancing where Patrick Swayze (as Johnny) says: “Nobody puts Baby in a corner”?

That’s what I feel like

…or maybe felt like.

Nobody puts Bekah on the shelf.

Yet, one way or another, that’s where I am.

Who put me here?

Was it the scads of young men (who must be out there somewhere) who have pursued careers or glory or other women while leaving me to gather dust on the shelf?

I want to blame them. Why do you choose all these other things and leave me behind when I want so much to be joined with someone–to pursue God’s glory together.

Or perhaps it was me, pursuing life and career and ministry to the fullest while living out this single life–leading the world to erroneously conclude that I did not want marriage?

I censure myself even as I wonder how I could have done things differently. If I had focused less on school. If I had shown a little less outward contentment with my single life. If I had pursued marriage with the same abandon that I pursued knowledge or even the girls that I ministered to.

But all these conjectures lead me to the One I must not censure, but often want to.

God.

God put me on this shelf.

If I believe that God is truly sovereign (which I do), I can come to no other conclusion.

Yes, the sinful (and righteous) actions of man (and myself) have contributed to the place where I am today.

But ultimately, I am where I am today because God willed it.

Therein lies my struggle.

I see the goodness of marriage “which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man’s innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church” (as the Book of Common Prayer declares.)

And I see the “not good-ness” of aloneness.

“It is not good that man should be alone.” Genesis 2:18

Yet the God who saw fit to make a helper suitable for Adam in the Garden, who instituted the honourable estate of marriage then, has not seen fit to make a helper suitable for me, has not seen fit to introduce me into said honourable estate.

How am I to reconcile the goodness of God with His withholding goodness from me? How am I to reconcile the goodness of God with His placing good desires in me, but withholding the good fulfillment of those desires?

This is my daily struggle as I sit here on the shelf.

I believe wholeheartedly that God is good. I believe wholeheartedly that He is sovereign.

But every day, as my desires and my reality clash, I am forced to again make peace with the God who is good but looks not. I am forced to make peace with the God who is sovereign but feels not.

I am forced to make peace with the God who has put me on the shelf.


Down for a day

It gave up the ghost Thursday morning ’round about eight.

I gave up on it Thursday night ’round about midnight.

Finally this afternoon, with the help of my father, I got my internet back up again.

I’m glad it’s going again

I’m glad to be blogging again, to be able to check my e-mail and read my blogs.

I’m glad to be able to look up interesting information quickly and check on whether that book I just read about is at my library.

I’m not glad for what I discovered while it was down.

I discovered that when my internet is down, I’m off-center.

I’m fumbling for what to do.

I’m anxious about what I might be missing.

But the internet shouldn’t be my center.

I don’t want my life to revolve around the web.

I want my life to revolve around Christ.

I want my mind to always be seated with Him in heavenly places…

…not down for a day with the internet.


Christianity Distilled

In The Factastic Book of 1001 Lists, the first page of the section of world beliefs includes four lists: “The Five Pillar of Islam”, “Jewish Rules and Rituals”, “The Five K’s of Sikhism”, and “Noble Truths of Buddhism.”

My eyes quickly jumped over these headings, searching for the one that would seek to distill Christianity into a list four or five points long.

I never found that list.

The Factastic Book of 1001 Lists didn’t have it–and as I considered why, I realized that the reason was simple.

Christianity cannot be distilled into a list.

Not a list of principles or a list of rituals or a list of rules.

No, the author of this book would be quite wrong to distill Christianity into a list. After all, I learned in grammar that lists should contain more than one item.

And Christianity is distilled, not into a list of items, but into One Word:

Jesus

The Word through Whom the world was made.

The Word for Whom the world was made.

The Word Who gives light to every man.

The Word Whose death offers life to every man.

The Word at Whose name every knee bows and every tongue confesses.

Jesus

In one Word, the meaning of all of life.

We have no five pillars, but we have one foundation: Jesus

We have no rules or rituals, but we have one ruler and priest: Jesus

We have no five K’s, but we have one King: Jesus

We have no four noble truths. We have only One: Jesus

“I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.”
~John 14:6


Actors on a Stage

Hypocrite.

The word has come to mean someone who says one thing and does another–or, even more commonly, one who holds others to a standard that he himself does not live up to.

But that isn’t what hypocrite always meant.

According to the Zondervan Pictorial Bible Dictionary (edited by Merrill C. Tenney), the word hypocrite in the New Testament comes from the Greek hypokrinomai: to act a part in a play.

Being a hypocrite doesn’t mean saying one thing and doing another. It means acting one way and being another.

An awareness of the true meaning of hypocrite draws Jesus’ indictment of the Pharisees in Matthew 23 into sharp relief.

“But woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you shut up the kingdom of heaven against men; for you neither go in yourselves, nor do you allow those who are entering to go in.”
~Matthew 23:13

The scribes and Pharisees made themselves out to be arbiters of the kingdom of heaven, claiming by their rules to determine who goes in and out. Yet for all their playacting, they had no entry into the kingdom themselves.

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you travel land and sea to win one proselyte, and when he is won, you make him twice as much a son of hell as yourselves.”
~Matthew 23:15

The scribes and Pharisees went around making converts, proselytizing Gentiles that they might become “sons of Abraham.” Yet they themselves were not sons of Abraham but sons of hell (cf. John 8:39, Romans 4:11-12).

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you pay tithe of mint and anise and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faith. These you ought to have done, without leaving the others undone.”
~Matthew 23:23

The scribes and Pharisees made great show of their attention to the law, but really they had no regard for the law. Their tithes were only playacting, a pretense.

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you cleanse the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of extortion and self-indulgence.”
~Matthew 23:25

The scribes and Pharisees had elaborate rituals for ceremonial cleansing–and worked diligently to never be declared “unclean.” Yet their cleaning was like a young child polishing the outside of a cup full of mud–nothing more than dress-up.

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs which indeed appear beautiful outwardly, but inside are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness. Even so you also outwardly appear righteous to men, but inside you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness.”
~Matthew 23:27-28

The scribes and Pharisees took great care to be seen as righteous. They got into character every morning. But this was a role they played, not character they possessed. Really, they were playactors who despised God’s righteousness.

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! Because you build the tombs of the prophets and adorn the monuments of the righteous and say, “If we had lived in the days of our fathers, we would not have been partakers with them in the blood of the prophets.'”
~Matthew 23:29-30

The scribes and Pharisees made a show of mourning at the graves of the righteous, saying that they would never have rejected those righteous ones as their fathers did. Yet this was only an act, for the Righteous One stood before them and they rejected Him–even sending Him to the cross.

Actors on a stage.

Pretending to be righteous, to be devout, to be sons of God.

It’s only a play-act, a charade, hiding who they really were.

Lawless, revelation-rejecting sons of the devil.

Only when the costume is torn asunder, when the charade ceases, can they be seen for what they are.

Only when the costume is left behind, when the players break from their lines, can they be transformed into what they had earlier only pretended to be.

Leave behind the ACT.
Leave behind the bravado that makes you think you are strong.
Leave behind the baubles that makes you think you are rich.
Leave behind the costume that makes you think you are clothed.
Stand exposed as wretched, miserable, poor, blind, and naked.
Buy gold and become rich.
Buy white garments and be clothed.
Get eye salve that you may see.
Come to Jesus, and BE.

“Because you say, ‘I am rich, have become wealthy, and have need of nothing’—and do not know that you are wretched, miserable, poor, blind, and naked— I counsel you to buy from Me gold refined in the fire, that you may be rich; and white garments, that you may be clothed, that the shame of your nakedness may not be revealed; and anoint your eyes with eye salve, that you may see. ”
~Revelation 3:17-18


Tie-Dye Faith: A Metaphor

Tie-dye can be a frightening proposition.

Folding fabric, dying sections, waiting hours before you can see how it’ll turn out.

It’s no wonder the girls were so wary. It’s no wonder they felt more comfortable free-hand drawing their designs.

Freehand dyed shirt

Tie-dye takes faith–seeing the finished product in your mind’s eye even when what you’re looking at has little in common with your intended result.

I believed in tie-dye and started using the technique from the get go.

Why?

Because I’d read a book of instruction. I’d seen illustrations of how to fold and what the finished result was supposed to look like. I’d had a friend show me his finished product and describe how he’d gotten it.

The girls hadn’t seen this yet. They didn’t have the evidence I’d seen to support my faith.

They were skeptical.

They’d stick with what they could see.

I forged on in faith, evangelizing my little brood liberally. “How about you try a real tie-dye on this next one?”

They made slow steps–little scrunches tied here and there. Still mostly sight.

But as they saw me walking out my faith, as I continually brought my book and its illustrations to their minds, they started to believe my witness.

Tie-dyed pants, in progress

They chose to act on their fledgling belief.

They folded, dyed, and left their shirts–still folded and tied–with me.

When I rinsed out their shirts, seeing the first fruits of their faith, I was in awe.

Bullseye Tie-Dyed shirt

My own faith strengthened, I determined to tie-dye even more, to convert more to tie-dying.

And so their faith and mine mutually strengthened one another.

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”
~Hebrews 11:1


A Night Not-Quite-Alone

A month ago, Stephanie issued a challenge to the readers of Offering Hospitality:

Meredith blogged about her practice of spending a day in solitude once a month here, here and here. Her goal, was to pray, read scripture, and focus on God in a location away from her normal distractions.

I’m not saying we only spend time with God once a month. I mean having half a day, a whole day, or even overnight set aside to focus on something specific with God. Think of it as offering hospitality to yourself and God.

Will you join me in solitary hospitality?

I said I would and set a date: Thursday, January 20th.

Unfortunately, I was sick as a dog on Thursday, January 20th and I spent the day between my computer and my bed (and the bathroom, bleh!)

And then life had a way of taking up every spare moment after that.

When would I have 3 uninterrupted hours to spend with God?

I occasionally thought of my assent to the challenge, of the vow I’d left undone. I felt guilty, but I felt I couldn’t do anything about it.

Then Stephanie’s Wrap Up Post posted–and I really felt bad.

Still doing nothing.

Then, on my drive from one of my facilities to the other yesterday, I realized it was futile to keep waiting for tomorrow.

How ’bout tonight? I asked myself. And I started plotting.

I’d have an hour and a half drive home–time I usually spent listening to a podcast or audiobook or brainstorming something for work. Then after I got home, I’d have an hour and a half before my sister would get home.

I’d choose to use that time with the Lord.

So I started my solitary retreat in the car. Praying.

It started with a whine, a complaint.

What’s up with this, Lord? What’s up with where you have me? Why this? Why that? And why are You so silent?

I asked for help in specific things.

For some, He was silent. For others, He sent me grasping about for my journal and thankful for red lights so I could write down His words.

“Hold it with a loose hand.”

A simple phrase, not much to it–but the silence was broken.

My heart eventually turned from me, and the headlights of an approaching train reminded me, oddly, to pray for my family. I spent the rest of my drive remembering my family in prayer.

It felt good, to spend concerted time bringing those I love before the One I love.

I still had Grace to go when I got home, so I spent a bit more time praying for her.

Then into my room and snuggled under the covers (our heat pump just can’t quite keep up with Nebraska’s currently subzero temps) with my Bible for some reading.

Nothing in particular, just more from my ordinary Bible reading plan.

But it was me and God together–together for a good long time.

Maybe it wasn’t earth-shattering, but it was soul-quenching.

I’d forgotten that this burden can only be lifted by Him.

I’d forgotten that this longing can only be fulfilled in Him.

I’d forgotten that life is worth living for Him.

I’m so glad He brought it to mind as I spent the night not-quite-alone–with Him.

Check out what others have been learning through their solitary retreats at Offering Hospitality: Solitary Hospitality Challenge Conclusion