Disturb Us

Somebody once asked me as their pastor not to make them uncomfortable in church. They didn’t want any surprises in the worship services or the church’s ministries. They were comfortable with routine and things remaining predictable.

On the one hand, I completely empathized. I don’t like surprises either. I’m not likely to embrace change when it sneaks up on me unexpectedly. When something comes of out left field, I’m more likely to put my guard up and resist it.

On the other hand, I could hardly keep from laughing. I’m very mistaken if I think I can always predict how God is going to work and what he might call me to do next. If I demand things always go the way I prefer, the way that keeps me comfortable, I’ll miss out on opportunities in which God desires to stretch and challenge me so that I can learn and grow.

I suspect there are many things with which God would like to see me be uncomfortable. His Spirit wants me to be uncomfortable with complacency in my walk with Jesus perhaps caused by getting stuck in ruts of routine. His Spirit wants me to be uncomfortable with the selfish things I do that strain my relationships with others. His Spirit wants me to be uncomfortable with the consumerism in our culture that would have me believe that buying more stuff will make me happy. His Spirit wants me to be uncomfortable with the racism in this country’s institutions as well as in my heart.

Comfort Zone quote found with Google

Recently I discovered this prayer attributed by some to Sir Francis Drake, the English sea captain of the 16th century. Through these words the Holy Spirit prompts me to become uncomfortable while he simultaneously reminds me of God’s presence – which is truly comforting.

Disturb us, Lord, when we are too well pleased with ourselves, when our dreams have come true because we have dreamed too little, when we arrive safely because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us, Lord, when with the abundance of things we possess we have lost our thirst for the waters of life; having fallen in love with life, we have ceased to dream of eternity; and in our efforts to build a new earth, we have allowed our vision of the new heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly, to venture on wider seas where storms will show your mastery; where losing sight of land, we shall find the stars. We ask you to push back the horizons of our hopes, and to push us into the future in strength, courage, hope, and love.

I shared this in this week’s Rock Valley Bee.

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The adult Jesus

This time of year as we focus on the baby Jesus in the manger, Dale Vander Veen powerfully reminded me in one of his recent e-devotions of what Jesus did as an adult – why He came in the first place and what He is doing today and will still be doing in the new year. Dale did not write this himself but the original author is unknown.

Graphic found with Google

Jesus is the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End.
He is the Keeper of creation and the Creator of all.
He is the Architect of the universe and the Manager of all times.
He always was,
he always is,
and he always will be
unmoved,
unchanged,
undefeated,
and never undone.

He was bruised and brought healing.
He was pierced and eased pain.
He was persecuted and brought freedom.
He was dead and brought life.
He is risen and brings power.
He reigns and brings peace.

The world can’t understand him,
armies can’t defeat him,
schools can’t explain him,
leaders can’t ignore him.
Herod couldn’t kill him,
the Pharisees couldn’t confuse him,
and the people couldn’t hold him.
Nero couldn’t crush him,
Hitler couldn’t silence him,
the latest pop psychology can’t replace him.

He is light, love, longevity, and Lord.
He is goodness, kindness, gentleness, and God.
He is holy, righteous, just, and pure.
His ways are right, his word is eternal,
his will is unchanging, and his mind is on me.
He is my Redeemer, my Savior, my guide, and my peace.
He is my joy, my comfort, my Lord, and my ruler.

I serve him because his bond is love,
his burden is light,
and his blessing is peace.
I follow him because
he is the wisdom of the wise,
the power of the powerful,
the ancient of days,
the ruler of rulers,
the leader of leaders,
the overseer of overcomers.
He is sovereign Lord of all that was
and is
and is to come.

He will never leave me, never forsake me,
never mislead me, never forget me, never overlook me.
When I fall, he lifts me up.
When I fail, he forgives.
When I am weak, he is strong.
When I am lost, he is the way.
When I am afraid, he is my courage.
When I stumble, he steadies me.
When I am hurt, he heals me.
When I am broken, he mends me.
When I am hungry, he feeds me.
When I face trials, he is with me.
When I am beside myself, he is beside me.
When I face loneliness, he accompanies me.
When I face loss, he provides for me.
When I face death, he carries me home!

He is God, he is faithful.
I am his, and he is mine!
He is in control,
he is for me, not against me,
and all is well with my soul.

The Infant King

I don’t think I’ve ever associated Psalm 2 with Christmas before. It’s the one where God, enthroned in heaven, scoffs at sinful humanity’s futile attempts to dethrone Him.

This time of year we celebrate the arrival of King Jesus, a King greater than the Herod of His day or any other power or authority back then or since. Countless monarchs and empires have come and gone; things I have enthroned in my heart instead of Jesus have crumbled (or will crumble) into the dust. However, as God’s Son, one with Father, Jesus’ Kingship is secure. He is the ultimate fulfillment of the promise God makes in Psalm 2 to install His King on earth.

King graphic found at rescuehousechurch.org

A poem I read this week in a book of Advent meditations reminds me of all this. Attributed to Daithi Mac Iomaire, it’s simply titled “The Infant King.” It leads me to worship the newborn King – the true King of kings and Lord of lords – this Christmas season.

And in the corridors of power
and in the palaces of hate,
the despot and his lords conspire
this holy threat to liquidate;
yet all the kings that e’re there were
and all the princes of this earth
with all their wealth beyond compare
could not eclipse this infant’s birth.
A million monarchs since have reigned,
but vanquished now their empires vain;
two thousand years, and still we bring
our tributes to the Infant King.

God in the desert

It strikes me how many Bible stories take place in a desert. I talked about this a few weeks ago in a message I gave at Trinity CRC, observing that it makes sense for the desert to figure so prominently in Scripture because the two geographical features that continually seem to wrestle for control in the Holy Land are the sea and the desert sand. One Bible dictionary describes how the wind rages across Middle Eastern deserts, “driving plants, animals, and people before it like chaff.” The dictionary entry goes on to say how people believed the desert was a place where only “divine intervention offers deliverance from death.”

Desert photo found with Google.

Long ago, I learned from James Houston how biblical deserts are not only geographic locales but also a symbol of the periods in our lives when we need to be tested and learn the ways of the Lord. These are difficult times. However, it’s in a desert experience – when I feel disoriented and uncertain – that I may best learn to trust God in deeper ways than if everything were fine.

Despite the cards, lights, parties, presents, and general festive cheer, Christmastime can feel like a desert. Loneliness, seasonal affective disorder, family being far away, financial strain, or grief over an absent loved one easily make this a difficult time of the year.

It’s not a typical Christmas text, but the Song of Moses gives me courage when I feel blue this time of year: It reminds me how God never abandons me in my desert experiences. Even “in a desert land” or “in a barren and howling waste,” God finds me, just as He found and led the Israelites in ancient times. He not only finds me (even though that would be enough!), He also shields and cares for me; He guards me “as the apple of His eye.”

Mind you, that doesn’t automatically make the desert a challenge-free place. Moses sings of how God is like the mother eagle who “stirs up her nest” and pushes out her chicks. They need to learn to fly, not always play it safe in the nest. But the mother still “spreads her wings to catch them and carries them aloft” as they struggle and learn. Similarly, followers of Jesus are always being pushed out of the nest, out of our comfort zone somehow or other as the Holy Spirit dares us to dream and risk and redefine impossible as we pursue God’s mission for us. And even when it feels most difficult, God never drops or forgets any of His people.

I dare say one of the reasons God allows me to experience a challenging time, a desert place, is so that I can better experience Him. When I am worn out and dried up, I have nowhere else to turn except to God, the One who shields and cares for me. God leads me in my desert experiences and makes me better despite – or because – of them.

Granted, He doesn’t necessarily promise to entirely remove me from the desert – at least not on this side of the new heavens and new earth. But He does promise to never forsake me or leave me on my own. He didn’t find me in the first place just to give up on or lose me.

With God’s presence and in His strength, even a barren or blue Christmas can become a bit more of a joyous Christmas for me. And if I can share that Good News with someone else, maybe it’ll bring a bit more joy to their Christmas, too.

Rare contentment in an epidemic of affluenza

Celebrating Thanksgiving Day? That’s traditional. Living thankfully year-round? Now that’s counter-cultural!

Our culture encourages you and me to want and grab more and more. It’s practically an economic virtue. Depending on who you ask and what you all include, you’re exposed to between 4,000 and 10,000 ads every day whether you’re looking at Snapchat or the logo on your shirt. Combined, all the advertisers in the US spend nearly $200 billion a year to get their products and services in your face. And while each one may offer something unique and even good and useful, together they give the same message: “You will not be content until you buy what we’re selling!”

Advertisers know that, in general, we have a lot of buying power, whether using our savings or racking up credit card debt. More than ever before, they know we have the ability to take them up on their offers. Yet, ironically, never before have people been so discontent. I think it’s crazy the whole phenomenon of Black Friday immediately following (even usurping) Thanksgiving Day. We pause to be thankful for what we have… only hours later to frantically grab for more!

Author Peter Schuurman refers to all this as “affluenza.” He writes: “We are sick. Sick not from some sort of deprivation, but rather from an excess, an overabundance.” In general, we have so much more than we need, but at the same time, our culture trains us to feel like we never have quite enough. To be thankful, to be content is rare in an epidemic of “affluenza.”

I receive the antidote for this sickness from a surprising source: A prison inmate languishing in jail. This inmate’s name is Paul and what he writes to the church in a city called Philippi is just as relevant to the people of Sioux County: “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.” Even in the slammer, Paul experiences more freedom than a lot of people on the outside shackled to their discontent. He has a contentment that gives him joy even in the worst circumstances (like a cruel Roman jail).

What’s the secret? “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.” Another way you could put it is like this: “I have everything in him who gives me strength.” Paul is so thankful for what Jesus has done for him: He is a forgiven child of God through Jesus’ death on the cross and resurrection on the third day. Being blessed like this is better than anything else Paul’s world (or my world) can offer. No matter what happens to him, Paul knows God is with him and for him. That finally gives him contentment.

Contentment will not come from taking advantage of a Black Friday sale. There will always be something new to buy. I’ve learned that contentment comes from allowing the Holy Spirit to nurture within me the reality that Thanksgiving is not simply a day on the calendar but a lifestyle God invites me to experience in Jesus.

Thanksgiving graphic found via Google

I wrote this for this week’s Rock Valley Bee.
Of course, my Canadian readers will have celebrated
Thanksgiving Day back in October!

Grace and mercy

Mercy and grace graphic found via GoogleIf you spend any amount of time around a church, I hope you regularly hear the words grace and mercy. These are two words I often use interchangeably and I sometimes mix up which one means what exactly. Singer Wayne Watson has cleared it up for me in his song simply titled “Grace” from his CD Living Room:

Grace keeps giving me things I don’t deserve.
Mercy keeps withholding things I do.

Grace is free and unmerited favor. It is a gift. I cannot earn it. I do not deserve it.

Some people say they want what they deserve. I know my heart too well to demand that. What I deserve is God’s wrath. The holy God doesn’t have the time of day for the slightest trace of sin, yet I have soiled myself in it. Nothing imperfect or unholy can exist in God’s presence, but through Jesus, God welcomes me into his presence, into his family as his child. God’s mercy withholds what I should have coming to me.

Back in the time of the Reformation, Martin Luther discovered this truth afresh. He grew up believing that he had to earn God’s mercy and grace through acts of love for God and neighbor. As one of my seminary professors, Lyle Bierma, explains it, Luther perceived divine favor “not so much a gift as a reward” for good behavior.

I feel you and I need this history lesson. We might be able to define grace and mercy, but I don’t think we consistently live as though we truly understand them. Our is a “performance-oriented society, dominated by a can-do spirit,” observes Prof. Bierma, and I agree. “We work for good grades in school, earn victories on the football field, compete for awards, receive merit pay at work, and get demerits if we misbehave. In the middle of all this striving and achievement, it is not easy to admit that when it comes to meeting the deepest need of our existence, our restlessness for God, we can do absolutely nothing ourselves. We are totally reliant on outside help.”

Enter mercy and grace: I deserve for God to ignore me, to even punish me because of my sin. Instead, in Christ, I am forgiven and restored. I rest assured in him for today and eternity.

Discovering this does not leave me unchanged. Impacted by God’s mercy and grace, I want my life to overflow with that same mercy and grace. With God’s Spirit encouraging and equipping me, I want my life to be filled with acts of love for God and neighbor – the same thing for which Luther strived. But instead of doing these things to get God’s attention and favor, I do these things in profound gratitude for his mercy and grace. I want to be thankful for his gift.

If you see any gifts from God in your life – a loved one, a job, a skill, even grace itself! – let’s team up and find ways to show him and others how thankful we are for them.

I wrote this article for last week’s Rock Valley Bee
to commemorate Reformation Day today.

Would Jesus attend Orange City Pride?

In light of the Orange City Pride event happening this weekend, a couple letters appeared in the Rock Valley Bee denouncing the Pride flag photo found via Googleperspective that a Christian could be part of such a thing. I think this question is rooted in an even bigger one: Would Jesus attend a pride event?

First of all, one must be very careful in declaring what Jesus would or would not do in 21st century, North American contexts. Cultural and historical differences aside, we each think Jesus would join us in our causes because we believe them to be noble and right. Conflict naturally arises when two opposing groups of Christians believe Jesus is on their side rather than their opponent’s side.

In the case of whether Jesus would attend a pride event, each side offers biblical arguments. Some who say Jesus would not attend such an event emphasize Jesus’ holiness. Operating from a biblical framework that perceives same-sex relationships as contrary to God’s plan and sinful, they argue that as the holy Son of God, Jesus would not and could not associate with what is sinful. It logically follows that followers of Jesus would avoid what is sinful, too, in our case an event that celebrates same-sex attraction.

On the other hand, some who could see Jesus at a pride event emphasize Jesus’ compassion. Operating from a biblical framework that sees Jesus eat in the homes of tax collectors (which would have been a much more public activity than a typical meal at someone’s house today), they argue that Jesus engaged sinful humanity in order to draw it back to God. Jesus did not get contaminated by the sin around him; he “contaminated” those in sin with his redemptive grace and goodness and now calls his followers to do likewise. Some Christians go further and question the correlation made between biblical references to homosexuality and same-sex relationships today, arguing that Jesus could attend a pride event like the one in Orange City because it seeks not to celebrate the kind of homosexuality forbidden in the Bible that may have been specifically associated with abuse and pagan worship.

As they unfold, the tone of these debates often becomes most uncharitable. People get mad and use the Bible as a weapon, firing texts back and forth to try to destroy their opponent’s argument (and maybe their opponent, too). I can’t help but wonder whether our accusations against one another sound too much like the complaints of the “good” religious people in Jesus’ day who complained when Jesus didn’t do things the way they expected, including getting too close to sinful humanity in questionable circumstances (again, thinking of dining with the tax collectors and others despised as sinners) or calling people to a seemingly impossibly high standard (I think, for example, of the disciples’ protest when a rich man is asked to sell all he has).

Personally, I must guard myself against holding more firmly to my position than to my love for my neighbor, whether it is the gay person in the pride event or the individual condemning it. On this side of the new creation, neither position holds to the entire truth of the matter and both sides would do well to listen more to one another. That sort of attitude, one that pursues both truth and grace, is what we need more of if we are going to get anywhere in this conversation.

These reflections repeat a letter I wrote to the Bee.
As always, the perspectives expressed in this blog are my own
and not necessarily those of any organizations or individuals
with which I am associated.