A Picture Lesson from a Church

I love this picture. Something about it draws me. It is an African church.

I think I am moved by the concentration that these people are showing over the Bibles. They haven't just read the passage and then set it aside waiting for someone to tell them what it all means. It seems they are reading and re-reading the passage, seeking to really understand and take it all in.

Also the discussion from the gentleman in the group of listeners shows that this experience with the Bible is not merely passive. With the Bible open in his hand, he seems to really be expressing something from his heart.

Finally, the sparseness of their surroundings shows their desire to gather and study and ponder and learn even without a comfortable and easy situation.

Just a few things that may contribute to why this picture moves me. There is something fresh and unencumbered about it.

"Blessed is the man

who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked,

or stand in the way of sinners,

or sit in the seat of mockers,

but his delight is in the law of the Lord,

and on his law he meditates day and night." (Ps. 1:2)

Lord, may my heart come before you fresh and unencumbered as I feast on your word alone and may I find a place to feast as these people are doing with others. Let me bring my whole self to the meal and not just my mind or my feelings or my latest activities, but everything. My vision may be idealistic, but may it be supported by your grace and the power of your Spirit. Amen.

God Is Love: The Family of Trinity

In an effort to understand how the spiritual disciplines of solitude and silence can overcome loneliness, I began to think about the Trinity. I began to see how being with God is not so much like being with another person, but in a family. I began to see that I long to know that God delights in me and enjoys me, but even more, that he delights in himself as Trinity, kind of like I delight in being with my family and watching them love each other as well as me.

Then as I read from one of the gospels this morning, I realized how much God the Father wants to have company for Jesus and looks for such people, who will enjoy "the family" of the Trinity. Jesus spent most if not all his time talking about how life is with his Father in the kingdom of heaven, sort of like saying, "Here's what my dad does at my house with the family." Perhaps the kingdom of heaven is above all the "family life" of Father, Son, and Spirit and those with them.

It also helped me see how I could believe in Jesus - admire him and follow him - but miss the boat on his Father. Unless I understand the goodness and love of God the Father, none of what Jesus says will make any sense. Perhaps this is what he meant by: "That is why I told you that no one can come to me unless the Father has enabled him." (Jn. 6:65) The first step to understanding Jesus is admiring his Father and trusting him. Although I can and need to make a choice there, I cannot do it alone without God "enabling" me to see him for who he is. In order to understand Jesus as the "Beloved Son," I must accept and embrace God as his loving, all-powerful Father as well.

The reason I am so interested in this interaction is that I am suspecting that this trinitarian community is the only thing that can cure the loneliness and fear that drives human (my) sin. Jesus, knowing this, spent his time talking about the life of God in Trinity, and opened the door for my entry. He spent his time showing that the glory of God - his love, goodness, rightness, power, etc. - is what I can join him in trusting and worshiping. I can enjoy God through Jesus, but I can also enjoy the Father with Jesus.

This may me some more of the profound effect of The Shack on so many people. It was not only the truth that God can spend time with each of us, being "especially fond" of each of us, but also that we can spend time with a loving family of Father, Son, and Spirit, and enjoy their enjoyment of each other. As a father, I am pleased that my children love me, passionate about my kids loving their mom, and ecstatic when they love each other. I delight in seeing love displayed at least as much as I delight in receiving love directly. This may be what fends off loneliness and fear mostly: a shared love and admiration for each member of the family.

So I long to join the family and begin to read about how Jesus explains the goodness of being together with him and the Father and the Holy Spirit. "If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching. My Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him." (Jn. 14:23) By following Jesus I come to find that the Father loves me because I love his Son. Where there is love for Jesus, the Father can make a home where mutual love can occur, where I receive the love of the Father and the Son and where I see the love of the Father for the Son and the love of the Son for the Father. God's love for me is that basis of my love for God, but even before that God's love within himself is what brings his love for me. So in 1 John, before the truth that "we love because he first loved us" comes "God is love" (4:16,19).

I can't say I understand this fully, but I feel hope that I might understand that "God is love" much better. I believe I can understand him better because that is what Jesus came to teach, and he is the only one who could teach about this "family life" since he came from it.

Father, you sent Jesus to me to show and teach me about your shared love and how you want me to be part of it. Jesus, you came in obedience and taught and received everyone who loved the Father. Spirit, you are the life and love that stays within my life forever, lifting me up to the place where Jesus left, pointed to, and returned: the Father's side, the Father's hearth, the Father's home. Let me be with you God, in all your love, receiving, sharing, and standing in awe of your amazing goodness. You are so good. Amen.

Jesus Loves Leftovers

Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted. (Jn. 6:12)

I've always been warned not to over-allegorize the Bible. Don't take little details and blow them up into central doctrines. But in John, I have been finding that he seems to pack a lot even in the details, like the Master. Also, I just couldn't resist here.

Last night we had some "Artisan" bread with our dinner. It was the second night in a row we had bought some from the store. My daughter said, "Is this homemade? It's wonderful!" What a pretty loaf it was. A nice oval with a cut down the middle. A shiny brown crust. It tasted pretty good too.

That's what I've always wanted to be in my Christian walk. A nice, pretty loaf that tastes good too. Not only do I look good, I actually do good as well. What a pleasant surprise that would be. Not what anyone expects at all. (I wonder why. . .)

Well, here's my reality. I'm a leftover. Partially chewed, a little stale. No perfect loaf here. There may be some good taste, but it is more a memory of a good meal rather than the real thing. Sometimes I feel downright moldy! So much for the perfect loaf dream.

Here's the good news. The new twelve tribes of Israel (and really this goes for the original as well), are like twelve baskets of left over bread pieces after a grand meal. The kingdom not only is a grand feast supplying all I need, it is also a place for the leftovers like myself. I am glad I can be part of the feast, even if it is as a left over.

Jesus said, "Gather the pieces that are left over." What a calling for these disciples! Looking at the crowds that Jesus loved and served, I can see he must really had a thing for leftovers. These were the people that had nothing to offer really. What an idea of "poor in spirit" - something almost forgotten in the back of the refrigerator! Yep, that's how I really am. The gathering of all these leftovers could only mean a future feast. Rather than say, "Throw it away and get something better," Jesus says, "Gather them for a new feast, one that comes from the power of my hands into the pieces of everyday people's lives."

Jesus said, "Let nothing be wasted." The leftovers from this feast are precious. Not because leftovers are precious, but because of the feast they come from. The kingdom of God has come in the hand of Jesus that broke the bread and multiplied it. My life may be chewed up and partially eaten, but it becomes precious when it is placed in the basket of life. To be left on the ground is to be lost, wasted. Jesus wants nothing wasted from his kingdom, even what is broken and gnawed on.

Lord, I find my desire to be a perfect loaf is constantly frustrated. Rather, let me be gathered into your life - a life that feeds and nourishes. Let me not be wasted because I have not been gathered. Truly, the gathering must be into the community of the Trinity. In that place there is not waste, but renewal and usefulness. Let me be gathered into that love and not left out because I am ashamed of being a leftover. Amen.

My Soul Is a Stream

My people have committed two sins:

They have forsaken me,

the spring of living water,

and have dug their own cisterns,

broken cisterns that cannot hold water.

(Jer. 2:13)

I think the place where I was most influenced by this verse was in Larry Crabb's Connecting, when he wrote about the different strategies we have in trying to relate with people other than really connecting with them in Christ. I don't remember everything he said, but likely I will echo much of what is there.

I think of my soul. It is a living, moving thing, but I tempted to treat it like a bowl. I want my life to be a pool. I can dip in and draw from it when I want to. The problem is that, like a cistern, such a pool depends on rain and reuses the water. Also the water has to be cleaned somehow to remain drinkable.

The metaphor will break down, of course. But what I sense is that I long for my soul to find a stasis that I can control and hold. Unfortunately, like any stagnant pool, the water in my soul cannot remain fresh or even drinkable. Also, my soul leaks.

The fact that my soul "leaks" gives a clue to its true function. It is not meant to hold water, but to guide a stream. It is a stream-bed more than a cistern. It is meant to hold "living," flowing water. Too much pooling or damming does violence to its function: bringing life to and through all the aspects of my being, my heart, mind, and body.

The trouble with streams is that they flow where they will and not where I would have them go. So my soul acts almost independently of my desires. "Why so downcast, O my soul?" is the pained question of how I cannot hold and control the life that comes and goes through my soul. I cannot control my soul, but I can seek to restore it.

Jeremiah says in the same chapter: "Now why go to Egypt to drink from the Shihor? And why go to Assyria to drink water from the River?" Innately, I know my soul needs restoration, but I have a part of me that does not want to go to God. I want restoration to be quick and easy, not slow and difficult. This is one way of sin, forsaking the way of God and seeking something else that seems easier or better. As Dallas Willard says, "Temptation is the thought that you're missing out on something." The irony is that Jesus' way may seem more difficult, but really it is easier than than what I often try to do: grab and hold water.

But the fact remains that God is the only spring and everything else leaks out and provides not living water, but sitting water that seems fresh, but quickly becomes stagnant and leaks out. I find that the most disturbing part of God's restoration of my soul is that it flows. I cannot keep it or control it, I must receive it from moment to moment. It involves continual interaction, that is, real relationship with him. Only then is my soul restored.

One picture of such a restoration and its cost as well as joy is the picture in the Two Towers of the Ents restoring the flow if the river (Entwash?) through Saruman's domain, washing away the dams and the war machines and the orcs and bringing life back to that whole region, through the defeat of evil and the return of the river to its God-given purpose, watering and bringing life, rather than powering machines for war and domination.

God bringing living water through my soul is hard in how it washes away my dams that seek to contain and hold it for my own purposes. I must also allow it to flow through me. Love is not merely something I receive, it is (more importantly) something that I give. It is not so important because my love accomplishes so much, but because it is what I am made to do and, really, what I long to do. The soul is made to facilitate such giving, so that it springs from God and returns to him, in worship, wonder, awe, service to others, and welcoming them. I cannot truly receive love from the Lord without returning it to him. That is the nature of Trinity, a community I am called to be a part of. As Trinity, love flows in, through, and out of God.

Lord, let me live in the flow of your love. Let me clear the path for this stream of living water rather than try to dam and keep it. Bathe and wash my whole life with your beauty, goodness, and love flowing through my soul. Amen.

Abominable Worship and Service

This is the one I esteem:

he who is humble and contrite in spirit,

and trembles at my word.

But whoever sacrifices a bull

is like one who kills a man,

and whoever offers a lamb,

like one who breaks a dog's neck;

whoever makes a grain offering

is like one who presents pig's blood,

and whoever burns memorial incense,

like one who worships an idol.

They have chosen their own ways,

and their souls delight in their abominations;

so I also will choose harsh treatment for them,

and will bring upon them what they dread.

For when I called, no one answered,

when I spoke, no one listened.

They did evil in my sight

and chose what displeases me. (Is. 66:2-4)

So the picture Isaiah is painting is a normal worship service with singing, praying, offerings, and preaching. Yet what seems like songs of worship are like everyone vomiting on the floor, what seems to be praying is cussing and making obscene gestures at God, what seems like offering is like beating and stealing from the poorest members, and what seems like preaching is really like pornography practiced at the front of the church. What Isaiah portrays is truly frightening: people who think they are praising, worshiping, and honoring God, but who are, in reality, committing the worst of sins by their very worship and practice.

What was the problem? They lacked humility and a contrite spirit. They chose their own ways and delighted in them above listening to God and answering his call. Such practices are abominations to God, evil in his sight, and displeasing to him. They did not tremble at his word.

I nearly cried at the phrase, "When I called, no one answered, when I spoke, no one listened." Often, I think I am trying to hear God. I have various practices in my life to attune my heart to what God wants. At the heart of it all is obedience, however. So often I find I am listening hard for things that will please me and make me happy, like solutions to my problems and guidance that paves the way to peace. I have selective hearing.

This kind of hearing is what brings abominable worship and service to God. It carefully circumvents the heart of what God wants of me with an obsession on my own happiness, my own accomplishments, my own desires. "God couldn't want that because I would be so miserable!" I think when faced with some of his words to me. I try to pad them, soften them, or even change them, but then I just end up deaf. Rather than seeking for ways to obey what seems hard or impossible, I look for ways I can get out of really doing what he asks of me. So I fill my life up with "sacrifices" that will somehow excuse me from obedience.

Ironically, when I seek to skirt God's words to me, I end up with harsh treatment from God - I can't hear him or receive his comfort - because I ignore his efforts to help and heal me. I also end up having the very things I dread come true. Away from God, I am vulnerable to deception and oppression. God wants to save me from fear and dread, but it requires obedience.

Lord, I want to listen and obey. When I listen, I treat your word as just a bit of information. I use it to make up my own mind. I do not seek to use my mind to make up obedience in my life. My attitude is all wrong. I see that without listening to you, I cannot hope to obey. I see that listening without obeying is no better than ignoring you. I also know that obedience without trusting you wholeheartedly and without eager anticipation for what you will bring will quickly fade and fail. At the heart of it all is that faith, that trust, that confidence that you are good and will do good. Increase my faith so that my worship and service might please you and not make you sick, Father! Thank you for your patience. Don't let me presume upon you, though. Let me seek to obey out of love for you. Amen.

Guidance as the Righteousness of God

Like a horse in open country,

they did not stumble;

like cattle that go down to the plain,

they were given rest by the Spirit of the Lord.

This is how you guided your people

to make for yourself a glorious name. (Is. 63:13)

I love this image of guidance. When God guides, we are like a horse galloping across the prairie and like a contented cow grazing in a green field of grace. God's guidance leads to freedom and rest. The freedom is a freedom from stumbling and falling. The rest is provision and peace. The result shows how good and amazing God is.

Interestingly, this passage in Isaiah refers to the Israelites looking back to their wilderness wanderings with longing. The passage refers to them as they followed God. It could be said that Isaiah is merely being nostalgic, forgetting the complaining and doubting that happened during those days. I think, however, he is pointing not to the "good ole days," but rather to our good God.

The problem with God's guidance was not with his guidance, but with the reception of it from the people. Even with their gripes and slips, they found their way. The main point being that the first step to following God's guidance is understanding that God is not trying to be obscure and cryptic as he guides us, but plain and clear. What gets in my way is my worry and doubt.

Faith is what opens up God's guidance to me. Simple trust in his desire to guide and care for me. This simple trust led Abraham into the "right way" with God (Rom. 4:3). Perhaps righteousness is mostly a matter of guidance. By trust and confidence in God, maybe I can, like Abraham, walk in the right ways because God will guide me. The opposite would be trusting more in something other than my relationship with God as my guiding light.

I find it easy to depart from following God because sometimes he doesn't seem to be going where I want or maybe he is going too slow. I whip out the map of my reason or my feeling or my common sense, pass God, and try to find the right way on my own. Everyone knows what that's like, but everyone still tries it.

Walking alongside the Lord is like galloping over an open field. He shows me things that I would never be able to figure out on my own. Also, walking with God is like being that contented cow. He provides what I need and more as I journey with him. Keeping in step with him also brings me to worship and praise him as he performs amazing deeds in, around, and through me. By contrast, passing God up only yields personal accomplishments that dry up and blow away, frantic busyness that drains me, and recognition for myself that does not help other people (or myself really) on bit.

So righteousness can be seen as being guided rightly. What am I guided by today? What is my source of righteousness, right living, right guidance?

A Statement of Faith

I have been thinking about creeds, statements of faith and such. I mainly understand them to be like gates that allow certain people in and keep certain people out. Well and good. We are to be like-minded and remember that there are wolves in sheep's clothing out there.

However, I began wondering if I might use such as a title page rather than a gate - something that invites people into the faith and inspires them, rather than something to try to keep certain people out. Could a statement of faith be used to help myself and others understand and explain what is most important to ourselves rather than as a way to keep unwanted ideas out of our group? I wanted to ask the question, "What do I want to have first and foremost in my mind as far as my faith is concerned?" And as a necessary derivative question, "What do I want people to know about my faith above all else?"

The main question that followers of Jesus have to wrestle with is, "What is a disciple? What does a disciple know, do, and hope to become?" I like the basic answer to this question in The Connecting Church by Frazee. I would phrase it this way:

As a disciple of Jesus, I obey his commands: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself."

I like this because above all else, a believer is one who follows Jesus. One who follows Jesus obeys his commands. Jesus himself identifies these commands as the most important and covering the whole of scripture.

Although such a statement leaves a lot unanswered, it supplies those who do follow Christ with a working definition of what it means to be a disciple. It lays a groundwork on which the ideas, practices, and virtues of being a follower of Jesus can be laid. In this sense, I see it as complete.

Statements that don't work well are ones that are too long to use effectively in everyday living or are ones that focus too closely on a particular "soap box" so that a properly filled-out faith cannot be built on top of them. Ancient creeds are helpful for capturing many of these basics, but often they are written to address heresies in a particular language that people were using at that time for discussion and argument.

Again, I wanted to avoid getting drawn into the idea of a statement of faith as a gate. I hoped to use it as a step-stool so I can reach some of the highest ideals of my faith without trying to climb the shelves of arguments and discussions present in all such endeavors.

Such a statement of faith may not be what everyone would choose, but it is certainly not heretical. The main problem would be that it is simplistic. I would say it is simplistic if I regard it as complete in and of itself. Instead I hoped it would be merely simple, but profound enough to touch on most if not all aspects of faith at least indirectly, and direct enough to use as a constant reminder of what a life of discipleship is all about.

Oaks of Righteousness

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,

because the Lord has anointed me

to preach good news to the poor. . . .

To bestow on them a crown of beauty

instead of ashes,

the oil of gladness

instead of mourning,

and a garment of praise

instead of a spirit of despair.

They will be oaks of righteousness

a planting of the Lord

for the display of his splendor. (Is. 61:1, 3)

How I long to walk into that forest! How I long to be in a place where righteousness towers around me in the people I meet and worship with! To be in a forest populated with good lives all around would be such a sign of peace and comfort. Even in the midst of disaster such oaks would stand.

How I long to be in a wood where righteousness is characterized by beauty, gladness, and praise rather than ashes, mourning, and despair! Such lives would be crowned with a beauty that would shine out of their faces and work out of their hands. Such lives would be painted with laughter and gladness because of the joy that comes from them. Such lives would be clothed in praise and worship, their very movements speaking of the goodness and power of God. They would be right and good as God is right and good, not a mere caricature.

The seed of these "oaks of righteousness" is the good news, the year of the Lord's favor. The soil where the seeds are planted is even among the broken-hearted, the captives, the prisoners, and those who mourn. What causes them to grow is beauty, gladness, and praise in our God. Only then will the oaks be a "planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor."

My efforts at righteousness are often full of the ashes, mourning, and despair of pleasing and impressing others. Nothing grows here. It is a field sowed with bitter salt. Such "righteousness" has only scattered the seed, hardened the soil, and deprived any nourishment to what might grow. As Jesus says, such righteousness gets taken away by the devil, withers away under pressure, and is choked out by wealth and pleasures before it can become even a sapling. It is momentary, merely a tourist in the "planting of the Lord."

Lord, today let my efforts be to accept the crown of beauty that the good news brings, to be anointed with the oil of gladness found in God's favor, and to wear a garment of praise for all his comfort he has given me. Maybe I might someday become a resident, a true pilgrim in the "planting of the Lord." Amen.

Looking for Hope

But now, Lord, what do I look for?

My hope is in you. (Ps. 39:7)

Such a simple phrase. I had almost overlooked it. In the midst of this psalm bemoaning the pain and shortness of life on earth, this verse sits quietly in the middle of it all. Yet the question it asks points out my deepest desires.

What do I look for? Each moment of the day, I am looking for something. It seems too often its my shoes or my kids or some results for my boss. But even in the quieter moments where nobody demands anything from me, I am looking for something. My will is bent on it. My feelings and thoughts speak of it at times. It rides alongside me often quiet, but not invisible if I look.

What do I look for? Whatever it is, it is my hope. Sometimes it seems to be a million different things, but really they all point in one direction, roughly. Hope reveals itself most intensely in despair. When life turns against me, what do I look for?

Each moment I need to ask, "Now, Lord, what do I look for?" Hope forms my search and frames my efforts. Hope stays in front of me. So can I say my hope is in you? Don't I find myself looking for other things far more often? The perfect body, the most faithful friendship, the ideal product, the best price? What does this say about my hope? Aren't these earthly things, destined to perish with use?

I see that looking for these things is not bad if you are behind them. Hope leads me through this world and all its things. They are not dirty. But they are easily taken to be idols, serving the god of my stomach. No, when I say my hope is in you, I am reminded of what I should look for and how I should look for it. The world and its wonders and even its pains are doorways into your grace and goodness, if my hope is in you.

Lord, you are wise to tell me to seek your Kingdom. I need to look for you as I go here and there and do this and that, seeing you in the midst of my life as the one thing that makes my life worth living at all. Hope is what gives life is value, and nothing has value away from you. Let me look for you each moment in each day. Then I will know where my hope is. Amen.

Humility and Reproof

Rebuking, Reproving, and Convicting of Sin

Not long ago, I was the victim of condemnation. I did not know it at the time, but thought that the person was reproving me, or at least, I tried to accept what he gave me as reproof. I had some sense that what he was doing was more like the accusation of Satan than the conviction of the Holy Spirit, but it took me a while to understand why.

He used Matthew 18:15 as his club. He condemned me and them forbade me from talking about it with anyone else since we were in the "Matthew 18 process." It sounded more like what a child abuser says to a child ("Don't tell anyone or I'll. . . ") than what the scripture might mean there. But I felt bound by his interpretation to some degree.

Fortunately, I did not stay under his condemnation long. It followed me around for months afterward, though. I had accepted his condemnation because I myself condemned others in the same way. How could I deal with it? My gut-level response was that I decided that I did not like Matthew 18 much because of how people seemed to use it to isolate and abuse people more than bring them to repentance.

Just speaking about the word used in Matthew 18:15 for "show him his fault" reveals some important things. It is also used in John 3:20, "Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed." So part of me hates to be exposed because I do not like the light of God showing my deeds to be evil. I want to continue to think of myself as good and right without God. This is the fault I need exposed by fellow disciples. They need to show me how I am avoiding God's light and justifying myself instead.

Also it's used in John 16:8 with regard to the Holy Spirit, "When he comes, he will convict the world of guilt [or expose the guilt of the world.]" One of the very actions of the Holy Spirit is this exposure of my sin to the light of God. Anyone who has experienced the Spirit's work in this area can attest to the great gravity of conviction mixed with gentleness. Anyone who comes to expose sin in my life will be recognized as the Spirit convicting or the devil condemning.

But Matthew 18 provides practical advice about this whole process of becoming one of the greatest ones in the kingdom of heaven, one who exposes sin by his very presence, one who gently, but powerfully exposes sin for what it is, like the Holy Spirit. This ability is one of the signs of greatness in God's kingdom, according to Jesus.

Such greatness begins with becoming like little children (v.3). Humility is the sign of greatness in the kingdom. In fact, Jesus says that I cannot even enter the kingdom without this kind of humility. Children must look to others to care for them and therefore humility is a real part of their life, whether they accept it or not. Coming into the kingdom of the heavens requires this sort of lowliness: I need something I cannot do for myself. Traveling this path of lowliness can take me into the very heart of greatness, a complete dependence on God.

The sign of such humility is the welcome of other children as Jesus himself welcomes them (v.5). This is not surprising. I welcome those I like and prefer. I invite them into my home and my life. I desire to make them stay through kindness and friendliness. I long to be near them as they long to be near Jesus.

The contrast is surprising to me. Jesus doesn't contrast welcoming with just not welcoming, indifference, or even unfriendliness. He contrasts welcoming with causing one the the little ones to stumble. Apparently this accounts for the seriousness with which Paul took Peter's drawing away and separating himself from Gentile believers in Galatia (Gal. 2), as well as his concern for the Corinthian believers in their practice of the Lord's Supper (1 Cor. 11). Not welcoming other children of God causes them to stumble.

This makes sense. Abuse and neglect are close cousins. Hatred and indifference usually come together. Exclusion is a powerful force that can bend a person's will to the point of breaking. I see how cautious I need to be in my use of such exclusion. By excluding other people I hurt them and do damage to myself, like death by drowning. Quite likely, his illustration means that this attitude is like drowning and not being able to pull myself out - sure death.

Such sin is the very opposite of the gospel, which welcomes everyone into the kingdom of heaven. So when my welcome fades, so does my connection with the life that is in Christ, and I slowly sink into the depths with my life-breath being pulled out of me by my own resistance to loving and welcoming others.

Jesus continues by describing the things that keep me from welcoming other people into the kingdom. I cause other people to sin and stop welcoming them when:

1. I refuse to deal effectively and decisively with my own sins (vv. 7-9).
2. I look down on people with contempt (v. 10).
3. I lose compassion for those who are lost and have wandered away (vv.12-14).

Much can be said about each of these. I believe they may also be progressive. First, I must deal decisively with my own sins so that I do not look down on others with contempt so that I might have the same concern that God has for them. This certainly matches the same progression in the Sermon on the Mount (Mt. 5). Not surprising.

Only after this welcoming attitude can be maintained am I ready to follow the instructions of how I should expose another's sin (vv. 15-17). Only with the humility described above that deals with its own sin, is free from insult and contempt, and has great compassion for those who have lost their way, can one hope to aspire to the greatness of exposing another's sins. Without this, I become like the Pharisees who "tie up heavy loads and put them on men's shoulders, but they themslves are not willing to lift a finger to help them." (Mt. 23:4) Such "good" becomes evil.

Even then, Jesus expresses caution with the approach to such a work of compassion. Where the light of my life has not affected a person to see their need to repent, I am called to go a step farther by asking them to leave their sin and repent. The light of my life is shown in humility expressed through my decisive dealings with my own sin, my lack of contempt toward other sinners, and my apparent love for those who have lost their way to God. When this light does not expose the sin to another person, I think Jesus is calling me to ask them to change.

Such asking is confined to a one-on-one interaction with the person usually. (There are exceptions to this.) The point is illustrative, not prescriptive. Jesus is bringing an example of how such a humble person would interact with another person who has sinned. This is akin to "if someone has something against you, leave your gift at the altar and be reconciled to him." This is to say, a humble person as described above will be the kind of person who will have the respect and kindness to deal with sinners privately first, and only gradually bringing others in so that repentance can be reached. They will also understand the gravity of sin and its consequences when it is allowed to continue unchecked, so will even be willing to exercise exclusion to bring about repentance, knowing the dangers involved in that step.

Without humility, repentance is not the goal, but a chance to prove myself to be in the right or better than someone else. Anger and contempt will always be present. I will be blind to my own sins. The only joy I will find is the joy of "lording it over" someone else rather than the joy of the Father, who is "happier about that one sheep than the ninety-nine that did not wander off." Such an exposure will rarely bring about the fights and factions I find with so many people and myself because I am only willing to deal with people when I am "fed up" with them rather than because I dearly love them.

Jesus concludes with a great promise and then a great warning. The great promise is the power of such a work in another person's life. By the power of the Spirit, such a humble approach to another person's sin can restrict sin from polluting other lives (bind them) or can free the person from their bondage to that sin (loosing them). The power of sin in a person's life and its consequent effects on the communities they are in is considerable. It is impossible to overcome apart from such humility and agreement with the welcoming life of Jesus. But when two people come to agree about the nature of sin in light of Jesus and his example and death and resurrection, then even sin can be forgiven and overcome.

The unblushing promise of Jesus is that God will do anything for people who are gathered "in Jesus name" that is, with the goal of becoming like Jesus. This promise comes on the heels of this work of exposure of sin because the power of the agreement about sin and its consequences. Where there is real agreement about sin and a real fight to deal with it, Jesus is present and anything is possible. People cannot really gather "in Jesus' name" if they have no intention of becoming like Jesus nor of dealing with their sins in a decisive way.

This promise is what brings humility and what drives me to begin the journey at all. Without the longing to have Jesus present and the desire for unity in the agreement to deal with sin, such a work is impossible and only serves as an effort to "keep the peace" rather than bring myself and others into true unity and the true power of God present to heal me and destroy my and others' sins. This teaching of Jesus brings the unity of Christ's presence and God's power, not the unity of ecumenical "oneness" or organizational efficiency. With this true unity, ecumenical and organizational problems would fade into the background and be relatively easy to deal with.

The great warning is the scope and nature of the work. Peter says, "Great! So if I have this humility and expose sin as you suggest, I will need to do it, what, seven times maybe? After that surely I can safely exclude all the people who don't see things my way." Jesus answers Peter according to the hardness his statement reveals. "No, Peter, with the hardness and lack of humility you showed in that statement, I would say you need to practice this 490 times before you start to get the hang of it."

The story that follows is one about the hardness of the forgiver, not the forgivee. The man who refuses to forgive the fellow servant is the same one who is supposed to be exposing sin humbly, but instead has decided to choke the other until he "pays up." So Jesus spends most of his time talking about how we are to forgive and expose sin rather than how we are to be forgiven. This final conclusion nails it on the head. The problem that Jesus addresses with Peter's statement is not how sinful the person is who keeps wronging Peter (possibly a fellow disciple or a family member?), but his own lack of humility and inability to forgive that other person. Peter inadvertently once again becomes Jesus "case in point."

For me the picture of choking someone yelling, "Pay back what you owe me!" is a perfect picture of the non-welcoming part of me that really perpetuates sin in others rather than exposing them to the light of Jesus' love and goodness so easily seen in his forgiveness of my own great sin. I can either welcome the fellow children of the kingdom into the party for the prodigals, or stand outside ready to choke anyone who slights me or my sense of "righteousness."

So, for the ones who accuse rather than convict, I need to deepen my humility by depending on God's opinion of me rather than other's approval. As I do this, I will find that other peoples' sins against me and around me will not always (or even usually) perpetuate stumbling sins in my life. I will find that whether or not people look down on me with contempt, I will find safety in the knowledge that I stand before God himself as my Judge and Redeemer, not them. I will find that God delights in bringing me back from my wandering when I stray more than when I "get it right" not because he wants me to wander, but because he came to save the lost, not pat the "righteous" on the back. Truly righteous people know that God delights in salvation and the ninety-nine will rejoice with him. Their joy will be not from being one of the "ninety-nine," but in sharing the joy of the loving shepherd who goes seeking those who are lost.

When I am accused and I am humble, I am safe in God's hands. When I am convicted and I am humble, I am safe in God's hands as well. But those who convict reach out to save me and pull me out of my sin like God does rather than reaching out to choke me and cut me off from my life-breath from God, even as they themselves are drowning from their own millstones. Perhaps exclusion is the only possibility with such people right now. I find that much of the time, as I seek the light, those who oppose me and my work exclude themselves once they find they cannot divert me from my desire to follow Jesus.

This humility born in being a child in the Kingdom then saves me from becoming an accuser or becoming the victim of such accusers. The dependence on God through following Jesus not only saves me from these dangerous errors, but promises a life of overcoming sin together with other followers of Jesus with his immediate presence nearby. Unity and oneness as Jesus prayed for, then, is not merely an ideal or future hope, but something that Jesus built into discipleship. As I deal seriously with my sin by following Jesus in a moment-by-moment fashion, I will find others who want the same thing and join with me even as I find people who will oppose such a journey together in the name of Jesus, that is, a journey with the goal of being like Jesus in every way.

"Stop sinning or something worse may happen to you."

Jesus asks a paralytic man a strange question: "Do you want to get well?" The answer plays out in how the man responds to Jesus.

He does not say "Yes" immediately, but complains about how he cannot enter a pool in the Temple which he thinks will heal him. His hope for restoration lies in this pool, probably used for some sort of ceremonial cleansing. Someone else always gets there first.

John paints this invalid man's plight as hopeless - he's been there 38 years - and as helpless - he can't make it to the water by himself and someone else always gets in first. To this hopelessness and helplessness, Jesus simply tells the man to get up and walk. John records no indication of thanks or belief from the invalid man. He doesn't even remember who Jesus is.

The lack of mention may seem an oversight, except that the Pharisees stop the man and accuse him of breaking the Sabbath. The accusation brings out the man's defensiveness and not his praise. He wants to get out of this small matter by blaming Jesus. This stinks of ingratitude on his part. After being healed from a 38-year malady the man can only point fingers and say, "He did it!"

Finally Jesus wraps up this lesson by finding the man and telling him to "stop sinning or something worse may happen." The man seems guilty of ingratitude and seems to prove it since right after Jesus warns him, he goes to tell the Pharisees who has made him well instead of leaving everything behind and following Jesus.

The real lesson lies a little deeper, however. Jesus talks about "something worse." What could possibly be worse than being unable to move yourself for 38 years with no help toward any healing at all? Certainly Jesus alludes to Hell. But more than that, he alludes to this Death that begins in this present existence, just as Life can being in this existence. "Hell" or "Heaven" begin now.

Sinning brings me into a hopeless, helpless mode of existence. It enslaves me and makes me do what I do not want to do. It takes my best intentions and turns them into a self-righteousness that corrupts me even more quickly. "The wages of sin is death," death in this life.

Jesus came so that we could stop sinning. He does not want us to live in hopelessness and helplessness. He sets us free from sinning. Like that invalid before Jesus, I have hope in healing from this self-induced sickness; I have help to break the debilitating habits I cannot break myself. My hope is based on God's kindness in Jesus, not on any ceremony (like the Pool of Siloam) that might heal me.

I also see my easy ingratitude, like this man. In the face of small accusations, I quickly forget the years of sin and brokenness that Jesus frees me from. I quickly abandon God and try to justify myself at his expense rather than giving him the praise. How can I forget so quickly that I was like that invalid man, 38 years in the hole without help from anyone, especially these accusers, who don't praise God for my healing, but look for reasons to accuse me anyway? How can I join them in looking for Jesus to accuse him?

Lord, I know my sins. I know your forgiveness. I know how quickly I forget your goodness and join others in making less of you. Let me overlook such condemnation and remember to praise you for your great pity on me. Something worse might happen. I may forget your goodness and live my life ignorant of it, thinking somehow I helped myself. Then I would become hopeless and helpless, because I cannot save myself. Save me from the twin sins of ingratitude and forgetfulness. Amen.

The Loneliness of Pain

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My friends and companions avoid me because of my wounds;

my neighbors stay far away. . . .

O Lord, do not forsake me;

be not far from me, O my God. (Ps. 38:11,21)

People have a natural aversion to pain, even its presence in other people. We fear pain and suffering. Even the reflection of it in someone else's eyes causes us to duck and run.

This explains why I spend so much time pretending that everything is OK. The only way I can reveal my suffering with other people is through complaining and arguing. Real disclosure causes the "duck and run" response in most people. Fear of loneliness makes me bury my troubles and struggles.

In this psalm, David does not have an easy solution to this. I can't recall a psalm where the person in distress says, "I went to my friends and they made it all good." There is a real loneliness in suffering and difficulty. David appeals to God and God alone for his comfort and healing.

Of course, by experience I know that God does send people to help, but often it is not who I expect (or even want). Also, God has to send them for their comfort to be effective and real. Like so many other things, I cannot access God's remedies directly, but only through him, like a doctor who gives prescriptions. He will always bring help, comfort, and healing, but it has to be in his way and in his time.

I feel lonely a lot when I am sad and suffering. Or maybe I feel sad when I am lonely. It's hard to figure out which comes first. Perhaps they are always concurrent. The prayer that speaks to me today is this: Be not far from me, O my God. This prayer, of course, addresses where the pain really comes from: distance from God.

Richness Apart from Wealth or Poverty

Better the little the righteous have

than the wealth of the wicked,

for the power of the wicked will be broken,

but the Lord upholds the righteous. (Ps. 37:16-17)

In the middle of this "Do no fret" psalm is the promise of how good life with God can be. Poverty is not good. Whether it be poverty in money, spirit, or friends, it is an emptiness that God does not desire for me.

In seeking God, the righteous will have trials and poverty in many things: "No one can serve two masters; you cannot serve both God and Money." and "All men will hate you because of me, but he who stands firm to the end will be saved." Discipleship is the "narrow way" that attracts few people and the resources from them, so it ends up as "the hard, but right way." God does not make it hard, other people do, even if through mere indifference and lack of concern.

In this light, poverty may seem a virtue, but it is not. It is not the best that God longs to give. Riches are not especially helpful either, really. God longs to bestow richness in my life, however. This is how he upholds those who seek after him. He grants a richness in life that transcends earthly wealth or poverty of all sorts.

The danger here, especially for me, is the desire to have God grant richness without earthly "wealth." Money or friends can be seen as somehow less than or separate from God's provision. Often he does uphold me through the goodness of others and the work that I am paid to do.

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That being said, I also see how I depend on other people more than enjoy them. I may be like a the person who asked for God to save him and refused the raft, the powerboat, and the helicopter that God sent through other people. I may be more likely to be like King Saul who let his spiritual journey be decided by what "the people" wanted from him. Jesus provides a good example in this: "But Jesus would not entrust himself to them, for he knew all men." (Jn.2:24)

Somehow I want to learn how to enjoy the "little" we have, depending on God to uphold me. Only when I thoroughly depend on God will I be able to enjoy people and find peace when I am with them and be thankful for them. My lack of peace and gratitude come from an over-dependence on people, I believe. I do not exactly need to get away from them all the time because that merely shows I am overly affected by them. Instead, through solitude and silence, I need to learn how to enjoy people by understanding them and depend on God by walking with him moment by moment.

Prayer as a Hike

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For with you is the fountain of life;

in your light we see light. (Ps. 36:9)

The very spring of life as well as the very source of light come from God. Prayer seeks the source of light and life by following them closely. Finding a spring almost always involves a climb. Coming out of the forests or caves into the sun takes a hike. Such is prayer on many days - a climb, a hike.

In my experience prayer is work like a climb or a hike, but it is not merely work. I find vistas on the ways. The work warms me as I seek the sun. It is not all cold drudgery. God is faithful to make even the work pleasant.

If we follow light and life, we will, of course, be carried along in love. Love is the manner in which we go. It is the pounding heart, the effort to go on, the laughter on the way, and the anticipation of getting closer to the goal.

I am reminded of what prayer is: a journey along the streams of life to its fountainhead, breaking through the forests to the warm vistas above tree-line. We drink as we go and the water is sweeter every day. We see one vista only to be surprised by the next. Love is the sweat and work, the wonder and pleasure, the company and conversation.

Let us not tire of prayer. It is work, hard work. But not unpleasant or impossible. As we go, we will find what we need and those who will journey with us. They are already on the trail, too.

What Kind of Worshipers God Seeks

The Samaritan women was hostile and tried to avoid Jesus throughout their whole conversation, I think. He just kept at it. I guess, to her credit, she actually stayed and didn't just run off.

Also, I love Jesus' irony in saying that the woman made a "true" statement when she said she had no husband. She was being evasive to say the least. Her current status certainly made her want to avoid even coming to the well for water. But Jesus goes on to say that God is seeking worshipers who will worship him "in truth" in contrast to the "truth" the Samaritan woman gave him.

I don't think he was trying to be mean and just expose her to cut her down. I think he was showing that what God desires is honesty and sincerity in worship rather than trying to pretend we are better than we are. True worshipers of God know he is always present ("in spirit") and really knows what we are going through ("in truth"). False worshipers forget that God is really present and that he knows (or cares) what we are going through.

Also, worshipers are found by God. They do not find him. My best hope is to be one that God seeks. Then he will find me. The Samaritan woman is primary example of this. Jesus found her. He dug through her hostility, guilt, and excuses to find a true worshiper. As his disciple, I want to do the same.

From Dependence to Enjoyment

Idea about peace and thankfulness:

True thankfulness moves me from dependence to enjoyment of earthly things. So dependence indicates a lack of thankfulness. True enjoyment only comes when I am not dependent on earthly things.

Peace - a sense of well-being - comes from enjoyment of earthly things and dependence on God.

Sin Management versus Self-Sacrifice

God did not give me grace so I could manage my sin, but so I could put my sin to death. The grace to manage my sin is grace I give to myself. The grace I depend on when putting sin to death must be God's grace. Self-management is what I do instead of living sacrifice.

Sin management comes in several flavors. One is exchange; I give up a bad habit and replace it with a "good" one, or least, another one less lethal. The key words are, "I used to[something], but now I [something]." Another flavor is comparison: I look for some person or group of people that I feel I am better than them. This is a way to management the guilt of sin. The key words are, "But at least I am better than. . . ." Another kind is masking: I try to cover up my sin with doing other good things. The keywords are, "But at least I do. . . ."

All of these methods try to retain the self and its goals, but hope to "pretty it up enough" for God. All of these are waiting for eternal life rather than trying to live eternal life. All of these methods are comparison to people and not to Christ. Exchange compares my present state with my past state. Comparison sees only the bad things and worse things; it tries to make bad things good by comparing them to worse things. Masking sees good things I do as way of excusing the bad things I do.

Sin management does not use God's grace sufficiently. It only dabbles in it, using it as fuel for self-transformation, an excuse for bad things while avoiding worse things, or a cover-up of bad things while I try to do good things. God's grace can only be used to make us into Christ. It has no other purpose. Whatever is done on the way is secondary to Christ-likeness.

So the insufficiency of grace comes from an insufficient view of Christ. Inherently we see Christ-likeness as merely "being good." Just being good enough. Christ is so much more than a mere do-good-er. Jesus did not just go around doing "random acts of kindness." His goodness was defined by his purpose. He did not come just to be good in front of us. He did not come just to say, "It's ok that you're so bad." He did not come to give us a method for self-transformation, primarily. He came that we would have life, and life abundantly. This life is one in his kingdom, under God's rule, at God's side. His deeds, his forgiveness, his promise of transformation all point to this life with God, working with him, and loving him. I must seek things above, that is, "where Christ is seated at the right hand of God."

When I manage my sin, I remain in control of my life. I rule. I have tried to give up certain things, or do certain things so I can retain my own life, my own kingdom where God does not have a say. I think I can mange sin because I think I can manage myself. I manage sin because I think I can manage God himself.

To find my place in God's kingdom, I must give up my own kingdom. To live in God, I must die to myself. To find what I really need, I must give up what I think I want. To have a life with Christ, I must leave everything else behind.

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Sin management dabbles at the edge of the pool. Sacrifice dives in the middle. Sin management only intends to try. Sacrifice intends to accomplish.

Rather than trying to retain control of my life and deal with sin on the side, I must throw out my own ideas of what life should be and look to what Jesus said life is. Living the "good life" is not getting what I want when I want it, but getting what God wants when God wants me to have it.

If I try to manage sin, I will find that sin manages me. Sin must be put to death unmercifully.