I’ve been in a bit of a wrestling match with God lately, to borrow imagery from Jacob’s story in Genesis. He wrestled with “a man” all night and when the man saw he couldn’t prevail over Jacob, he simply touched his hip socket and put it out of joint. It’s widely held that the man was God or, at minimum, an angel sent by God. Who else could put a hip out of joint with just a touch?

Anyway, as the sun was beginning to rise and the man said he had to go, Jacob said he wouldn’t let him leave unless he blessed him. In response the man gave Jacob a new name, Israel, because he had “striven with God and with men” and prevailed.

Interesting that Jacob was said to prevail against God, when the man put his hip out of joint with a touch. Do you imagine this man could not have overtaken Jacob and won? Do you think he was unable to leave without blessing Jacob?

I don’t think so.

None of us could actually prevail against God, but we can be persistent and choose not to give up. I believe that’s why Jacob was said to prevail – he didn’t quit, even after his hip went out of joint, apparently. He walked with a limp for the remainder of his life.

If we live this life and wrestle our questions and troubles out with God, we, too, will walk with a metaphorical limp. We simply aren’t the same after we are forced into asking hard questions.

Where many people seem to go wrong is that they quit asking, quit wrestling, quit seeking God. They just harden their hearts and settle there. I believe He wants us to bring him all of our questions, frustrations, confusion, anger and pain.

One thing that has become important for me to remember is that Jesus told his followers that if they had seen him, they had seen God. Jesus is the lens through which we look at God. How did Jesus respond to pain and confusion? He didn’t walk away from honest seekers. He answered them, he brought relief, he wept, he restored, he told the truth, he exposed hearts – and he did sometimes say things that were difficult to hear.

The only people He seemed to shut down were the ones who already thought they had it all figured out. The ones who knew all the things but still missed the point. The ones who were setting up obstacles between men and God.

I can openly admit there are many things I don’t understand. Many of my assumptions and certainties have been shot to hell, and you know what? It’s hard but it’s really freeing.

“I don’t know.”

It’s not an answer we like to give, but say it with me one time: I don’t know.

There’s a humility that comes with not knowing all the answers. I know I have a long way to go in that department but I hope I’m becoming a more pleasant and loving person along the way.

I don’t have to debate you. I’m not going to wrestle with you over it. I will save my wrestling for God and submit to walking with a limp.

 

 

 

 

We are near the end of week three of Advent and I haven’t been able to put down any thoughts about what the third candle represents: Joy.

If you’ve been following the news it almost feels like an offense to speak of joy right now. With what’s transpiring in Syria and in Egypt, and many other places around the globe, it could sound heartless to talk of joy from my comfortable Kansas home. 

I’ve been out shopping for food and Christmas gifts, and now I’m eating a hot bowl of vegetable beef soup.

Yet, a world away a city is under siege, civilians are dying, sharing videos and tweeting their final words, and Christians have been killed for doing nothing other than daring to show up to worship Jesus. 

And I’m eating soup and drinking coffee and the world keeps spinning.

I’ve tried to look away, to avoid thinking about the awful things happening in our broken world. Many people tell us we ought to do just that, because we can’t fix it and it will steal our joy – and we shouldn’t let anything steal our joy. 

Really? They are running for their lives, watching loved ones die, bombs are exploding all around, and I can’t let that steal my joy?

What an affront that sentiment must be to people living in a kind of hell on earth.

Now, I agree, there are many things we might do well to close our ears to for a bit – I think we’ve all had our fill of American politics, scandal, celebrity drama and all the “news” that exists purely to make you angry and make them some cash.

But, when it comes to our fellow man, ought we tune it out? Is it too much for us to share in their sufferings, even if only in the tiniest way? Ought we allow our compassion muscles to atrophy out of self-preservation? 

Of course not.

Quite honestly there isn’t much we can physically do in these kinds of situations, but being willing to see it, and weep and pray over it, has much value, even if we can’t see it. [And where we can give financial and practical aid, let’s give it.]

But, what about joy? We can have joy right now and I believe those who endure persecution can have it, as well. 

In fact, I’ve heard interviews in which persecuted Christians (even ones who had lost loved ones) counted themselves blessed and joyful, because they had been chosen to share in the sufferings of Christ. Astounding. 

But lately I’ve been encouraged by another thought – a possibility. 

There are many of us who will never suffer the kinds of horrors our brothers and sisters in the Middle East are suffering, but we cry out alongside them, 

 Lord, how long? How long will this go on? How long until you establish peace? How long until you wipe away every tear?

There are those among us who don’t look away, who long for peace, who weep over the loss of life, the fear, the pain. 

There are those who are tortured by the question, “Why? Where are you, God?” [I believe these people are closer to Him than they realize.]

And here’s what I’ve been imagining. Paul spoke about the persecutions he endured as “light and momentary,” in light of the eternal glory they were preparing for him. 

One day I believe those who have been least, those who have been abused, persecuted, hungry, abandoned – those who turned to Jesus, who believed Him, who followed God based upon what was revealed to them, despite hardship – will be crowned with a glory beyond comprehension. 

Everything will be set right. There will be a reversal of fortune like we’ve never imagined. They will know Love. They will know Freedom. They will know Peace. They will know Joy.

And it will be our joy to see it unfold before our eyes and celebrate from the sidelines. 

I can honestly think of no greater joy than to see the last become first. 

May it be so, Lord. 

 

​I’m about to let you in on the strange inner workings of my mind. In case you hadn’t picked up on it yet, my thoughts can be kind of quirky.

Corban was home this morning, not feeling well, so we were watching some old Looney Tunes cartoons. We watched one in which Bugs Bunny wandered into Paul Bunyan’s garden.

[Quick primer on Paul Bunyan, in case you’ve forgotten: according to American folklore, he was a giant lumberjack who had an ox named Blue and did all sorts of amazing exploits, such as creating the Grand Canyon when he carelessly dragged his ax along the ground behind him.]

In the cartoon Bugs Bunny has clearly been traveling for some time and he decides to sit down and rest his “foot bones” for a while, but doesn’t know he’s in somebody’s garden. He leans back against a giant carrot, which is growing in Paul’s garden, but Bugs doesn’t immediately recognize it. 

The carrots there are so large that he can’t see them for what they are.

Finally, his sense of smell kicks in. Thinking he smells carrot, Bugs looks around, figures he’s discovered a carrot mine and, in true cartoon style, has carved out a mining rail system in a matter of minutes and is hauling out bits of carrot.

You may be asking, what on earth does this have to do with God? Great question.

The picture of Bugs Bunny and the carrot is a great metaphor for the way I think about God and the universe.

Seriously.

I remember lying on my bed when I was young trying to comprehend God, time, eternity (both past and future) and a universe without boundaries. And if there were boundaries, what’s beyond them? Can there be an end without a beginning on the other side? I would picture it like a never-ending spiral and give up out of frustration, with my mind blown.

Sometimes I imagine myself on our huge – yet relatively small – planet, out in space, orbiting the sun like an electron inside an atom, which is actually inside of God – as if we are so deeply part of someone so huge that we can’t see who He is.

I know, that sounds so out there. 

I’m not saying that’s the way things really are (it’s not good theology) but it’s my way of imagining something so big, that’s right in front of my face, but that I can only see in part.

And when we see in part, we don’t always know what to make of what we see.

We see pieces of things, we get bits of information and understanding, we see the things He has made, but God is so big that it can be hard to put it all together. There are some things that don’t make sense to us now, especially the hard things.

Some people are never able to come to grips with that, and, so, choose to believe He isn’t there at all. Some concoct theories and scientific philosophies that, in my view, are much harder to swallow than believing in a God who created the universe. 

But, if we could pan way out, if we could zoom to the edges of the universe, to the edge of time, what might we see? If we had the entire picture in view, I think we’d all probably say, 

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, wowwwwww.”

For now, however, we’re left with the Word, the Spirit and our senses to see in a glass dimly (we are not ill-equipped here). 

But, don’t let the gaps in the picture cause you to throw the whole thing out. He has left His mark on the whole creation, with its beauty, its order and its magnitude. 

He is not hiding as some might think.

In other words, if it looks like a carrot and smells like a carrot, it’s probably a carrot.

For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. For in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith for faith, as it is written, “The righteous shall live by faith.” For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse. Romans 1:16‭-‬17‭, ‬19‭-‬20 ESV

I’m sitting here, under a warm blanket, in our living room, which is lit only by our Christmas tree. I love the little white lights at night.  

I just read an article about a 7 year old girl and her mother in Aleppo, Syria, whose Twitter account suddenly went quiet today. There was one last ominous sounding tweet about their certain impending capture by the army, and nothing since. 

This strikes me today because it’s also the beginning of the second week of Advent, when we light the Peace Candle (in some traditions, today is the Love candle – either is fitting). 

In the beginning God created the earth and everything in it. We can argue about how long it took – whether it was literally six days, or whether it took more or less – but that’s not the point of Genesis 1.

The point is that God created all things with a purpose, a plan and a method in mind. God made people and then “God blessed them. And God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it, and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth.'” (Genesis 1:28)

We were put here to be in charge of the earth and everything in it, to oversee and care for it. We weren’t put here to dominate one another. 

But then, we did. 

We read of Adam and Eve and learn how people chose to have the knowledge of both good and evil. The next thing we learn is that Cain has killed his brother, in a fit of jealousy. He chose domination – and elimination of the competition – over love and it’s continued on throughout history. 

Then Jesus enters the scene.  

As He is building his “team” of twelve leaders, the mother of James and John approaches Jesus to ask if her sons can be Jesus’ two main men when He comes into His kingdom (she expected Him to overthrow the government and become the king of the country). 

He said, “You have no idea what you’re asking for. Do you really think you can handle that?” (slight paraphrase). James and John said, “Yep. No problem.”

Then Jesus called all twelve of them over and said this:

“You know that the rulers of the Gentiles Lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them.  It shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Matthew 20:25‭-‬28 ESV

Cricket. Cricket. 

Here’s the deal: part of the Gospel package is that we will be empowered, from the inside, to rule, not by might, not by sword, not by tank and machine gun, but by love. By serving in humility, and, quite possibly, not being noticed much at all. By washing feet not trampling people, and creation, underneath our feet. 

This is how revolution is to happen. This is who we are meant to be – this is what it is to be human, made in the image of God: to serve. 

God loves. He IS love. He IS peace. What we see in Jesus is startling humility and sacrifice. And that is what we are called to, as well – startling humility and sacrifice. 

We can only do this by the work of His Spirit, and that is part of the good news (Gospel): He has given us His transformative, empowering Spirit, to make us who we were always meant to be: His image bearers on the earth.

This stands in stark contrast to the power hungry leaders we see around the world. History is stained red by men who sought to dominate one another, by men who stole power and lorded it over each other. 

But, it is not to be so with us. It will not be so forever. There will be peace. As I light the Peace Candle this week, I’ll think about the 7 year old girl and her mother and I’ll remember who we were meant to be. I’ll pray for an end to the war in Syria. 

I’ll pray for an end to the war inside of me. I’ll pray that I grow in humility and meekness so that in my little world, I’ll lead by serving and loving. 

That’s how the world changes: one heart at a time, starting with you and me. 

I know, technically Sunday, November 27, was the first day of Advent, but for simplicity – so I can keep up with what day it is – I always start on December 1. 

We aren’t liturgical people – we’ve been part of nondenominational churches and groups for years – but journeying through Advent with our family is the best way I know to focus on the point of this holiday season. It’s easy for us, and our kids, to get caught up in all the fun stuff, forgetting Jesus. We don’t want to do that.

My kids look forward to it every year and have started referring to it as, “The Dark Thing.” They call it that because we always do the reading at night (with a yummy snack, of course) and I turn off all the lights. I do that so we can fully appreciate the candlelight.
How appropriate it is that they call it The Dark Thing, because that is precisely the situation the Son of God entered into when He came. 

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness, to bear witness about the light, that all might believe through him. The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world…And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. John 1:1‭, ‬4‭-‬7‭, ‬9‭, ‬14 ESV

That passage of Scripture has always gripped me. I think there’s so much packed into it that we cannot comprehend. 

The Word.

The full revelation of God. The provision of God. The glory of God made manifest.

It blows my mind. I’ve meditated on John 1 more than any other passage of Scripture, by far. 

The first candle we light during Advent is the Hope candle. “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.”  That’s what the Hope candle brings to mind. 

I’ve come to kind of distrust people who can’t acknowledge the darkness – those who are fearful of honest assessments of life, of the world, who are quick to shut others down when they share their pain. There are many good and joyful things happening all around us, but Creation still groans for the freedom from bondage to corruption. Advent is traditionally the season to think on that.

Of course we don’t want to fix our eyes on the darkness, but at the same time, the gospel is that there is darkness in the world, but Jesus has overcome it. There’s a new king. There’s a new way. There is hope. 

We don’t have to fear the darkness. We can look at it headlong, and maintain our joy and our peace and our hope, because darkness cannot overcome light. 

There are better days ahead.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” Revelation 21:1‭-‬5 ESV

Just a thought for the Church, for whomever of you wants to listen and engage on this topic:

In recent days I’ve been thinking that we need to remember the distinction between government and church. They are distinct entities with distinct functions and purposes.

When we read Chapter 13 of Romans, we hear Paul say that followers of Christ are to honor the governing authorities:

“Pay to all what is owed to them: taxes to whom taxes are owed, revenue to whom revenue is owed, respect to whom respect is owed, honor to whom honor is owed.” Romans 13:7

He says that Government, as a general rule, is a terror to evil, but will reward good conduct. Now, we know that doesn’t always happen, in practice – there are sometimes evil leaders.

In fact, when Paul penned this, Nero was the Caesar – the same one who eventually had Paul beheaded. The same one who demonized Christians in order to save his own life and power, such that severe persecution came upon them. Nero was one of history’s most evil rulers.

Having said that though, the ideal is that government would provide safety for its people, and hold back evil.

That is the job of government. Now to the church.

The church plays a very different role than government. Whereas ruling authorities are a terror to evil, the people of God are to pray for those who curse them.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’  But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,  so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. -Jesus, in Matthew 5

We are called to be light where there is darkness, to turn the other cheek, to go out among the nations to make disciples. Paul said:

“…All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.” 2 Corinthians 5:18‭-‬20 ESV

We are called Christ’s ambassadors, which means we represent him to the rest of the world. We re-present his life, which is a life laid down, not a sword taken up.

My concern, specifically, in all of the above, is that the American church is becoming more concerned with the sword (whether we take it up ourselves, or whether we demand the government’s use of it) than we are with being Christ’s ambassadors.

I have been guilty of this, too. It’s easy to become fearful in the face of unknowns, and with all the different voices telling us we need to be afraid, specifically of Muslim immigrants and refugees.

I’m just going to say this as plainly as I can:

We need to be careful that the Muslims of today don’t become the Jews, or the Japanese, of the last century.

With all the talk of making registries, and using the Japanese registry during World War II as a precedent (which eventually led to internment camps), we are on shaky ground.

That’s government territory, though. I pray they are wise and just in all their dealings, and will do what’s right before God. I don’t claim to have the mind of God on those things, or to know what He might approve.

My concern is with my purpose in all of this. As a church we need to remember that it’s our job to be light and to be representatives of Christ – not lead or encourage lynch mobs.

I’ve been in many church services where missions were celebrated – they tell stories of what goes on around the world, stories about people in the Middle East encountering Jesus in dreams – amazing stories. We pray for the nations, we pray “on earth, as it is in heaven,” for the Kingdom of God to grow.

We say, “We can’t all go, but we can help send,” and we pass the offering plate.

But – what if God begins to send the mission field to us? What if we don’t have to go very far at all to be among the nations? Are we okay with that? Are we up for the task? Because maybe that’s what’s happening. I don’t know for sure.

What I do know is that we can’t allow an entire people group to be demonized such that we no longer see them as individuals, made in the image of God, who God wants to touch. We can’t let fear lead.

Some of us may be called to be among those like Corrie ten Boom and Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Who knows? I certainly don’t wish for that, but are we willing?

For now, all I can do is pray and, with God’s help, stay kind and loving, as a follower of Jesus. One of our greatest weapons is love: love for God first, then love for people. All people. All nations. Every tribe, every tongue. All of them.

The short of it is this:

Government is a terror to evil.
The church is supposed to be a light in the midst of it.

May God strengthen us for the task.

This morning I was thinking, again, on the concept of being an overcomer. It’s something I can’t ever get too far away from, in my thinking about faith. It’s a concept that has different meanings, depending upon which denomination or group you’re affiliated with. 

My version is not the prosperity gospel rendition. My way of thinking about it is seen directly through the lens of suffering and doesn’t necessarily involve our circumstances changing. 

As followers of Jesus, we like to declare that we are overcomers, but I sometimes think we don’t realize how our overcoming often requires a death of some kind. 

Whether it’s the physical death of martyrdom, death to being right in favor of maintaining relationship with another person, or death to our pain, and our desire for justice, that forgiveness requires, death and overcoming are connected.

We overcome evil and a broken world system, by not giving in to it, by rising above it, empowered by the Spirit of God in us. The funny thing is that we rise above by going low. Humility is what elevates us.

What a paradox. It sounds upside down but the “Jesus way” goes totally against the grain. Holding fast to our testimony that God is good, is how we overcome – it’s what enables us to do it.

If Jesus overcame by way of death, why would we expect any less? BUT, it’s a death unto a resurrection.

That’s the promise in everything we die to:

Blessed, happy, is she who is poor in spirit, who mourns, is meek, is merciful, is a peacemaker, etc, for she is being prepared for an eternal glory that is beyond compare.

When I think about it like that, it changes everything. 

We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:8‭-‬12‭, ‬17‭-‬18