Seek Peace and Pursue It

Peace. It seems to be God’s theme for me this month as I’ve been reading through the Epistles and now through James. Each day I wake up to a fresh reminder that while God calls us to be zealous for his name and his glory, he also commands us to "live at peace with others as far as it depends on us" (Rom. 12:18). The words "live at peace" imply action rather than a passive emotional experience. In fact, we’re told to “seek peace and pursue it,” or look for it and chase after it (Ps. 34:14).

From a purely doctrinal perspective, these exhortations appear rather harmless. Peace is a noble idea and, for the most part, we’re in favor of living tranquil lives. We join with the world’s chorus for peace until we stumble upon a situation that challenges our security, our identity, our pride. And right away we find our defenses rising, along with our blood pressure. The unpleasant incident, which may not at all have been leveled against us, becomes a personal attack and we take offense.

Seeking peace and pursuing it is costly when it’s personalized. We can drone on for days about being peace-loving and desiring to maintain good relationships within the body of Christ. But the real test comes when we’re confronted with losing something valuable. It's at this juncture that we make the vital decision about whether to respond in obedience by faith or to walk according to our own fleshly knowledge and the wisdom of the world (Lk. 6:45, Jas. 1:22, Rom. 8:5, Eph. 4:31-32).

I know many truths about the importance of being a peacemaker. And it’s often not until I’m embroiled in a personal battle that I realize I’ve taken up another goal all together. Instead of pursuing peace, I begin to defend myself, attack the other person, and go for the jugular. My response, at times, is so instant that I’m left clueless as to where the shift occurred or even how it happened. One minute I'm determined to live in harmony, the next I’m waging war.

The Bible says that we fight and quarrel because of the selfish desires lurking within us. We want something but can’t get it so we push and shove, often verbally, as we wrestle for victory (Js. 4:1). Many reformed evangelicals cite Luther and Calvin as their role models to justify using harsh and angry words. But they forget that these men, though outstanding theologians and leaders, were sinful, flawed people like everyone else. Their actions fell short of God's glory at any given time, making it impossible for us to elevate their behavior in areas that clearly or even vaguely contradicted Scripture. We can have a plethora of biblical truths and principles on the tip of our tongues and yet still be in sin if we communicate them with a harsh or angry spirit (Eph. 4:26, 1 Cor. 13:2).
 Jesus calls us to a higher road, a superior walk (Matt. 5:43). Luther, Calvin or a host of others are not our litmus test for righteous living, but instead we’re called to emulate Christ and his perfect righteousness. The apostle Paul himself refuted this kind of self-justification when he said, “We do not dare to classify or compare ourselves with some who commend themselves. When they measure themselves by themselves and compare themselves with themselves, they are not wise” (2 Cor. 10:12).

Each of us will stand before God and give an accounting for what we’ve said and done (2 Cor. 5:10). His greatest desire is that we walk in love and humility (Eph. 4:2), speaking the truth indeed, but doing it with the greater goal of honoring Christ and building up and strengthening those who listen (Eph. 4:29). “If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.  If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” 1 Cor. 13:1-10

God is Able to Make All Grace Abound

     I’ve been thinking a lot lately of what it means to be bold for Christ. I remember about twenty years ago going through evangelism training with a group of other Christians. We went out in the community, knocking on doors and sharing the gospel with total strangers. As easy as this was for me, sharing the same message with my roommate or coworkers was grueling. I was consumed with images of hypocrites in my own past who threw the truth at me in grenade fashion. Memories of their graceless presentations left me feeling too frightened that I might come across the same way. And fear, finding its home, kept me from sharing the best news I’ve ever heard with many people who desperately needed to hear it. I reasoned that if I simply lived out the gospel they would see the truth and come to salvation. I was prepared to give a reason for the hope within me, but seldom if ever took the initiative to proclaim it in a way that would bring others face to face with their own hopelessness apart from Christ’s redemption.

     I’d love to say that I’ve radically changed and matured over the years in this area of sharing my faith. But, I haven’t. As I go into classrooms each day, teaching over 150 college students, I’m terrified at the thought of putting my faith out there so boldly that no one can miss the message. I pray for these students in class, and I speak with them about God’s grace in my own life. Most of them would say, if asked, that I’m a Christian. They may even say that I’m a nice person and seem to do kind things. The main problem with this image is that it’s all about me. 

     God is reminding me that I’ve forgotten something essential. Yes, I am called to live out the gospel so that my works bring honor to God (Matt. 5:16). Yes, I’m called to pray for these students that they’ll come to salvation (1 Tim. 2:1-3). But I’m also called to proclaim the good news to them which will be good news to some and bad to others (2 Cor. 2:15-16). Some will embrace it, turning to Christ and putting their hope in him. But others will reject the truth and be highly offended when I say what Jesus said – that they must be born again. Some will hate me, no matter how kind I am, for daring to tell them that their good deeds are filthy rags before a holy God who requires perfect obedience. They may gnash their teeth at me when I tell them that coming to salvation means acknowledging their sinfulness and putting their hope in Christ’s perfect righteousness, trusting him alone to rescue them from the dominion of darkness.
     I’m hearing God call me to step out of the boat and onto the water. I’m afraid of rejection, no doubt, but even more afraid of the blessings I’m missing by not being faithful, of remaining in fear and becoming so accustomed to living in it that I don’t dare to take a risk for God. I want to say with the apostle Paul, and really mean it, "I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes." I can't do it in my own strength or with my own determination but God is able to make all grace abound to me, so that in all things at all times, having all that I need, I will abound in every good work (2 Cor. 9:8). I don't know about you, but by faith I'm believing God!

The Hidden Truth on Suffering

     “In this world you will have trouble,” Jesus tells us in John 16:33. He doesn’t mince words; he’s the Lord of all truth and he shoots it to us straight. That’s one reason I enjoy reading John Piper’s works. He doesn’t hedge on difficult doctrine and when he talks about suffering he echoes the words of Jesus, reminding us that we will indeed go through many hardships in this world. Jesus didn’t say might or may, He said that we will have trouble. So why does it come as such a great surprise when we encounter trials of various kinds? And why do we hide this truth like a defect that we hope no one else will see? The doctrine of suffering has become the missing truth in the church, relegated to back rooms and closets where no one has to see it, much less discuss it.

     We’ve bought into the world’s lie of Disney Christianity, as Piper says. And it’s killing the church, wounding its people and undercutting our faith. It’s time for us to rise up and take hold of these truths which are such a vital part of the Christian life. We are living in a spiritual war, not Disney World. And the battle rages on despite our attempts to ignore it. We’re called to take up our armor daily (Eph. 6:11-13), standing upon the Word, and go into the world with a sense of urgency and expectancy. Urgency that the truth be proclaimed; expectancy that in the process of the proclamation fiery trials will come into our lives.

      Jesus closes his message on suffering with the exhortation. "But be of good cheer! For I have overcome the world.” Our calling isn't one of gloom and despair as if we have no hope but to endure hardships and difficulties.We can rejoice and give thanks in the midst of these sufferings – not because we enjoy pain, but because our Savior has gone before us, endured even greater trials, and bought our certain victory through his death and resurrection (1 Pet. 1:3-6). He hasn't left us here alone but has given us his Holy Spirit to empower and equip us (John 14:16-18). In him we have all that we need. He's calling us today to put our hope in him and his kingdom, not the world and its comforts, to live like he alone is our great treasure and reward.

"Do not love this world nor the things it offers you, for when you love the world, you do not have the love of the Father in you. For the world offers only a craving for physical pleasure, a craving for everything we see, and pride in our achievements and possessions. These are not from the Father, but are from the world. And this world is fading away, along with everything that people crave. But anyone who does what pleases God will live forever." 1 John 2:15-17

Generations Will Reap What I Sow

     Repetition envelops us each day as we weave life patterns. Without even realizing it, we choose colors and threads that form the tapestry of our future, our children’s and their children’s. Abraham wove a pattern of deception when he chose to lie about Sarah being his wife. And we see the same choices in his son, Isaac, when faced with similar challenges. Jacob’s choice of threads was unmistakably woven into his wife’s and sons’ lives. And Esau’s decision to harbor bitterness toward his brother formed the tapestry of destruction for many generations.

     How do we break these sin patterns so our children can start afresh, free from the entangling cords that have bound us and our parents? Does God desire to see us break free from them or are we destined to repeat them? And how do we begin to find freedom when we’re blind to most of the sins that define us? When I was in seminary I took a counseling course which forced us to step back and look at three generations of life patterns in our families. We were assigned a genealogy project that required interviews with our parents and grandparents with the intention of finding common threads of choices that led to everything from greatness to destruction. The goal wasn’t to discourage us, but to take us on a journey of reflection so that understanding could help us in the future.

     We’re often blind to our own sin patterns unless we’re forced to examine them in the light of truth. It’s much easier to gaze upon someone else’s life and find everything that’s wrong. That’s why Jesus was always rebuking the Pharasees whose skill seemed to be the art of fault finding with others while they committed the same sins with even greater intensity. Their precision in scrutinizing other’s ugliness kept them afloat in the journey of self righteous living, enabling them to further exalt themselves with each new discovery. Jesus rebuked them flatly, saying that they needed to get the plank out of their own eye before they even began the process of removing the speck from another’s.

     Just the other day one of our daughters called, crying because of someone's harsh criticism. It wasn't shared in such a way to build her up, but rather to point out her shortcomings while they called attention to their own adherence to the rules. I reminded her that legalistic rules and regulations (don’t touch, don’t eat, don’t drink) are much easier to adhere to than righteous living that comes from an abiding relationship with Christ. God isn’t interested in our rule laden existence. In fact, he hates it so much that he sent his own Son to die so that we could have genuine righteousness that flows from a pure heart and mind.

     When God calls us to self-examination, he’s not calling us to the kind that we conjure up ourselves as we pull up our bootstraps, determined to make our lives better. No, the self examination he calls us to is directed by Him, led by his Spirit, based upon his Word and accomplished through his power, not our own self will. Looking at Abraham’s, Isaac's, and Jacob’s lives has reminded me of just how vital it is. Though they often walked by faith and followed God, their sins impacted future generations as they repeated the same bad decisions and actions which waylaid them and their loved ones. 

     I’ve been asking God to gently (and slowly, please!) show me some of the sin patterns in my life that are affecting my family. It’s painful to look at these oozing sores, but the healing ointment of his grace can’t be applied until they’re brought into the light, washed and cleaned. God's kindness and patience are leading me to this awakened desire for change. He hasn't forced it on me like I'm prone to do with others, but is showing me the truth and allowing me to come to a place where I hate my sin so much that I'm willing to call out to him for help. 

     One of my favorite musicians is Sara Groves who sings folksy, yet deep, songs about the Christian life. One of her best is a song called "Generations" which speaks to my heart each time I hear it. Hope it inspires you as well.

I can taste the fruit of Eve
I’m aware of sickness, death and disease
The results of our choices are vast
Eve was the first but she wasn’t the last

And if I were honest with myself
Had I been standing at that tree
My mouth and my hands would be covered with fruit
Things I shouldn’t know and things I shouldn’t see

Remind me of this with every decision
Generations will reap what I sow
I can pass on a curse or a blessing
To those I will never know

She taught me to fear the serpent
I’m learning the fear myself
And all of the things I am capable of
In my search for wisdom, acceptance and wealth

And to say that the devil made me do it
Is a cop out and a lie
The devil can’t make me do anything
When I’m calling on Jesus Christ

Remind me of this with every decision
Generations will reap what I sow
I can pass on a curse or a blessing
To those I will never know

To my great, great, great granddaughter
Live in peace
To my great, great, great grandson
Live in peace

Even the Darkness is Light to Him

     Light. I love the way it bounces in a room bringing once dull colors and shapes to life. How it radiates through a forest illuminating the path. And when it sparkles off ocean waves and together with the breeze makes me feel all warm inside. It chases away the darkness, reminding me of the presence of God and filling me with a sense of hope.

     This has been the second full week the girls have been gone. Together we boarded a small plane, crossing the ocean to their future home for the next nine months…a Christian school with hundreds of other American kids. I boarded a similar small plane four days later and returned to Korea, feeling like I’d not only left my girls in another country but part of myself.
     No matter how many blinds I pull and how brightly the sun shines through the windows there’s a certain darkness that remains. It’s loneliness, a sense of loss and longing for their presence that even the sunshine in all its splendor can’t chase away. And I’ve succumbed to it in many ways, allowing myself to wallow in self pity as I sit solemnly on the couch or wander into their rooms trying to picture them here again. 

     In the midst of this, I’ve crossed paths with a myriad of others going through much darker times than I am right now. As I listen to their stories and hear about how disappointment has stolen their dreams and robbed them of joy, I’m tempted to throw my hands up in despair. Surely the darkness has overtaken us! Surely there is no real hope of recovery from its murky presence! And I cry out, “Why God? Why do you allow us to go through such difficulties when you could stop them with one word?”

     The other night Mark and I were sitting at the table eating dinner when I brought up my frustration over God’s sovereignty. His simple words to me were, “God is good.” And throughout our conversation, he refused to move from the certain fact that regardless of what I or anyone else experienced whether painful or life threatening….God is good. I left the conversation feeling angry yet relieved. Angry that his goodness was such a mystery to me, but relieved that I married someone who won’t allow anything to obscure or taint God’s character.

     And I began wondering….what if God healed every sickness and disease?  What if He fixed every bad situation we prayed about? Obviously the result would be that none of us would have any problems, at least no long-lasting ones. What if the moment we cried out to him for help, he removed the problem or the trial and we were immediately transferred back to a state of peaceful, carefree existence? I’m wondering what we’d actually learn and how we’d ever grow. Also, I’m wondering how much we’d need him beyond the initial cry for help.

     God could sit down with each of us and explain why we’re going through what we’re going through. And he could give us a detailed accounting of how he intends to work it for good in our lives and the lives of others. He could lay it all out and show us the relevance of all our suffering. But he doesn’t. And we wonder why. If we could just know why, then maybe we could get through it, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so badly.

     J.I. Packer is one of my favorite theologians. In his book, Knowing God, he says that we often feel slighted when God doesn’t give us an insider’s glance into his providence, especially since our relationship as his children puts us in a special place of honor with him. However, because of the vastness of his wisdom, and the interconnecting nature of all the details of existence his plans are so far beyond our comprehension that our understanding of them, even if explained, is impossible. Instead, we have to trust in his perfect goodness and love toward us as well as his commitment to working all things, good and bad, together for our good and his glory.

     Satan would have us forget this goodness. He isolates the darkness and presents it to us in parcels of despair, trying to convince us that there is no Light…..that He’s been snuffed out….that Jesus isn’t at work in this or that particular situation. But the Light of the world is shining and will continue to shine. His can't be snuffed out and his power is such that no one and nothing can contain it. We may sit for a season in a dark corner of the room, devoid of all natural light, but that doesn’t change the fact that the sunshine is still bursting forth with great power illuminating everything in its path with unceasing brightness.

     Stepping out into the sunshine of God’s Word we’re able to once again see the truth that God is indeed the Father of Light. He clothes himself in light and there's no element of darkness (not one single speck of it) in him at all.  Jesus promised that, “He that follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.”  No matter how great the darkness, it can’t hide us from God or separate us from his love. 

"Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.  If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.  If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,”even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day,for darkness is as light to you." Psalm 139:7-12

Following Christ Even When it Hurts

God has me here, planted right where I am, for reasons I may never understand. He’s in charge of my life, my future, my dreams – my everything. When I surrendered to His calling years ago, part of that yielding was saying to Him, “I’ll go wherever you want me to go and do what you want me to do, even if it means walking down paths that are hard and uncomfortable.”

I remember sitting on my bed for hours contemplating the cost of following Christ and what it meant for me – leaving behind a world wrapped around my fleshly desires and interwoven with sin patterns that had nearly destroyed me. But in spite of the destructive nature of my sin, I feared letting it go and embracing something new.
A whole year passed as I wrestled with these thoughts. And no matter how hard I tried to water down the Gospel message, He continued to remind me daily that following him required that I not only count the cost but that I daily be willing to take up my cross. Because I saw how much pain and suffering it brought to his life and to the lives of the disciples, fear often gripped me holding me back. How could I endure such difficulty if, in fact, it came my way? Was He worth it?

I still recall vividly that Easter morning in 1988 when I woke up knowing  it was time – time to let go of the fears and throw myself into the arms of the one who I was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt loved me. I held out my hands and offered up the sacrifice of my life, acknowledging that apart from his redemption I was hopelessly lost and in bondage to sin. I told him that I trusted his death and resurrection to save me from this misery and to redeem my life from the pit. For quite some time before this moment I had the intellectual understanding that Jesus was the only Son of God, perfect in every way, and that his death and resurrection paid the price for my sins. But until that moment, I’d refused to transfer my trust to Him.

There are days when I forget what I promised him that Easter morning, when the skies are blue, circumstances pleasant, and all seems right with my world. Then there are times like today, when I find myself living in a place, a situation that’s completely out of my comfort zone. When in my flesh I would choose something alltogether different. And that’s when I remember the cross and hear Jesus asking, “Will you follow me?" He never said it would be easy, or fun for that matter. He simply promised that He’d go before me and be with me through it all. And that His grace is sufficient; His power perfected in my weakness.

The world wants me to forget the cross, to deny the struggle and live for myself. But I know there's no way to do both. Either I’m living for Christ and following Him or I’m living for the world. I choose Christ even when it hurts.
"Then he said to them all: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me." Luke 9:23

Prayers that Move Mountains

I encounter seasons when prayer comes as naturally as breathing -- when I find myself desiring to talk with God about everything. And then there are times, many of them, when praying becomes so difficult I struggle to find even rote words to say.  Though prayer is simply communication with God,  God uses our prayers to accomplish his purposes on earth.  He doesn’t need them, and our prayers don’t change his decretive will, but he works through them to transform lives and circumstances.

Jesus taught that if we ask anything in his name, according to God’s will, he’ll do it. Using the analogy of casting a mountain into the sea he made his point -- that God is able and willing to accomplish the seemingly impossible through prayers of faith, prayed according to the will of God. When the disciples were praying in the upper room, Peter’s chains were loosed and the prison doors opened. Prayers uttered by Jesus and the apostles brought healing, deliverance and salvation. 

As I walk through the Gospels, following Jesus on an exciting journey from one miracle to another, I watch in awe from a distance as he not only lived out the Word, but as the Word transformed the world and the people in it. And the miraculous didn't end with his death and resurrection. In fact, I put on  walking shoes to journey with Paul and the apostles through Acts and find that I need running shoes instead. Keeping up with their travels, and the miracles they performed as well as the difficulties they encountered along the way is like moving from one climatic event to another with little rest.

Fast forward a couple of thousand years to my own life. Though I  believe that signs and wonders, in the dramatic way they were performed in the NT, have ceased. I don't believe that God has ceased being God! He still has the power to move mountains. And though I may not witness miraculous healings on a daily basis, I see and experience God’s power at work in the world. The impossible becomes possible. A declared atheist embraces Christ. Healing comes to a marriage once deemed hopeless. A loved one receives news that he's cancer free. Friends step out in faith to adopt an orphan. Longtime enemies move toward reconciliation. God amazingly provides for our needs when there’s no logical solution in sight – we’re suddenly offered the “right” job, a raise, and new opportunities. We pray for our church, our communities, our world and we see the miraculous as people come to know Christ, neighbors work together to bring order after a devastating storm, world leaders make a wise decision.

Behind all these actions, people are praying in Jesus' name. We cry out for God to intervene and then often fail to notice when change occurs. Not because we’re indifferent, but because change happens so gradually and in such a different way than we’d imagined that it’s almost unrecognizable. Unless we’re carefully watching each day, we miss the miracle God unleashes through our prayers.  But to the watchful eye, it's like a beautiful sunset unfolding in our sight.

Recently a close friend sent me a video of time lapse photography of nature. The pictures, taken every few minutes over the course of many days, didn’t reveal impressive changes on their own. Yet when melded together in a video they showed an amazing transformation. The fog, which rolled in slowly throughout the day, came to resemble a raging sea when shown in fast forward. The sun, seemingly immoble, danced across the sky.

            I wonder what we’d see if we zeroed in on a specific part of our lives that we’d prayed long and hard about, then placed the scenes together in time lapse motion so that five years was reduced to five minutes or an hour. I think we’d be surprised at the incredible changes.

God is at work in our lives and through our prayers. We can be absolutely certain of his love for us and his ability to move any mountain he chooses. So by faith we persevere in prayer, refusing to focus on the seemingly unchanging circumstances but on the God who is able to change all things. At the right moment, sometimes when we least expect it, he breaks through with the miraculous. Then when we look back, gathering snapshots from the past, we'll  see with clarity the movement, the action, the transformation that was slowly taking place all along.

“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us,  to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen.” Eph. 3:20-21

God is Good All the Time

   “God is good all the time.” Whenever I hear the lines to that song, I think of my sister-in-law who determinedly quoted it when she was diagnosed with cancer, reminding herself and others that walking by faith means taking his character at his word rather than allowing circumstances to determine the truth. For someone to be good all the time, it means that there’s not a single element of darkness in them. God is obviously the only one who can claim this title.  In James, we’re reminded that he "doesn’t change like shifting shadows." He’s the same good God today that he was thousands of years ago and he won’t be any different in the future. His goodness permeates his every thought, intention, plan and motive.

    In his goodness he's devised a plan for each of us. It’s easy to fall into the world’s trap of thinking that we’re all creating our own destiny, forging our own way. There are people, even Christians, who draw up future plans that unfold in story-tale fashion with such great similarity to their initial desires we find it fascinating to say the least. Then there are others, like myself, who try as they might to force future plans end up watching them flop to the ground, where they suddenly, almost miraculously, morph into something different.  

   These foiled attempts at determining my future are the ones that continually remind me that God is not only good, but he has a master plan. He’s the one who determines my steps, my true destiny. I still work and pray, set goals and move toward them, but all the while resting in the promise that he will fulfill them according to his will.

     Holding on and letting go – that’s the tension of the Christian life. We’re commanded to live our lives to the fullest, investing ourselves heartily in all that we do. But we're to do it with a lose grip and a surrendered heart that ultimately, like my sister-in-law, proclaims, “Not my will but yours be done.”

     God is good all the time. I’m in the process of holding on and letting go, remembering as I struggle with releasing my desires that God desires only the best for my life. He is faithful, and I can trust him. 

"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Abraham Talked with God

    We’ve been working on describing people in my English conversation class – their hair, height, weight, overall appearance. It’s interesting to hear the different impressions one person can make. In one opinion the man is tall; the other describes him as average height. One says she’s young, another middle aged. Short hair to one is perceived as long in another’s mind. And on it goes.

     In reading through Genesis I’ve come to the story of Abraham. As children we learned songs about him as Father Abraham, the husband of Sarah, father of Isaac, the man who left Ur of the Chaldeans and followed God to a place of promise. We’ve memorized the story of his great faith test as he laid his own son, his only son, on the altar as a sacrifice.  And we’ve been told that it was through him that all the peoples on the earth were blessed, that he’s the father of many nations, a man who trusted God.

     Though he wasn’t always old, my impression of him remains as an elderly man with long white hair, matching beard and wrinkled, sun-dried skin from years of travel. Yet he was so much more --a living breathing person who felt things, had desires and dreams. Waiting almost thirty years for the birth of Isaac impacted his life, transforming him into the mature man we remember with the white beard and steady faith.  Not much is revealed about his emotions, leaving us to fill in the gaps with our own interpretations of how he handled life’s struggles.  Was he angry, frustrated, disappointed? Did he often grow restless or irritable? Or was he good natured, going through the motions of each day with little thought of the future? Did he and Sarah discuss their dreams with doubts or with certainty as they waited year after year? 
     Reading along this morning I came to a verse that caused me to actually think about him differently. He stopped being one dimensional and took on a whole new persona in my mind as I witnessed him not only talking with God but reasoning with him, challenging him to remember his promises. The verse reads, “Then Abraham pressed his request further.” Here I saw Abraham out in the mountains of what would later become Israel talking with the Lord about the impending destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.  After hearing the Lord’s warning that he’d destroy the city if it proved to be infiltrated with wickedness, Abraham’s heart was stirred with compassion. Not only was he concerned about his nephew Lot, but for all the other righteous people, if there were any, who would die along with the wicked.

     In so much of the Old Testament we mainly get glimpses of people falling down in the presence of God, worshipping him in fear. We see them trembling on their faces before the holy God. And while Abraham did the same, worshiping God and giving him a sacrifice, we also see him engaging in discussion with him, much like we witness the disciples doing in the New Testament. He’s having a talk with God about withholding his judgment and, in it, reminds God of his goodness. “Surely you wouldn’t do such a thing, destroying the righteous along with the wicked. Why, you would be treating the righteous and the wicked exactly the same! Surely you wouldn’t do that! Should not the Judge of all the earth do what is right?”

     Abraham was calling God to be faithful to his character and his word, something that at first glance comes across as arrogant, absurd. But God wasn’t offended in any way by his boldness, just as he wasn’t put off by the boldness of others who begged for mercy in the New Testament. In fact, God revealed, or unveiled, more and more of his compassion with each succeeding request.  His forbearance is contrary to my human nature which displays irritability and takes offense when pressed too much for mercy. "Enough is enough," I cry when someone dares to keep asking for more. But this wasn’t, isn’t, the case with God at all. Abraham pressed him six times for an extension of his mercy, beginning with fifty people and ending with only ten. “Finally, Abraham said, ‘Lord, please don’t be angry with me if I speak one more time. Suppose only ten are found there?’” And God responded, “Then I will not destroy it for the sake of the ten.”

     Are you getting the same message I am? That God never wanted to destroy the wicked in the first place, and that relenting was as much a relief to him as it was to Abraham. That Abraham had come to know God's heart through years of walking with him and was voicing God’s own desires without even realizing it. God says that he is a God of compassion who doesn’t delight in punishing the wicked. Abraham was discovering this through his conversation with God, just as Jonah did as he encountered God’s dealing with the Ninevites, just as Moses did as he interceded for the stubborn Israelites, just as you and I do as we go to God time and again with the same requests for mercy.

     My husband gave me an article by Tim Keller about the importance of boldness in persevering prayer. In it, he quotes Thomas Goodwin, a Puritan, who emphasizes that God wants us not only to take him at his word but to hold him to it. He writes, “Do not leave him alone. Pester him, as it were, with his own promise. Quote the Scripture to him. And, you know, God delights to hear us doing it, as a father likes to see this element in his own child who has obviously been listening to what his father has been saying.”

     It’s astounding to know that regardless of the day God’s promises are unchanging. If he’s said he’s going to do it, he’s going to do it. Nothing will ever alter that. And God doesn't tire of hearing us pray and ask him for help, for healing, for grace to press on. Do you know anyone else like that in the entire universe? I don’t! Even my husband who's willing to endure mental torture listening to me rattle on and on about concerns and desires reaches a point of frustration and boredom. He’s heard it once, twice, a million times and he’s ready to move on.

     But God doesn’t become frustrated or lose interest. He’s there waiting, even longing for us to come into his presence, to stay there as long as we want, to say whatever is on our minds, to spend time with us. He’s not in a hurry and never will be. We can’t reach him at a bad time. His perfection doesn’t make him despise our many flaws, but rather moves him to greater mercy and compassion. And it's not the kind of mercy that causes him feel sorry for us but the kind that moves him to action to help us dig out of the pits in life. He wants to see us grow and bloom, to spread our wings and fly.

     He didn’t make us plastic creatures who come before him and recite some generic prayers. No, he created us with passion and desires that move us to heartfelt communion with him that sometimes, many times, pleads our case before him with the same passion we’ve seen in our children as they share their longings with us. He’s told us all about himself and his will in his word and he’s excited, I think, when we come to him standing firmly on these promises and reminding him that since he’s promised it, we’re expecting it and we’re holding him to it, in his time. He’s not our puppet and won’t be told what to do. But he’s way, way too big to be offended by our constant needs and requests.

     Abraham was a man who had great faith, who dared to take God at his Word. He wasn’t afraid to speak from his heart. He talked with God, just like we do, and God moved mountains in his life, just like he does, and wants to do in ours, if we’ll ask him.  

  

Finishing Well

    "It’s one thing to start something and another to finish it." I've heard that line throughout my life, but my fourth grade teacher said it the most often. Whenever we’d grow tired of completing our work or would do it half heartedly she’d break into her mantra, “Once a job is first begun, do it well until it’s done. Be it big or be it small, do it well or not at all!” For some reason, her philosophy made an impression on me, and hearing her repeat it only made me more determined to finish what I’d started.

     I’ve experienced my share of quitting, of doing sloppy work, of finishing, but not doing my best. And it wasn’t until becoming a Christian that I was able to somewhat grasp the importance of finishing well, realizing that God’s grace was the essential ingredient needed for perseverance. Before, I’d attempted things in my own strength. As long as my fleshly passion was strong I had the drive to get it done. But as soon as I lost interest in my pursuit, determination vanished.

     Both our girls run cross country, so I’ve had the chance to watch them run many races. One of the things I like best about them is the mass following of spectators from one place on the trail to the other. The crowd forms a wave of motion as we make our way from one location to the next, standing in one spot only long enough to cheer them on and then dashing off to the next visible place along the trail.

There's excitement at these curves and bends, but it pales in comparison to what it’s like to wait for them at the finish line. Anticipation is intense as we stand anxiously waiting, hoping that our runner will be next around the bend.
     The sight of them elicits both thrill and fear. With red faces, shoulders beginning to slump, they look like a wind could easily blow them off course undoing all they've accomplished. That is until their eyes catch a glimpse of the finish line. At the moment it comes into focus, an amazing transformation occurs in their expression, their demeanor. Now instead of focusing on how tired they are and wondering how much further they have to go, they get a glimpse of the victory awaiting them on the other side. Awareness increases, especially of those just in front and beside them. And the last vestige of energy is tapped as they oftentimes sprint with determination for the finish line. Pictures of our younger daughter, just as she’s caught sight of my face and realized she was almost done, are priceless reminders of this intense longing to finish well.

     Lots of people like to say that “life is a journey”. But, I think of it more like the apostle Paul did as a race…that we’re all runners competing for the prize. We’re running with a purpose to live our lives for God’s glory. We’re not just stumbling along, aimlessly going about life. We’re running with determination and drive to ensure that all we’ve been given is invested and used in the greatest way possible for God’s Kingdom. 

    I don’t know about you, but I want to finish well. Not only because I want to please Christ, but also because I’ve already invested so much into following him. I want to follow hard, close and fast. And more than anything, I don’t want to give up and quit before I’ve reached it there. I don’t want to get to heaven and realize that if I would have just persevered a little longer I could have seen fruit in my life or impacted others to make the kind of difference God intended. That's all I'm taking with me -- no possessions, no worldly treasures -- just spiritual fruit and blessings that come from abiding in him. This race called life does have a finish line. Though I can't see it yet, I know it's there -- just around the bend. And I'm certain  he'll be there, just as he is every day, cheering me on as I cross it and claim my prize.

     

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to a get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I don not fight like a boxer beating the air." 1 Cor. 9:24-27

Holding Fast to Our Faith

     God commanded Joshua several times, “Be strong and very courageous" (Joshua 1:7-9). Taking the promised land was no lottery ticket prize but required strength of spirit and resolve to live by faith and not by sight. The battles the Israelites would face across the Jordan were not trivial, but threatened to undo them unless their eyes were fixed on God and his good promise that they would possess the land.

     Living by faith today in a hostile, post-Christian era is no less demanding. We don’t face the literal spear and javelin of the opposing army, but we encounter the same enemy who “prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour" (1 Peter 5:8). He places obstacles across our paths, sends mockers and scoffers to discourage and assault us with weapons of despair and fear as we, often with trembling legs, make our way to the promised land.

      As the pressure of the opposition increases, we are often tempted like the Israelites were to doubt God’s Word and His ability to intervene on our behalf. Once fear has gripped us, our hearts are assailed by other doubts until we become convinced that God’s power was relegated to history and that what we’ve been declaring as faith is really presumption in disguise. We wonder if we’ve been fools to believe that this invisible God will part our Red Sea when the last one He parted was thousands of years ago. And as we stumble through this valley of doubt, the world, the flesh and the devil in unison make their proclamation regarding our faith, calling it archaic history and blind hope.

     Before we know it, the faith we once cherished comes unraveled like a loosely woven garment, and we find ourselves naked and exposed. We begin doubting  previous deliverances and answers to prayers – writing them off as mere coincidence or taking credit for them ourselves. Realizing our vulnerability and need for some sort of cover we grab garments of self-will as we muster up all that’s within to continue along this journey. Though we may not even realize it at this point, a major paradigm shift has occurred as we’ve taken our eyes off of God and put our hope in reason, logic, hard work or intuition. Like the Israelites, we've trusted in the strong arm of the flesh or looked to others who are stronger to help in our time of need (Jeremiah 17:5-6).

     As we daily make our way through each ensuing battle we no longer rely on courage to trust God – He’s become a trinket we carry along with us as a last resort or good luck charm (Isaiah 30:15-17). We convince ourselves that in order to survive in this world we have to rely on internal and worldly wisdom and strength. We commend ourselves for our successes, making certain that others see and recognize them as well. Before long, we forget about God completely as we mindlessly toss him aside for the spoils that we’ve picked up along the way.

     But the day usually comes when we encounter people who look a lot like we used to with their eyes fixed on Jesus – His kingdom and His promises. Inwardly we laugh as we recall walking the same naïve path of faith and hope. We feel pity for their lack of true wisdom and understanding until we see the light and life in their eyes -- the hope that upholds them and the faith which enables them to face the unknown, not with a sense of dread, but with joy.  And then we remember, as if waking from a dream, what it was like when we lived the same way – trusting Christ for everything and allowing him to lead us, provide for us and give us wisdom.

      We rub our eyes and try to forget, because remembering means we’ve been wrong and we have to change. It’s not easy going it alone, but it’s at least predictable we tell ourselves. Quickly we begin reminding ourselves of recent victories, trying to assure our restless heart that we’ve indeed chosen the only path of true success. And though outwardly we appear godly and victorious to others on the journey, deep within a knot swells and a longing tugs mercilessly at our hearts. As much as we try, we can’t forget the days when we walked humbly with God in dependence and trust -- when faith was all we had and God was our only hope. But, like the rich young ruler we keep going the other way – sad, but determined. Because living in our own strength for our own glory has become our god.

 “Take care brothers that there not be in any of you an evil, unbelieving heart that falls away from the living God. But encourage one another day after day, as long as it is called ‘Today’, so that none of you will be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin. For we have become partakers of Christ, if we hold fast to the beginning of our assurance firm until the end.” Hebrews 3:12-14

Blessings and Trials...An Unlikely Pair?

    “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”  Jacob uttered these familiar words as he wrestled all night with the angel of God, refusing to surrender until he received a touch from God. And he did receive a touch – right upon his hip socket so that from that day on he walked with a limp. But, God also assured him of his blessing, saying he would receive it because “he had struggled with God and with men and had overcome.”

Abraham had assurance from God that his offspring would be more numerous than the stars of the sky.  And God did bless him with his promised son. But part of that blessing was the trial of waiting upon the fulfillment of it for thirty years as he and Sarah lived like strangers in foreign lands. 

As the Israelites were crying out to God for deliverance and blessing while in exile, he assured them that his plans were to “prosper them and not to harm them – to give them hope and a future.” But, in the context of those promises, God also explained that they would go through seventy years of exile before they came to a place of humble submission before him, seeking him with all their hearts.

The prophet Jonah had the great blessing of taking the Good News to the Ninevites, but only at the cost of dying to his own fleshly desires and demands. David, a man after God’s own heart, was told the throne would forever remain with his descendants. However, shortly after receiving God’s anointing as Judah’s king, David was thrown into the intense trial of being hunted down by King Saul. One who might have been sitting on a royal throne was hiding out in caves and pleading with God for his life.
 Jeremiah, who was appointed as a “prophet to the nations”, was told by God that he'd been chosen for this job before he was even born. God gave him a weighty task of tearing down and destroying as well as building and planting nations. But, we know that this blessing didn't come without its trails. God reminded him at the start that “they will fight against you but will not overcome you, for I am with you and will rescue you.” Jeremiah, who we now know as the weeping prophet, was threatened with treason, thrown into a pit and left to die. He was often times overwhelmed by the difficulties he faced and the daily threats upon his life.

                And there are numerous other stories like these. Hebrews gives a brief accounting of them in chapter eleven saying, “These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised.”  We read on to find out that some were  “destitute, persecuted and mistreated…They wandered in deserts and mountains, and in caves and holes in the ground.”  These men and women of God, mighty leaders in his earthly kingdom, were blessed with his divine presence.  They were given the Spirit’s power and wisdom. More than that, they had the sense of knowing that they were called by God for specific tasks in his kingdom. Their lives were purposeful, yet they had to suffer intensely along the way.

 Jesus was never one to mince words. In fact, Jesus promised his disciples that for everything they gave up to follow him they would receive back blessings in this life – and along with them persecutions. His own mother was called “highly favored” by the angel of God and considered herself blessed because God had done great things for her. But her life, from the moment of her divine assignment, also included  humiliation and eventually a sword piercing her heart.  Jesus himself, the very Son of God, did not have a resurrection victory without the shameful and painful death on the cross.

                Why does it seem that blessings and suffering are part of the same package or rather different sides of the same coin? Maybe because God means to bless us in a different way than we often perceive. Take a moment to visualize what you consider abundant blessings in your life. I can tell you what I picture: a happy marriage, profitable work, healthy children who love the Lord, faithful friends, family, lots of laughter, vacations, significant savings and investments. But, how does Jesus define blessings? He says in the Beatitudes that we're blessed when we're poor in spirit, when we mourn, when we’re meek, when we hunger and thirst for righteousness, when we're persecuted for righteousness sake. He goes on to say, “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you, because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

                As much as I have tried over the past twenty-two years as a Christian I still cannot fully comprehend why these are to be considered aspects of the blessed life. I want to ride in a plush car on easy street eating bon bons and whistling happy tunes about Jesus. I am sorry, but I must confess that all this talk of suffering, hardships and trials makes me lose my appetite and, oftentimes, disturbs me. I  want so badly to embrace the lie that I was saved only to enjoy abundant life, not to suffer -- that Jesus’ experience on the cross means I don't have to endure pain and difficulty anymore.  In fact, much of the time I feel like the creature in Dr. Seuss’s book Green Eggs and Ham when continually confronted with the idea of eating such an atrocity. I want to shout in unison with him about these sufferings and trials, “I tell you I don’t like them!”

And though I often don't enjoy trials, I’m not the one to determine how God runs his kingdom. And, I, like Jonah, am not the one to tell him I’m not going to Ninevah if he calls me to go. His ways are not my ways and his thoughts are not my thoughts. Yet, in his mercy and grace he has revealed his heart to me in his Word and it is there that I get glimpses into his reasons behind the sufferings in life. He reminds me that the goal is not my creaturely comfort, though he promises to abundantly supply all of my needs. But rather, his goal is that I'm conformed to the likeness of Christ that I may receive “eternal pleasures at his right hand”. He speaks words of comfort to me as I endure trials saying, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.” 

The apostle Paul claimed that in spite of his suffering he didn't lose heart. He said, “Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” He focused on the goal of pleasing Christ and serving him rather than on what the would could give him.

God reminds us through this passage and others like it that the main purpose of this world is for the advancement of his kingdom and our sanctification. God is merciful and compassionate. He sends sunshine and rain to bless our crops. We often enjoy good health, happiness and circumstances that remind us of his smiling providence. But, his desire is that we have kingdom eyes that are focused upon Christ. One of the ways we learn to develop this focus is through trials and suffering. Difficulties cause us to loosen our grip on worldly treasures that give false security and place our feet firmly upon the Rock of Christ and his unfailing Word. Through suffering we learn perseverance. And James reminds us that “Perseverance must finish its work so that we may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”  As we prayerfully look to the Father through life’s difficulties, giving thanks in all things, we begin to fix our gaze on Christ alone. Those things that we once considered treasures we learn with Paul to consider rubbish “compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus our Lord.”

                Remember Christ’s promise? He has gone to prepare a place for us. And one day soon we will be with him joined by a host of angels shouting praises to his name. The moment we come into his presence, in the twinkling of an eye, the once double-sided coin of blessing and trial will be transformed into the spring of eternal blessing. Suffering will become a distant memory as God has promised,  “Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst. The sun will not beat upon them, nor any scorching heat...And God will wipe every tear from their eye.” 

Introduction

I'm Nancy Kreitzer. After becoming a Christian in my early 20's I was certain that my new life in Christ meant the hard days were over. And while salvation brought blessings I never imagined possible, with them came trials and difficulties I wasn't at all prepared for. My passion has been to live joyfully within God's abundant grace while being honest about the struggles along the way. I think that too much of the time we resort to living one dimensional lives because we're either too focused on our hardships or trying so desperately to make them go away we come across as plastic. We're afraid to be real. Most of my writings are devoted to just that -- being honest about the struggles we face in the world with the great expectation that God's grace abounds in the midst of them all.