Sometimes I despair at the indwelling sin in Christians’ lives which seems so firmly anchored that nothing could dislodge it. It is helpful to hear Driscoll say, “We ought not be surprised when sinners sin;” but are we not also saints? Does God not promise to perfect those who are being made holy? Yes, with God all things are possible (do I really believe this?), but why do I not more often see him doing that which he promises to do? And why do I not see his saints “running in such a way as to win the prize,” and fleeing from idolatry?”

Perhaps we are not asking God (persistently, passionately, faith-full-y) to change us. Perhaps we are spiritually weak and lazy because we don’t see there is a race going on, and we don’t see the finish line (Col 3:1-3). Perhaps we are sleepy and drunk on the extreme excesses of materialism, capitalism and narcissism.

And perhaps I imagine and assume that we become more Christ-like than is actually the case on earth. Maybe I am looking for perfection; maybe I am looking too much at the externals. The more I contemplate, the more I realize that the most radical, the most extreme transformation will take place…in the blink of any eye. Certainly it is God’s will that we become more and more Christ-like on earth, but I’m also sure that his secret plan includes such instant transformation of ourselves and others that we will be shocked. And when that happens, there will be absolutely no possibility that we will take any credit. We will be utterly amazed, and we will shout, sing and jump in excitement, in praise of our God, in whose presence we will stand.
God, may I live my life in view of that day. And knowing that you are already present in my heart—knowing too that you are the motor and engine and power behind my every good work—may I passionately and joyfully run toward that transformation by faith, even now.

Hide and Seek

People love to hide. They enjoy hide and seek as children, and continue to play as adults, only with more to hide, and more serious consequences than simply losing the game. Only, in Christ and in his Church, the winner is the one who is discovered and found, whose hiding place is opened up and laid bare before the One or ones who are ‘it.’

I am amazed at the number of people who come into the church hiding—why then come into the church? Because they see church as a system of religion, and they see other people as ‘it,’ ones who are judges, ones whose opinions and judgments matter. So they are embarrassed to be ‘found.’ They miss—I don’t know how, it is preached over and over again, they miss the fact that this is not about system of religion, this is about a relationship with a Person, the man Jesus Christ. Jesus is the One who is it, he is the judge and jury. But he has stepped down, he has paid the penalty, and he wants to be our friend. Yes, he calls us and commands us to change, to deal with that which embarrasses us, but only as we walk with him, and only in his power, strength and ability. And he will help, he will come near, only when we admit to him—and others, that we cannot change on our own, that we need his—and others’ help.

Not only does it not matter if we are ‘found out’ by others, but it is in fact important to be found out; for others to see the real you. Perhaps a better (if imperfect) analogy is of an emergency room operating table. To mix metaphors, you are the patient with a gaping wound in your abdomen. The nurses are the church, and God is the Doctor. You have come in for help, God is ready and willing to operate, but he cannot come close to do his work. Because you are irrationally fighting off the nurses—you think that their prepping the area, and giving you anesthesia is actually going to hurt you. So you fight against them and guard your wound.

The church is here to help, as God has created it to be a community of love, support, and one-another-ing, as it points to the ultimate Healer. But it can’t help while you are busy covering up your wounds. Ironically, the opinion of the church doesn’t matter one bit—it is God who is the judge, to mix metaphors once again. But we hide from him too—with our system of religion and good works as a band-aid seeking to cover up a gaping gunshot wound. But hiding from God is about as effective as a kid covering his eyes up to hide from his parents. Not seeing his parents, he reasons that they can’t see him either.

Rebirthing "Born Again"

“Born again” is such a tired, misused concept in our Christian sub-culture. Yet this is a perfect phrase from God’s Perfect Word that needs to be dusted off and polished and admired in its pristine state again. One concept related to this is that of adoption, which I will touch on in a sermon this week.

Adoption has a legal aspect, or course. As a child is adopted, there is a legal process transferring ownership, responsibility, identification, motherhood, and fatherhood from one to another. But the overriding thought in adoption is not legal, but familial. When a child is adopted, the new father says in his heart, “You are mine, I commit myself to you. I give of myself to you, I give you rights to my inheritance because now you are my child, I give you—unreservedly—my love; as close to agape love as is humanly possible. I will never leave you, and when you run away, I will always take you back in. I will always forgive every sin. All this, because now you are my son.

Put yourself in this adopted child’s shoes. Imagine he was born to a crack-user living on the streets with no means to provide food and shelter, and no emotional or spiritual means to provide love. No ability or interest to teach the child how to ride a bike or review school work. No mind to teach and apply truths at home, no money for clothes or college, no chance of marriage, no luxuries and not even necessities available. More accurate to our conditionin Scripture would be that the mother and father are dead, and the child lies unconscious in a ditch on the brink of death.

As that child is adopted into a family, the description of which is the exact opposite of that above; as he is fed, bathed, clothed, and loved, tell me if he wouldn’t say, “I’ve been born again!”

On a Short Leash

Stray dogs have a lot of freedom, but they are also more likely to run into danger. Conversely, God has me on a short leash. One pastor said this after he bounded up an escalator at the airport, marveling in his physical strength and ability, only to find himself the next moment at the bottom of the escalator flat on his face having tripped. Similarly, God has me on a short leash. One day several years ago I was throwing the Frisbee with a friend. Someone walked by and said of me, “Wow, he can really throw that thing.” Naturally, I thought in my heart, ‘wow, he’s right, I can really throw this thing.’ And as the Frisbee was thrown back to me I thought, ‘And I can really catch too.’

The problem was, someone else in our group could also really catch. And as I saw Tyler start running toward the disc to catch it, I quickened my pace. Only, Tyler is scary fast and got there a split second before me. No problem, only we were coming from opposite angles and collided in midair. Tyler is also a little bigger than me and saw the collision coming. I, on the other hand, was blind to it, as a tight end coming across the middle of the field who runs right into a linebacker coming from the opposite direction.

The next thing I knew I had gone down. Hard. Sliding to a stop on the asphalt. The strawberries on my shoulders and hands I could deal with easily, but when I got up I noticed that my left pinky looked like it had an extra knuckle, broken at the base. Several years later now, it is still a little tight when I make a fist. Just enough of a reminder that I am on a short leash.

We sometimes see this cycle of blessing, pride, and humbling in our lives, and one place we see it in Scripture is in the life of Job. Scripture says that Job is blameless and upright (1:1), yet when Job is suffering we see that there must have been some amount of pride, independence, self-righteousness all along. (9:21; 13:3; 27:4-6). Job too was on a short leash. For all the web of complex reasons God had for Job’s suffering (which we will never comprehend) one thing God intended to do (and accomplished perfectly) was the humbling of Job, such that Job would say, “Behold, I am insignificant” (40:4), and, “I declared things too wonderful for me, which I did not know…I repent in dust and ashes.”

To paraphrase, Job said, “God, I am sorry. You are the sovereign God, and I am a limited, finite, creation. I am out of place anytime I boast in myself, in my own strength, in my own goodness, because when I do I set myself up as a god and detract from your glory and what is rightfully yours.” The beauty and grace in all this is that the cycle repeats itself for those who love God and submit to him. The book of Job ends with his restoration of treasures and children—more than he ever had before.

I experienced this cycle again recently when I had been in a good routine of exercise and was feeling particularly strong and aerobic. I went on vacation with no little amount of pride in my heart, thinking even that my brothers would be impressed with my ability as we jogged together on the beach. Only, I never got to jog once, because I am on a short leash. In record time (even during the drive to South Carolina) I came down with the strongest of sinus and chest infections. I spent much of the week wrestling with God (as Job did) in my room, away from the fun on the beach. Thankfully, God showed me my pride, I repented, I acknowledged his perfect will, and I even thanked him for my sickness (which is not easy to do when you are sick).

Now I am back home, and back into a strong routine of exercise. But I am reminded of my short leash. I am reminded that he is God and I am not; that he has given me every breath, every muscle and every ability in life. I don’t know the next time I will forget and seek to run off on my own, I don’t know how he will pull me back. But I am thankful that he does, because it will be for my good and his glory. And for his children, the cycle always repeats itself, returning to blessing. And it is on blessing—eternal blessing—that the cycle will one day soon end.