the gospel – awkward and sweet

And so John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness, preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. The whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem went out to him. Confessing their sins, they were baptized by him in the Jordan River. John wore clothing made of camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. And this was his message: “After me comes the one more powerful than I, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” Mark 1:4-8

 

John the Baptist is a bit of an odd one. Can we just say that? If he were alive today and came wandering into our church with his strange way of dressing and bizarre diet most of us would secretly wish he would find another place to worship. More accurately, if we passed him on the street corner, we would write him off as a crazy and ignore him.

 

He’s not a casual, hang out kind of guy. He’s not a socially comfortable kind of guy. Something tells me he was probably one of those very intense personalities. He’s definitely not your good time guy and no one would mistake him for the go to person you count on to liven up the party. He’s always talking loudly about sin and repentance and some “One” who is coming. John the Baptist marched to the beat of his own drum in his time and it wouldn’t be any different if he lived in ours.

 

Having said all that, the awkwardness of John the Baptist is part of what I love about him. He’s bold and courageous. He’s focused on Jesus and our need for him. He doesn’t get caught up with what’s socially acceptable or a sense of wanting to be doing what everyone else is doing. And he’s proof that we don’t have to be that either.

 

In spite of all his awkward weirdness, people are still drawn to him. Mark 1 tells us the whole Judean countryside and all Jerusalem were going out to hear him speak. And more importantly, they were responding and repenting and being baptized. They were hearing his message of the coming Jesus and their need for repentance. They were hearing and they were accepting it.

 

The church today seems so overly obsessed at times with the desire to be cool and to be seen as a comfortable place for people. Honestly, it feels like much of the time the church in America doesn’t want to be seen as different. It’s as if our fear of being a turn off to some means we end up being compelling to none. The truth of the matter is that sin and repentance and the need for a savior are not very welcoming messages. It’s awkward to talk about our brokenness and the deceitfulness of our hearts. It certainly doesn’t make for great marketing strategies; at least not by worldly standards.

 

Jesus’ life and message is a constant reminder that selling ourselves, blending in, presenting things in a palatable way isn’t our place. He says some pretty harsh things at times, like declaring that he didn’t come to bring peace but a sword (Matthew 10:34). Or what about in John 6 where Jesus offends the crowds with his words about eating his flesh and drinking his blood? We find such a startling picture there when many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him because of his offensive and hard teaching.

But what we have seemed to lose sight of these days is that it’s these harsh and socially unacceptable parts of the message that make grace so powerful and beautiful. It’s the full story of our sin and need for Jesus that ensures that grace is not viewed as cheap or easily come by. Grace is amazing primarily because of what it cost God to bring it to us.

 

I love John the Baptist because he makes no apologies for the difficulty of his message. He makes no attempts to look just like the culture so no one feels uncomfortable. He focuses on the One whose sandals he isn’t worthy to untie. He celebrates this One. And he makes no apologies for our need to repent, for the reality of our sin or the lowliness of our position. It’s the awkward, discomfort of the message of sin that makes the truth of the grace-giving Savior so sweet. Without the one we have only a cheap imitation of the other.

 

Of course there is a place for being “relevant” as the church, although I’m not so sure what that even means any more (it’s beginning to feel like empty banter that makes us church folk feel validated for falling in love with the world). Of course we’re supposed to connect with the culture and not isolate ourselves. And of course we’re called to be “all things to all people” as Paul reminds us. But I fear that at times we confuse the means for the ends. Being all things to all people is so that we might see some saved. It’s so that the gospel might be heard. At the end of the day our relevance, our ability to connect to the culture, our intention of being “all things” is so that all people might hear the awkward message of how sinful we are and how sweet the grace of Jesus is in the face of our dead hearts.

 

John the Baptist reminds us that we are to be bold and courageous. We are to be unapologetic at the offensiveness of the gospel. Because as hard a truth as it is, it’s a sweeter hope and fuller life than can be found anywhere else. And ultimately, the message of John the Baptist always centers on Jesus:

 

“After me comes the one more powerful than I, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

 

to the core

 “We fail to love people because we are idolaters who love neither God nor neighbor.”      – Powlison, Idols of the Heart and Vanity Fair

 

I am profoundly struck by the subtle ways that we tend, even when acknowledging our own sin, to turn our idolatry into somewhat of a noble attempt to meet our most basic and “good” needs. As if somehow our hearts were in the right place, but we just mis-stepped along the way.

 

Whether it’s our pursuit of the approval of others, our constant state of anxiety over money or our willingness to gossip about others, the issue isn’t rooted in a noble desire for simply finding love, security or self-worth. Our temptation might be to say something like, “Well, he just wants to be loved and doesn’t know how to find that in the right way.” Or, “she just wants to feel some sense of security about her future and should learn to trust God more.” Or we’ll look to the gossip and say, “It’s his desire for them to make better choices that causes him to speak that way about them.” The logic in all these ways of thinking is that we had the right idea—the right desire—but in our sinfulness we just got off track a little.

 

Why do we do this? Why do we ignore the reality that we are caught up in idolatry that has no good root or redeeming quality? Why do we let ourselves turn our sin into something that sounds noble of heart that just needs a little redirection? This is definitely anti-gospel, because it implies that our desires—our yearnings—are at their core in line with God. It leads us to believe there isn’t anything wrong with what we desire, but that it’s the execution of filling those desires where the problem lies. It implies that the problem is ignorance more than sin; or maybe a lack of discipline. This way of thinking is far more palatable to our desire to find something good within ourselves. We want to twist our own idolatry into something that we can consider at its core to be based in a godly or God-given desire rather than embracing the reality that as sinners, the core issue out of which our idolatry surfaces is simply our sin.

 

Instead of seeking to find out what things we have given the title of our heart to or which things we’ve used to try and escape the rule of God, we would rather be treated as simply those who have made misguided attempts at fulfilling the “God-shaped hole” in our lives. This false way of thinking so subtly side-steps the root of the issue: we are sinners who neither love God nor worship him if left to ourselves. This is our problem. This is why we are idolaters.

 

This false way of thinking about our desires and sin is also dangerous because we can easily fall into the trap of simply trading one form of idolatry for another. Religion can become the idol we call people to worship. Or it could be good works or moralism. If all we do is tell people their idol worship is misguided “good” desires then we are not calling them (or ourselves) to true healing and change, which comes only from God. Jeremiah 17 says, “Heal me, Lord, and I will be healed; save me and I will be saved, for you are the one I praise.” (v.14). We need saving, not redirection. We need healing, not just a realignment of our thinking. It’s not as if we are simply sinners on the surface, or sinners in certain areas of life. We are sinners to the core. There’s just no way to get around that.

 

This is the gospel truth: we are sinners who neither love God nor our neighbors. Salvation comes when Jesus steps in and doesn’t simply redirect, but truly changes us. He changes our hearts and desires and everything, making us new.

 

sin behind the sin

This is the second of two posts on repentance. If you missed the first one you can find it here.

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In the last post we looked at the ways in which we repent and our tendency to rarely dig deeper than the surface—to see beyond the behaviors that are on the outside. Repentance is, at its core, a turning from sin. In order to turn, however, we need to understand what are sin really is. We need to know the sin behind the sin. So often, whatever sin we see on the surface is only part of the story. It’s only the beginning. Usually—maybe always—the sin behind it, the sin at the root of our behavior, finds its source in a false belief about God and his truth. It’s when we believe lies rather than the truth that we bow to sin. And in order to really repent we need to know what we’re believing that’s untrue.

 

I was recently shown this in a really helpful way and I want to pass it on to you. It revolves around something called the meta-narrative of Scripture. Meta-narrative essentially means the main story, the theme, the big story of the Bible. And the main story of Scripture is the story of God and his pursuit of us. It falls into four categories. There is Creation, Fall, Redemption, and Restoration. This is the story of the Bible. This is God’s story of pursuing us.

 

But it’s not just God’s story, it’s our story too. We all reflect this ultimate story. We all were created for a purpose, we all have fallen, we all need redemption and restoration. The story of the Bible is our story. It’s what brings meaning to life. This story—our story—of the Bible can be told by answering some key questions:

 

What’s our purpose? What were we created for?

 

This is the creation part of the story. We were created for God’s glory. To know him and be in relationship with him so that we might worship him and give him honor and glory.

 

What’s the problem? What keeps us from our purpose?

 

This is the fall. Sin keeps us from God. Sin keeps us from giving God glory. It takes on a multitude of different forms, but ultimately the problem is sin in us.

 

What’s the solution? What’s our hope in?

 

This is the redemption piece of the story. The solution is the cross of Christ. He redeems us. He makes everything right by paying the price for us.

 

What is our future? What do we hope for?

 

This is the restoration part of our story. Our future hope is Jesus returning. No more tears, no more pain, no more sin. Eternal communion with the Father.

 

These four parts, the answers to these four sets of critical questions, are what make up the gospel message. At our church we use gospel language a lot. We are often talking about living out the gospel and proclaiming the gospel. When we say these things we are referring to this story—the creation, fall, redemption, and restoration story. We want to live it out. To believe with our hearts and express with our lives the right answers to the questions above.

 

When we find ourselves in sin and in need of repentance it is because in some area of our lives, maybe in multiple areas, we are not rightly believing the meta-narrative of the gospel. It’s our wrong belief that manifests itself in our wrong behavior.

 

Let’s take an example and walk through it. In the last time it was gossip, this time let’s use greed. If I am recognizing some greed in my life the temptation is to simply pray for forgiveness and commit to “never doing that again.” But we should not stop there. We should seek to answer the why of our greed. Why are we acting greedily? Why is our heart unsatisfied with what we have? Why do we long for more than what god has given us? Why are we not generous and less self-centered?

 

Let’s walk through the four parts of the Bible’s story answering it through the lens of our greed.

 

What’s my purpose when I act in greed? What does my behavior say about what I think I was created for?

 

If I am acting greedily then I am saying that what I really believe is that I was created solely for pleasure, or solely for self-centered gain. I am saying that I believe I was created for material gain. Or maybe I am saying with my actions that I believe this world is all I was created for so I should live in the now and get as much as I can.

 

We don’t fully and completely believe these of course, but our behavior reveals that we are living in a way that shows we believe something like this in part at least. If any of these answers ring true, I will know it as I reflect on my behavior and should repent of my false beliefs that are behind the sinful act. Next question:

 

What’s the problem? What keeps us from our purpose?

 

This is a telling part of our believing of lies. Often we get glimpses into our false beliefs by listening to what we say to others. Or should I say, listening to how we complain to others?

 

“I just don’t make enough money to do everything I want to do.”

“There is never enough to pay all my bills.”

“Everyone else has a new phone or tv or [insert other item here]. If I made a little more money I could have one too.”

 

We say these things as complaints revealing that we believe this is the problem with our life. This is what makes things less than they could be. In the case of being greedy it’s focused on money and materialism. These are all lies we tell ourselves about what the problem really is. We stop seeing the problem (the fall) as sin in these cases. We’ve begun to believe that money will solve our problem and fix our woes. And we need to repent.

 

Are you beginning to see how this goes deeper than just apologizing for the general act of being greedy? We are using the questions that surround the gospel message of the Bible to reveal how we’ve gone astray in our thinking. Let’s look at the next question.

 

What’s the solution? What’s our hope in?

 

This is the part where we look at what kinds of solutions occupy our thinking and hoping and wishing. With greed it usually comes back to money and having more of it.

 

 “I would give a tithe to my church, but I just don’t make enough yet.”

“If I could just get that promotion I’d be making enough money that I wouldn’t get stressed about money any more.”

 

I am constantly amazed at how easily we fall back on functional saviors, believing they are the solution to our problem. Thinking they will bring meaning and hope to our lives, forgetting that Jesus is the only Savior.

 

What is our future? What do we hope for?

 

I think you see where we are headed here. When we are acting greedily it’s because the real thing we’ve put out hope in is having more money, getting a promotion. If we could just have enough in our 401k then we’d have solved the problems. Our hope isn’t in Jesus, it’s in some sort of monetary accomplishment.

 

We used greed as an example, but it could be anything. Whatever we find our selves doing or pursuing that we know is wrong. Getting at what’s behind it, at why we are doing it can reveal a much broader picture of our need for repentance than simply settling for an apology for the behavior and then an attempt to move on.

 

The story of the Bible is our story and it has four parts: Creation, Fall, Redemption, and Restoration; or what’s my purpose? what’s the problem, what’s the solution? what’s my future?

 

This is the story we should be living in.

 

hearing the truth

Then Jesus returned to Galilee, filled with the Holy Spirit’s power. Reports about him spread quickly through the whole region. He taught regularly in their synagogues and was praised by everyone.    Luke 4:14-15

 

There are these brief and interesting moments in the life of Jesus where he enjoys wide acceptance and public opinion is definitely in favor of him. It doesn’t last long, but it definitely happens at times. As I read these words from Luke 4 I was struck by the words, “…[he] was praised by everyone.”

 

The reason this stood out to me is because I have read these words before…and the words that follow. This portion of Luke 4 is where Jesus reveals his ministry and intent. This is the place where he reads from Isaiah and proclaims himself as God’ anointed one. And then, in his explaining of himself and his coming, we find the people’s opinions and perspective changing—drastically.

 

The passage ends in a very different place from where it began:

 

When they heard this, the people in the synagogue were furious. Jumping up, they mobbed him and forced him to the edge of the hill on which the town was built. They intended to push him over the cliff…       Luke 4:28-29

 

Jesus was proclaiming the truth, teaching them more about God than they had ever understood before—and they weren’t open to it. Their hearts weren’t receptive. They didn’t want the truth, they wanted what they already knew; what they liked and felt comfortable with.

 

Two things cross my mind when reading this. First, human approval is fleeting and tenuous at best. We should never get too caught up in seeking it or desiring it. It just won’t last. It’s so easy to subtly find ourselves bending a little—compromising here and there—for the sole purpose of people’s opinion about us. This is dangerous ground to tread on and we should ever be praying that our ego’s desire to be fed would never trample over our intention to be faithful to God’s calling on us.

 

The second thing I am thinking is more of a question. A question I ask myself and maybe you are willing to ask as well.

 

Am I really open to God’s truth? Or do I prefer to stick with what I’ve already decided is true?

 

I am not implying that somehow God is going to show us “truth” that differs from what the Bible says, or that we might be the one he gives some new knowledge to. Not at all. I’m thinking in the context of Luke 4. The truth about Jesus was there—in the Bible—and they just didn’t get it. They thought they knew it, thought they understood it. But when God chose to reveal it—when Jesus showed it to them and explain it to them—it turned out that they just weren’t looking for it. They didn’t want it.  

 

They were not open to God correcting their faulty thinking or misconceptions about him. When he did they got angry and rejected him. Is that how I am?

 

On one level, I know that’s how I am. I’ve been there before; been confronted by my misconceptions about God and been challenged by him to revise my thinking. It can be frightening and in defense of that fear we can get angry. But I know at times I’ve also accepted that I was wrong. That God was more than I thought him to be. I had sold him short and needed to re-learn things about him.

 

I want to be sure that’s still me; that I’m still open. Still willing to learn from God. I want to be in process; on the journey. I don’t want to get so comfortable in my understanding that I stop learning; stop listening.

 

I’m thinking that I need to trade in the value I keep putting on being right for something that holds real value: understanding God rightly. Being right doesn’t do me any good. It doesn’t make me more valuable. It doesn’t make me better in God’s eyes. Understanding God rightly, however, holds a ton of value. It’s where the real treasure lies. And it’s not about me, it’s about God. He’s the one doing the teaching, the revealing, the correcting. And I need to be humble enough to accept it, to embrace it. Even when learning something about God starts with acknowledging that I may have misunderstood it; may have been wrong.

 

Knowing God should be my goal. Not being right about him—knowing him.

 

I want to know Christ and experience the mighty power that raised him from the dead. I want to suffer with him, sharing in his death, so that one way or another I will experience the resurrection from the dead!      Philippians 3:10-11

  

When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth. John 16:13

 

other people

Answer me when I call to you,
O God who declares me innocent.
Free me from my troubles.
Have mercy on me and hear my prayer.

How long will you people ruin my reputation?
How long will you make groundless accusations?
How long will you continue your lies?      
You can be sure of this:
The Lord set apart the godly for himself.
The Lord will answer when I call to him.

Don’t sin by letting anger control you.
Think about it overnight and remain silent.    
Offer sacrifices in the right spirit,
and trust the Lord .

Many people say, “Who will show us better times?”
Let your face smile on us, Lord .
You have given me greater joy
than those who have abundant harvests of grain and new wine.
In peace I will lie down and sleep,
for you alone, O Lord , will keep me safe.

                                    Psalm 4

 

It’s easy to do—becoming consumed by what other people think. No matter what our self-esteem looks like; no matter how self-assured we are it still stings when others criticize, demean and malign us. We don’t want to care what others think, but in reality, we all do.

 

David is no exception. Here he writes in Psalm four and is crying out with the pain because of other people’s opinions.

 

How long will you people ruin my reputation?

 

How long will you make groundless accusations?

 

How long will you continue your lies?      

 

Why do we care? Why can’t we just brush it off? Certainly as we grow older and more mature we learn to care less. And of course, as we deepen our identity in Christ we gain a stronger footing in his opinion of us. But it still stings when others lie about us. It always brings disappointment and heartache when those we thought we could trust turn and harm our reputation.

 

We must remember the Poet’s words here: The Lord set apart the godly for himself. The Lord will answer when I call to him. We don’t belong to those who make unfair assessments and verbal attacks. We don’t gain identity or value from those who lie and judge and unfairly ridicule our decisions and attempts at following well.

 

The Lord sets us apart for himself. He has already decided that we are worth the effort, already determined that even when we disappoint we are important enough to love and embrace. We are his, not theirs. He hears when we call. He does not ignore, does not disparage, does not grow tired of us. We are his.

 

Maybe the problem is one of surrender and humility. After all, why should we care what those others think when God is there saying, “You are mine. I have loved you with an everlasting love.” Why even consider caring about another’s opinion when our Father’s is the only one that matters?

 

Maybe because we like the feeling of earning some love. We like the idea of gaining position and respect because of what we’ve done. God never loves us for what we’ve done. He never appreciates us for how well we behave or live. He’s never impressed with us because of our efforts and achievements. His love is free and unqualified. And free just doesn’t feed the ego.

 

The Lord has sets us apart as his own. He hears our cry. He loves without our need to earn it. Others will always accuse, always lie, always ruin our reputation (after all, they are just like us).

 

Lord, find us in our troubles, have mercy on us and hear our prayer. And may our prayer today be to embrace only what you see and what you know about us. May we stop chasing after the fleeting approvals of others.

 

words about God

Dear brothers and sisters, I want you to understand that the gospel message I preach is not based on mere human reasoning. I received my message from no human source, and no one taught me. Instead, I received it by direct revelation from Jesus Christ.             Galatians 1:11-12

 

Last night my wife and I discovered something. Well, in truth, she discovered it and said it and then we both discussed it to try and reason it out; to make sure it was right. And I think it was. I don’t remember exactly the way she said it or the precise words she used. Like I said, as soon as she said it we started discussing it. And it came out of a conversation we were already in the midst of. The basic premise of what she said was this: Theology is not as much as we make it out to be. It doesn’t do everything we expect it to do for us.

 

Now, before you start preparing an angry comment or start reminding yourself that you’ve been meaning to quit reading this amateur writing anyway, walk with me for a minute. Let me share with you the context and realizations behind what I’m saying here. And if you still don’t like it? Well, my wife said it, not me. (That’s a joke folks. I imagine what you’ll find is that my wife is a wise woman.)

 

Theology literally comes from two words. “Theo” meaning God and “logy” meaning word or explanation. So theology is literally “words about God.” Did you get that? Words about God. Essentially, theology is the study of God. Now, please understand, I love theology. I do. And my wife and I were in the midst of a theological study when this conversation took place. We value theology and recognize its need. Theology keeps us from embracing false doctrine and equips us to understand the basic truths about God. But theology isn’t relationship. And I think that’s where the issue lies.

 

So many of us Christians have replaced genuine relationship with God solely with a dependence on theology. We study about God, but don’t know him. We read arguments about the finer points and the debatable issues regarding God and we feel equipped to engage anyone on those confusing theological topics. But do we know him? We spend such minimal time talking directly to him. Even less time sitting still and listening to him.

 

Theology is not as much as we make it out to be. It doesn’t do everything we expect it to do for us.

 

Theology isn’t relationship. Theology is a stepping stone to knowing God, but it isn’t knowing him. Theology is critical information about God. It should shape our expectations and our actions. It should define our understanding of God’s character and what he expects of us. It will shape our relationship, but it cannot be our relationship with God.

 

Knowing lots of Scripture and the reasoning behind the doctrines is really important. I’m not criticizing or saying we don’t need those things. But I do believe we have to keep them in proper perspective. There is no replacement for time spent listening to the Spirit speak. Walking with God is not equal to walking with books about God.

 

Do your studying. Invest in understanding about God. It is vital. But invest more time in God himself. Knowing him, not just what others say about him.

 

 

different kind of gospel

I am shocked that you are turning away so soon from God, who called you to himself through the loving mercy of Christ. You are following a different way that pretends to be the Good News but is not the Good News at all. You are being fooled by those who deliberately twist the truth concerning Christ. Let God’s curse fall on anyone, including us or even an angel from heaven, who preaches a different kind of Good News than the one we preached to you. I say again what we have said before: If anyone preaches any other Good News than the one you welcomed, let that person be cursed. Obviously, I’m not trying to win the approval of people, but of God. If pleasing people were my goal, I would not be Christ’s servant.        Galatians 1:6-10

 

I keep reading and re-reading these words and considering what I would say about them. What do they say to me? I don’t like these words. They are troubling and speak of the dangers that are very real for those who follow Christ.

 

The danger of turning away.

 

Not necessarily turning away from Christ altogether—I don’t think that’s what Paul is talking about here. But the danger of being fooled by something that sounds like the truth. No one wants to be fooled. No one wants to be wrong. We certainly don’t want to allow something that sounds like the truth to infiltrate the truth we live by.

 

The danger of speaking a different kind of gospel.

 

Paul is talking here about people who do this purposefully. He says, “those who deliberately twist the truth..” But he also includes himself in the warning turned curse: Let God’s curse fall on anyone, including us or even an angel from heaven, who preaches a different kind of Good News than the one we preached to you.

 

Anyone of us could do it. Maybe without knowing, maybe because we’ve lost sight of priorities, maybe because we desire to be accepted or push our own agenda. I don’t think most of us would intentionally plot it out. But let’s face it, we are sinners saved by grace. We still must struggle against that sinful nature.

 

We must be vigilant. We must be cautious. We must always be praying with the Psalmist, “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. Point out anything in me that offends you, and lead me along the path of everlasting life.” (Ps. 139:23-24)

 

The key to it all probably comes at the end. The hardest part. I am not trying to win the approval of people, but of God.

 

Our first reaction is to deny this; to confirm for ourselves that we don’t do this. How often do we tell ourselves, “I just don’t care what other people think” while our behavior is constantly seeking their approval? We do care. That’s what makes this so hard. We want to be accepted, admired, respected, appreciated. We want approval from others. It’s our nature. And it’s our downfall in regard to the gospel and the dangers of turning to something that sounds like the truth.

 

We don’t start out thinking: I’ll just change this little piece of the gospel so it fits better with what I want to do. We don’t consciously think while listening to someone who has made the gospel about something other than Christ that even though it’s not quite right, it’s close enough. But our need for approval, our need for “fitting in”, our desire to connect in meaningful ways with people can easily cloud our judgment and twist our perception of the truth. If it weren’t true, Paul wouldn’t be talking about it. The Spirit wouldn’t have led him to write it out.

 

“If pleasing people were my goal, I would not be Christ’s servant.”

 

A servant of Christ—slave to him. At the risk of approval, at the risk of acceptance, at the risk of everything except him. It’s easier to be a pleaser. It’s easier to just bend a little; to just ignore this or gloss over that. It’s easier to just turn a way—just a little. The moment we think otherwise; the moment we consider these things not a danger for us; the moment that we think we are beyond this…we may have turned to another gospel already.

 

Sin will be rampant everywhere, and the love of many will grow cold. But the one who endures to the end will be saved.       Matthew 24:12-13

 

May Jesus guard our hearts this day. May we be vigilant about embracing the truth and faithful to proclaiming only Christ.

 

 

lying for God?

There’s one more thing from Exodus 1 that I want to look at. First let’s review what we’ve learned so far. Exodus opens with several lessons on fear. The Egyptians allowed fear to take control and so devised a terrible plan for mistreating the Israelites through enslavement and a plan to control their numbers by killing their babies. The midwives, on the other hand, had been given the task of killing these babies. But they feared God more than the Egyptians and so they did not obey. Taking their lives into their own hands, they chose to protect and keep alive the newborns.

 

But here’s the issue that I can’t just ignore from Exodus 1. I would rather just move on, but I at least need to acknowledge that I see what’s happening here. I’m talking about the fact that these midwives who fear God are honored for their behavior—behavior which includes lying.

 

Then the king of Egypt summoned the midwives and asked them, “Why have you done this? Why have you let the boys live?” The midwives answered Pharaoh, “Hebrew women are not like Egyptian women; they are vigorous and give birth before the midwives arrive.” So God was kind to the midwives and the people increased and became even more numerous.         Exodus 1:18-20

 

This isn’t the truth; the problem isn’t that the midwives are mis-timing their arrival and the delivery. Verse seventeen states clearly that because the midwives feared God they let the boys live.  And here they lie and tell the Pharaoh that they just aren’t arriving in time; the women are having the babies too quickly. “So God was kind to the midwives…”

 

They lied…and God was kind to them for it.

 

This isn’t the only time this happens in the Bible either. I’m thinking of Rahab in particular (See Joshua 2). She lies very clearly and directly, telling the men looking for the spies that the spies left and even gives a direction they went in (all while they hide at her home). So what’s the deal?! I thought lying was wrong. It is wrong, isn’t it? If so, why is God honoring these midwives and blessing them? Why does he spare Rahab for it? She’s even mentioned in Hebrews 11 with all the faithful.

 

I’ll be honest, this doesn’t actually bother me. I find it encouraging. Granted it’s a little perplexing and feels somewhat paradoxical, but still I find comfort in it.

 

First, it tells me how important human life is to God. These midwives are choosing to do whatever is necessary to keep the new born babies alive—including lie. And God’s interest is in the fact that these children are living; that these midwives are protecting the helpless and innocent. So to God, life is more valuable than telling a lie. That gives me a sense of relief. God has priorities.

 

Second, and perhaps more importantly, it tells me God is not a moralist. Let me explain. I’m not saying God does not have morals or that having them is not important to God. What I mean is this. A moralist is someone whose life is defined by the morals he/she keeps. “These are the rules and these are the only rules. Regardless of what’s going on these rules are the rules and rule one is follow all the rules all the time.”

 

God—who gives us lots of rules—isn’t defined buy rules. He is defined by relationships. He is defined by life. In both cases (Exodus 1 with the midwives and Joshua 2 with Rahab) it’s all about relationships and life. Lying to protect the lives of those who can’t protect themselves (Exodus) or lying to protect the lives of those who are following God (Rahab).

 

Again, I’m not saying we have a license to lie and I’m not saying that God doesn’t care about rules. What I’m saying is that what’s most important to God—most important—is life and our relationship with him. There are plenty of cases in the Bible (Abraham twice!) where someone lies with the pretense that it’s to save life, when actually it’s just a selfish act that comes out of a lack of faith. So this is a sticky subject to say the least. But what I get from this is that God has priorities and the rules are not it. You and I are the priority. Life and humanity and relationship.

 

It’s comforting to know that God isn’t a put-your-head-down-and-plow-through-the-rules-no-matter-what kind of guy. There is more going on. There is life and there is relationship. Everything isn’t black and white. Relationships are messy and don’t always fit into a nice neat package.

 

I would imagine that for some of you what I’m saying here comes as a great relief. You love what you are reading. Let me caution you: don’t love it too much. Don’t let yourself use this kind of thing to justify lying. These are isolated events—extreme events—and they should be used to teach us about God’s character and value system more so than a justification for our own behavior.

 

For others this is just disturbing. I would caution you as well. Don’t let it bother you too much. Mainly for the same reasons I gave above. This is a lesson in God’s character. It’s not all about rules, it’s all about relationship and the value of human life.

 

The bottom line—for me—is that these midwives stood up for those who could not defend themselves. They stood up against a terrible and evil empire that sought to kill the innocent and enslave a people. God values that. God honors that.

 

God values life, he values us. That’s what I am celebrating here.

 

fathering well

It is Father’s Day. As we turn our attention toward our own fathers and thank them for being who they are I also pause to think: I am a father. As I think of this I consider all the mistakes I’ve made and the times I’ve exasperated my children. I realize I have often cast doubt on my ability to father well.

 

Yes, I feel asleep on the couch holding my first, my son. He was newly born and I dropped him from couch edge to floor. Yes, I played with my first daughter—the one I was worried I would break—she was a girl after all! But I played with her anyway, tossing her in the air as she giggled. And yes, I tossed her too high and she hit her head.

 

The list goes on and on, not just of times I have been clumsy or careless, but also times of poor decisions, times when I’ve made it about me, instead of it being about what was best. Times I’ve been angry or selfish or clueless. And it’s tempting to think I have no business fathering.

 

But I also know that there are greater things at stake than my misguided attempts at fathering that often occur. There are godly things, eternal things going on. And I realize that I am not just seeking to father them as my biological children, but I want them to be my spiritual children as well.

 

I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.     3 John 1:4

 

This is great perspective for me. This is truth. I will make mistakes, I will choose poorly at times, but I am not just trying to raise productive members of society. I am not just seeking to instill manners and a know how for when to use them (and a willingness to use them). No, I am raise up those who I long to see walking in the truth. I am raising up children to know and begin to love Jesus and his Father; raising them to hear the moving of the Spirit and choose to walk with him. This is about so much more than my relationship with my kids. I want them to have relationship with their eternal Father.

 

A few months ago one of my daughters said to me, “Dad, you’re not our real dad.” I was, to say the least, a little concerned about where this conversation was going. I thought, as I asked what she meant, that perhaps living in a society where step-parents and broken homes are the norm that perhaps she thought we were just like everyone else. But she responded with a sly smile and a “God is our real Dad, you’re just taking care of us for him.”

 

Perhaps I am fathering better than I thought.

 

This verse from 3 John also reminds me of the job my own father did. When we become parents it’s easy to look back on our parents and see all the things they did that we didn’t like or to determine to not parent as they did in certain aspects. And this is what our children will do when we have raised them; it’s just the way of things. None of us are perfect. But here is what I know on this Father’s day. I am walking in the truth. As are my two sisters and my brother. So I must say that my father, and my mother, have done something—the most important thing—right. And I know, it wasn’t all them. I’ve seen parents raise their children with love and grace and the truth of Jesus only to have those children walk anywhere but in the truth. It’s ultimately our own decision. But they showed us the way and offered the truth.

 

This is what it means to be a good father this Father’s Day. And it gives me hope. I don’t always make the best choices. I don’t always do everything right, but I am striving to lead them in this truth walk, this Jesus following. And they are seeing and following and walking in truth in ways that inspire me and teach me.

 

So perhaps I am doing a little better than I thought. I just know that fathering well will take all the grace and all the wisdom of God as he continually undoes the messes I make, and replaces my careless and confusing words with words of hope and joy and truth.

 

I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.

 

This is what it means to father well. This is what I am striving to hear.

the truth hurts

The problem with the truth is that it is so true. It has a way of lighting up areas of our lives that we have so carefully shrouded in darkness. It has a way of cutting right to the heart of a matter…or a person.

 

One of the experts in the law answered him, “Teacher, when you say these things, you insult us also.” Luke 11:45

 

The Pharisees in Luke 11 have been listening to Jesus’ woes. Jesus has been pulling no punches; he has been calling it as it is and indicting all within ear shot. And now they point out to Jesus that his words are insulting.

It almost reads as if the expert who speaks these words is offering Jesus an out, letting him know (in case he somehow missed it) that his words are offensive. It’s like he is hinting to Jesus that now would be the time to apologize, to backpedal and get out of the awkward situation his mouth has gotten him into.

“Hey Jesus, not sure if you realize it or not, but you’ve been pretty rude with your words just now.” The expert in the Law—and don’t miss that he’s an expert—doesn’t argue the validity, the truth, of what Jesus is saying. He simply doesn’t enjoy what he is hearing.

What the Pharisees are missing—and I think we often miss as well—is that the truth isn’t really the truth unless it hurts sometimes. If the words of Jesus never cut a little deep, chances are I’m not listening very well. What I mean by this is simply that the truth has a way of identifying the areas of our lives that need correcting and calling us on those areas.

Remember the words of Hebrews regarding the word of God—the truth? It describes how the word cuts; how it divides…

For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.            Hebrews 4:12

 

This is what makes the truth so powerful, so life changing. It divides us right down to the soul. It brings things into the light that we may not have even known was in darkness.

Jesus made a habit of telling the truth with striking clarity and so also made a habit of offending those around him.

Why do we get so surprised when the words of truth are sometimes abrasive? Why do we feel the need to convince people that Jesus was always kind and tender when sometimes he was just down right offensive?

Am I like the Pharisees in that I am only prepared to hear the truth if it feels like it applies to others, but not to me? Am I open only so long as the words are not harsh and uncomfortable? Or am I hungry for the truth and ready to receive what God has to speak into my life regardless of whether the words sting or soothe?

These are the things you are to do: Speak the truth to each other, and render true and sound judgment in your courts;    Zechariah 8:16

 

To speak the truth it is an act of grace. It is to love enough to bring light, regardless of what that light exposes.