Pursued by God

A Generous Allowance

“God is ready to do amazing things in your life. He is just waiting for you to let him in. 

These words, or a variation of them, litter the landscape of modern Christianity. I hear them in podcasts and lyrics. I read them in books and blogs. There are many variations: Letting him have control of my life. Giving God permission to work. Allowing him to change me.

I like those words, because in those words dwells the concept that I have control. God longs to work in my life. All he needs is permission and that permission is the key I alone possess. While this may paint a picture that makes me feel good, it is not the portrait depicted in God’s word.

When I read the Bible, I do not discover a God who seeks permission. Did God consult Job before the whirlwind? Did he seek Joseph’s consent to use him to save a nation? Did he ask Jonah if it was OK to draw the very people Jonah hated to God’s heart? I see a God who calls Abraham to leave his home, Ruth to leave her people, Hosea to marry a prostitute and Paul to be shipwrecked, beaten, whipped and stoned. I doubt any of them signed a release form.

This is just as true of me today as it was of them. God is in my life whether I like it or not. He didn’t ask me if he could be there. His love compels him to walk with me. So I have a choice. I can fight with him or I can walk with him. That much is up to me, but little else.

From my office window, I can see a popular trail that runs through former ranch land. Just off that trail, an old metal gate sits atop a small hill. It is latched, draped in barbed wire, wrapped with a heavy chain and secured with an enormous rusted padlock. There is no opening that gate. The amusing part is that the gate stands alone on the hill. Any fence that existed disappeared long ago.

I picture God and I at this gate. I am standing behind the gate, feet spread in a defiant stance, both hands on the cold metal. “You can come this far, God, but no further. There are certain areas of my life that I am not willing to allow you to be part of right now. I will let you know when I am ready to let you in.” As something brushes past me, I feel a tap on the back of my shoulder. I turn around and find myself looking into his smiling face. With a mixture of love and amusement in his eyes, he says, “You mean these areas?”

An Evening at the Barr

I had planned a late evening run, just not this late. After tackling the Incline with some friends, I headed up Pikes Peak for a solo run. Barr camp, half way up the mountain, was my planned turnaround point. The descending sun silhouetted Pikes Peak in front of me, transforming the clouds into pink and blue cotton candy.  Small helicopters, disguised as hummingbirds, shot through the low tree branches. Dozens of deer drifted out of the aspens groves. Four young bucks with soft velvet antlers loitered by the trail. They exhibited a defiant teenage male attitude, pretending I didn’t exist as I ran past. One rebellious ray of light escaped around the summit, spotlighting the rounded top of a nearby peak as a ring of clouds formed a fedora hat brim around the shimmering pinnacle. The white aspen trunks took on an otherworldly radiance in the fading light. The clouds overhead became the glowing embers of a dying fire. As I hit Barr Camp and started back down, I flipped on my headlamp.

steep mountain trails, “down” is a faster concept than “up”. As the trees blurred into each other, thick pines swallowed the remaining light. The moon that was scheduled to light my exit was still rising in the east, yellow and expectant. My world was reduced to the sphere of my headlamp. I had not encountered a human for miles. Alone with my thoughts, the crunch of the crumbled granite under my shoes seemed to grow in intensity. I imagined sounds in the woods, blurred movements in my periphery. A pressing sense of my aloneness launched the thought that maybe I wasn’t alone. Maybe something or someone existed that was greater than me. Someone who knew my fears and weaknesses.  

I whispered in the dark, “Are you there, God?”

“Seriously?” He responded. 

God In My Backyard

It didn’t feel right. Dawn was yet an hour away but that didn’t explain why the sky was Starbucks black. I looked through the sunroof at the lack of stars and knew I was in trouble. With my photo gear piled on the car seat, I was headed to Garden of the Gods. My goal: that one amazing shot of the first rays of sun lighting the red rocks of the garden with a snow capped Pikes Peak in the background, all framed by the beautiful blue Colorado sky. I guess I should have checked the weather forecast.

I setup my tripod overlooking the Garden of the Gods to await the dawn. Instead of a dazzling sunrise, I was greeted by a gradual lightening of the gray. Low clouds enveloped the Garden. Pikes Peak was nowhere to be found. The light was totally flat, as were my hopes of getting any good images. I decided to do what I was supposed to be doing anyway. Yard work.

Up to my elbows in mud, I was waging war on the sprinkler system but it was winning. The current combatant was a valve that refused to shut off. Wrestling with the valve, I noticed a spider web in the grass to my right. It was no bigger than a dime and covered with dew. Wiping off my hands, I grabbed my camera. What I saw through the macro lens was stunning. Another world opened up in tiny beads of water suspended on the fine web. It was then I noticed droplets precariously clinging to fine blades of grass. Snapping pictures of grass, I found a lone ladybug climbing one of the blades. She willingly posed for an impromptu photo shoot. A honeybee buzzed me, so I followed him to the nearby dandelions. He was not thrilled about his photo shoot. I saw the sun lighting his amber wings and pollen stuck to his face like a two year old with birthday cake.

Sometimes irony is subtle. Other times it slaps you. I was searching for God in the big things. I looked for his glory in massive sandstone and imposing granite. I listened for him to shout from the mountains but he was whispering from the grass.

God is in my back yard. I happened to notice a few instances out of a thousand. That’s just in my back yard. Today he will create billions of works of stunning beauty that no human being will stop to notice. I think he does it just because it’s fun. The creator did not stop being creator after six days and a rest. It is his nature.

When I go to the mountains to be surrounded by his grandeur I sidestep the reality that, no matter where I am, his glory encompasses my on every side. His creativity is non-stop but I miss it because I am non-stop. I need to intentionally pause to ponder the intricacies of his fingerwork.

As I write this, I am sitting cross-legged on my patio. An ant just scurried by. Gotta go…

Rich Soul, Poor Soul

 

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

I have glimpsed the world’s poverty. From the precarious shanties of Lima to the sweltering slums of Manila to the barren mud huts of rural Ethiopia, I have seen people cope with subsistence living. One thing that has struck me, though, is that most of the people I have met in those situations have a sense of dignity. They earn what they can and, with deep gratitude, accept whatever is given. What really tears at my heart are the street beggars. They have set aside any pride and dignity to beg for whatever they can get. They are totally dependent upon whoever happens by. They are at the mercy of someone else’s goodness.   

In Matthew 5:3, Jesus begins his sermon on the mount by proclaiming that those who are poor in spirit are blessed. This is his first statement in his first major discourse of his earthly ministry. I’m guessing it’s pretty important. He seems to be laying a foundation. So why does Jesus start with this characteristic of being “poor in spirit”? What does that mean? 

When he says “in spirit”, it means my vital principle. It is the very core of who I am. I am blessed if, at my very essence, I am poverty-stricken. That word “poor” means a beggar. The literal meaning of the word is to crouch or cringe. It is the physical posture of someone who is a beggar. They place themselves in a vulnerable physical position that shows absolute dependence on the generosity of another.

Jesus does not ask us to become a beggar or to act like we are poor. He wants us to realize that we already are a beggar before God. We crouch before him with nothing. Everything I possess, every passion, talent and gift comes from him.  God doesn’t complete me, like some sought after lover. He creates me and endows me with all that I am. Without him I have nothing but with him I have everything. I am at the mercy of someone else’s goodness and he is truly good.

In Rev 3:17, Jesus says to the church at Laodicea, “For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing, not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind and naked.” ESV

Being poor in spirit is not an action. It’s not something I choose to do. I don’t even think it is something I can choose to be. It is not an attitude. It is a realization. I come to an understanding of what is already true about me. It is what God says about my state before Him. I am spiritually bankrupt. I am a beggar before God. What do I bring to the table? Nothing. Everything good that I have to offer has already come from God. I am totally and completely dependent upon Him for all that I am. When I live in that truth of dependence, I am blessed. 

The cool thing is that, while I bring nothing, God brings everything. He brings his kingdom. He approaches this beggar on the sidewalk and reaches out his hands to mine. As he lifts me to my feet, he looks directly into my eyes and says, “You have nothing to bring to me, but I have something to bring to you. It’s my kingdom. Here, it’s yours.” I am a citizen of this kingdom right now. I possess eternal life. I have been given dignity, worth, riches, power and purpose. He has established me as an ambassador to represent him to those around me.

That sounds like blessing to me. 

Are You Blessed?

“Do you think you are blessed?” He pondered the question I had just posed. I knew he wasn’t just looking for the ‘right answer.’ He was honestly considering whether he believed himself to be blessed by God. His response was very American. “I suppose compared to most people in the world, I am.” If someone asked you that question, how would you answer it? Most likely, your response would be framed around material possessions. I’m not sure if it is the way we are wired or the way we are conditioned, but as soon as we hear the word “blessed”, we usually think of what we have.

In Matthew 5:3-12, in a section known as the Beatitudes, Jesus speaks of a certain group of people as blessed. In fact, he uses the description nine times. What characterizes these blessed people? They are poor in spirit, mourning, meek, hungering and thirsting for righteousness, merciful, pure in heart, peacemakers and persecuted. This is probably not the list you and I would compose.

There are several things that are peculiar about this list. First, most of the descriptions show something lacking. A spirit without wealth, the grief of deep loss and a profound longing for righteousness are not what I would normally associate with blessing. These are all about something we don’t have. About a desire to acquire what we do not already possess. In God’s economy, blessing starts with a genuine realization of our need. If I know in my soul that I desperately need God, then I experience his blessing. I begin to see past the fog of what I possess and begin to see what I truly need.

Second, these characteristics seem to be about seeing the worth of others. These blessed people are meek, merciful and peacemakers. They do not seek their own but put the needs of others first. In Philippians 2:3,4, Paul says, “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.” Have you been around someone who takes that seriously? Their attitude blesses you because it comes out of a journey with God.

Third, this seems to be a description of the speaker himself. Jesus lived this out. He made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant. He suffered great loss. He practiced meekness (strength under control) at every turn. He panted after righteousness. He practiced mercy and was pure at his very core. While actively seeking peace with men, he was persecuted as the prophets were. This list is the very character of God. As we know him, we become like him. We begin to live his character and this list becomes descriptive of our own lives.

Nowhere in this list does God associate blessing with physical circumstances. It is a posture, a realization of who we are before him, an outflow of knowing the King of all creation. It is a life that can’t help but pour out God’s character. It is someone who stands in marked contrast to those around him because he has walked with God. This blessed one could live in a Manhattan penthouse or a Calcutta slum. It doesn’t matter. He is blessed by God.     

A Beatitude Attitude

I have never really connected with the beatitudes. This is my major confession for the week. I’m not sure if it is an admission of sin, but certainly a reflection of my spiritual condition. The beatitudes are the name given to a section at the beginning of Jesus’ sermon on the mount. It is found in Matthew 5:3-12 and is a series of nine statements with the following formula: 

         Blessed are [a certain type of people] for they [something is true of them]. 

The word “beatitude” is not a title Jesus used but a later designation by commentators. It comes from the Latin beatus, which means blessed or happy. A similar set of beatitudes are found in Luke 6:20-23, but for now I am focusing on the passage in Matthew. 

2 And he opened his mouth and taught them, saying:

3 "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

4 "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

5 "Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

6 "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.

7 "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.

8 "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.

9 "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.

10 "Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

11 "Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.  12 Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you. ESV 

See, my past problems with the beatitudes have been multiple. First, I thought they sounded like an if/then proposition. If you do this, then God will do that. Very formulaic. If you come through for God, then he will come through for you. The problem is that I often do not come through for God. I know my failings do not shape the truth of scripture. All I am saying is, where does that leave me? I would say not in His kingdom. This is contrary to the God I see in scripture who embraces me, not because of who I am but because of who He is – not because of what I have done but because of what He has done. 

Second, some of the descriptions seem nearly impossible. Meek, merciful, pure in heart, peacemakers? Seriously? Is this what it takes to enter the kingdom of heaven? Is the bar that high? If we are at all honest with ourselves, we admit that we are not there. Oh, we might have our good days. I was pure in heart yesterday morning … from about 8:00 to 9:00 … OK, from 8:00 to 8:05. I was possibly meek for a few minutes later in the day. Let’s not even talk about merciful. 

Third, they are not all actions. They are inward characteristics. If these are things I can do to be OK with God, then give me things to do. Should I make myself mourn? Should I work to bring about persecution? It’s all a bit nebulous. Just show me the list and I will do it.

Recently, God has grabbed my attention with the beatitudes and they are not at all what I thought they were. I have come to the realization that they are a description of someone who dwells in the kingdom of heaven. Right now. Right here. Someone who knows God and walks with him. This list is not something we do or even try to be. It is what we naturally become. Spending time with Him changes us. Over time we find ourselves living differently, living kingdom lives. Because God blesses us with his presence, we become a blessing to those around us. We begin to reflect the heart of God. Maybe you already knew this. Who knows? Maybe I wrote a paper in seminary saying this, but I’m finally getting it. I’m looking at the beatitudes in a whole new way and it’s pretty exciting.

 

What Does It Mean?

So I went into the break room and someone had set out a bunch of candy for people to help themselves. Apparently it was an attempt to unload a bunch of leftover Easter goodies – chocolate eggs, jellybeans, the usual. In the midst of the basket something not so usual made me stop. It was a six-inch long solid milk chocolate cross. I found myself pondering the theological implications of this confectionary torture device. I understand the significance of the bread and wine, but a chocolate cross? Is it OK to eat the cross? I’m just asking. Doesn’t that seem weird to you? Would you ever see a Catholic chocolate cross? I don’t think so.

OK. I’m being a bit facetious. I don’t have an issue with someone eating a chocolate cross. If it was 70% cocoa, I might have gone for it myself. However, it did make me think about how we can so easily trivialize the significance of the cross. For whatever reason, it was a horrible form of death that God chose to pay the price I couldn’t pay. That cross points to separation, loss, suffering, and death. The paradox is that same cross points to reconciliation, redemption, joy and life. It was the means by which my creator became my savior. I hope I don’t take that lightly.

The next time you see a cross, stop for a moment and ask yourself, “What does it mean?” Better yet, “What does it mean to me?”

Waste of Time? - Easter 2009

“I want to ask you a question and I want you to be honest with me.” His desperation was tangible through the phone. “Do you really believe all this is real?” I had been counseling this man about Christ’s love for him. In one question, he stripped it all down to its essence. Have you asked yourself that question? Honestly? 

You never thought you’d be alone

This far down the line

And I know what’s been on your mind

You’re afraid it’s all been wasted time

- The Eagles

It all comes down to one incident in history. Did the event that we so casually accept as Easter really happen? Because if it did not, then everything we have believed is wrong and we are utterly alone.  

For if the dead are not raised, not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins. Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied. -1 Cor. 15:16-19

If the dead are not raised, “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.” -1 Cor. 15:32

There is no halfway. Either the point of my existence is about Jesus Christ or it is about me. With His dying breath He proclaimed, “It is finished.” He paid for my sins in full. My eternal relationship with my creator has been sealed. Or has it? If we stop at Good Friday, that question looms heavy in the air. The question, “Do you really believe all this is real?” can only be answered in the quiet dawn of the following Sunday. Because on that morning the rising sun revealed the risen Son.

In 1 Cor. 15:3-8, Paul gives a list of witnesses to the resurrection. They touched Him. They walked with Him. They spoke with Him. He wasn’t an apparition, a mist or a ghost. He was alive and He was real. The power in His death was revealed by the power of His resurrection. It truly is finished.

But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep. For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive. -1 Cor. 15:20-22

In Christ shall all be made ALIVE! That’s you and that’s me. He is real, we are not alone, and we have the assurance of eternity in His presence. Just try to keep me from celebrating Easter!

 

You Call That Good?

We refer to it as Good Friday, but how dare we? How can we so casually assign such an event to the category of good? We glibly proclaim that Sunday is coming, but do we really understand what happened on that black Friday?

It was on that famous day that my Maker, the Lord of hosts, the Holy One of Israel, the God of the whole earth was spat upon. He was mocked by those who claimed allegiance to Yahweh. Like so many bullies on the playground, they made fun of my God. You call that good?

Like a sacrificial lamb that was about to have its throat slit, Jesus was silently led to slaughter. He was tortured, beaten and whipped. His appearance was so marred; the crowds were astonished at him. Bloodied and swollen, Jesus didn’t even look human. He was beyond recognition. People didn’t look at him and say, “Who is he?” They said, “What is he?” You call that good?

He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Yet, you insist on calling that good.

But whose grief was he acquainted with? It was mine he bore. It my sorrow he carried.He was wounded for my transgressions; he was crushed for my sin; upon him was the punishment that brought me peace, and it was with his stripes that I was healed. His soul made an offering that healed my soul. In the midst of horror, good boldly asserts itself.

He didn’t even consider his equality with God something to be held tightly, but chose to make himself nothing. He took the form of the lowest servant. My creator counted me more significant than himself. He came to serve me and die for me. That Friday, that Good Friday, was the culmination of his humility.

Because he was dishonored, I was lifted up. By his blood that soaked the cross, I was redeemed. Jesus purchased my soul with the currency of life. Because blood and water poured from him, the riches of his grace were poured out on me. Because of his death, redemption swept creation. Yes, I would call that good. In fact, I would call that amazing. 

Would it be sacrilegious to call it Awesome Friday? 

Thirty Minutes

O’Hare would soon be a memory. I was scheduled to board in thirty minutes, leaving me enough time to either organize my notes or grab a beer. The bar hummed with travelers. Just as I approached, a table opened at my ten o’clock. I moved in without hesitation. In my periphery, a man stepped towards the same table. Fully aware of Darwin’s theories, I knew I could take him. Thinking better, I motioned my acquiescence. He said, “I don’t mind sharing.” I wasn’t real thrilled with the idea of conversation, but didn’t have time to wait. I smiled and said, “Sure.”

Ruben was obviously tired. He was on the return leg of a business trip to Puerto Rico. I quickly found that his job was setting up call centers, the same work I used to do. We discovered we knew many of the same companies, platforms, applications and even people. When he asked what I do now, I confessed to the pastorate. When he queried me on what my job entailed, I explained that I primarily did counseling, weddings and funerals. When he stated that he was sure weddings were more enjoyable than funerals, I surprised him with the fact that I prefer funerals. I believe death is where real life exists. Stripped of pretense in situations of incredible loss, the only things that remain are relationships with those around us and the God who created us. Ruben made an acute observation. “You are obviously doing something you love.”

As I pondered this truth, he switched gears. “I’ve been thinking lately about moving in that direction, but…” He trailed off in mid-sentence.

“What direction?” This conversation had just veered from the ordinary.

“Towards God.” Ruben’s eyes met mine.

“But…”, I echoed his previous hesitation.

He related a past mired in painful wounds inflicted by religious leaders. He wanted to learn more about God, but didn’t want to get hurt again.

Fifteen minutes was all that remained between us, but those were fifteen holy minutes. I explained the difference between men who failed him and a God who loves him. Between religions that fall short and a relationship that is real. I jotted on a napkin the names of a couple of books that he enthusiastically agreed to read.  He insisted he put my beer on his tab and asked if I wanted anything else. I sensed he didn’t want me to leave. In a very short amount of time, we had forged a bond borne of authenticity.

God did not suddenly take notice of Ruben. He had been pursuing him long before our meeting. He had been preparing Ruben’s heart for that moment and many other moments. As for me, well I thought I was just killing time before my flight. God knew otherwise. He is constantly orchestrating divine appointments, yet I cruise through life like it’s about me.

Next time you think you’re just killing time, ask God what he is up to. Maybe you’re just running an errand, or just going to lunch, or just going to work. Don’t be lulled into a mundane sense of life. The God of this universe intends to use you in the lives of those you come into contact with. Ask him to pull back the curtain on what he is doing. You’ll be amazed. I know I am.