for heaven’s sake

Lord, we confess our wickedness
and that of our ancestors, too.
We all have sinned against you.

For the sake of your reputation, Lord, do not abandon us.
Do not disgrace your own glorious throne.
Please remember us,
and do not break your covenant with us.

 

                                                            Jeremiah 14:20-21

 

I’ll admit, I’m pretty good at coming up with reasons why I think God should answer my prayers. When I go to him, I not only have requests, but I usually have reasons why I think these particular requests are good ones. Reasons why I think it makes sense that God should affect things in the ways I’m asking him to. I think we all do this—and probably far more often than we realize.

 

I’m not writing this to make a case for why we shouldn’t do this or why it’s somehow bad. Actually, I think it makes a lot of sense. The Bible tells the story of God sending Jesus so that we might have relationship with him through the sacrifice of his son. Relationship. In any healthy relationship communication isn’t just a series of you submitting a list of what you would like from me and me just deciding yes or no based on that. It’s a relationship in which conversation is dynamic and back and forth. Obviously we must understand that we aren’t in the business of convincing God something is a good idea—he knows everything and understands our own logic better than we do. But I do believe he cares about our honest thought process and wants to interact with us. So I don’t think we should stop sharing with God the whys of our requests. We’ll benefit from it even when he doesn’t do what we are asking and hoping for.

 

Today, I’m thinking more about our reasoning itself. What we think is a good reason for asking something of God. I was struck by this as I discovered just how often in the Bible we find people calling on God and requesting things of him using words like, “for your name’s sake” or “for the sake of your reputation.”

 

I’m realizing that my reasoning is usually not this selfless. I don’t usually think of the ramifications of my request on God’s name or reputation. I just don’t. When I’m asking God for something I am definitely thinking of how it affects me or how it affects others. Rarely do I think in terms of how it affects God.

 

I have prayed from time to time genuinely believing that this answer to my request might bring others to praise God more. But I just feel that this goes deeper. This is a thinking further through the implications of my request.

 

Am I convinced that my request would reveal God in a better light to those who bear witness to what he would do?

 

Am I thinking of the way others will see God more than I am thinking of how convenient this answered prayer would be for me or those I love?

 

I may still be wrong. God may still say no. Or wait. I may—and usually don’t—understand the full implications of what this answered request would do versus what it does for the image of God when it goes unanswered. But just being more intentional about thinking this way as I pray is a good challenge for me. To make a request about more than just myself and my interest and my convenience. This has to be a good thing for my relationship with God—and for my prayer life.

 

 “O Lord, hear. O Lord, forgive. O Lord, listen and act! For your own sake, do not delay, O my God, for your people and your city bear your name.”       

                                 Daniel 9:19

 

amaze the Savior

When Jesus heard this, he was amazed. Turning to the crowd that was following him, he said, “I tell you, I haven’t seen faith like this in all Israel!” And when the officer’s friends returned to his house, they found the slave completely healed.       Luke 7:9-10

 

Faith like what?! Jesus amazed?! What is going on here? I find it amazing that Jesus is amazed at anything. All through his ministry, with all the trick questions, the angry outbursts, and the extreme responses of faith to his presence we never see Jesus quite like we see him here. I won’t go so far as to say that he is surprised at the Roman officer since the text itself doesn’t say that. But he is amazed. Jesus seems impressed and pleased.

 

This is rare and I wonder, “How can I do that? How can I impress and amaze the Savior in this way?”

 

On the surface it seems rather simple. The officer makes some speech about Jesus not even needing to come to his house, but knowing that if he just says the words healing will happen. So this means I just need to speak with big faith, right?

 

In some senses this is right. The level of trust the officer is displaying is amazing. He knows and believes that Jesus isn’t bound by location or proximity. He is so trusting that Jesus can do the work needed that he proclaims some level of understanding in Jesus’ command over the world. The man has big faith, and it shows in the words he uses.

 

But I wonder if there isn’t more.

 

I think what I see here is humility. The officer, with all his importance of position, power and authority isn’t self impressed. Others are impressed with him—“if anyone deserves your help, he does” (Luke 7:4)—but he isn’t. He proclaims his unworthiness and apparently (since Jesus knows what’s in the heart) it’s genuine.

 

Maybe this is it—genuine humility. It’s harder to come by than we’d like to admit; especially when we need something or want something from God. In those times we tend to revert to explaining our desires in light of how fair they are or how right they are or how deserving we are. The officer doesn’t do that.

 

He asks, he proclaims his trust that Jesus can do it, and he acknowledges that he isn’t worthy. It’s humble trust. No gimmicks, no sell job. No attempts at passive-aggressive commentary on the unfairness of life; and no victim mentality. It’s just a guy in desperate need of the Savior, declaring that he trusts. And whatever comes of it, he deserves nothing.

 

This sounds simple, but I know me. I know my selfishness. I know how easily my heart is convinced in my own deservedness. The Roman officer stands out for me as a reminder of how to amaze the Savior. Less about me, all about him.

 

Trust and humility.

 

Easier said than done for sure, but this is a worthy goal. I want to amaze the Savior. I want Jesus delighted in my trust of his abilities. And I want to do so with a humble heart.

 

bold surrender

In one of the villages, Jesus met a man with an advanced case of leprosy. When the man saw Jesus, he bowed with his face to the ground, begging to be healed. “Lord,” he said, “if you are willing, you can heal me and make me clean.” Jesus reached out and touched him. “I am willing,” he said. “Be healed!” And instantly the leprosy disappeared. Then Jesus instructed him not to tell anyone what had happened. He said, “Go to the priest and let him examine you. Take along the offering required in the law of Moses for those who have been healed of leprosy. This will be a public testimony that you have been cleansed.”      Luke 5:12-14

 

When it comes to praying and asking the Lord for things it seems to me that there is always this tension. We want to pray boldly. We want to show God our trust and faith in him. At the same time, we want (or should want) to submit to God’s will and recognize that giving us what we are asking for may not be what God has in mind for us. Under all of this I wonder too if sometimes we want to pray boldly but are afraid. What if God doesn’t answer? What if we stand strong in our conviction of what is needed and ask and trust and have full assurance that God will do something and then…he just doesn’t?

 

It may be that I am the only one who feels this tension, but somehow I doubt it. There is this delicate balance in prayer. It’s not that we have to say things a certain way in order for God to hear us. It’s not that if we don’t use the right language God won’t answer our prayers. It’s more that how we pray reflects something about our hearts. About how we see God and see ourselves.

 

In the exchange recorded in Luke 5 I think there is much to consider regarding what it looks like to balance coming to God in bold faith with coming to God in submission to his right to do as he wills. Along with an attitude of trust that what he wills is always best.

 

Lord, if you are willing, you can heal me and make me clean.

 

What would have happened had Jesus said, “I am not willing this time.” The beautiful thing about this man’s prayer is that it leaves room for this response. Sometimes God doesn’t heal. Never because he can’t. Not because he doesn’t care. Sometimes God doesn’t heal because God has other things in mind. Coming to god acknowledging both his ability and his right to choose any response reveals a true heart of submitted trust.

 

I have always wrestled with the idea that praying boldly by demanding things of God—as some prayers tend to sound—doesn’t leave room for God’s right to say no. These types of prayers seem to imply that if I believe it’s right and good then there is no reason to think that God might see it differently. But sometimes he does. And so I love the attitude of the man with leprosy. He is taking nothing away from the ability of Jesus to heal him. But he acknowledges that Jesus may have something else in mind. That, for whatever reason, Jesus may not be willing. And this man doesn’t imply that he should be given the explanation if Jesus isn’t willing. In fact, he comes on his knees. His posture—as well as his speech—convey this attitude of surrendered, bold faith.

 

I’m not the best at praying. I want to be. I need to be better. This man who is healed by Jesus gives me an example of what it looks like to come boldly and still come humbly. It is wholly right and possible to come before the Lord with great, unwavering conviction and confidence in God’s ability and still surrender to his ways and insights which may run contrary to what I am asking for. It gives me hope and reminds me that God’s plan may not be visible to me. He will do as he pleases and it will be best.

 

My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord.
“And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine.

For just as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so my ways are higher than your ways
and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.

                                                                                    Isaiah 55:8-9

 

connecting is seeing

Early the next morning Jesus went out to an isolated place. The crowds searched everywhere for him, and when they finally found him, they begged him not to leave them. But he replied, “I must preach the Good News of the Kingdom of God in other towns, too, because that is why I was sent.” So he continued to travel around, preaching in synagogues throughout Judea.                   Luke 4:42-44

 

Jesus repeatedly finds time for quiet, time for isolation with the Father. Honestly, if Jesus can do it—with all the crowds seeking him out—what excuse could we possibly come up with for our schedules being too full? For us finding no time? I have so much on my plate, so many responsibilities and things to do, but there are no crowds screaming for my time, no demands so lofty or varied as what was asked of Jesus.

 

This was Jesus’ practice; his habit. He found time to get away, to be alone. And we know from other places where this exercise is spoken of in the gospels that Jesus did so to pray. He was communing with the Father.

 

What is so compelling to me here is what he gains from this time apart. He is gaining clarity. He is gaining the Father’s vision for making decisions. The verses preceding these in Luke 4 show a Jesus who is doing the miraculous and doing it on a grand scale. He is healing, he is restoring, he is setting people free from physical, emotional, and spiritual bondage. What could be better? Surely he should spend the rest of his days on earth continuing this until all within reach are healed. Shouldn’t he?

 

Jesus is doing a good thing. He is doing a right thing. He is beating back the affects of sin and corruption, destroying the result of our depravity by making whole those who are broken. But then he gets away, he gets himself apart from the good things he is doing to seek the Father, and he comes back clear on his next move. Clear on his calling to go and do something else; something other than the good thing he was doing.

 

Sometimes the good things we are doing aren’t the best things God is calling us to.

 

Sometimes God has a different plan for us. Not because the things we are engaged in are bad, but because God has something more for us. Something different. How could Jesus, in the face of those broken people who are begging him not to leave, turn from them and go? How could anything be more important than meeting the needs of those hurting people?

 

He could go because he had spent time connecting with the Father. Time apart from all the distractions of the good, to find the best. Standing far off in the present time it is easy for us to be glad and grateful that he went on from there. Easy to be relieved because we now have all the other teachings, all the other miracles in other places to learn from. And most importantly, we have the sacrifice of his life for our eternal life. His death for our forgiveness. But in that moment it could have been hard to see the good in his leaving; especially had we been standing in the crowd. Most certainly if we were there begging for temporary healing.

 

If ever there was a clear example of our need for time along with God, this is it. Clarity for the journey may sometimes only come when we’ve spent time with the one we are journeying towards. There are so many good things to be done, we need to seek out what the best things are. What has God designed us for, called us to, put in place for us?

 

Time alone in prayer gives a more clear vision. It can give us the Father’s eyes and heart for our own trek towards him. Jesus comes away from isolation with  the Father and he comes saying, “…that is why I was sent…” The next steps are clear, the path laid out, the vision captured. I’m not implying that Jesus didn’t know before this what he should be doing, but simply that he came away with a sense of urgency and conviction. And in truth, we don’t have the clarity Jesus started with. Most of us don’t have any real conviction about our steps. We need the Father’s vision, the Father’s heart. We need the Father.

 

It is time to set aside too busy and too distracted for some time, just a little time to sit with the Father. Time to listen, time to lean in and just be with the one who calls us and saves us and sends us. Time to see the best and not just the good.

 

deep calls to deep

Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers have swept over me.

By day the Lord directs his love, at night his song is with me—
a prayer to the God of my life.

                                                                        Psalm 42:7-8

 

Deep calls to deep.

 

The aching agony of a world of brokenness set against the backdrop of a God so whole. This hurts deep. The soul can only take so much. And these needs—this destitute state—serve as the great breaking point. I am being swept over by your anger and sorrow for a world gone wrong.

 

How can I do anything that will pick up broken pieces? How can I do nothing?

 

There is an angst in the everyday when I start to see with eyes you’ve given and love with a heart not my own. I am so helpless myself; so in need of the rescue that gives breath and life. There is an angst; a hurt. An anger and restlessness that cries of how I must reach out—I must reach in and share with souls long lost of a love that has found me.

 

Where are you in the midst of all this heartache and why have I been so comfortable while the nations rage?

 

Deep calls to deep.

 

Deep within a cry is forming; a cry from my depths to the deepness of God. Come and rid me of this comfort for the everyday and the ordinary. Come and bring your wholeness through me to the broken. Come with your gospel truth and resurrection power. Come Jesus, and resurrect my own heart from apathy and the paralysis of so much need and so little me.

 

Come and free me from making it about me. It is you, only you.

 

Deep calls to deep and you are calling me.

 

From somewhere deep within you are whispering gently and shouting violently for those who call themselves yours to live as such. To step up and step out. To reveal wholeness and Jesus and resurrection power that heals souls.

 

I am in turmoil as I see the needs of those who surround me and know my own need too well. It is too much, there is too far to go, to high to hope that I could do anything for others when I need like I do.

 

And yet…by day your love directs me. By night your song is with me. Your  song is my prayer to you. Deep calls to deep to remind me that it has never been me; it has always been you. You working in me you working through me. You and you and only ever you.

 

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God?           Psalm 42:2

 

You are here and here and always here. And deep within I feel you calling from somewhere deeper still. Calling me to you and calling me to your broken world.

 

 

There is a dissatisfaction even in the writing of these words. The calling, the cry, the angst is deep and words are found lacking. My soul is thirsty and the deep call is reverberating. I simply pray that I can find ears to hear and a heart to receive this song of the Lord’s love. May it be my prayer back to him.

 

may God give you…

This letter is from Paul, Silas, and Timothy.
  We are writing to the church in Thessalonica, to you who belong to God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
  May God give you grace and peace.   1 Thessalonians 1:1

 

“Dear John…”

 

That’s how we open letters. That’s the way in our current culture we start speaking to someone in written form. And that’s if we are being formal. Or, if we are really being formal and writing to someone we don’t know we might throw out the old standby: “To whom it may concern…” But we don’t start letters like they did in the days of the early church. Maybe that’s partly because we aren’t writing the very words of God by the inspiration of the Spirit. That’s definitely some of it, but I think there is also just something to the time and culture that had a different idea of how to start a letter to another person. The way Paul starts his letters to the churches always seems to carry such weight and insight. His letter to the Thessalonians is no exception.

 

May God give you grace and peace.

 

We don’t talk like this to each other. We don’t proclaim or “bless” one another with this type of language today; at least not most of us. Probably due to the rise of formalized, institutional church and the fact that we live in Christian cultures that have lost some of the belief in the power of words.

 

The power of blessing someone with words—or cursing them—is found throughout the Scriptures. From Jacob stealing Esau’s blessing (which had simply been spoken words) to King Nebuchadnezzar’s speaking of curse upon himself when he took the credit from God, words hold powerful sway in the lives of people throughout the Bible. I don’t know that we see it quite that way today.

 

It seems the only way we see the church giving preference to words these days is within the movements that have turned this idea into little more than an almost magical way of getting what we want. Say the right things, use the right words, and God will give you what you want. But that’s not what it shows us in the Bible. When it comes to getting what we want from God we can certainly twist the idea of words being powerful and influential. Most of the time in the Bible when we see words being most powerfully, it has to do with how they are spoken over others. The whole idea of blessing others gives a great deal of weight to words and speaking.

 

God himself leads us in this when he brings out a priestly blessing for the priests to speak over the people:

 

Then the Lord said to Moses, ”Tell Aaron and his sons to bless the people of Israel with this special blessing:

 `May the Lord bless you
  and protect you.
 May the Lord smile on you
  and be gracious to you.
 May the Lord show you his favor
  and give you his peace.’

                                    Numbers 6:22-27

 

God is giving power and value to the words we speak over one another. And Paul is following suit in his letters to the churches.

 

May God give you grace and peace.

 

It’s really like a spoken prayer for others. Paul is calling for grace and peace to be experienced by his readers. What would it look like for us to pray this way for one another? To pray with the belief that our words of blessing spoken over one another are powerful?

 

I have to admit, there is a skeptical side of me. A side that cringes at the idea of making this sound magical or that gives us the power or recognition. Make no mistake, this is not a call for us to embrace the power of our own voice, or to distract from the fact that anything we say or do only finds value in as much as God himself steps in and makes it happen. I just have to acknowledge that the God-followers of Scripture recognized that speaking words of intent and blessing over one another was something to cherish and practice. Perhaps it’s time to reclaim this way of speaking—this way or praying for one another.

 

the great divide

If you need wisdom, ask our generous God, and he will give it to you. He will not rebuke you for asking. But when you ask him, be sure that your faith is in God alone. Do not waver, for a person with divided loyalty is as unsettled as a wave of the sea that is blown and tossed by the wind. Such people should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. Their loyalty is divided between God and the world, and they are unstable in everything they do.         James 1:5-8

 

I’ve heard and read a lot over the years about praying. A lot of different people have a lot of different things to say about how to ask God for things and why we should ask God for things and what happens when we ask. I’ve heard the debates about why sometimes God doesn’t answer or what exactly it is he is doing while we wait for him. But why don’t we hear more on the issue of divided loyalties?

 

Obviously there are some things we ask for—or some times when we ask—and the answer from God will simply be “No.” And there are times when it will just seem like God isn’t answering at all. But I don’t buy into the whole notion that the issue is with our faith (that we need more of it) or that we need to use certain language and “sow the seed” correctly and all that. I don’t think that’s what Scripture teaches. We’re called to ask and to trust and even a little faith is enough. But what James says here is pretty enlightening…and pretty convicting.

 

But when you ask him, be sure that your faith is in God alone. Do not waver…

 

Don’t waver like a person with divided loyalty. That kind of person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. Does that sting you? It does me. How often do we have loyalty divided between God and the world? How often do we ask, all the while assuming that we won’t get an answer? How hypocritical is it to say words that sound so assured and confident in God when the asking comes out of a confidence in self or those around me?

 

How often do we ask God for something and then immediately turn and start making plans for an alternate avenue? I’m not saying we shouldn’t act responsibility here, but we have to consider how much of the time we act in the name of responsibility when actually we are acting out of divided loyalties. We have a desire to not lose face or to get what we want even if God doesn’t give it and it can cloud our sense of trust and reliance on God. We are definitely divided within.

 

The idea of asking God for something without having loyalties divided between God and the world means we have to take a hard look at our own hearts when asking. Why do we ask for the things we ask for? Why do we need wisdom from God?

 

Are we truly asking out of a pursuit of God himself? Are we asking because we are seeking to be his slave and the world’s servant? Or are we asking because we are trying to get ahead, trying to live up to the standards of the world? What motivates our desires in this life? For me, too often it’s not God. I want what the world suggests I should have. I want what the world thinks will make me a good husband, father, and neighbor. I want what the world says I have a “right” to or deserve.

 

I want. That pretty much sums it up. I ask because I want. And there is nothing wrong with wanting. It’s the source of the wanting that often draws me off track. When my loyalty is to the world I don’t want the things God wants. I don’t ask out of loyalty to him, but rather out of loyalty to myself.

 

I guess asking God for wisdom starts with asking for the wisdom to discern my own loyalties. I need to live my life with singularity of focus. I want to give God undivided loyalty. And I definitely need some wisdom for that.

 

There is a great divide within my heart. Everyday Jesus works to mend it, to repair and restore the damage I’ve done. As he works I pray that I will have the wisdom to stop fighting it, to see where I am divided and disloyal; to see where I am tossed back and forth by the winds of indecision, desire, and greed. And I do believe that God will give me eyes to see and wisdom to understand.

 

small faith

It wasn’t unexpected. We had seen the signs and we knew we only had a little time left with her. She was having trouble with the everyday activities that had always been so simple. It was evident that she was nearing the end. And then one day it happened: our dryer just up and died.

 

Last night we were recalling this event in our lives. Mainly because it’s a moment that displays both how quick we are to act in faith, and how that “act” so easily amounts to little more than lip service.

 

Like I said, it wasn’t unexpected, we knew the dryer was acting strangely and probably about to quit on us. But it was inconvenient when it did go. The fact was we just didn’t have the money for a replacement. So we rallied the troops. We actually gathered our four kids, my wife and myself and we circled up and began to pray. And yes, we asked God to heal our dryer. We needed a resurrection of the appliance variety.

 

Crazy? Maybe. But we completely and sincerely meant what we were praying. We told God our need, confessed that we had no other plan, and asked him to make the dryer right again. Our kids prayed too. And we believed.

 

Feeling good about our statement of faith in God and pleased that we had given our kids a true spiritual experience, we went back to our day’s activities. A week went by—us without a working dryer—and we got by hanging laundry outside to dry. A friend came by and we were talking and he offered to look at the dryer for us; he thought maybe he could fix it. I went back with him to show him how it didn’t work…and it did work. Perfectly.

 

This is when we realized it—the awful truth about our big display of faith and trust in God from the week before. It’s true we gathered our kids. And yes, we prayed fervently for a restored appliance. And we did believe. But no one went and checked on the dryer after we prayed. We just went on with life.

 

Now I’m not making a case for the notion that God always answers all our prayers or that he will fix your dryer miraculously if it breaks. But for all the times God has chosen not to answer prayers like this for us he did restore our dryer this time. And I can only assume he did it instantly when we asked. The tragedy is that we went right to the threshold of amazing interaction with God; we went in faith, believed, prayed and shared it with our kids…and then we stopped. We didn’t take the final step to see the results.

 

A week went by, us living in the frame work of the broken and un-repaired, all the while God had answered our plea. We just never looked to see. It really struck us at that moment how easily we live with a faith that is quick to talk, but slow to walk. We jump at the chance to be people of faith and want to see God work in wonderful ways. But living it out—walking in faith—is far harder than we like to admit.

 

It reminds me of Peter in the boat and Jesus walking on the water. Peter, so full of faith and quick to speak…until he is out and in the midst of walking. Then we see how much of his faith is talk, and how much translates into action. Don’t get me wrong, Peter is the only one speaking up. He’s the only one jumping at a chance to experience Jesus with such faith. But still, easier said than done.

 

“Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”

“Come,” he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?”            Matthew 14:28-31

 

Why do we respond this way? Why are we quick to ask, but fearful to step out and experience the results? Maybe because we fear disappointment. Maybe because we aren’t exactly sure that what we are asking is what God would want for us in the first place. Maybe because our entire mindset on how to ask God for something and what that something should look like is a place we feel completely lost in. Whatever the reason, many of us are quick to ask, but very cautious about truly hoping it will happen.

 

God won’t always do magnanimous things in our lives. He won’t always answer every prayer with miracles. In fact, I would argue that more often than not his invitation to experience him comes in the more mundane and ordinary. But I think sometimes we miss out on God’s invitation to experience his grace and desire to give us good things simply because we ask and then move on. We forget to stop and wait, to look and see.

 

To us Jesus says, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” And fortunately for us, he still reaches out his hand and pulls us up.

asking

Give ear, our God, and hear; open your eyes and see the desolation of the city that bears your Name. We do not make requests of you because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy.                       Daniel 9:18

 

 “Why won’t God answer me?”

 

“Why does it feel like he isn’t listening?”

 

“I pray and pray, but it just doesn’t feel like God is listening to me at all.”

 

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe you never think these types of thoughts—but maybe you do. I know I do. These kinds of things and worse.

 

Sometimes it can get pretty frustrating when it feels like I am praying, I am asking, I am seeking…and I am getting nothing in return—or at least none of the somethings I am seeking!

 

It’s times like these that I need the reminder of Daniel. He has a nice way of saying, “We don’t deserve for you to answer our prayers, but you are so loving and merciful that we believe you will. We believe it enough to ask, even though we have no right to.”

 

“We do not make requests of you because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy.”

 

I forget this easily. I forget that I don’t have a right to the things I’m asking God for. I forget that me wanting something doesn’t mean I should have it. I forget that just because it seems like the best option from my point of view doesn’t mean it is. And I can easily forget that no matter how well I try, no matter how faithful I think I’m being, I should never ask out of a sense of my own righteousness. If I ask God for anything I should ask as I fall on his mercy.

 

It’s only in his mercy that he answers. It’s not because of me, my wisdom, my rights, my needs, my anything. Only his mercy. Always his mercy.

 

In the Gospel of Luke we find a blind man who hears that Jesus is passing by. He wants to be healed and so he cries out. Not once, but multiple times. And he continually says the same thing.

He called out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”             Luke 18:38

 

Have mercy on me. That’s pretty simple. No long explanation of how he deserves to be healed. No bargaining and promising to do this or that for God if he is healed. No attempts to manipulate or get Jesus to feel sorry for him. No grandiose attempts to display that he has great faith.

 

Just a simple call for mercy.

 

And the response? Well, Jesus heals him. But Jesus also makes a profound statement about the man.

Jesus said to him, “Receive your sight; your faith has healed you.”      Luke 18:42

 

Your faith has healed you.

 

What faith? He didn’t ask in faith to be healed…did he? He didn’t make some magnanimous proclamation about how he knew Jesus would heal him. He didn’t ask for healing at all. He asked for mercy.

 

His faith in the mercy of Jesus brought healing.

 

Instead of calling for specifics; instead of demanding, lobbying, justifying, the blind man simply asked for mercy. We do not make requests of you because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy.    We have no rights, we don’t always know what’s best, and never deserve the ALL that Jesus gives. So we might as well just acknowledge it and fall on his mercy.

 

The next time I need something from God, the next time I am about to pray for something I would like to see happen, I think I will simply ask for mercy and leave it at that. After all, Jesus loved us so much he laid down his life for us—and this while we were still sinners. What more could there be than this mercy?

 

Yes, I think I’ll just ask for mercy and leave it at that. That is far more than I could ask for anyway!

be still…then speak

God invites us into a relationship. He doesn’t just want drones that do His bidding and leave Him alone. God wants us to know Him, to engage, to interact. It’s all about relationship, not just rules.
 

The problem is that we often tend to lead with our mouths, not our ears when we come into a time of speaking to God. We do, after all, have things to say: there are points to be clarified, requests to be granted, cases to be made. In truth, most of us never think of coming to God and spending time with Him unless or until we have something we want or have been victimized by the world in some way.
 

It’s not natural for us to come to God just to be. 

But look what Solomon wrote regarding time spent with God: 

Do not be quick with your mouth, do not be hasty in your heart to utter anything before God. God is in heaven and you are on earth, so let your words be few. As a dream comes when there are many cares, so the speech of a fool when there are many words.  Ecclesiastes 5:2-3 

  

What he seems to be saying is “talk slowly, be intentional, think before you speak.” 

“But I thought God wanted to be in relationship, to be our friend? I thought we were safe with Him and could tell Him anything!” 

  
We can. God is a big boy and He certainly can take our rants and our unfair assessments of His action or apparent in-action. He can handle it when we fly off the handle, and He loves us regardless of what we might say…or do. 

But again, it’s a relationship.

Have you ever said something you regret to someone you are in relationship with? Ever stuck your foot in your mouth or spoke in anger or ignorance only later to wish you hadn’t said anything until you understood more?

I know I have. And I’ve always wished I had thought a little more before I spoke.

It’s a relationship, and God is the grown up. He’s the one with all the answers here. He has the complete perspective—he controls the whole enchilada.

“God is in heaven and you are on earth so let your words be few.”

 

This is not a call to a limited relationship or to holding back with God. It’s a call to being more intentional. A call to listening first. To remembering my own ignorance.

It’s about being honest with God. And being honest with God starts with recognizing that we aren’t equal. He knows more, loves more, see more, does more, is more. So it might be smart to listen first. And to speak with intention.

That’s why Solomon follows with these words about speaking to God:

“Much dreaming and many words are meaningless. Therefore stand in awe of God.”            Ecclesiastes 5:7

Solomon isn’t saying don’t talk to God. He’s saying, take your time, listen, be still before you be vocal. Take your time. In this hurried culture of go, go, go, this may be one of the greatest challenges on our spiritual journey.

When was the last time you slowed down enough to really listen to God, before launching into your own agenda of words, words, words?

 

Before you say what you want to say, ask yourself, “what does God have to say?” You might be surprised.