The Danger of a Melted Heart

"Nevertheless my brethren that went up with me made the heart of the people melt:  but I wholly followed the Lord my God."  Joshua 14:8

In his autobiography, Joshua includes the story of the conquering of Canaan, probably the key event of his entire leadership career.  Joshua actually approached Cannan twice:  Once as a spy, accompanied by eleven other men; and later as a leader, circling the city of Jericho and watching the walls tumble. 

It is Joshua's first encounter with Canaan that he refers to in Joshua 8:14 (first told in Numbers 13 and then Deuteronomy 1).  Even at the end of his life, he still remembered those "melted hearts," when ten spies came back with an evil report of the dangers lurking in God's promised land and influenced an entire nation to turn its back on God.  Without bragging, Joshua simply observed, as he looked back all those years later, "But I wholly followed the Lord my God." Over and over, that phrase recurs as the overarching theme of Joshua's life and leadership. 

Have you ever felt that awful sickness of a "melting heart"?  It almost always comes at the heels of bad news (sometimes sudden; sometimes progressively bad), confirming the legitimacy of our discouragement.  No one can deny our bleak circumstances---and suddenly, we find ourselves fighting an inward battle that is almost worse than the events that drove us to this darkness. 

What are the dangers of a melted heart?  And even more importantly, what is its cure?

1.  A melted heart accuses God. 

Deuteronomy gives the play by play.  God explains in 1:27, "And ye murmured in your tents, and said, Because the Lord hated us, he hath brought us forth out of the land of Egypt, to deliver us into the hand of the Amorites, to destroy us."

Someone has said, "Our mind is our battlefield."  In their tents, they accused God of hating them.  In our homes, in our cars, in our back yards--in our minds--is where we find the danger of the melted heart lurking.  Does God love me as much as He loves people who are getting blessed?  Why is God asking this of me?  Why is God being so unfair in my life? 

"In this thing, ye did not believe the Lord your God."  Unbelief is accusation. 

2.  The melted heart disobeys. 

Just as marijuana has been called the "gateway drug," since its addiction leads to other, even more dangerous, addictions, discouragement could easily be called the "gateway sin."  How many temptations begin with discouragement? 

Discouragement has often been blamed for tempting people to get out of church faithfully, praying faithfully, giving regularly to the Lord's work, and sharing Christ.  Discouraged Christians are more likely to return to old vices and habits that they once gave up.  Under the influence of the "melted heart," Christians find an increased temptation to reach for the cigarette or the online gambling they thought they had overcome.  Even swearing, profanity, poor viewing habits, and unwise friendships all can easily be traced to a season of "melting heart," where one's faith in God was diminished by discouragement. 

Joshua's observation, "But I wholly followed the Lord my God," is more than a life story. It's also a cure.  Obedience is the ultimate self-encouragement! 

3.  The melted heart has the power to make us vicious. 

Within a short time, the Israelites went from crying (Numbers 14:1) to attempting to stone Moses and Aaron (Numbers 14:10)!  Were it not for a miracle of God, they would have succeeded.

The melted heart can be vicious.  Threatened with pain and fear, we want to lash out at others.  Cloaked with the entitlement that victimhood often brings, we retaliate at whoever we can find to blame for not doing enough to stop this.  Clouded by our own sense of suffering or impending catastrophe, we find it hard to feel the pain of others.  Numbness replaces compassion. 

I have been surprised at that viciousness when it has surfaced in my own heart.  Discouragement is often the "accepted sin," until I suddenly find myself thinking dangerously harsh thoughts about others who don't always understand my dilemmas.  Then the danger of the melted heart becomes clear:  I hurt others when I let discouragement rule my own heart. 

Joshua said it best:  "But I wholly followed the Lord my God."  He saw the giants too.  But he let his eyes travel higher than the giants.  Above the giants, he saw a big God.  Keep looking up.  Don't be a melted heart. 

Decluttering the Blogs

Someone has observed that opinions are like armpits—everybody’s got ‘em.  Thanks to the internet, it’s never been easier for us to share our opinions.  And in a world that seems overrun by current events and contentious conversations, it’s getting harder and harder to tell the difference between the opinions and the armpits.  The good news:  We’ve got deodorant for the latter.   

 

One of the easiest ways to convey an opinion—besides social media—is now through blogging and online articles.  The long process of free lancing, with the rigors of editors, a magazine staff, and stiff competition, is now just a few hours long for those of us who choose to blog.  As a result, we are able to react to current events immediately.  Opinions upon opinions, many of them long on emotion and short on facts, get passed around like gospel truth.  I’m sure that over the years, my own social media page has been home to a few of those articles. 

 

How can we protect ourselves from sensationalism and emotionalism?  Like a hotel maid who can maneuver a messy room and deal only with the wet towels and carpet crumbs without disturbing my valuables strewn all over the dresser, it sure helps to know how to de-clutter a blog and still salvage the truth.   What is the clutter I can try to maneuver past in search of the salient points? 

 

1.  Over-emphasis on anecdotal evidence. 

 

Jesus used stories to support His teachings (parables), and every good writer uses support material.  Most of us appreciate the efforts of pastors who illustrate their points with relevant stories.  But stories themselves cannot make the point.  Being urged to share with all your Facebook friends about the little boy who died after his vaccine—or the other little boy who died from not getting a recommended vaccine—is sensationalism.   There is usually at least one critical element missing from every emotionally-charged story. And even stories that are not lacking information cannot stand alone without data.  Remember:  Every story has a counter-story.    

 

Additionally, it is common nowadays to enhance the anecdotal evidence with close relationships.  While the person closest to a tragedy may have the most emotion invested in an issue, emotion alone does not automatically make him the most qualified to speak on it. In fact, if objectivity means anything at all, grieving family members are often the least qualified to speak on a subject, since grief can have a terribly distorting effect on our outlook.  I wish the media would stop treating grieving families like props in political campaigns. 

 

2.  Attacks of personalities.   

 

Current issues have a tendency to become linked forever to certain individuals.  There’s a lot not to like about George Zimmerman—such as the fact that he went on, after his famous victory in the Treyvon Martin case, to get accused of pointing a gun at his own girlfriend!  But my view of the second amendment and “Stand Your Ground” laws goes way beyond anything George Zimmerman does.  In current events, the issue of judicial overreach and state rights is still worth discussing amiably, without bothering to stop and tangle over Kim Davis’ religion, divorces, and history of bearing children without the benefit of marriage.  Beware of bloggers who give unbridled support of certain personalities to represent their “cause,” or—conversely, use the personal failings of famous personalities to prove an entire ideology wrong.   Truth sometimes lurks in the most unlikely of places.  Most of the issues that have steered the history of our country, for both good and bad, involved characters whose personal lives might surprise us.  The truth itself is bigger and stronger than the frail humans who transport it from one generation to the next. 

                      

3.  Dependance upon popularity.

 

Possibly the most annoying of all is the use of polling statistics to sway reader opinion.  Whatever happened to standing alone for what you believe?  It is illegitimate debate to tell me how many people believe in global warming, gun control, drinking, or the sighting of Elvis Presley at a Moto Mart in Memphis.  People have been wrong before—in pretty big numbers, actually.  Noah’s ark had only eight people in it.  I like to do my own thinking, even if that happens to put me in the minority. 

 

4.  Over-citation of credentials.

 

Our friends in the media are very careful to interview “experts” who like to sit down and tell us what to think about just about everything from the stock market to genetically modified food.  While we are all very thankful for the many qualified scientists and lawyers who use their knowledge and professions honorably, there’s still no reason to hand your brain over to someone just because he spent twelve years in college. 

 

What I find most troubling is the tendency to use religious credentials in order to prove a point.  Church size, advanced degrees, and even book authorships do not guarantee that someone is automatically an expert at all things Biblical.  Remember, it’s even possible to have theological credentials without actually knowing the Lord as Savior! 

 

5.  Oversimplification of complex issues.

 

One of the key marks of a dishonest writer is the inability to acknowledge that this world is not always a tidy place to live.  A few weeks ago, I was reading a thread where a pastor was defending his decision to send his children to the local public school.  He felt it had been a good experience for his children in learning to stand up for their beliefs. Although we choose to homeschool, I was still interested in his thoughts—both as a graduate of a public high school and also as a mother trying to teach my children to be strong in the expression of their faith in Christ.  Another pastor entered the conversation and asked, “Would you feel differently if your daughter went to the school in Hillsboro, Missouri (where a transgendered boy is demanding to use the girls’ restrooms)?”  Immediately, the first pastor responded, “Nope.  It would be a good experience for them.”  At that point, he lost me.  Glibly waving a dismissive hand across that whole disturbing situation in Hillsboro reflects an unwillingness to acknowledge that the opposition can offer a valid point.  An honest writer is willing to acknowledge pesky evidence. 

 

6.  Irresponsible use of the Bible.

 

Contrary to the impression we often get from our local Christian bookstores, the Bible is more than just a collection of inspirational quotes.  It is a library of sixty-six books, and it was meant to be read, over time, in its entirety. 

I cringe when I hear people making fun of obscure or difficult Bible verses—not because it makes the Bible look bad, but because it makes them look bad.  Despite what President Obama said a few years ago about the book of Leviticus, the apostle Paul told Timothy that “all Scripture is . . . profitable.”  Bloggers who can dismiss entire portions of the Bible have no business quoting the verses they do like.  While the genealogies, ceremonial laws, and dietary instructions for the Old Testament Jews may seem like outdated vestiges as we happily skip over to the Psalms, the entire Bible still has a direct relationship to our lives and how we view and worship God today, even though we are no longer bound to eschew pork or blended fabrics.  When we find ourselves wondering why certain verses are in the Bible (as we all do every once in a while!), it just means that we have found another area where we still have to grow as students.  It does not prove that there are certain books of the Bible that can be set on a shelf and treated like antiques—or, worse, laughed at. 

 

 

Those are just a few things to think about, as you and I maneuver our way through the millions of bytes of data each day, trying to gain perspective or just to hear out the other side of an issue we are passionate about.  When truth gets buried, we all lose—even if it’s our own ideas that bury it. 

Simple Simon

As a mother, I am horrified by the Ashley Madison story, as I’m sure is every other mom out there.  400 pastors resigning?  32 millions accounts—including one of the most famous homeschoolers in America?  It’s impossible to sift through all the damage that has been done and find a direct cause and effect among that many tragedies.  But we do well to stop and analyze ourselves instead in the wake of such a scandal.  “If ye would judge yourselves, ye would not be judged,” Jesus said.  Is there some way we as mothers can empower our sons to withstand the fiery darts of the devil?

 

The story of the Simple Man in Proverbs 7 sheds some light.  Although this is the story of an adulterous woman, the word “lust” never actually shows up in Proverbs 7.  In fact, other than knowing that the harlot is dressed in attire to attract the wrong kind of ambitions, we know very little else about the mindset of the man she conquers. 

 

Except for one thing:  That he is simple. 

 

What lies does the Simple Man believe?  And how can we avoid teaching those lies to our sons, long before any harlot shows up?  Verse five lumps them together as “flattery.”  Listen to the lies: 

 

The Simple Man starts by believing too much good about himself.  It’s impossible to be humble and flattered at the same time.   The harlot appeals to pride by pretending that the Simple Man is “special,” that he is better than the rest of the men.  “Therefore came I forth to meet thee, diligently to seek thy face, and I have found thee.”  She wants him, he believes, and singles him out for his attractive qualities.  Actually, she singles him out because he is a fool who can easily be caught.  And when she is done with him, she will move on to the next one.   

 

It’s actually an easy lie to teach.  Giving high school P.E. credits in homeschool for “playing the Wii”; letting a child get away with cheating—in a public school classroom or taking a quiz at the kitchen table; granting special privileges to a child just because he is the pastor’s kid, or because he is rich, or because he is athletic; rewarding children with too much praise for too little effort:  The flattery is subtle.  And ruinous.  It is terribly unhelpful to let children grow up feeling “more special” than everyone else. 

 

Secondly, the Simple Man does not understand consequences.  “He goeth after her straightway . . . and knoweth not that it is for his life . . .”  He thinks this is a one-night event.  Somewhere along the way, he has stopped believing in consequences.  He still believes his internet history can be cleared without a trace.  He believes he is smarter than the wife, parents, children, or employer who might be alarmed to discover what he is doing.  Maybe he even believes he can talk his way out of the outrage he deserves, should he ever get caught. 

 

It is dangerous to let children grow up believing that “rules are for other people.”   Yes, make that child return the money he stole, with a contrite apology.  Make him clean up the mess he and his friends just created by throwing crab-apples into someone else’s yard.  Don’t argue with the teacher when your child can’t go on the field trip because his grades were too poor or because he didn’t follow directions.  And when the kids at school or church don’t like him because he is a bully, or a whiner, or a thief, stop expecting other parents and teachers to force friendships where common sense has produced necessary loneliness.  All kids are sinners.  Even compliant children are eventually faced with their own depravity, and when that happens—do you sweep it under the rug, teaching your child to expect special favors in life because he is “nice” and “cute”?  That flattery works ruin—sometimes many years after the original event has been forgotten. 

 

I have a phrase I use all the time at church with the kids in my class.  Some of them come from homes where rules are flexible and consequences are negotiable, where adults are easily manipulated with tears and persistent arguing.  So I tell them, “I don’t change my mind.”   And then I don’t.  J  (They catch on pretty quickly.)  Don’t let his manager at McDonald’s be the first “wall” he ever met.   Consequences are much easier to teach to small children than big ones.

 

Finally, the Simple Man believes he can be satisfied while disrespecting a woman and her vows.  “Let us take our fill of love,” she whispers. “The goodman is not at home.”  Fill?  The pornography industry thrives because there is no fill.  It’s a bottomless pit, all the while destroying the appetite of once-normal people until they can no longer even appreciate the natural gifts God has given humanity.  “Her house is the way to hell, going down to the chambers of death.”   Pornography fosters flattery, deceiving men that they somehow deserve what the harlots are selling.  And the ruin of pornography is a form of death—quietly killing natural desire and destroying trust and character. 

 

King Solomon was taught what kind of woman to pursue—from his mother, Bathsheba, in Proverbs 31.  Bathsheba makes an intriguing Bible character to study.  She makes her debut into Bible history with the tragedy of adultery and the subsequent murder of her first husband, Uriah.  But from there, thanks to genuine repentance, she is actually regarded as a protagonist.  She raised a good man (Solomon), who was given the great privilege of reigning over Israel and eventually building God’s temple.  And in a remarkable tribute to the grace of God, she is found in the geneology of Jesus Christ.

 

What fascinates me most about Bathsheba, though, is what she taught Solomon about women.  Through illustrations in Proverbs 31:10 - 31, she sets Solomon on course to find a woman of virtue, loyalty, goodness, hard work, discernment, initiative, generosity, financial acumen, foresight, strength, thoroughness, compassion, courage, creativity, and honor!  Bathsheba, who once attracted the attention of King David by taking a bath on top of her roof, sets Solomon on course to find the inner beauty of a godly wife.  The woman who surely still felt the sting of old grief over the death of Solomon’s older brother (due to chastisement from God) finishes her essay with this finale:  “Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain:  But a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.”  Look at the heart, Solomon.  Look at her heart. 

 

Moms, like Bathsheba, we can empower our sons to courageously face the deceit of pornography by training their eyes toward the heart.  Pornography is a respect problem.  We protect our sons from the lie of disrespect by cultivating in them an appreciation for the women in their lives and calling out of them a sense of honor and protection, not debate, pride, and harm. Allowing our sons to belittle and disrespect us sets them up to disrespect the other women in their lives as well. 

 

Years ago, I was talking with a mom when her son happened to come in from playing basketball with my kids.  She asked him to keep an eye on his younger brother, but instead he shouted back angrily and slammed the door on his way out.  She shrugged in defeat and continued her conversation.  Mom, it’s not just about how they treat us!  The way we allow our sons to treat us will be what they expect to dish out to their wives someday.

 

We don’t have to raise a generation of Simple Simons. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why Do You Do What You Do?

You are familiar with the story of the three Hebrew boys (from Daniel 3) who were thrown into a fiery furnace for refusing to bow down to Nebuchadnezzar’s golden image.  Among the many lessons that emerge from that story of courage is a powerful, three-word sermon that addresses one of the great errors of the church today:  “But if not.” 

 

When Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were hauled before Nebuchadnezzar to answer for their refusal to bow down to his image, this was the answer they gave:  “Our God, Whom we serve, is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and He will deliver us out of thine hand, O king.  But if not, be it known unto thee, O king, that we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up.”

 

But if not. 

 

Would you still pray, even if God said no to your request?  Would you still go to church, and give God a tithe (ten percent) of your income, even if God did not increase your profits this year? 

 

Would you still obey God in your personal life, even if God allowed you to remain in the shadows?  Would you still choose to live a pure life, even if God never sent you a marriage partner? 

 

Why do you do what you do?

I fear that the church has fallen prey to a subtle idol—one that would demand righteous activities, but with a very false motivation.  Comfortable in our prosperity, I’m afraid we have forgotten that the highest purpose of doing right is not so that I can obtain more earthly comfort and earthly praise for myself.  In fact, this short life is not about me at all.   It’s about Jesus. 

 

When I was in college, there was a girl on my hall who was having a crush on my brother’s roommate.  Since we all hung around together, I suppose she thought I had “connections” and could encourage a relationship.  She suddenly wanted to be “close friends” with me, offering to drive me off campus, buying me donuts while I was at work, and even throwing a surprise birthday party for me. 

 

Sadly for her, I had no connections.  My brother’s roommate was free to choose whomever he wanted to date, without my input or persuasion.  He chose someone else.  The parties and the donuts disappeared. 

 

Kind deeds, fueled by false motives, aren’t kind. 

 

Going to church, reading the Bible, giving generously to the Lord’s work, avoiding substances that harm the body, and a hundred other noble works, done so that God might notice and throw out His benefits on us, are no more loving to our Savior than throwing a birthday party for someone in hopes that it will earn you a boyfriend.  That’s not love; it’s manipulation. 

How often this poor philosophy has been peddled to unsuspecting customers! Teenagers are told to avoid fornication so they don’t get pregnant or contract disease.  Wives are told to submit to their husbands’ leadership so that he will be kinder to them and appreciate them more.   Church members are told to tithe and avoid working overtime on Sunday because God will bless them with riches.    

 

The three Hebrews, standing before King Nebuchadnezzar, were prepared to do right and burn anyway.  “But if not . . . we will not serve thy gods.” 

 

Would you tithe even if your finances did indeed indicate a decrease of ten percent at the end of the year?  Would you decline an overtime opportunity that would remove you from church, even if God simply met your needs this year and did not choose to increase your riches? 

 

Would you avoid fornication and live a pure life, just because God said to (II Timothy 2:22), not because there was any measurable immediate benefit?  Would you submit to your husband’s leadership, just because God commanded it (Ephesians 5:22), even if your husband still chose to use his free will to be unjust and unkind? 

 

God promises to honor those who honor Him, but we don’t get to dictate the terms of God’s honor.  It is short-sighted and earthly-minded to tell God how He must bless us if we obey, and that the blessing must all happen right now, here on earth.  Much of the honor God promises is not going to happen until heaven. 

 

While we are so busy claiming honor and comfort down here, we have forgotten how live with the Bema seat in mind.  When I stand before that judgment seat of Christ, and He sets fire to all my works, only those things done for Christ and through His power will remain.  For all of eternity, I will present Christ with those remains, casting the rewards at His feet over and over again.  

 

And at that moment, I will be consumed with only one thought:   Was I motivated by love for Christ, or was I motivated by earthly gain?  The rewards will tell the whole story.   

 

 

 

 

The Danger of Expecting To Be Understood

I remember a conversation I had, many years ago, with a friend who was experiencing a deep trial.  It seemed that at every turn, someone was accidentally saying or doing something that opened new wounds for them.  In frustration, they said to me, “People don’t understand!”   And I couldn’t argue.  Their unique trial was something I barely understood myself.  Yet those words have haunted me for well over a dozen years:  “People don’t understand!” 

 Sometimes we don’t understand because we are thoughtless.  Pride is clumsy and unwieldy in the presence of injury, like a freshman medical student doing brain surgery.  Certainly we have all been bruised by the careless advice of friends who assumed they understood our hurt, who thought they were experts at our trial just because of their keen observation skills.   We timidly unveiled our hurts or fears, and they swooped in like barking sea gulls at a picnic, offering to sell us a health product, or sharing some inspirational tidbit they read on Facebook.  Like the Lawn Chair Drone that surprisingly penetrated White House security fencing, the most inept among us somehow manage to stumble wildly into the enclosed places of our hearts that wise friends gently leave alone.   Sometimes, thoughtlessness really is a punishable crime. 

 But there are times in life when even good people just can’t understand.  They have never been “us.”  We try to explain.  We feed them lots of articles and “raise awareness.”  We educate everyone around us on our needs, and we judiciously seek to protect ourselves from misunderstanding.  But try as they might, a hundred articles and a hundred conversations later, even the best among us still don’t get it. 

 If we are not careful, Danger slithers into a comfortable resting spot and lurks silently, buried underneath our search for understanding.  Ever watchful, he waits patiently for his opportunity to strike.   A wrong word, a misplaced question, or a missed phone call on a tough day, and he will uncoil and punish with venom that will take everyone by surprise.  Suddenly, they will learn what pain is all about!  Now we can all be miserable together. 

Bitterness.  The word itself rattles and hisses. 

The cool shade of loneliness in suffering that was meant to be a sanctuary where no one could find us but Jesus has now become the swampy headquarters of an enemy who wants us dead.  A soft bed of rotting leaves and humus should have made a couch, hidden behind the brush and weeds, concealing us from the curious and the careless.  In the murky shade where no one could see, we would meet the One whose nail prints are still a mystery to us.  And there in our dark place, the One Who has never been understood would understand. 

But instead, we often give our shady spot away to the serpent.  Sitting on the prickly briars of unmet expectations, we trade healing for accusations.  In the words of a man well-acquainted with bitterness, “They that observe lying vanities forsake their own mercy.”  From his make-shift seminary next to a withered gourd,  Jonah admonishes us four thousand years later:  Bitterness may seem to be your right, but that’s poison you’re drinking.

We all live with the fact that others truly don’t always understand.  Awkward questions; the noisy silence of a mind racing for answers in a funeral home; clichés that crash across our pain; an empty mailbox that reminds us that other lives have moved on:  Those are the mossy branches and the grape vines that overarch your precious shady spot. 

Don’t let the serpent steal your spot.  You have a Friend waiting there, underneath the quiet umbrella of loneliness and misunderstanding. 

 

 

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A Graduation Message to Our Twins

Dear Jessica and Jonathan,

 

Nineteen years ago, Dad got up on a Sunday morning and announced to the church that we had a “visitor” who was coming to stay with us for eighteen years, due to arrive that fall.  We later learned that our “visitor” was bringing a friend to join us for that eighteen year sojourn.  And now your rooms are overflowing  with suitcases, mountains of clothes, electronics,  and last-minute projects.  Amazingly, much faster than any of us anticipated, your odyssey here is closing as you embark on a new adventure. 

 

My mind races back to those early days of homeschool.  Printed alphabet letters on the wall, fat crayons, and numbers charts marked the beginning of that long era.  And every day, we started out with a Bible verse.  Do you remember it?  “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, DO IT with thy might!”  You would pound your little fists on the table for emphasis, as though noise could factor in and increase your determination to master cursive writing and those infamous flash cards that almost brought all three of us to tears. 

 

And that is the sermon I hand back to you, and entire education later:  “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do DO IT with thy might!”

 

You already know that this world is teeming with smart, athletic, beautiful, and charismatic people.  They finish seasons with trophies, and they garner publicity and praise just for being attractive or funny.  But you may be surprised to learn that the future does not automatically grant its custody to the gifted.  The future belongs to the determined, to those willing to invest resourcefully with whatever small gift they brought into this world, and to keep going.  And going.  And going.  The future belongs to the ones willing to get back up on Monday morning. 

 

If I could give you one tool that would embolden you to stand back up when the world wants to flatten you; to talk yourself into finishing when the entire universe tells you to quit; to defy the circumstantial evidence that would invite you to despair, and to rise again into victory, it would be this:  Trust in the Lord with all thine heart. 

 

Do you hear the little fists pounding the table?  With all thine heart.  With all thy might.  Of all the missions you will face in this next adventure, the most important is this one thing:  Trust in the Lord.  If you pour your zeal, and every last ounce of determination into trusting the Lord, you will find the strength in Him to run your race “with all thy might.”  It starts with trusting the Lord.

 

Trust Him when you are on top of your game, when you have the world by the tail.  Some of life’s most unexpected turns lurk in those sunny days when we think nothing could touch us.  “Lean not on thine own understanding.”

 

Trust Him when things go wrong.  Trust Him when all your plans seem to dissolve, and when you don’t know what to do next. 

 

Trust Him when you feel the security and ease of having plenty.  Trust God enough to give back to Him rather than hoarding the resources He has blessed you with. 

 

Trust Him when money is scarce, when you don’t know how you will pay bills.  God “pleadeth the cause of the poor.”  You can trust Him to supply your needs.  Your greatest victories  in life will often start with a story of “need.” 

Trust Him when you are injured.  Trust Him to give you charity for those who hurt you—by their words, by their silence, by their actions.  Trust Him to teach you how to love your enemies, how to pray for your abusers.  Remember what they said about Jesus when He hung on the cross?  “He trusted God.”  Let your enemies suspect the same of you. 

 

Trust Him when you need wisdom.  Jesus is not just a supporting actor in your play.  He wrote the play.  Follow His script.  Let Him tell you what to do next.  

 

Trust Him to enable you to do right.  Every failure of character we experience is the result of self-dependence.  Faith is your shield. 

 

Wherever God’s will takes you in this next great adventure of life, trust Him with all your heart, with all your might. 

 

“He it is that doth go with thee.  He will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.” 

 

We love you and count it an honor to be your parents! 

What Christmas Teaches Us about Easter

This holy week, when all the world stops to reflect on the life, death, and resurrection of our Savior—when even secular atheists cannot muster the strength to forget what this season means to the rest of us—I am reminded that the central meaning of Christ’s resurrection is actually defined through the Christmas we celebrated just a few short months ago. 

 

The Christmas holiday season, for all of its excess and materialism, still teaches us what it means to be good givers.  If it’s truly the “hap-happiest time of the year,” it’s only because, for once, we spend an entire month scheming how to show love to others.  We set aside money that should have paid for necessities, and somehow we squeeze pennies out of worn out dollar bills, just to share with those we love. 

 

To give well is to risk well.  We hope our earnest effort will not find itself left untouched at the end of the day, tags intact while other favorite gifts steal the show.  Children shop carefully and linger long at the Dollar Tree, squeezing their hard-earned quarters and shyly wondering whether Mom will like their choice of nail polish, or if Dad will try out his new hanky on Christmas Day.   

 

Sometimes we get nervous when it’s time to present the gifts we’ve worked so hard to prepare.  Something inside of us can’t bear the disappointment of seeing our labor of love get set aside carelessly, as the recipient gladly moves on to something more interesting.  We just want our gift to be accepted—not purchased from us, not discarded, not ignored.  Just received gladly. 

 

And that’s how Christmas teaches us the story of the resurrection.

There was a Giver Who loved the world.  He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. 

 

That Son “came unto His own, and His own received Him not.”  They hunted Him down in a garden one late night, where he prayed in agony.  They dragged Him into a mock court, where liars were coerced to witness against Him.  He was blindfolded while Roman soldiers slapped him and challenged Him to identify them.   And then he was scourged—beaten with whips that tore His body with hidden pieces of glass, leaving His “visage so marred, more than any man.”   The next morning, they crucified Him. 

 

“But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities,” Isaiah reminds us.  “The chastisement of our peace was upon Him: and with His stripes we are healed.”    

 

The tomb was guarded in a round-the-clock vigil by Roman soldiers, thanks to the urging of the priests:  “Command therefore that the sepulchre be made sure until the third day, lest His disciples come by night and steal Him away.”  Pilate’s orders were clear:  Seal and guard the tomb “as sure as ye can.”  Despite every measure taken by a competent military that had managed to achieve world conquest by 27 B.C., they failed miserably on that third day. The death-machine of the Roman army could not sustain its power in the presence of the One with nail prints.  For Christians around the world—in free lands as well as in persecuted countries—that resurrection is celebrated every single Sunday of the year, not just at Easter.  Forgiven sinners simply cannot stop celebrating their liberation from sin and guilt. It is the singlular reason we have hope.  Paul said that without that resurrection, we are “of all men most miserable.” 

 

And our salvation through that Resurrected One is a gift. 

 

The price of this gift of salvation is beyond our imagination.  For all of his eloquence, penning over half of the New Testament, the Apostle Paul simple calls it God’s “unspeakable gift.”  There are no words. 

Paul later reminds us that this gift of salvation cannot be enhanced with human effort.  “It is the gift of God.  Not of works, lest any man should boast.”    A gift that has been paid for by the recipient is no longer a gift.  At best, it is a Dutch treat.  At worst, it is an insult.  Salvation can be obtained only as a gift.  There are no other options. 

 

Salvation is a gift not to be tweaked, not to be bought with the dull pennies and  dimes of our pitiful human effort.  Those who would add to the finished work of Christ, “being ignorant of God’s righteousness, and going about to establish their own righteousness, have not submitted themselves to the righteousness of God.”  

 

Only God is qualified to pay for our salvation.  We undermine and destroy this gift when we offer to pay for it with the pocket-change and pebbles of our “good works.”  Jesus said, “There is none good, but One.  That is God.”  If being a church member, or getting baptized, or donating my worldly goods could wash my sins away, salvation would no longer be a gift obtained only through the work of Christ on the cross.  Pennies and dimes.  Pebbles and pocket change. 

 

Salvation is a gift not to be ignored as we greedily hunger for the temporal and ignore the spiritual.  “For today is the day of salvation,” warns  Paul.  We don’t have a guarantee of tomorrow.  The author of Hebrews notes, “It is appointed unto men once to die, and after this, the judgment.”    

 

The Christmas season may have taught us what it means to be a good giver, but Easter is the story of being a good receiver.   “But as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His name.”  (John 1:12).

 

Have you received God’s “unspeakable gift”?  Have you received forgiveness from the perfect Lamb of God, “Which taketh away the sin of the world?”  Have you set aside your own righteousness and asked Jesus to wash you and hide you in His righteousness instead?    

 

“But whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.”  (Romans 10:13). 

 

Because salvation is not for givers.  It is only for receivers. 

 

 

The Test

I remember some mischief a friend and I got into during a Sunday morning service when I was about thirteen years old.  We were just old enough to sit in church in a row toward the front, where our parents could spy on us to make sure we were listening to the sermon.  Unfortunately for our parents, we were sitting just enough out of reach to be corrected.  And here is where our story begins . . .

 

Toward the beginning of the sermon, one of the girls in our row leaned over and handed an “Intelligence Quiz” to another friend on the other side of me.  The quiz listed several easy instructions, and the lucky test-taker who could complete the entire list without fail would prove to be “intelligent.” 

 

Here is the list: 

 1.  Using a pencil, draw a circle around a quarter 10 times.

2.  Pick up the quarter.

3.  Roll the quarter from your chin to your forehead, without dropping it.

4.  Roll the quarter back down, without dropping it. 

5.  Roll the quarter from one ear to the other and back again, without dropping it. 

 

Handily, we happened to have a quarter (probably someone’s offering) and a pencil.  How lucky for us!  My friend took the test with all due diligence.  And it was there in the fifth row of church, on a Sunday morning, that I realized what the point of the test really was.  (I would encourage you to take the test if you have any questions.)  I’m sure the pastor was a little startled to look down from his pulpit and spy a young teenage girl with a penciled “cross” drawn across her face.  He shared good company with some startled parents as well. 

 

Not all tests reveal only what is listed on the paper.  Jesus gives a test like that in Matthew 5:44.  “But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.”  Do you see the test?  It’s not a test of performance.  It’s a test and a cure for bitterness, all wrapped up in one.

 

We all have enemies, and we all struggle at times with bitterness.  I have--more than I want to admit.  Sometimes enemies hide their hatred for us behind “lying lips,” as Proverbs speaks.  And we hide our hatred back.  Nodding politely, even offering assistance at times—but hiding that secret hatred beneath the surface, despising any good report of our enemy, watching from a distance to make sure they fail.  Bitterness is ugly business because it sprays more graffiti on the vandal than the object. 

 

The commands of Christ always have a probing effect on us, exposing our hearts while we scurry around trying to fulfill an easy list of surface commands.  Tracing quarters, but missing the real “test behind the test.”  

 

Love your enemies.  There is hardly an end to the ways that people find to make themselves our “enemies.”   We are tempted to watch for opportunities to hurt back--maybe with just enough information passed along at the right time to damage a reputation, sometimes even recruiting allies to support our hatefulness. 

 

My tendency to be selfish is revealed when I compare my actions toward my enemies with the way I would purposefully treat someone I know I love.  Love is hard to hide—and so is the lack of love.  If I find that I just cannot love back—bitterness lurks.  Where the Holy Spirit wants to empower me to love, I am quenching Him.  Roots of bitterness are tangling up my heart, suffocating the work of Jesus.  There’s the test. 

 

Bless them that curse you.  To “bless” means to speak well of, to speak good things for the other person.  Proverbs 24:17 warns us that if we gloat when our enemies stumble, God will refrain from dispensing just punishment because of our hateful attitude.  God will not be made into my personal “hit-man.”  Vengeance truly is His. 

 

I have not been cursed (that I know of . . .).  But all of us have, at some point, been unfairly accused and gossiped about.  When we receive the startling news that someone has been hosting a “whisper campaign,” what is our response?

 

The words come too quickly, and we want to expose our enemy to the world. Many times the first place where bitterness surfaces is in the titles we give our enemies.  Teenagers with bitterness reduce their parents and teachers with titles like “old man” or just a last name.  Bitterness despises respectful titles. 

 

If everyone around me knows who my enemy is because of how I have spoken about him, I am bitter.  If I would be chagrined to hear a good report of my enemy, or if I work hard to straighten out the story to make him look bad, I am bitter. If I find satisfaction when bad things happen to my enemy, I am bitter.  If I question or dismiss any good thing my enemy does, because his awfulness is necessary to justify my hatred, then I am bitter.  No blessing to be found.  There’s the test. 

 

Do good to them that hate you.  There will always be haters.  If the world could hate Jesus, of course they will hate us!  They hate us for having an accent, or for having more money or better cars than they do.  They hate us for being from a certain city, for not knowing as much as they do, or for winning their prize in the contest.  To acknowledge that I have an enemy is to acknowledge that I have an assignment.  What good have I done for my enemy?  My selfish heart wants to settle for the easy way out: The silent treatment would be so painless.  On paper, we have done nothing wrong, but we have still neglected the central command:   Do something good.  If I were taken to court for loving my enemy, would there be enough evidence to convict me?  There’s the test. 

 

Pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.  Jesus was slapped and beaten.  He knows the pain of intentional direct hurt.  He doesn’t ask us to explain away other people’s evil motives and actions.  We aren’t asked to lie or creatively assign moral motives to malicious behavior.  We are commanded to pray for them.  And lest we give in to the temptation to pray only imprecatory prayers (“Let his children be fatherless!”), we are reminded still to “bless” even in our prayers.  God loves my enemies, even when I don’t.  God has a much bigger, better plan for my enemy than the life he is living right now—using and persecuting me.  I need to pray for God’s good plan to unfold in the life of my enemy.  I need to pray for his salvation and for him to find victory over the sin that is tripping him up right now.  I need to pray for mercy, as I hope that others pray for me when I fail so often.  “But it is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed,” Jeremiah lamented.  All of us. 

 

Bitterness is the ultimate form of judging.  It is impossible for me to be bitter at someone if I acknowledge that I am capable of his sin.  My self-righteous heart wants to resist:  “But I would never do or say that!”  Or maybe I would.  It is only my imagination that allows me to live in a world where I am better than my enemy.  Only the Lord’s mercies have prevented me from being consumed by His judgment. 

 

“He hath showed thee, O man, what is good;

and what doth the Lord require of thee,

but to do justly, and to love mercy,

and to walk humbly with thy God?” 

Micah 6:8.