transformed

For many, of whom I have often told you and now tell you even with tears, walk as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their end is destruction, their god is their belly, and they glory in their shame, with minds set on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.        Philippians 3:18-21

 

 

What great gifts await us! What blessing and extravagant grace.

 

We await a Savior who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body. It defies human logic that God would take us—those who by nature glory in our own shame, worship our own appetites, and set our minds on the temporary—that he would take us and transform us into something glorious like his Son.

 

We don’t deserve this. It would be ridiculous to attempt to earn this. This is grace. It’s embarrassingly generous to our prideful hearts to be given so much and to accept that we just don’t deserve it. It’s humbling.

 

It’s humbling and as we see ourselves in all our brokenness and sin it could be reason to doubt. Jesus is going to take this?! This body of mine, with all its lowly self-worship and shame-loving? He’s taking this and turning it into something like his own glorious body?! How does that even happen?

 

It would seem too great a hope were it not for the reminder of the last part of that final sentence.

 

“…by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.”

 

Power to subject all things to himself. That is great power. That is magnificent power. That is power that defies us to even begin comprehend how great, how strong, how capable. We cannot fathom the  immensity of such power.

 

And the best news? Jesus doesn’t just turn us and set us on a new trajectory so we’re facing the right direction again. He doesn’t simply wipe the slate clean from our past and tell us to “do better with what we have left.” Jesus doesn’t even give us some new pointers and some “tricks of the trade” so we can be more holy—more like him.

 

No. Jesus transforms us. He makes us what we weren’t. Jesus takes who we were and replaces it with something we could never be without him. We are wholly different and holy transformed. We stop being enemies and become like him.

 

This is grace. It is beautiful and hope-filled. Extravagant and reckless. It is wild and purposeful. And it’s for God’s glory. Transforming us is a great and amazing blessing of grace on us, but the primary point is that God would be glorified. That he would be displayed as great and holy.

 

This is the savior we await. One who brings transformation and hope and glory. We are blessed beyond measure to be citizens of his kingdom. May we pray that we never lose sight of how radically we have been blessed.

 

favor

When he came to the village of Nazareth, his boyhood home, he went as usual to the synagogue on the Sabbath and stood up to read the Scriptures. The scroll of Isaiah the prophet was handed to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where this was written:

 ”The Spirit of the LORD is upon me,
for he has anointed me to bring Good News to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim that captives will be released,
that the blind will see,
that the oppressed will be set free,

and that the time of the LORD’s favor has come.”

He rolled up the scroll, handed it back to the attendant, and sat down. All eyes in the synagogue looked at him intently. Then he began to speak to them. “The Scripture you’ve just heard has been fulfilled this very day!”

                                                                   Luke 4:16-21

 

The time of the Lord’s favor has come.

 

It’s an insightful piece of Scripture that Jesus quotes about himself. Insightful because it points out that God’s anointed one would come, not to defeat empires or set up easy living for God’s people, but come instead to forever change the lives of the poor, the captive, the blind, and the oppressed.

 

It is even more important to read in light of the last words from Isaiah that Jesus reads:

 

The time of the Lord’s favor has come.

 

This is important because I think it changes our natural assumptions about favor. So many voices within the church are calling for us—the rich, free, advantaged ones—to get more favor from God. And often that favor is described in terms of easy living and granted wish-lists of stuff. God has been made out to be an easily pleased deity who simply wants to make us happy if we would just ask nicely enough.

 

But here the favor is the good news—the gospel. It’s salvation and life transformation. It is being set free and being given hope. It is eyes to see as God sees and riches beyond our wildest dreams—just not the temporary, paltry “riches” we often think we want.

 

It’s no wonder that the world finds Jesus followers largely un-compelling and our life choices undesirable. We aren’t living in the favor that changes and transforms us. We aren’t living in the favor that carries the power of resurrection. We are instead chasing after the cheap imitations that world calls favor.

 

When Jesus comes with the Lord’s favor he comes to meet us where we are, in the traps and brokenness and sin we find ourselves in. He comes to set us free and give us sight; to provide for our needs and bless us beyond merit. He comes to bring real favor that lasts and makes lasting changes in us.

 

It has been fulfilled—the coming of this favor that is good news to the impoverished and sight for the unseeing. This favor that frees the prisoners and unburdens the oppressed. It has come. It has been done. Jesus has made it so and brought the Lord’s favor to the doorstep of our hearts. He offers us everything that true, life-transforming freedom from sin can offer. He has given us radical love that can turn the entirety of the world upside down. If only we would stop trading eternal, reckless, love for meager attempts at satisfying the desires of our broken hearts.

 

A life changed by the freeing gospel of Jesus is favor like the world cannot find a part from Jesus. May they see it in his people.

 

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.

 

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.

 

blessed to bless

What’s more, the Scriptures looked forward to this time when God would declare the Gentiles to be righteous because of their faith. God proclaimed this good news to Abraham long ago when he said, “All nations will be blessed through you.” So all who put their faith in Christ share the same blessing Abraham received because of his faith.     Galatians 3:8-9

 

Abraham’s blessing is our blessing. That sounds good. That sounds desirable. Abraham’s blessing which was his simply because he believed God and so was counted as righteous and then blessed. But what was his blessing?

 

To be a blessing.

 

Yes his blessing included being made great and growing into a large family that becomes a large nation that does well for itself. But ultimately his blessing is to be a blessing. To bless others.

 

And primarily that blessing comes through Jesus. He is the blessing that Abraham—and his descendants—bless the nations with. Jesus comes out of this nation of Abraham—this nation blessed to be ablessing. And Jesus is that blessing.

 

It is so great a truth that we are counted righteous simply by believing in Christ. So great that like Abraham we don’t earn it or work for it, that we are simply counted as righteous because we believe. But do we forget sometimes that believing means being given the blessing to bless others with Christ?

 

It would be easy to simply relegate this to the act of telling people about Jesus. I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen people “tell” others about Jesus in ways that were anything but a blessing. I have had people tell me about Jesus in ways that were not a blessing. Certainly sharing about Christ can be a blessing if it’s done well and lovingly and the individual hearing is open and receptive. But so often telling others without a life that shows them comes across as if there isn’t much to tell.

 

Could it be that we are given the blessing of blessing others with Christ by loving them sacrificially? Could it be that to bless others we serve them as Christ served? That we give up what’s our “right” to have so that others can be loved and shown mercy?

 

Jesus loved in radical ways, ignoring societal pressures and standards of who is and isn’t acceptable to associate with. He looked to the margins of society and the outcasts—looked them in the eye and treated them with dignity and love. He was loving and patient with the stupid, the stubborn and the self-righteous. Jesus hurt for those who were lost and gave up everything to bring us back to him.

 

This is the Jesus who is a blessing. The Jesus we are called to bless others with. It’s one thing to tell people about a God who appears to be a God of rules and requirements. It’s quite another to show them a God of reckless love who gives up himself to make us whole again.

 

Jesus Christ crucified for us, dead and raised again—this is the blessing we’ve been given to give.

 

devouring lion

Sometimes words can haunt us. I don’t mean in a bad way. I mean that they can find their way back into our lives over and over again. Often times—most of the time—for me those words are directly from Scripture. But sometimes they are other words. Words that keep cropping up and speaking into my life. Words that challenge. Words that I have a love/hate relationship with. When I read the words Brennan Manning wrote about Jesus as the lion that would devour us I was captured. These words have come around again and again and challenged me where I have stood. They do so again.

 

I will not leave you alone. You are mine.  I know each of my sheep by name.  You belong to Me.  If you think I am finished with you, if you think I am a small god, that you can keep at a safe distance, I will pounce on you like a roaring lion, tear you to pieces, rip you to shreds, and break every bone in your body.  Then I will mend you, cradle you in my arms, and kiss you tenderly.       –Brennan Manning, Lion and Lamb (The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus)

 

It’s no wonder Jesus called on people to count the cost of discipleship. To consider what following him would require. We like to think of following Jesus in terms of us following, choosing, wanting to be with him and that is all true. But genuine following also means belonging to him, not ourselves.

 

“You are mine…You belong to me.”

 

Do we even grasp what kind of love is so deep as to willingly pounce, tear us to pieces, rip us to shreds, break every bone, just so it can mend us together again in ways that are more whole? I don’t think I comprehend a love that deep. Except in the ways I have been personally ripped apart and tenderly mended together again. Even then, my understanding and appreciation is small at best.

 

Today I am considering Jesus’ call to count the cost of following him. It will take everything. He will devour me, my loved ones, my things, my pride. He will take it all. And not necessarily with gentleness or anesthetic. He will rip it from me so that all I have is him. Then he will mend me together again with love and tenderness. The cost of following is only everything.

 

A large crowd was following Jesus. He turned around and said to them, “If you want to be my disciple, you must hate everyone else by comparison—your father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even your own life. Otherwise, you cannot be my disciple. And if you do not carry your own cross and follow me, you cannot be my disciple.

“But don’t begin until you count the cost. For who would begin construction of a building without first calculating the cost to see if there is enough money to finish it? Otherwise, you might complete only the foundation before running out of money, and then everyone would laugh at you. They would say, ‘There’s the person who started that building and couldn’t afford to finish it!’

“Or what king would go to war against another king without first sitting down with his counselors to discuss whether his army of 10,000 could defeat the 20,000 soldiers marching against him? And if he can’t, he will send a delegation to discuss terms of peace while the enemy is still far away. So you cannot become my disciple without giving up everything you own.        Luke 14:25-33

 

You cannot become my disciple without giving up everything you own.

 

And when I try to take it back, try to make it mine, try to be in control, he will pounce. I am so grateful for this ruthless love. Jesus is a ferocious lover of souls. He tears us and devours us so as to mend us. He breaks in order to heal rightly that which was twisted and bent. If we think he is finished with us or that he is small and easily held at a distance he may soon come calling, come devouring. And then we will see that he is indeed a devouring lion.

 

planted

You will bring them in and plant them on your own mountain—
  the place, O Lord, reserved for your own dwelling,
  the sanctuary, O Lord, that your hands have established.          Exodus 15:17

 

 

Planted

In place of God

In the very face of God

He loves with reckless abandon

 

Given

Not our place

But his very own space

He knows no sense of bounds

 

Living

On the heights

In the house of holy

He has opened wide the sacred

 

 

There are days and times when the reality of a God who pursues comes crashing in. A God who pursues, not to judge or punish or destroy. A God who pursues to love, to bring in, to heal and to hold. A God who plants tender shoots, a God who loves broken reeds and bruised branches. A God who finds a home for the scarred in the realm of the sacred.

 

This is our God. He loves with unabashed passion. He knows no boundaries of propriety or decorum. He loves. And this love stops at nothing to bring us home—to his home made ours.

 

pieces

 

Every morning
you’ll hear me at it again.
Every morning
I lay out the pieces of my life
on your altar
and watch for fire to descend.   

 

Psalm 5:3 (MSG)

 

I will lay out the pieces of my life.

 

It’s odd how willing I am to do this when I am desperate; when I’m in need. I rush to this end, giving him all the pieces, all the broken mess. I need him and I’m okay with it. But when times are better, or at least easier; when I don’t have pressing needs that feel overwhelming…I’m less inclined. I like to hold some pieces back. I prefer to pick and choose. “You can have this piece and this piece. Perhaps you can fix those today.” As if God will fix anything before he has everything.

 

But this says every morning. Every morning I lay out the pieces of my life. Every morning I meet with God. Every morning I give it all back…again. That’s the invitation. That’s what it looks like to live in Life and wholeness.

 

And I like the imagery given by The Message. Most other translations say something about waiting with expectancy or expectantly. But The Message says, “and watch for fire to descend.” It’s essentially saying the same thing except that it brings some context to mind for those who are familiar with God’s interactions with people throughout the Old Testament. It can bring to mind times when sacrifices have been laid on the altar and a waiting for God to come has been practiced.

 

It brings to mind Genesis 15, where God stoops down and makes a covenant with Abraham—then just Abram. Abram cut the sacrifice to pieces, laid it out, and waited for God to come. And God did come, and he made an agreement—started a relationship—not just with Abram, but with his descendants; and ultimately with all of us.

 

It brings to mind 1 Kings 18, where Elijah lays out the sacrifice on the altar, and drenches it with water, and then waits. He invites God to show that he is God and he just waits.  And it says that the fire of the Lord fell on the sacrifice and consumed it all. And the people cried out, “The Lord—he is God!”

 

So the imagery of the Psalm is to lay out the pieces of our lives; they are a sacrifice. And to do so with expectancy; God will come. And the words that are key—at least for me today—are the words every morning. The pieces of our lives have a bad habit of crawling off the altar. And so again this morning—every morning—I lay out the pieces of my life. And I wait. Not for the miraculous or spectacular, but just for the coming, the descending of God.

 

On second thought, the fact that God will come—that he will descend to the pieces of my life—is pretty miraculous and spectacular.

 

new self

You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.     Ephesians 4:22-24 

 

It would seem reasonable, even expected, that putting on a new self would be easy. What has the old self given us anyway? It’s broken after all! Why should we wear it’s ill-fitting, unflattering tatters any longer? It would seem reasonable that to be naked and without self at all would be a better option than clutching at what never really fit in the first place.

 

And yet we do. We hold tightly to the old self.

 

We’ve taken this new self—these rich robes like Joseph’s many colors—a gift from our Father. We’ve taken them and we celebrate them…and still we keep the old. Tucked back and away of course. Not worn everyday or everywhere, but still we tend to keep them.

 

Why is it that once we are made new we like to live as if we are left old? Why is it not so simple to turn and walk and never look back?

 

We know the truth of it: Our old self lies to us. Our old self has nothing to offer us. But it is ours. It feels like a belonging we fear to leave; albeit a hurtful belonging. And so we seek to live in Life while still clutching shattered death. We want to keep in step with the Spirit and walk the narrow way, but cannot seem to let go. It does not make sense and it is a daily struggle, this leaving.

 

Now we look inside, and what we see is that anyone united with the Messiah gets a fresh start, is created new. The old life is gone; a new life burgeons! Look at it!          2 Corinthians 5:17 MSG

 

Look at it! Look at this new life we’ve been given. See it in contrast to the life we’ve left. A fresh start, a clean slate, no remembering for yesterday’s corruption. We are new, may we leave the old behind.

 

get the plank out

Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in someone else’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say, ‘Friend, let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when you yourself fail to see the plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from the other person’s eye.         Luke 6:41-42

 

I used to take these words of Jesus to mean “mind your own business, you have enough issues of your own to deal with” or something along those lines. And indeed, it does tend to read that way. Jesus refers to the speck in the other person’s eye and the plank in our own eye. It sort in feels like, at least at first read, to imply that my own issues are big enough to keep me from correcting or pointing out issues in others.

 

But when I read it again…and again. When I consider it within the larger context of the gospel of Luke and the Bible as a whole, I don’t think that’s what Jesus is getting at. I don’t think Jesus is saying, “Mind your own problems and stay out of other people’s issues.” It’s inconsistent with the Bible’s general call for accountability within community. It’s inconsistent with Jesus’ own behavior towards his disciples (like Jesus calling Peter “Satan” and a stumbling block). And it’s not consistent with the accountability the New Testament church utilizes in calling sin out in one another. Multitudes of examples come to mind here, but I’m particularly thinking of Peter and Paul in Galatians 2.

 

So what is Jesus saying if he isn’t saying to keep our nose out of other people’s business and to stop trying to get the “speck” out of other’s eyes? I think it’s a call for perspective. For honesty with ourselves and a realization of our own sinfulness.

 

Just because I have baggage I am working through; just because I have issues that need forgiving and healing doesn’t mean I am disqualified from helping others. It doesn’t mean I can’t see and then call out sin in my friend if it’s needed. But I have to be working on me too. I have to be seeking removal of my own junk. And, as is illustrated in the analogy Jesus uses, my own junk hinders me from helping others as best as I can. So if I would be willing to get the plank out of my own eye I could actually help my friend more effectively. It’s a call to honesty with ones self. To being willing to look inward before looking outward.

If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. 1 John1:8-9

 

The issue of judging others versus holding them accountable, the difference between condemning and helping may hang to a certain degree on our willingness to look inwardly with honesty. When I see my own sin, when I have slogged through my own muck, and when I have been working on picking up the pieces of my own brokenness I am far more able to act with mercy to another who has fallen. Far more able to help them heal and far less likely to simply judge them.

The need for us to search within and to open ourselves up to the Spirit’s searching is crucial. It’s vital to our own spiritual health and relationship with the Father. And it’s vital to our ability to help others and lovingly bring them back when they stray. Otherwise, I fear we are far too prone to judgment and dismissal of others instead of love and grace. 

Search me, God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.      Psalm 139:23-24